Mimm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fellowshippers2002-09-26 04:51 pm
mimm) wrote in fellowshippers2002-09-26 04:51 pm
Sometimes Lovers (OB/VM)
Title: Sometimes Lovers (1/1)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkie
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Anything. Good or bad.
Summary: Orlando reflects.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen. Is fiction.
Author's Notes: Text in italics means Orlando's memories.
Thanks: Toempy for beta'ing this and for all the lovely comments :)
Sometimes Lovers
Orlando woke alone. Naked. Softly, he let his hand slide over his stomach. Something on his skin, dry already. Suddenly, he realized.
Sex.
He had shared his body in the most intimate way known to man. Now he was alone, discarded like an empty wine bottle. One intoxicating night, and then harsh daylight would hide the deeds of the two.
He turned his head to one side, then the other side. Another observation, even more painful than the first one. Viggo's apartment. Orlando closed his eyes, cursing himself.
A face, almost angelic in its beauty. Nothing but a halo missing. Playful eyes, glinting, like those of a devil. Amused smile, a low, ragged voice.
"Have you ever been with a man?"
A question only, from one friend to another over beer. Help out a friend in need. Nothing more.
Surprised embarrassment over something so unexpected. Quickly regaining control of himself, he answered.
"Sure."
The amused smile not so amused anymore. Devilish like the eyes. Something new and dangerous in them.
Orlando breathed in and out. In and out, steadily, peacefully. Hoping every draw of air, every push of air, would take the night away. Take away the shame. The guilt. The longing for more. The painful confusion over what was right and what was wrong.
It didn't take long to understand that it was too late. The damage had been done. One weak moment and now there was no turning back. He would have to live with the consequences.
* * *
A walk to the shower, every step causing physical pain. Pain that wouldn't let him forget.
Almost clinical whiteness all around him when the lights lit up, flickering, making him close his eyes for a while. Everything was even clearer now, if possible. Standing in the shower, he pulled the curtain in front of him, not sure why. It was already too late to try to cover himself.
Cold water, startling him with its cruel touch of reality. Warming soon, giving birth to streams of soft liquid running down his chest. A step closer, and he closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the tears that didn't come. Too close, too burning, but not there. Wouldn't let them come. Didn't dare. Rubbing his eyes with his palms, tasting the water, he remembered.
Curiosity for the unfamiliar, anxiety for what was ahead. Toying with the keys in his pocket, he walked to Viggo's place, pushed the little button once, twice, thrice, making the doorbell ring quietly inside the apartment.
Nervous steps in front of the door before it opened and Viggo motioned him to step inside. Friendly smiles, warm smiles, like a secret only the two of them knew.
"You're early. That horny, huh?"
Agree. Laugh. Don't feel so embarrassed, it's only Viggo. He won't hurt you. It will be lovely and you know it. You want it.
Turning the water off, Orlando pulled the curtain aside. He dried himself with Viggo's towel, smelling Viggo's scent in the towel, and walked back to the bedroom. Clothes scattered about, his and Viggo's, all mixed together. Carefully looking for his shirt, his jeans and his socks, and putting them on, he continued in silence, only his thoughts screaming at him. He took Viggo's clothes, folded them and placed them on the chair, not knowing why he bothered.
* * *
He looked at the unmade bed and walked closer. Sat down. Fingers brushing along the sheets, fingertips becoming numb as he continued the light movement, unaware he was doing so. Thinking. Stopping when he saw the stains on the sheets. Stains telling the truth about what had happened last night. Conscientiously he took off every sheet and every pillowcase, finding new ones in the closet. It was like a cleansing ritual and he felt he had to do it. It would make him feel better. Make him accept.
Viggo's hands cupping his head, thumbs tickling his temples, lips closing in.
It was the reason Orlando had come. The reason he had said yes, even when he felt he shouldn't have. But how can one say no to Viggo? Sex as friends, it couldn't be that bad.
