Fic: Negative Ions (OB/VM)

[lazulus]

Title: Negative Ions (1/1)
Author: Jaq (jaq@livejournal.com)
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando and Viggo go tramping.
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship, anyone else please ask
Disclaimer: Very much the product of my warped and twisted mind and
I'm sure that these nice boys would never even think of doing anything
like this
Feedback: Appreciated
Notes: UK spelling. I would like to apologise to any Kiwis for the dreadful liberties I have taken with their landscape. I would, however, like to point out that I do now have several maps and books of Fiordland. But, research can be a sod, and needs must when the Vigorli drives!
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my beta goddesses, viva_gloria and jenfr – I wonder how I got so lucky. You are both fab!
This is for viva_gloria.



Viggo awoke to the smell of coffee. Fresh coffee. For a brief, disorientating moment he thought he was hallucinating. His eyes blinked open in the dawn half-light. Definitely coffee. Which was all very nice but, as he had gone to bed alone the night before, a little worrying. He tried to remember if he had left the front door unlocked, then smiled to himself: when did he ever lock it? Oh well. A glance at the clock made his eyes widen in horror. 5.09am?

He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his jeans. Wandering through the house to the kitchen, he was met by the sight of a similarly jean-clad figure leaning over his kitchen table. He recognised the ass. The thought caused him to stop and consider for a moment. Odd. Deciding that it was too early in the morning to worry about it, he walked past the intruder and filled a mug with coffee. Turning to face the table, he took a sip and blinked at the man poring over what appeared to be a topographical map.

"Morning." Orlando didn't bother to look up as he spoke. "Mark says it's a pretty straightforward trek, and at this time of year, really quiet. We should manage it in two days." He tapped the map with a long, tapering finger. "We could do one of the longer ones but, well, he said that we don't have time and anyway this one is pretty good, slightly off the beaten paths, but safe." Looking up, he gave a Viggo a warm, rather sleepy smile. "Good coffee?"

"Great coffee." Viggo was trying not to be irritated. "What are you doing, Orlando? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Today was the first of three free days that the cast had been given. It was their first break for weeks. The filming had taken its toll, with weather delays backing up production, and everyone was desperate for some downtime. And here, on that precious first morning - was it actually morning yet? - of freedom, was Orlando, apparently intending to disrupt Viggo's plans of sleep and relaxation.

Orlando settled into a chair and sipped from his own mug. "I was talking to this local guy about doing some tramping. I mean, here we are, surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, seems stupid not to take the opportunity to actually see it." He shrugged his shoulders and stared imploringly at Viggo. "And we need the early start if we're going to do it in the two days."

Viggo decided to be harsh. "I have no intention whatsoever of going tramping around anywhere with you. In fact, I intend on spending the next three days, lying in my bed, surrounded by books, relaxing, sleeping, eating, drinking as decent a wine as I can find and generally doing anything *other* than ‘tramping around’." He sat down at the table and began to fold the map. "End of discussion. You wanna go wander the wilderness, go ask a hobbit!"

"The hobbits know nothing about tramping and I figured you'd be more into it, anyway." Viggo could hear the pout in Orlando's voice.

Viggo continued to wrestle with the map until a surprisingly large, tanned hand took it from his grasp and moved it away before he could fold it any further.

Orlando’s voice, as he leaned forward and fixed Viggo with a steady gaze, was enticing. "There's fishing."

Viggo blinked.

"Trout fishing."

Viggo blinked again.

"Fresh and salt water, trout fishing."

Viggo closed his eyes and concentrated on zoning out Orlando's voice.

"Fly fishing in the lakes is open all year round."

Viggo practiced his yoga breathing.

"I've got you a permit."

Viggo's eyes flew open.

Orlando had smoothed out the map again and was reading from a book that had somehow appeared in his hands. "Fiordland offers first-class freshwater fishing for brown and rainbow trout, and some excellent coastal fishing opportunities at Martins Bay and Supper Cove." He looked up, awaiting permission to continue. Viggo shrugged non-committally, a move taken as an affirmative. "The lakes are renowned for their trout populations, but trampers, not having a boat at their disposal, do much better concentrating on rivers and the mouths of streams that empty..."

