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fellowshippers2004-01-04 12:21 am
deleerium.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-04 12:21 am
Need [Part 1 of 1]
Title: Need
Posted: pending
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Author: Ladybug a.k.a.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deleerium
Pairing: Orlando/Fellowship (Viggo, Billy, Sean B., Dom, Ian, John, Sean A. - minus one ring bearer)
Rating: R
Summary: Pairing is explanation enough (I think…though at it's heart, this is orlijah)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: None of the events portrayed in this work of fiction actually took place. None of the people in this work of fiction actually said or did any of these things. I do not own any of the characters or know any of the people mentioned in this work of fiction. This is for entertainment, people! None of it is true. (dammit…)
Notes: Thanks to Summerfly, the world’s best beta!
Orlando was in New Zealand for nearly four months before it him like a hammer, striking sharp and sudden between his heart and his throat.
Yes, he’d been hired as an actor, yes it was an incredible experience, and yes it would probably change his life.
But that wasn’t why he was here.
He was here because they needed him.
+
Aragorn was having a shit-all, over the hill, everything is fucking useless, teeth-grating day. Dark, wounded, and almost missing cues.
Not that anyone would know, because Viggo really wasn’t there to say anything.
But Orlando could feel it, even if Viggo was on hiatus while the king took over his body. He could feel it in the white knuckles where Aragorn grasped his sword, feel it in the sudden jerk-lift of Aragorn’s chin – an unusual characteristic for a reluctant monarch, and he especially felt it in their reflections in the dressing room during touch ups.
Aragorn’s eyes flickered down, then he sneered, his gaze raking the half-dressed curve of Legolas’s ass covered in nothing but the gray tights and darker boots, blonde hair slung back into a bandana.
Orlando waited until the makeup artist left before he turned and levered himself off his chair like a pendulum, feet still planted on the floor as he came down, hands curling around the arms of Aragorn’s chair.
The king’s eyes narrowed.
Orlando smiled a something wicked, winsome, elf-light smile and moistened his lips before leaning forward and pressing his mouth to his king’s.
Aragorn snarled and raised his hands with a snap, thumbs digging into the sides of Orlando’s cheeks, forcing open his mouth and holding his head in a steel grip accompanied by deep, raping thrusts of his tongue and sharp snaps of his teeth.
Orlando decided to swallow his low chuckle, choosing instead to reach nimbly under the layers of complex leather and wool, unfastening and pulling until Aragorn bucked awkwardly into his touch, so hard Orlando could feel the pulse under the firm glide of his thumb.
Orlando laid the fingers of one hand gently against the side of the king’s face and Aragorn reluctantly released his mouth, gasping into the quiet of the makeup trailer.
Orlando dropped gracefully to his knees.
Aragorn growled the elf’s name when he came, hands so tight around the slender neck, Orlando knew there would be bruises.
Orlando licked his lips, replaced the shifted leather and heat, and pressed a last soft smiling kiss to Aragorn’s lips before sinking calmly back into his chair.
The door opened in less than two minutes.
The makeup artist was pissed at the damage done to the elf, but it only cost Orlando a wink and a smile.
Aragorn was dead-on for the rest of the day.
At sunset, Orlando ran in to Viggo as he came out of the trailer, no longer costumed, but still carrying his sword.
Viggo opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead, he reached out and clasped Orlando on the shoulder, fingers digging into the soft cotton of a black t-shirt.
Orlando grinned and pecked him on the cheek before sauntering off backwards, graceful in every direction. “You’re welcome, you filthy human.”
Viggo grinned back, one of his wide, mad-as-a-hatter smiles.
+
Orlando watched Elijah for a couple of days, then decided he was ok for now.
+
Orlando found Billy crying when he went to pick him up for an early Saturday of surfing.
Billy didn’t answer the door at Orlando’s knock. Orlando had gone around back to find Billy rocking back and forth on the top step of the deck, silent tears falling one after the other down his cheeks.
Orlando had grasped both his hands and knelt on the step below him. After a moment, Billy leaned forward and pushed his head into Orlando’s chest, two broken sobs and his hands stole around the slender neck.
Billy cried hard, Orlando rocking him slowly back and forth.
In a few minutes, Billy gave a loud sniff and pulled back, rubbing the back of one eye with an embarrassed snuffle. “Sorry I’m such a fuckin’ blubber-buss, Orli, I’m just feelin’ a bit homesi…”
Orlando laid a finger against his lips and Billy went instantly silent. Very slowly, Orlando leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Billy’s.
Billy hiccupped into the kiss.
Orlando smiled and tried again.
Billy’s sheets smelled like mint and honey and home, and Orlando tried to memorize the smell, rubbing his nose against the light blue rumple of fabric as Billy murmured soft words and short fingers slid with something slightly more than awe over the long bronze curl of Orlando’s back.
Billy breathed out a low moan when he came, his hand faltering around Orlando for only a moment before he squeezed hard and quick knowing until Orlando bit down on the pillow, fingers fisting into the sheets as he followed, humming low in his throat at the slow, lovely pulses relaxing his skin from the inside.
They were laughing again by the time Orlando was re-dressed and Billy’s surf board was loaded on the jeep. Just before Orlando climbed in, Billy clasped him on the elbow. “Orli, I…”
Orlando grinned and ruffled Billy’s hair. “Only the first one’s free, you greedy bastard. Wouldn’t want to turn you into an Orli junkie now, would I?”
Billy blinked, then threw back his head and giggled, finally at home in New Zealand. “Not a chance in hell, you sodding elf.”
+
Orlando was puzzled.
Elijah had the most lines, the most pressure, the most camera time, the least time off and yet he was un-phased.
And eighteen.
Orlando would have been a wreck. And he was older. Not a lot older, but still. Older.