Palms lowering along his neck, warm fingers caressing him, Viggo's lips finally on his. A deep kiss, careful at first, soon demanding more. Orlando knew how to respond, knew how to react. Didn't even think. Kissed back with every feeling he had for Viggo, deep inside of him.
Viggo wouldn't mind. It would only make it better.
Hands wandering downwards, brushing gently along his arms, reaching his wrists. Hands guiding his arms around Viggo, placing the hands on a round behind.
Like a girl, not much different.
The realization made him feel more at ease. He wanted this, he needed this. He would give all he could and more. For Viggo. Anything for Viggo.
A book falling from the bedside table woke him from his thoughts. Reaching for it he noticed whose it was. Viggo's. Orlando had read it dozens of times before and contented himself with only picking it up and placing it back on the table. He finished making the bed and looked at the clock. Almost eleven. He had to leave soon. Didn't want to run into Viggo. Not yet.
* * *
He sat on the bed. Knowing it would hurt. Not minding. Wanting it. It made him remember. Made him relive the night. Viggo wasn't there but the memories were, and they would have to be enough.
A face above him, eyes looking straight into his. Past him. Something feverish and possessed behind the eyes. Wide smile, like a question. Orlando has to return the smile, answer.
Do it.
Cool fingers on Orlando's skin, hands knowing exactly what to do, what to touch. The fingers trailing their path along his thighs, causing shivers to run through his whole body. Viggo's hands raising the thighs, the knees, a bit higher. Soon, even colder, slicker fingers inside him, finding their way deeper and deeper.
Breathing heavily. Shallowly. Quickly. Wants to close his eyes, wishing himself somewhere else; on the other hand, wanting Viggo more than anything he has ever wanted before. Knowing he will never be the same again. Knowing. Expecting.
Viggo entering him. Pain beyond words. Too much. Too soon. He clutches at the sheets, wanting to crawl away but lust nails him tight to the sheets. Won't go. Won't leave. Wants.
More.
Thoughts, images racing through his mind. "This is not a sacrifice. He loves me. As a friend. He asked me. I said yes. We are friends. I want him. He wants me. We both want this."
Bucking up, trying to get closer. Feeling Viggo deeper, deeper. Pause. Less pain for a while, until Viggo thrusts in again, rougher this time.
Viggo's hand folding over Orlando's cock, jamming all thoughts Orlando thought he had. New sensation, more pleasurable than anything ever before. The pain is gone. The pain is sweet. The pain is lust and love and friendship combined. And he wants more. More!
Not controlling himself anymore. Not acting anymore. Being himself, giving himself to the man he loves.
A scream forming in his throat as everything, his whole body, stops. Waiting for something bigger, something more. Comes, drowns him. Blacking out for a moment, feeling nothing but extreme pleasure. Only a suffocated whimper escapes his lips as his head presses against the pillow, his hips against Viggo's.
He finds himself sitting on the bed, head in his hands, his insides feeling like a big knot nobody can open. Nobody but Viggo. But Viggo isn't there. Will never be. Not completely.
* * *
Thinking, feeling, accepting. Not resisting anymore. Knowing what he wants. Doesn't feel ashamed for feeling that way. He gets up, turns off the lights, walks to the front door. Seeing Viggo's touch on everything in the apartment. Every single thing. Colours. Art. Controlled chaos. All this, his. For a while. If he accepts.
And he does.
He stops as he sees the note on the door.
"Thank you for last night. You were wonderful. P.S. Next time?"
He lets out a long, deep sigh. Folds the paper, puts it in his pocket. Hates the thought behind the note, loves the note because it's Viggo's. Hates loving it.
* * *
"Have you ever been with a man?"
It had been a simple question. He had given a simple answer.
He had lied.
Now, at this moment of coldness, of departure, his hand on the door-knob, ready to lock the door and leave it all behind, he doesn't have to lie anymore. Because this time, there is nobody there to hear him. To see the feeling of loss on his face.
"I have. With you."
And never with anyone else. He would be faithful. He would wait until the next time. Viggo would call him, he would come. For a while. And it would have to do.