"Stop! Okay!" Running his hands through his hair and sighing, Viggo conceded defeat. "Two days? You're sure about that? Remember, we have to be back on set on Thursday."

Orlando was beaming now. "Positive. I checked with Mark. I've got all the gear: tent, stove, food, maps, radio even, everything. You just need to sort yourself out, grab your fishing rod, a few supplies and we're gone."

"Christ. I must be insane."

Orlando leaned over the table and gave Viggo a kiss on the cheek. "You *are* insane. But that's probably what I like about you."


Two hours later, the sun had broken through the cloud and the car was careering along a long, winding road towards the point they would start the trek. Viggo sat in the passenger seat with the map across his legs. The journey so far had been mostly in sleepy silence. Viggo wondered for the umpteenth time why he hadn't just told Orlando to go fuck himself when he had appeared in his kitchen that morning. Then the car rounded a particularly sharp corner and the world dipped. Opening out in front of them was a vista so breathtaking that Orlando hit the brakes and the car rolled to a stop.

Their eyes met, they started laughing. Then Viggo put out his hand, took Orlando's chin in his palm, kissed him lightly on the mouth and whispered against his lips, "Thank you."


Orlando had been right: the scenery was breathtaking. Viggo stopped to take in the vista ahead. They had been walking - or tramping, as Orlando insisted on calling it - for a good three hours. He was already regretting not having brought his camera. Better not to think of regrets. Better to just enjoy the beauty of landscape: the mountains, rushing streams, strange alien plants that sprung up in the deepest and slightest of crevices, patterns of foliage, and most of all, the colours. Everything glowed in the sharp light. More vivid, more intense than anything he could remember seeing before.

They took a break to eat some of their supplies.

"So humour me." Viggo took a swig of water. "When do we get to the fishing lake you promised?"

"Well," Orlando swallowed a bite of sandwich and spread the map across his knees, "according to this, we carry on until we reach this point here.” He pointed at the map and gestured for Viggo to come and look. “This is the lake that's meant to be really good for freshwater trout." They sat companionably checking the route, working out where they planned to pitch the tent for the night.


Another two hours of spectacular views and amazing rock formations and they arrived at their destination. The campsite was a small area in a valley leading to the lake.

Tent pitched, evening rations in hand, Viggo and Orlando wandered down the rest of the valley to see where they would be spending much of the next day.

"Orlando?" Viggo sat on a rock by the lake and took off his boots. "Why did you go to such trouble to arrange all this?"

Orlando had been gazing out at the water, eyes half-closed against the pale, waning sun. Viggo's question knocked him out of his reverie. "What? Oh, I dunno. Wanted to do it, thought you'd come. Needed a seasoned camper to get them to agree to it." He shook his head in amusement. "For some strange reason, the powers that be appear to think I'm not to be trusted to come back alive without an adult to accompany me." He smiled ruefully.

"Oh."

Orlando looked at the man sitting next to him. Viggo was rubbing his feet, humming softly. It occurred to Orlando that Viggo had been pretty easy to persuade to go on this trip. The thought was pleasing. More than pleasing, in fact.

They sat and talked for awhile about the filming, sharing thoughts about character motivation and Peter’s reading of the books. As late afternoon blurred into evening they stopped speaking, happy to simply sit. They watched the sunset in silence. Neither needed or wanted to intrude into the quiet. In their own ways, they both felt a sense of peace that had been missing from the last few months of dirt, drama and fatigue.

"Better get back to the camp." Viggo put his boots back on and held out a hand to Orlando. Pulling him up, he smiled at the young man and gestured at the lake. "It's beautiful. You were right, it would have been a tragedy to have missed this. I'm looking forward to doing some fishing tomorrow."

Orlando squinted at the last rays of sun, disappearing behind the peaks. "Well, I have a *very* thick book that I'm taking the opportunity to read. So," he turned and smiled happily at Viggo, "the fish are all yours!"