Orlando shrugged and reminded himself Elijah had done this before. Many times.
+
Sean Bean was a bit more of an enigma.
Orlando only caught on by sheer luck.
They were at a dinner party at Ian’s. Orlando was leaning against the wall on the dark side of the balcony, staring at the New Zealand night and contemplating refilling his now empty wine glass. The sliding glass door opened and Sean stepped out, snapping his cell phone closed.
Orlando was just about to murmur a greeting when Sean suddenly threw his own glass as hard as he could, out into the night. Orlando froze.
Sean dropped his hands to the balcony rail and gripped them hard, his head falling between his shoulder blades, his breathing coming in grated whispered between his teeth. He rocked back and forth on his heels, harder and harder until he flung himself away from the railing with an icy growl. “That BITCH! Why do I even fucking bother!”
Orlando felt a shiver go up his spine at the barely maintained control.
Sean scraped his hair back from his face and let out his breath with a whoosh before turning and walking calmly back through the door.
Orlando waited until they were leaving, he and Sean the last. Orlando followed Sean to his car.
Sean sighed impatiently, “Orlando, mate it’s really late and I’ve an early call. Talk to you tomorrow?”
Orlando didn’t say anything, waiting patiently by the passenger door to Sean’s car, his dark gaze inviting.
Sean stared at him, then snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, then. Give us a rest, right?”
Orlando tucked his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, pushing the fabric down enough to expose the golden slice of one perfect hip bone through the open triangle of his button down shirt tail.
Sean’s eyes flickered helplessly to the three by one inch slice of skin. He swallowed. “Orli.” His voice was low, his laugh awkward. “I’m straight, mate.”
Orlando cocked his head and smiled patiently.
The drive to Sean’s apartment was thick with silence.
The burn of hastily tied leather thongs too tight around his wrists was nothing compared to the first slam of the brick-hard-blonde into his body, driving his head and shoulders against the headboard with a muffled groan.
The second time, Sean stood on the bed, Orlando kneeling awkwardly before him, wrists re-tied more carefully this time, twisted together behind his back, rope taut between them and his over-tied ankles as he lapped at the salt-sweat heat between Sean’s thighs.
The third time, Orlando was only aware enough to gurgle a moan and buck helplessly into the stroke of Sean’s relentless fist, his legs bent impossible-wide over the back of Sean’s shoulders, head, hands and arms hanging arched and slick with sweat over the side of the bed.
Orlando’s sleepy grin and slightly-harder than necessary goodbye/morning kiss wasn’t quite enough to alleviate Sean’s panic in the bright light of day.
Orlando shushed the blushing apology before it could crawl past Sean’s lips and instead told Sean he hadn’t been on such a deliciously wild ride in a long time. But next time, Sean might want to think about taking up a hobby to relieve the tension. Something soothing, like…ice hockey, Orlando said with a wink.
Sean laughed, relaxing into relief.
The divorce papers arrived less than a month later.
+
It was starting to bother Orlando, the whole ‘Elijah never cracks under pressure’ bit. He was beginning to wonder if Elijah was even human.
Day after day the young man woke up before dawn, stood up for hours in feet, then went to set where he walked through take after take after take, sometimes required to agonize and tear up on screen dozens of times in an afternoon.
But even after months and months of filming, the pressure never manifested. He was chipper, never missed a party or an outing, always had a kind word to say, and could spend hours and hours deep in discussion with Viggo, or Billy, or Andy, solving the problems of the universe over and over again while managing to entertain two energetic hobbits.
Orlando tried drawing Elijah out once, wanting to know what held all that control together. Within minutes, Orlando found himself talking fondly of missing his sister and his dog.
Orlando frowned and withdrew, still watching. He knew something had to give.
Sometime.
Somewhere.
Eventually.
+
Dom wasn’t so much a surprise as the timing was odd.
Orlando had been watching the three of them for weeks. First Dominic would throw himself into Billy’s personal space, nuzzling and laughing into an ear that became more flushed as the evenings wore on.
The next night, Dominic would bat his eyes and flirt outrageously with Elijah, a hand too long on his knee, an arm just a little lower than normal around his hips.
Like a ping-pong ball, Dominic bounced from one to the other, always managing the delicate dance like a master, never committing openly to an emotion, never giving cause for jealousy, or even awareness.
Until the night Orlando pushed open the hobbit’s kitchen door and found Dom watching Billy press Elijah back into the counter, one leg curled around Billy’s hip, soft sounds of approval coming from the back of Elijah’s throat as Billy did apparently wonderful things to his tongue.
Orlando snagged Dom around the waist and silently dragged him back out of the kitchen, letting the door swing shut without a sound. He released Dom only to find himself pushed, falling back over the arm of the couch, eyes wide and trying to clamber up from an awkward sprawl when Dom’s hand thumped down in the middle of his chest, pinning him to the leather.
Orlando stared up at him for a moment, blinked, then smiled and let his arms drop back over his head.
Invitation.
Dom pounced.
Orlando tried to smother his laughing gasps against Dom’s shoulders as hands twisted and bent awkwardly against denim and cotton, pushing and unzipping and fumbling until there was a hiss and a low groan and the hands were hard and fast, teeth clicking and lips scraping against one another. Orlando clutched at the back of Dom’s neck when Dom’s lightening quick fingers found a copper nipple and twisted hard, the other hand tightening and steadying it’s strokes.
Orlando laughed as he came, cursing appreciatively as his hips bucked hard into Dom’s fist, then he twisted his wrist and tightened his own grip. Dom growled and shook, biting so hard into Orlando’s shoulder that Orlando felt skin give and split underneath, wondering if blood would come easily out of cotton.
They lay panting for what seemed like an hour.
Dom finally crawled off Orlando. They sat up, a foot separating them as they adjusted their clothing and found a discarded t-shirt to clean up the mess.