The lock clicked as he closed the door. The door with a note on it.
"Whenever. What are friends for?"
Author:
darkiePairing: Orlando Bloom / Viggo Mortensen
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Anything. Good or bad.
Summary: Orlando reflects.
Disclaimer: Didn't happen. Is fiction.
Author's Notes: Text in italics means Orlando's memories.
Thanks: To
empy for beta'ing this and for all the lovely comments :)Sometimes Lovers
Orlando woke alone. Naked. Softly, he let his hand slide over his stomach. Something on his skin, dry already. Suddenly, he realized.
Sex.
He had shared his body in the most intimate way known to man. Now he was alone, discarded like an empty wine bottle. One intoxicating night, and then harsh daylight would hide the deeds of the two.
He turned his head to one side, then the other side. Another observation, even more painful than the first one. Viggo's apartment. Orlando closed his eyes, cursing himself.
A face, almost angelic in its beauty. Nothing but a halo missing. Playful eyes, glinting, like those of a devil. Amused smile, a low, ragged voice.
"Have you ever been with a man?"
A question only, from one friend to another over beer. Help out a friend in need. Nothing more.
Surprised embarrassment over something so unexpected. Quickly regaining control of himself, he answered.
"Sure."
The amused smile not so amused anymore. Devilish like the eyes. Something new and dangerous in them.
Orlando breathed in and out. In and out, steadily, peacefully. Hoping every draw of air, every push of air, would take the night away. Take away the shame. The guilt. The longing for more. The painful confusion over what was right and what was wrong.
It didn't take long to understand that it was too late. The damage had been done. One weak moment and now there was no turning back. He would have to live with the consequences.
* * *
A walk to the shower, every step causing physical pain. Pain that wouldn't let him forget.
Almost clinical whiteness all around him when the lights lit up, flickering, making him close his eyes for a while. Everything was even clearer now, if possible. Standing in the shower, he pulled the curtain in front of him, not sure why. It was already too late to try to cover himself.
Cold water, startling him with its cruel touch of reality. Warming soon, giving birth to streams of soft liquid running down his chest. A step closer, and he closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the tears that didn't come. Too close, too burning, but not there. Wouldn't let them come. Didn't dare. Rubbing his eyes with his palms, tasting the water, he remembered.
Curiosity for the unfamiliar, anxiety for what was ahead. Toying with the keys in his pocket, he walked to Viggo's place, pushed the little button once, twice, thrice, making the doorbell ring quietly inside the apartment.
Nervous steps in front of the door before it opened and Viggo motioned him to step inside. Friendly smiles, warm smiles, like a secret only the two of them knew.
"You're early. That horny, huh?"
Agree. Laugh. Don't feel so embarrassed, it's only Viggo. He won't hurt you. It will be lovely and you know it. You want it.
Turning the water off, Orlando pulled the curtain aside. He dried himself with Viggo's towel, smelling Viggo's scent in the towel, and walked back to the bedroom. Clothes scattered about, his and Viggo's, all mixed together. Carefully looking for his shirt, his jeans and his socks, and putting them on, he continued in silence, only his thoughts screaming at him. He took Viggo's clothes, folded them and placed them on the chair, not knowing why he bothered.
* * *
He looked at the unmade bed and walked closer. Sat down. Fingers brushing along the sheets, fingertips becoming numb as he continued the light movement, unaware he was doing so. Thinking. Stopping when he saw the stains on the sheets. Stains telling the truth about what had happened last night. Conscientiously he took off every sheet and every pillowcase, finding new ones in the closet. It was like a cleansing ritual and he felt he had to do it. It would make him feel better. Make him accept.
Viggo's hands cupping his head, thumbs tickling his temples, lips closing in.
It was the reason Orlando had come. The reason he had said yes, even when he felt he shouldn't have. But how can one say no to Viggo? Sex as friends, it couldn't be that bad.
Palms lowering along his neck, warm fingers caressing him, Viggo's lips finally on his. A deep kiss, careful at first, soon demanding more. Orlando knew how to respond, knew how to react. Didn't even think. Kissed back with every feeling he had for Viggo, deep inside of him.