The night was cold and clear. They settled into their sleeping bags quickly to avoid freezing. It wasn't long before Viggo heard the shift in Orlando's breathing and relaxed, trying to get to sleep himself. His mind was mulling over the hours he had spent since morning. It had been a strange day. He wasn't at all sure what was really at the root of this whole experience, but decided that it was too late and he was too tired to analyse it. Better to enjoy the surroundings and the peace and not wonder what sort of companionship was being offered by the young man sleeping beside him.


A rush of cold air across his forehead awoke Viggo to the fact that Orlando had left the tent. It was not yet quite light. The tent walls were a deep, khaki green in the coming dawn. He could see the glimmerings of the first rays of sun touching the gap in the tent opening made by Orlando's not having pulled the flap back in place properly. Viggo wondered if he was meant to follow his companion. He shook the thought away and decided that either way, if he was to get much fishing done that day, he should get up now. He pulled on a sweater over his t-shirt, laced up his boots and left the tent. Just outside, Orlando was trying to get the burner alight.

"Try a match." Viggo sounded very amused to Orlando's ears. He looked up and first shook his head, then the matchbox in his hand. There was no sound from it. Viggo thought that the look on Orlando's face could well be described as properly mournful.

"Can't even light a fucking ciggie." Rolling his eyes dramatically, Orlando sat back on his heels and gave Viggo an imploring look. "Don't suppose..."

Viggo was grinning, dimple pronounced beneath the Aragorn beard growth. "Funny you should say that." He rifled through his pack and, with a flourish, produced a box of matches.

Orlando flung himself at the older man and hugged him. "You are a fucking god!"

Viggo laughed into Orlando’s shoulder. “That goes without saying.”

Coffee made and cigarette lit, Orlando gestured to a rough path that led over an outcrop of rocks a few hundred yards away from their camp. "Is it me, or is there the sound of running water coming from over there?"

Viggo turned to look. "Probably a river. After all, something has to be filling the lake."

"No, don't think so. Too loud and fast." Orlando stood up, finished the last of his coffee and carefully pinched out the end of his cigarette, putting the stub in his pocket. He caught Viggo's approving look and grinned. "Conservationist."

Viggo laughed and watched as Orlando began to walk towards the noise of the water. He put down his mug and followed.

Ten minutes later he was standing open-mouthed, staring at a sight so beautiful that he was rendered speechless. He couldn't believe that he hadn't brought his camera with him. He had agonised over leaving it behind, knowing the scenery would be wonderful, but the unappealing thought of dragging the extra weight around had won out. Much to his current regret.

Orlando was edging his way over the rocks towards a waterfall. Not just any waterfall, but a waterfall straight out of a children's fairy story. Or, more possibly, straight out of The Two Towers. The water cascaded down in a curtain, crashing into the rocks below, sending up spray to swamp the sides of the pool made by the flow.

Viggo watched Orlando disappear through the veil of water. He waited a few moments and followed.

Clambering over the rocks that surrounded the pool, he reached the curtain and stepped behind. It was like entering another world. For the amount of noise that the waterfall made from without, the sound within was strangely muted.

Orlando was leaning against the back wall in the middle of the ledge behind the hard, pounding curtain of water; head thrown back, mouth open, eyes shut tight. Viggo thought he looked sublime. Beautiful. Wild.

He shook himself to clear the thought. He moved forwards in the gloom until he was standing so close to Orlando their sides were almost touching. Looking out towards the strange, otherworldly half-light outside of the water-cave, he felt light-headed and dizzy. He closed his eyes, concentrating hard on his breathing, letting his arms hang down at his sides. He tried not to move when he felt strong, firm fingers slide between his own; another palm settling against his palm, knitting two hands together. He couldn't remember when he had last held hands with another person, apart from Henry. He let himself relax into the sensation. There was nothing tentative about Orlando's clasp, the touch was firm and strong. Viggo liked it.

"I feel completely off my head!" Orlando's voice shattered against the noise of the water.