Orlando cast a sideways glance at Dom from under his lashes, wondering.
Dom sighed and reached for his beer, still sitting on the coffee table.
Orlando reached for his.
“Cheers, then.”
“Cheers.”
Dominic snorted.
Orlando laughed.
The bottles clinked together softly as they exchanged wry grins, tilted their heads back, and finished them off.
Their parting hug was only a fraction of a second longer than normal, and there was an affectionate squeeze in Dominic’s arms that had been missing before.
Orlando smiled and jumped down the front steps.
+
Orlando was about to give up.
Elijah just wasn’t going to crack. Apparently the occasionally friendly romp he had going with Billy was enough to take the edge off.
As far as Orlando could tell.
He vehemently denied that it was starting to piss him off.
He told himself it was just annoyance that he couldn’t help them all, like ordering a complete chess set from the Franklin Mint. Beautiful, but only one piece at a time, and suddenly the company ends the series and you’re left holding everyone but the…ring bearer.
Orlando snorted and rang the doorbell to Ian’s condo.
+
Ian tried to laugh it off, but Orlando caught the barest flush of pink on the tips of the elegant actor’s ears.
Orlando knew about the picture of Ian’s soon to be ex-boyfriend, Nick. Everyone knew about the picture.
Orlando carefully stepped closer, sliding his arms under the dark dinner jacket against the warm skin of Ian’s lower back. He pressed a hesitant kiss to the side of Ian’s jaw.
Ian set down his glass.
Orlando was flushed and smiling dazedly by the time Ian set him gently away and pressed a last chaste kiss on his forehead. Elves were too beautiful for old wizened wizards, he murmured.
Orlando swayed for a half second, then chuckled. He told the wizard he shouldn’t underestimate his magical effect on the younger generation.
Ian laughed and said yes indeed, sometimes experience could be mistaken for magic, and sent him home.
Ian flew Nick over one last time, then sent him off slack-jawed and buggy-eyed, without his usual allowance and a new single status. Ian reminded the young man not to flaunt his affairs around people who knew his current boyfriend.
Then Ian extended a rare and coveted invitation for Orlando to join his exclusive gentleman’s club in London. Orlando came over to thank him personally, his gaze only mildly leering.
Ian swatted him on the rear and sent him away with only a quick peck for old time’s sake. Orlando sighed dramatically and blew him a kiss before driving off in a spray of gravel.
+
John only required reservations at the most expensive restaurant in Wellington, Orlando in a dinner jacket and the longest, most one-sided conversation over lobster Orlando had ever had.
Orlando was more than tipsy when he climbed into the back of a taxi, shaking his head in wonderment at how much he now knew about boats he hadn’t wanted to know in the first place. John hadn’t even hugged him goodbye, merely shaken his hand and handed the cabbie a fifty.
John bought three new boats the next week.
He christened one of them the Orlando.
+
Orlando stumbled on Sean Astin completely by accident. He headed over to the hobbits to see if they wanted to catch some sunset waves. No one answered the first knock, so he went around back.
Sean was sitting in the small garden, leaning back in the large wooden lawn chair, a few sheets of paper clutched in one hand, his head resting on the other. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.
Orlando walked over and fell into a graceful sprawl on the grass next to him. “Anyone home?”
Sean shook his head. After a moment he croaked out a word that sounded like surfing.
Orlando reached up and took his hand.
They sat like that in silence for quite a long time, Orlando’s fingers twined loosely with Sean’s, thumb stroking soothingly over the other man’s.
“I miss them.” Sean waved the long letter in the air, dejected. “Somethin’ awful. No matter what…I do.” The last came out in Sam’s accent, broken and wrenching. Helpless and frustrated. “I thought…” Sean sighed deeply, ragged. “thought I could just hang out…take my mind off everything. But…everyone’s gone. Everyone.”
Orlando’s eyes filled with empathy and he rose to his knees, propping his chin on Sean’s arm, looking up at him as he continued to stroke his fingers softly against the warm hand in his. “I’m here.”
Sean smiled halfheartedly and reached out to touch the side of Orlando’s face. In thanks. In understanding. In affection.
Orlando turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sean’s palm. He laid his head back on Sean’s arm and gently, carefully, butterfly light, set his free hand on Sean’s thigh. “Can I help?” His voice was soft, open, unassuming. Safe.
Sean stilled.
He stared at Orlando.
Orlando continued to look at him, unblinking, steady, objective.
Sean bit his lower lip, this time reaching out with a hand that shivered before laying it against Orlando’s cheek.
Sean nodded.
Orlando was gentle, and careful, offering Sean every opportunity to stop, to give into the panic Orlando could see lurking in the corners of his pretty eyes. Until Sean’s finger’s tightened on his scalp, pushing him firmly in the direction he wanted the teasing soft mouth to go.
Sean cried out harshly when he finally came.
Orlando’s eyes widened in surprise when Sean pushed him over to the grass and hovered above him, laying close and still breathing heavy along his side, a strong hand sure and unerring into the loose waistband of his shorts, the awkward strokes made more devastating by the affection and sense of fairness that compelled it. Orlando clutched at his forearms and cried out, feet scrabbling in the dewy grass to push up hard into the last knowing tug.
Sean didn’t kiss him until they were both standing by their cars, the sun having just set.
It was chaste and full of gratitude. Orlando whispered his goodnight, telling Sean he was the very best of men.
+
Orlando was miserable.
Day seventy three of Helms Deep and he had fucked up every one of the forty something takes.
He was exhausted.
He felt like a bloody zombie and he’d missed his choreography and cut one of the stuntmen deeply in the arm.
On top of everything, he’d managed to make it through a half dozen nights out with the hobbits in the last two months, exhausted or not, and he’d had it up to bloody here with Elijah.