Viggo wouldn't mind. It would only make it better.
Hands wandering downwards, brushing gently along his arms, reaching his wrists. Hands guiding his arms around Viggo, placing the hands on a round behind.
Like a girl, not much different.
The realization made him feel more at ease. He wanted this, he needed this. He would give all he could and more. For Viggo. Anything for Viggo.
A book falling from the bedside table woke him from his thoughts. Reaching for it he noticed whose it was. Viggo's. Orlando had read it dozens of times before and contented himself with only picking it up and placing it back on the table. He finished making the bed and looked at the clock. Almost eleven. He had to leave soon. Didn't want to run into Viggo. Not yet.
* * *
He sat on the bed. Knowing it would hurt. Not minding. Wanting it. It made him remember. Made him relive the night. Viggo wasn't there but the memories were, and they would have to be enough.
A face above him, eyes looking straight into his. Past him. Something feverish and possessed behind the eyes. Wide smile, like a question. Orlando has to return the smile, answer.
Do it.
Cool fingers on Orlando's skin, hands knowing exactly what to do, what to touch. The fingers trailing their path along his thighs, causing shivers to run through his whole body. Viggo's hands raising the thighs, the knees, a bit higher. Soon, even colder, slicker fingers inside him, finding their way deeper and deeper.
Breathing heavily. Shallowly. Quickly. Wants to close his eyes, wishing himself somewhere else; on the other hand, wanting Viggo more than anything he has ever wanted before. Knowing he will never be the same again. Knowing. Expecting.
Viggo entering him. Pain beyond words. Too much. Too soon. He clutches at the sheets, wanting to crawl away but lust nails him tight to the sheets. Won't go. Won't leave. Wants.
More.
Thoughts, images racing through his mind. "This is not a sacrifice. He loves me. As a friend. He asked me. I said yes. We are friends. I want him. He wants me. We both want this."
Bucking up, trying to get closer. Feeling Viggo deeper, deeper. Pause. Less pain for a while, until Viggo thrusts in again, rougher this time.
Viggo's hand folding over Orlando's cock, jamming all thoughts Orlando thought he had. New sensation, more pleasurable than anything ever before. The pain is gone. The pain is sweet. The pain is lust and love and friendship combined. And he wants more. More!
Not controlling himself anymore. Not acting anymore. Being himself, giving himself to the man he loves.
A scream forming in his throat as everything, his whole body, stops. Waiting for something bigger, something more. Comes, drowns him. Blacking out for a moment, feeling nothing but extreme pleasure. Only a suffocated whimper escapes his lips as his head presses against the pillow, his hips against Viggo's.
He finds himself sitting on the bed, head in his hands, his insides feeling like a big knot nobody can open. Nobody but Viggo. But Viggo isn't there. Will never be. Not completely.
* * *
Thinking, feeling, accepting. Not resisting anymore. Knowing what he wants. Doesn't feel ashamed for feeling that way. He gets up, turns off the lights, walks to the front door. Seeing Viggo's touch on everything in the apartment. Every single thing. Colours. Art. Controlled chaos. All this, his. For a while. If he accepts.
And he does.
He stops as he sees the note on the door.
"Thank you for last night. You were wonderful. P.S. Next time?"
He lets out a long, deep sigh. Folds the paper, puts it in his pocket. Hates the thought behind the note, loves the note because it's Viggo's. Hates loving it.
* * *
"Have you ever been with a man?"
It had been a simple question. He had given a simple answer.
He had lied.
Now, at this moment of coldness, of departure, his hand on the door-knob, ready to lock the door and leave it all behind, he doesn't have to lie anymore. Because this time, there is nobody there to hear him. To see the feeling of loss on his face.
"I have. With you."
And never with anyone else. He would be faithful. He would wait until the next time. Viggo would call him, he would come. For a while. And it would have to do.
The lock clicked as he closed the door. The door with a note on it.
"Whenever. What are friends for?"