Viggo opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the man next to him. "That's the negative ions." He smiled. "The power of the falling water hitting a solid surface knocks loose the electrons from the water atoms." He angled his head up to stare through the water at the lightening sky and continued, "The electrons mix with the oxygen atoms in the air and make negative air ions. When you breathe them into your lungs, they get absorbed into your bloodstream and stimulate the production of seratonin in the brain. Improves your mood."

Orlando stared at Viggo, mouth wide, eyes sparkling. "You are something else, Vig! How the fuck do you know that?" He began to laugh. The walls of the water-cave rang and jangled with the sound. Viggo felt its resonance shoot through his body, making his nerves tingle and his teeth pleasantly vibrate. "So, in other words, I'm getting the proverbial natural high?"

Viggo shook his head and laughed. "Just something I read." Orlando continued to look at him, still laughing. The air sparkled around them: Viggo could almost see the particles ricocheting off the walls and back into the water curtain. He let go of Orlando’s hand and raised his arms so that he could clasp the rocks overhanging their heads. Closing his eyes, he tried to centre himself; tried to relax into all the sensations buzzing around him. He could almost have been speaking to himself, his voice was so quiet. “Just something I picked up somewhere.”

He sensed Orlando move closer before he felt him. Keeping his eyes shut tightly against the droplet gloom surrounding them, he dug inside his breathing. Orlando’s touch wasn’t a surprise, but it still sent a shock through his entire body. He shuddered, and a voice whispered against his ear, “Viggo, let me in. I want to stimulate your serotonin.” A soft laugh, and then a sigh filled the air by Viggo’s neck.

Viggo smiled and relaxed. He felt seduced by the sounds engulfing him. Water crashing; air trying to circulate; feet steadying for foot-hold; the drip, drip of splash-back falling from the rocks above his head; Orlando's breathing mixing with his own. "I'm thinking how we're in another world here. How anything could happen." He sounded strangely calm to his own ears.

"If we let it." Orlando's voice was far away and yet near. His breath was against Viggo's cheek now. Stroking his face in slow sensuous streams.

A mouth pressed softly against Viggo's and he sighed into the kiss. Orlando's tongue pressed in between his teeth and stroked across his own tongue, both tasting and leaving its own taste for Viggo to savour. Hands stroked down to his stomach and pushed the fabric of his t-shirt up so that he felt bare flesh, fingers against his skin. The same fingers tugged at his belt and undid the buttons on his jeans. The same fingers slid tantalisingly down inside to stroke and caress the skin below his navel. He concentrated and tried to focus on anything other than what those fingers were doing. He kept his eyes closed and waited. The fingers continued their gentle descent until they were caught in the folds of denim, nowhere to go but back up. Viggo almost moaned in complaint when they were removed from their exploration. He gingerly opened his eyes. Orlando was staring at him, pupils so huge in the gloom that he couldn't tell the colour of the irises.

"This okay with you?" Orlando sounded almost shy. Blinking those black eyes at him, owl-like and huge. Whites too white. Pupils too black.

Viggo nodded, and was given a warm, flashing smile as reward.

He closed his eyes again and settled back into the crevice of the wall.

The fingers returned to his hips and he felt the push as his jeans were shifted down. The cold, droplet air against his skin made him suck in his breath. As the material passed down over the jutting bones and released his cock, he could feel it harden even more as the cool air rushed over it. He heard Orlando smile, heard the small sound of a throat catching as warm fingers stroked down the length and came to settle underneath. He opened his eyes and stared at Orlando's forehead, which was all he could see of the face that was looking determinedly down towards his erection. He caught the flicker of light off irises, black eyes blinking up, but he couldn't see into them. The angle too acute. The light too dim. He watched in fascination as the head moved low and Orlando knelt in the puddling spray at his feet.