He just wasn’t fucking human. He never cried, except on film. He never looked tired, except when he was supposed to, on film, of course. He could drink half the fellowship under the table, but never got drunk. He never told lies, and he never talked bad about someone else. The experienced actors adored his professionalism, the younger actors adored his sense of fun, the crew loved his down to earth attitude and his colorful mouth.
Orlando was still snarling over Elijah’s implacable attitude and apparent perfection when he pulled up to the bar. Why in the hell he’d decided it would be a good idea to eat breakfast with the rest of the cast on his day off, just having gotten of a 12 hour night shoot, he’d never know.
He slammed the door on his jeep and jammed his hands into his coat pocket. On top of everything he was fucking freezing. He’d never be warm again. And he was coming down with something, he was sure of it.
He took a deep breath before he walked in the door, and sneezed.
Whining wasn’t his style. He’d go in, he’d have a short stack, drink a cup of coffee, laugh if he could, then leave as quickly and politely as possible.
Half way through his short stack, he rounded on Elijah, who’d been staring steadily at him all morning, a small frown on his perfect mouth. “What?” It came out as a soft hiss.
Elijah’s lips twitched.
Orlando’s mouth curled into a snarl. He gulped the last of his coffee, shoveled the last two fork fulls in his mouth and excused himself, dropping a wad of bills uncaring on the table.
His hands were shaking by the time he tugged his keys out of his pockets. He dropped them to the ground, and cursed, long, and loud and colorfully.
Then froze.
Elijah stood up from his crouch and hesitated for a long moment before laying a hand on Orlando’s arm and tucking the keys into his own hand. Gently, Elijah led him around to the passenger side, unlocked the door, and held it open.
Orlando sniffed.
Then climbed inside.
Elijah was quiet on the drive back to Orlando’s house.
Orlando was still shivering when Elijah unlocked his front door and guided him inside, locking it quietly behind them. Elijah laid his hand on Orlando’s chest, a motion Orlando took to mean stay.
He heard Elijah turn the bathtub on.
Orlando didn’t protest when Elijah slid his jacket off his shoulders then knelt and untied his shoes.
Orlando was shaking hard by the time Elijah had him stripped to his boxers.
Elijah took him by the hand, and led him to the bathroom. He patted the towels on the counter and left with a small smile, closing the door behind him.
Orlando fell asleep in the tub.
He woke with Elijah’s soft mouth pressed to his temple. He turned and the soft mouth met his.
The trip from the bathroom to the bedroom almost restarted the shivers. They disappeared as soon as Elijah slipped bare and warm under the down comforter beside him.
There were a few seconds of pull and tuck of limbs until they fit.
Perfectly.
Orlando shivered again.
Elijah kissed a soft patch of skin high on Orlando’s chest, easy reach for his head pillowed on a tired shoulder. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Orlando opened his mouth to protest, but Elijah started trailing his fingers through the dark stripe of hair on the top of his scalp. Orlando murmured and his eyes drifted closed.
His last coherent thought was that he was supposed to be doing the bloody comforting…
+
Orlando moaned softly as a soft tongue chased his through his sleep soaked brain. He slowly blinked open barely rested eyes and found himself staring into blue.
Elijah leaned down to kiss him again, murmuring between slow kisses and exploring licks. “Sorry.” He tasted the underside of Orlando’s chin. “Only let you sleep a few hours.” He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Orlando’s, sighing into the damp heat as Orlando pushed up into the touch. “You. Finally. Couldn’t wait any longer…”
Orlando murmured a vague agreement, his hands sliding up into the thick ruff of Elijah’s hair, amazed at the softness of hair and skin and taste and touch and…
Orlando pulled Elijah’s head away, his eyes dark and sad. “I…” He licked his lips and started again. “Lijah, I can’t do this if it’s just…”
Elijah smiled against his mouth, silencing him. He petted the sides of Orlando’s face as he pulled back, carefully tracing a dark brow. “I’ve been waiting eleven months for you to need me. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”
Orlando’s entire body lit up. He snaked his arms around Elijah’s waist and pulled him close, spreading his legs until Elijah dropped between them with a small gasp, biting his lower lip at the sensation of hard skin against skin. Orlando nuzzled Elijah’s temple, trailing kisses down the soft skin to his lips. “I might need you for quite some time. That alright?”
Elijah nodded, his smile answering the lips under his.
END
Posted: pending
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Author: Ladybug a.k.a.
deleerium Pairing: Orlando/Fellowship (Viggo, Billy, Sean B., Dom, Ian, John, Sean A. - minus one ring bearer)
Rating: R
Summary: Pairing is explanation enough (I think…though at it's heart, this is orlijah)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: None of the events portrayed in this work of fiction actually took place. None of the people in this work of fiction actually said or did any of these things. I do not own any of the characters or know any of the people mentioned in this work of fiction. This is for entertainment, people! None of it is true. (dammit…)
Notes: Thanks to Summerfly, the world’s best beta!
Orlando was in New Zealand for nearly four months before it him like a hammer, striking sharp and sudden between his heart and his throat.
Yes, he’d been hired as an actor, yes it was an incredible experience, and yes it would probably change his life.
But that wasn’t why he was here.
He was here because they needed him.
+
Aragorn was having a shit-all, over the hill, everything is fucking useless, teeth-grating day. Dark, wounded, and almost missing cues.
Not that anyone would know, because Viggo really wasn’t there to say anything.
But Orlando could feel it, even if Viggo was on hiatus while the king took over his body. He could feel it in the white knuckles where Aragorn grasped his sword, feel it in the sudden jerk-lift of Aragorn’s chin – an unusual characteristic for a reluctant monarch, and he especially felt it in their reflections in the dressing room during touch ups.
Aragorn’s eyes flickered down, then he sneered, his gaze raking the half-dressed curve of Legolas’s ass covered in nothing but the gray tights and darker boots, blonde hair slung back into a bandana.
Orlando waited until the makeup artist left before he turned and levered himself off his chair like a pendulum, feet still planted on the floor as he came down, hands curling around the arms of Aragorn’s chair.
The king’s eyes narrowed.
Orlando smiled a something wicked, winsome, elf-light smile and moistened his lips before leaning forward and pressing his mouth to his king’s.
Aragorn snarled and raised his hands with a snap, thumbs digging into the sides of Orlando’s cheeks, forcing open his mouth and holding his head in a steel grip accompanied by deep, raping thrusts of his tongue and sharp snaps of his teeth.
Orlando decided to swallow his low chuckle, choosing instead to reach nimbly under the layers of complex leather and wool, unfastening and pulling until Aragorn bucked awkwardly into his touch, so hard Orlando could feel the pulse under the firm glide of his thumb.
Orlando laid the fingers of one hand gently against the side of the king’s face and Aragorn reluctantly released his mouth, gasping into the quiet of the makeup trailer.
Orlando dropped gracefully to his knees.
Aragorn growled the elf’s name when he came, hands so tight around the slender neck, Orlando knew there would be bruises.
Orlando licked his lips, replaced the shifted leather and heat, and pressed a last soft smiling kiss to Aragorn’s lips before sinking calmly back into his chair.
The door opened in less than two minutes.
The makeup artist was pissed at the damage done to the elf, but it only cost Orlando a wink and a smile.
Aragorn was dead-on for the rest of the day.
At sunset, Orlando ran in to Viggo as he came out of the trailer, no longer costumed, but still carrying his sword.
Viggo opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead, he reached out and clasped Orlando on the shoulder, fingers digging into the soft cotton of a black t-shirt.
Orlando grinned and pecked him on the cheek before sauntering off backwards, graceful in every direction. “You’re welcome, you filthy human.”
Viggo grinned back, one of his wide, mad-as-a-hatter smiles.
+
Orlando watched Elijah for a couple of days, then decided he was ok for now.
+
Orlando found Billy crying when he went to pick him up for an early Saturday of surfing.
Billy didn’t answer the door at Orlando’s knock. Orlando had gone around back to find Billy rocking back and forth on the top step of the deck, silent tears falling one after the other down his cheeks.
Orlando had grasped both his hands and knelt on the step below him. After a moment, Billy leaned forward and pushed his head into Orlando’s chest, two broken sobs and his hands stole around the slender neck.
Billy cried hard, Orlando rocking him slowly back and forth.
In a few minutes, Billy gave a loud sniff and pulled back, rubbing the back of one eye with an embarrassed snuffle. “Sorry I’m such a fuckin’ blubber-buss, Orli, I’m just feelin’ a bit homesi…”
Orlando laid a finger against his lips and Billy went instantly silent. Very slowly, Orlando leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Billy’s.
Billy hiccupped into the kiss.
Orlando smiled and tried again.
Billy’s sheets smelled like mint and honey and home, and Orlando tried to memorize the smell, rubbing his nose against the light blue rumple of fabric as Billy murmured soft words and short fingers slid with something slightly more than awe over the long bronze curl of Orlando’s back.
Billy breathed out a low moan when he came, his hand faltering around Orlando for only a moment before he squeezed hard and quick knowing until Orlando bit down on the pillow, fingers fisting into the sheets as he followed, humming low in his throat at the slow, lovely pulses relaxing his skin from the inside.
They were laughing again by the time Orlando was re-dressed and Billy’s surf board was loaded on the jeep. Just before Orlando climbed in, Billy clasped him on the elbow. “Orli, I…”
Orlando grinned and ruffled Billy’s hair. “Only the first one’s free, you greedy bastard. Wouldn’t want to turn you into an Orli junkie now, would I?”
Billy blinked, then threw back his head and giggled, finally at home in New Zealand. “Not a chance in hell, you sodding elf.”
+
Orlando was puzzled.
Elijah had the most lines, the most pressure, the most camera time, the least time off and yet he was un-phased.
And eighteen.
Orlando would have been a wreck. And he was older. Not a lot older, but still. Older.
Orlando shrugged and reminded himself Elijah had done this before. Many times.
+
Sean Bean was a bit more of an enigma.
Orlando only caught on by sheer luck.
They were at a dinner party at Ian’s. Orlando was leaning against the wall on the dark side of the balcony, staring at the New Zealand night and contemplating refilling his now empty wine glass. The sliding glass door opened and Sean stepped out, snapping his cell phone closed.
Orlando was just about to murmur a greeting when Sean suddenly threw his own glass as hard as he could, out into the night. Orlando froze.
Sean dropped his hands to the balcony rail and gripped them hard, his head falling between his shoulder blades, his breathing coming in grated whispered between his teeth. He rocked back and forth on his heels, harder and harder until he flung himself away from the railing with an icy growl. “That BITCH! Why do I even fucking bother!”
Orlando felt a shiver go up his spine at the barely maintained control.
Sean scraped his hair back from his face and let out his breath with a whoosh before turning and walking calmly back through the door.
Orlando waited until they were leaving, he and Sean the last. Orlando followed Sean to his car.
Sean sighed impatiently, “Orlando, mate it’s really late and I’ve an early call. Talk to you tomorrow?”
Orlando didn’t say anything, waiting patiently by the passenger door to Sean’s car, his dark gaze inviting.
Sean stared at him, then snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, then. Give us a rest, right?”
Orlando tucked his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, pushing the fabric down enough to expose the golden slice of one perfect hip bone through the open triangle of his button down shirt tail.