Orlando's mouth slid over his cock: tongue teasing the underside, teeth softly scraping the top. The noise of the water suddenly muted to almost nothing, as if all sound had been sucked into a vacuum. Against the silence in his ears Viggo could hear only the steady thump of his heart and the sound of Orlando's breathing matching its beat. He let himself relax into the feel of the mouth on him. The long, sensuous strokes of the tongue; lips firmly caressing; steady thumbs circling the jut of his hipbones, round and round, teasing and thrilling. The light outside the water-cave began to increase as the sun rose against the craggy silhouette of the rocks, making the water turn yellow, orange and then red. He could almost see the atoms split and began to laugh, causing the hands at his hip to press harder and the mouth to suck more intensely. The heat spread out to fill every part of his body, circling and vibrating until his legs went weak and his face flushed red from the surge across his skin. He tried to steady his breathing but gave up as the thrill of his orgasm came up and thrust through his body. He came in Orlando's mouth, crying out into the stillness.

The noise of crashing water filled the void in a rush. He blinked and looked down at Orlando, disorientated.

He yanked at Orlando's arm to pull him up. Taking the young man's face in his hands, he kissed him softly. He could taste the come on his lips and darted his tongue into the soft, wet mouth, tasting and wondering at the strangeness of it.

Orlando grinned at him. Pleased and smug at the response. "Well, said I'd show you some scenery." His forehead rested against Viggo's and they stood for awhile listening to the sun rise.

Orlando shifted first. He stepped back and smirked at Viggo. "Never thought I'd see you quite so dishabille."

Viggo realised that his jeans were still down around his thighs. "Shit. Thank you so much for reminding me just how ridiculous I look." He pulled them back up, buttoned the fly and was doing up the belt when Orlando's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

The voice was quiet and unsure. "You're not freaked out or anything, are you?" Orlando's brow was furrowed and he had the look of a slightly bashful child.

"No, not freaked." Viggo marshalled his words into some semblance of coherence. "Just not used to having cast-mates give me blow jobs on camping trips. A little out of the ordinary, even for me." He smiled. "I mean, I'm not sure what we do now. I'm not sure I'd want us to do anything. I confess that I am not exactly convinced that I'd be quite prepared to repay you in kind, as lovely as the experience was. And it was.” He paused. “Maybe it just needs to be what it is."

Orlando nodded. "Yeah." He ran his hands across his head and bit his bottom lip. "I don't need you to do anything. I didn't do it because I want some big thing, I just wanted to do it." He shrugged. "Is that okay?"

"Yes. Strangely enough, it is."

"Good. Then I think it's time I came good on my promise of some serious fishing."

The atmosphere, so charged a blink before, became loose and comfortable. It was as if a pact had been made. The two men nodded and set off back to the camp.

The rest of the morning was spent in leisurely pursuits. Viggo didn't catch any fish, but as he pointed out to Orlando, the catch was hardly the point. They bickered good-naturedly over numerous pointless subjects; Viggo explained at great, and to Orlando's mind, boring length about the Zen of fly fishing; Orlando read aloud from his *very* thick book - which to Viggo's great joy turned out to be Middlemarch; they gossiped and chatted about the rest of the cast and crew; told each other about their families and friends back home; discussed art and photography, bungee jumping and free-fall parachuting.

To Viggo’s amusement, Orlando managed to produce an edible lunch from somewhere deep in the bowels of his rucksack. This led to demands for the rucksack to be turned out for Viggo to see exactly what Orlando kept in his ‘handbag’. The joke ran on all afternoon to varying degrees of ridiculousness.

“I have this horrible feeling you’re never going to let me live this one down!” Orlando settled his back against a rock and shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Never. It’s way too good not to use against you.” Viggo smiled at Orlando. “You’re a man of many surprises, Orlando.” It was said almost under his breath, his voice low and affectionate, but Orlando heard and understood.

By the time they had to make their way back to the car, they both knew more about each other than they had learnt in all the long months they had spent on set.

The tramp back to the car took a little longer than expected so they didn't start back until after sunset. The drive back was less quiet than the drive out. They talked about everything apart from the waterfall. By the time they reached Viggo's place, they had come to a silent agreement on the subject.

The car stopped and Orlando killed the engine. Even as the thought of whether he should kiss Viggo goodnight entered his head, he felt Viggo’s lips against his cheek. “Goodnight, Orlando. Thank you for a lovely trip.”

Viggo got out of the car and dragged his backpack from the back seat. As he reached his door, he turned and raised a hand. Orlando smiled in reply, started the engine and drove away.