Sean’s eyes flickered helplessly to the three by one inch slice of skin. He swallowed. “Orli.” His voice was low, his laugh awkward. “I’m straight, mate.”
Orlando cocked his head and smiled patiently.
The drive to Sean’s apartment was thick with silence.
The burn of hastily tied leather thongs too tight around his wrists was nothing compared to the first slam of the brick-hard-blonde into his body, driving his head and shoulders against the headboard with a muffled groan.
The second time, Sean stood on the bed, Orlando kneeling awkwardly before him, wrists re-tied more carefully this time, twisted together behind his back, rope taut between them and his over-tied ankles as he lapped at the salt-sweat heat between Sean’s thighs.
The third time, Orlando was only aware enough to gurgle a moan and buck helplessly into the stroke of Sean’s relentless fist, his legs bent impossible-wide over the back of Sean’s shoulders, head, hands and arms hanging arched and slick with sweat over the side of the bed.
Orlando’s sleepy grin and slightly-harder than necessary goodbye/morning kiss wasn’t quite enough to alleviate Sean’s panic in the bright light of day.
Orlando shushed the blushing apology before it could crawl past Sean’s lips and instead told Sean he hadn’t been on such a deliciously wild ride in a long time. But next time, Sean might want to think about taking up a hobby to relieve the tension. Something soothing, like…ice hockey, Orlando said with a wink.
Sean laughed, relaxing into relief.
The divorce papers arrived less than a month later.
+
It was starting to bother Orlando, the whole ‘Elijah never cracks under pressure’ bit. He was beginning to wonder if Elijah was even human.
Day after day the young man woke up before dawn, stood up for hours in feet, then went to set where he walked through take after take after take, sometimes required to agonize and tear up on screen dozens of times in an afternoon.
But even after months and months of filming, the pressure never manifested. He was chipper, never missed a party or an outing, always had a kind word to say, and could spend hours and hours deep in discussion with Viggo, or Billy, or Andy, solving the problems of the universe over and over again while managing to entertain two energetic hobbits.
Orlando tried drawing Elijah out once, wanting to know what held all that control together. Within minutes, Orlando found himself talking fondly of missing his sister and his dog.
Orlando frowned and withdrew, still watching. He knew something had to give.
Sometime.
Somewhere.
Eventually.
+
Dom wasn’t so much a surprise as the timing was odd.
Orlando had been watching the three of them for weeks. First Dominic would throw himself into Billy’s personal space, nuzzling and laughing into an ear that became more flushed as the evenings wore on.
The next night, Dominic would bat his eyes and flirt outrageously with Elijah, a hand too long on his knee, an arm just a little lower than normal around his hips.
Like a ping-pong ball, Dominic bounced from one to the other, always managing the delicate dance like a master, never committing openly to an emotion, never giving cause for jealousy, or even awareness.
Until the night Orlando pushed open the hobbit’s kitchen door and found Dom watching Billy press Elijah back into the counter, one leg curled around Billy’s hip, soft sounds of approval coming from the back of Elijah’s throat as Billy did apparently wonderful things to his tongue.
Orlando snagged Dom around the waist and silently dragged him back out of the kitchen, letting the door swing shut without a sound. He released Dom only to find himself pushed, falling back over the arm of the couch, eyes wide and trying to clamber up from an awkward sprawl when Dom’s hand thumped down in the middle of his chest, pinning him to the leather.
Orlando stared up at him for a moment, blinked, then smiled and let his arms drop back over his head.
Invitation.
Dom pounced.
Orlando tried to smother his laughing gasps against Dom’s shoulders as hands twisted and bent awkwardly against denim and cotton, pushing and unzipping and fumbling until there was a hiss and a low groan and the hands were hard and fast, teeth clicking and lips scraping against one another. Orlando clutched at the back of Dom’s neck when Dom’s lightening quick fingers found a copper nipple and twisted hard, the other hand tightening and steadying it’s strokes.
Orlando laughed as he came, cursing appreciatively as his hips bucked hard into Dom’s fist, then he twisted his wrist and tightened his own grip. Dom growled and shook, biting so hard into Orlando’s shoulder that Orlando felt skin give and split underneath, wondering if blood would come easily out of cotton.
They lay panting for what seemed like an hour.
Dom finally crawled off Orlando. They sat up, a foot separating them as they adjusted their clothing and found a discarded t-shirt to clean up the mess.
Orlando cast a sideways glance at Dom from under his lashes, wondering.
Dom sighed and reached for his beer, still sitting on the coffee table.
Orlando reached for his.
“Cheers, then.”
“Cheers.”
Dominic snorted.
Orlando laughed.
The bottles clinked together softly as they exchanged wry grins, tilted their heads back, and finished them off.
Their parting hug was only a fraction of a second longer than normal, and there was an affectionate squeeze in Dominic’s arms that had been missing before.
Orlando smiled and jumped down the front steps.
+
Orlando was about to give up.
Elijah just wasn’t going to crack. Apparently the occasionally friendly romp he had going with Billy was enough to take the edge off.
As far as Orlando could tell.
He vehemently denied that it was starting to piss him off.
He told himself it was just annoyance that he couldn’t help them all, like ordering a complete chess set from the Franklin Mint. Beautiful, but only one piece at a time, and suddenly the company ends the series and you’re left holding everyone but the…ring bearer.
Orlando snorted and rang the doorbell to Ian’s condo.
+
Ian tried to laugh it off, but Orlando caught the barest flush of pink on the tips of the elegant actor’s ears.
Orlando knew about the picture of Ian’s soon to be ex-boyfriend, Nick. Everyone knew about the picture.
Orlando carefully stepped closer, sliding his arms under the dark dinner jacket against the warm skin of Ian’s lower back. He pressed a hesitant kiss to the side of Ian’s jaw.
Ian set down his glass.
Orlando was flushed and smiling dazedly by the time Ian set him gently away and pressed a last chaste kiss on his forehead. Elves were too beautiful for old wizened wizards, he murmured.
Orlando swayed for a half second, then chuckled. He told the wizard he shouldn’t underestimate his magical effect on the younger generation.
Ian laughed and said yes indeed, sometimes experience could be mistaken for magic, and sent him home.
Ian flew Nick over one last time, then sent him off slack-jawed and buggy-eyed, without his usual allowance and a new single status. Ian reminded the young man not to flaunt his affairs around people who knew his current boyfriend.
Then Ian extended a rare and coveted invitation for Orlando to join his exclusive gentleman’s club in London. Orlando came over to thank him personally, his gaze only mildly leering.
Ian swatted him on the rear and sent him away with only a quick peck for old time’s sake. Orlando sighed dramatically and blew him a kiss before driving off in a spray of gravel.
+
John only required reservations at the most expensive restaurant in Wellington, Orlando in a dinner jacket and the longest, most one-sided conversation over lobster Orlando had ever had.
Orlando was more than tipsy when he climbed into the back of a taxi, shaking his head in wonderment at how much he now knew about boats he hadn’t wanted to know in the first place. John hadn’t even hugged him goodbye, merely shaken his hand and handed the cabbie a fifty.
John bought three new boats the next week.
He christened one of them the Orlando.
+
Orlando stumbled on Sean Astin completely by accident. He headed over to the hobbits to see if they wanted to catch some sunset waves. No one answered the first knock, so he went around back.
Sean was sitting in the small garden, leaning back in the large wooden lawn chair, a few sheets of paper clutched in one hand, his head resting on the other. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.
Orlando walked over and fell into a graceful sprawl on the grass next to him. “Anyone home?”
Sean shook his head. After a moment he croaked out a word that sounded like surfing.
Orlando reached up and took his hand.
They sat like that in silence for quite a long time, Orlando’s fingers twined loosely with Sean’s, thumb stroking soothingly over the other man’s.
“I miss them.” Sean waved the long letter in the air, dejected. “Somethin’ awful. No matter what…I do.” The last came out in Sam’s accent, broken and wrenching. Helpless and frustrated. “I thought…” Sean sighed deeply, ragged. “thought I could just hang out…take my mind off everything. But…everyone’s gone. Everyone.”
Orlando’s eyes filled with empathy and he rose to his knees, propping his chin on Sean’s arm, looking up at him as he continued to stroke his fingers softly against the warm hand in his. “I’m here.”
Sean smiled halfheartedly and reached out to touch the side of Orlando’s face. In thanks. In understanding. In affection.
Orlando turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sean’s palm. He laid his head back on Sean’s arm and gently, carefully, butterfly light, set his free hand on Sean’s thigh. “Can I help?” His voice was soft, open, unassuming. Safe.
Sean stilled.
He stared at Orlando.
Orlando continued to look at him, unblinking, steady, objective.
Sean bit his lower lip, this time reaching out with a hand that shivered before laying it against Orlando’s cheek.
Sean nodded.
Orlando was gentle, and careful, offering Sean every opportunity to stop, to give into the panic Orlando could see lurking in the corners of his pretty eyes. Until Sean’s finger’s tightened on his scalp, pushing him firmly in the direction he wanted the teasing soft mouth to go.
Sean cried out harshly when he finally came.
Orlando’s eyes widened in surprise when Sean pushed him over to the grass and hovered above him, laying close and still breathing heavy along his side, a strong hand sure and unerring into the loose waistband of his shorts, the awkward strokes made more devastating by the affection and sense of fairness that compelled it. Orlando clutched at his forearms and cried out, feet scrabbling in the dewy grass to push up hard into the last knowing tug.
Sean didn’t kiss him until they were both standing by their cars, the sun having just set.
It was chaste and full of gratitude. Orlando whispered his goodnight, telling Sean he was the very best of men.
+
Orlando was miserable.
Day seventy three of Helms Deep and he had fucked up every one of the forty something takes.
He was exhausted.
He felt like a bloody zombie and he’d missed his choreography and cut one of the stuntmen deeply in the arm.
On top of everything, he’d managed to make it through a half dozen nights out with the hobbits in the last two months, exhausted or not, and he’d had it up to bloody here with Elijah.
He just wasn’t fucking human. He never cried, except on film. He never looked tired, except when he was supposed to, on film, of course. He could drink half the fellowship under the table, but never got drunk. He never told lies, and he never talked bad about someone else. The experienced actors adored his professionalism, the younger actors adored his sense of fun, the crew loved his down to earth attitude and his colorful mouth.
Orlando was still snarling over Elijah’s implacable attitude and apparent perfection when he pulled up to the bar. Why in the hell he’d decided it would be a good idea to eat breakfast with the rest of the cast on his day off, just having gotten of a 12 hour night shoot, he’d never know.
He slammed the door on his jeep and jammed his hands into his coat pocket. On top of everything he was fucking freezing. He’d never be warm again. And he was coming down with something, he was sure of it.
He took a deep breath before he walked in the door, and sneezed.
Whining wasn’t his style. He’d go in, he’d have a short stack, drink a cup of coffee, laugh if he could, then leave as quickly and politely as possible.
Half way through his short stack, he rounded on Elijah, who’d been staring steadily at him all morning, a small frown on his perfect mouth. “What?” It came out as a soft hiss.
Elijah’s lips twitched.
Orlando’s mouth curled into a snarl. He gulped the last of his coffee, shoveled the last two fork fulls in his mouth and excused himself, dropping a wad of bills uncaring on the table.
His hands were shaking by the time he tugged his keys out of his pockets. He dropped them to the ground, and cursed, long, and loud and colorfully.
Then froze.
Elijah stood up from his crouch and hesitated for a long moment before laying a hand on Orlando’s arm and tucking the keys into his own hand. Gently, Elijah led him around to the passenger side, unlocked the door, and held it open.
Orlando sniffed.
Then climbed inside.
Elijah was quiet on the drive back to Orlando’s house.
Orlando was still shivering when Elijah unlocked his front door and guided him inside, locking it quietly behind them. Elijah laid his hand on Orlando’s chest, a motion Orlando took to mean stay.
He heard Elijah turn the bathtub on.
Orlando didn’t protest when Elijah slid his jacket off his shoulders then knelt and untied his shoes.
Orlando was shaking hard by the time Elijah had him stripped to his boxers.
Elijah took him by the hand, and led him to the bathroom. He patted the towels on the counter and left with a small smile, closing the door behind him.
Orlando fell asleep in the tub.
He woke with Elijah’s soft mouth pressed to his temple. He turned and the soft mouth met his.
The trip from the bathroom to the bedroom almost restarted the shivers. They disappeared as soon as Elijah slipped bare and warm under the down comforter beside him.
There were a few seconds of pull and tuck of limbs until they fit.
Perfectly.
Orlando shivered again.
Elijah kissed a soft patch of skin high on Orlando’s chest, easy reach for his head pillowed on a tired shoulder. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Orlando opened his mouth to protest, but Elijah started trailing his fingers through the dark stripe of hair on the top of his scalp. Orlando murmured and his eyes drifted closed.
His last coherent thought was that he was supposed to be doing the bloody comforting…
+
Orlando moaned softly as a soft tongue chased his through his sleep soaked brain. He slowly blinked open barely rested eyes and found himself staring into blue.
Elijah leaned down to kiss him again, murmuring between slow kisses and exploring licks. “Sorry.” He tasted the underside of Orlando’s chin. “Only let you sleep a few hours.” He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Orlando’s, sighing into the damp heat as Orlando pushed up into the touch. “You. Finally. Couldn’t wait any longer…”
Orlando murmured a vague agreement, his hands sliding up into the thick ruff of Elijah’s hair, amazed at the softness of hair and skin and taste and touch and…
Orlando pulled Elijah’s head away, his eyes dark and sad. “I…” He licked his lips and started again. “Lijah, I can’t do this if it’s just…”
Elijah smiled against his mouth, silencing him. He petted the sides of Orlando’s face as he pulled back, carefully tracing a dark brow. “I’ve been waiting eleven months for you to need me. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”
Orlando’s entire body lit up. He snaked his arms around Elijah’s waist and pulled him close, spreading his legs until Elijah dropped between them with a small gasp, biting his lower lip at the sensation of hard skin against skin. Orlando nuzzled Elijah’s temple, trailing kisses down the soft skin to his lips. “I might need you for quite some time. That alright?”
Elijah nodded, his smile answering the lips under his.
END
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Write more, as soon as you like. now would be good.
Beautiful sweetness that seems very in character.
Your Story Rocks!
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I don't even like orli/lijah. but that was so cute, i'm memory-ing it.
Many thanx
Took a peek at your lj. *ADORE* your artwork. Will make new lj icons from your new years gifs and share the lurve. Thank you for sharing your art.
Re: Your Story Rocks!
Sanks!
Squee!
(thanx)
Re: Squee!
Triumphant spreader of Orlijah lurve...
Re: Squee!
Pic is from www.orlandomultimedia.net under 'Multimedia'/'Images'/'Professional Studio' - it is part of the unpublished UK GQ photoshoot.
Re: Squee!
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:)
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Re: Triumphant spreader of Orlijah lurve...
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plot twist!
and orlijah is right for me... b/c monaboyd is my otp and i don't like breaking up the sean and christine marriage, it's never pretty
*hugs you for being so cute*
Thanks!
Feelin' cutey...
Thanks.
*chortles*
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I love it. Ok, so there was some parrings in there that I usually stay FAR AWAY from (e.g. Sean Astin/Any guy), but hey with a happy Orlijah ending, I'll "endure" anything *grin*
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Oh. Oh, how I love this. The concept of needing and wanting and loving and making things better is beautiful. You write good stuff. :)
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The softness and tenderness in the Elijah/Orlando part is extremely wonderful and marvellous and I enjoyed it tremendously.
I am still amazed at how you are able to create images so easily with so few words.
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<33333
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Quite intense and I love the what seemed like glee of Orli as he worked his way through everyone who would allow him, all the time unaware that it was Elijah doing the waiting.
You wrote some beautifully kinky and hot sex scenes but then topped them all with something very tender and sweet. Awesome piece of fic! :D
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I'm a wee bit behind on email...can you tell? ;)
/thank/ you for the lovely feedback - and this is one of my favorite incarnations of Orli, so it's awesome to hear that he's coming across so well *snugs*
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thank you ever so much for the lovely feedback - your compliment re: images in few words is one that makes me /very/ bouncy and grin from ear to ear (deleting adjectives is something I struggle with daily ;) ) so *squidges* to you for making me beam :D
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thank you /so/ much for the lovely feedback - I adore and fondle every morsel (I'm just abysmally slow at getting to my LJ email *g*)
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*pounces, snuggles up* I /love/ the feedback - luvs it, luvs it, luvs it - and you are such a darling for reading, even with a dreaded Sean A *giggles*
*snogs*
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*snuggles up* and I especially appreciate the whole staying away from breaking up marriage and YAY! because that's exactly the tone I was going for - not something you'd normally do but somehow it seems okay
luv, me
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*pounces, licks all over 'cause I can*
OMG I can't believe I missed this from you first time around...*giggles*
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thank you so much for the lovely feedback, darlin' - it's cuddled muchly ;)
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Yay, *snugs back*
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