Title: Bittersweet Author: Moggie (moggie23x@yahoo.ca), aka Pairing: V/O Rating: R Feedback: It puts a silly little grin on my face, so yes please. Warning: Sappy angst Author's Notes: Written for the Viggorously October / November challenge: SLOW DANCIN' and ROMANCIN'. I chose to ignore the "No Angst Allowed" part of the challenge - I was searching for song, and a big angsty Crowded House bunny bit me, and wouldn't let go. Archive: LBES, Lirimaer, Mirrormere, CIB, Of Elves and Men. Others please ask - I am sure to say yes. ~~~~~~~~~~ Hey now, hey now Don't dream it's over Hey now, hey now When the world comes in They come, they come To build a wall between us We know they won't win ~ Don't Dream It's Over, Crowded House ~ ~~~~~~~~~~ Halfway through the song, I started crying. This song by Crowded House makes me melancholy at the best of times - hearing it now is truly the last thing that I need. It speaks to me of pain, and the knowledge that something meaningful is about to be lost, perhaps never to be regained. I should have chosen another CD - something happier. Less angsty. Viggo's arms loosen their embrace around me. He brings his hand to my jaw, bringing my face up to look into my eyes. What I see is a reflection of the pain that I am feeling at this moment. His fingers gently brush away the tears that are coursing down my face. "Ssssssshhhh. It's okay, Orli." He kisses me gently and tenderly, and I close my eyes, grateful for his warmth and comfort. His arms close around me again, and we continue our slow dance. I let him guide me in dreamlike circles around the room. I can't believe that I will be leaving here tomorrow. I don't want to believe that our time here in New Zealand is over. I don't want this moment in Viggo's gentle embrace to end. I rest my forehead against Viggo's, and bring my hands to his face. Softly, gently, I trace my fingers over his features, wanting to memorize the texture of him. My fingers trace the smooth soft hair of his eyebrows. I move them gently to feather over his closed eyelids and eyelashes. I stroke his cheekbones with both hands, and then with one of them trace the outline of his lips, feeling his steady breathing on my skin. I graze my fingers across his jaw, savouring the sensation of his stubble, loving the roughness of it. My hands move to the nape of his neck, and I draw my fingers through his hair, upwards to the top of his head. My fingers skim over his scalp, and he draws a breath. I see goosebumps break out on the skin of his neck. He loves it when I touch him like this. Gentle, barely there caresses that cause ripples of wonderful sensation to radiate outwards from the point of contact. I love that my caresses have such an intense effect on him. My heart breaks, because I won't be able to touch him like this again for a very long time. I know that once we leave here, we can never be together in quite the same way again. Here in New Zealand, our relationship was protected by the insular world that was built around these films. We may as well have been in Middle Earth for the past year and a half. Our relationship so far has been like a dream, and now that dream is coming to an end. Still, I have one night left with Viggo in this dream world before I have to fly away from it and return to reality. I am resolved to make the best of this night. I slowly stroke my hands down the back of his neck, with the lightest of caresses. I move my hands to his back, feeling the strength of him. I pull him closer towards me, needing as much contact with him as possible. I kiss him softly, my lips moving against his, gently pulling at his lower lip. His lips part beneath mine as I slip my tongue inside. Our kisses are slow and gentle at first, but they eventually deepen into something more sensuous and intense. The movements of our hands on each other's bodies likewise becomes more passionate - gentle hands start to grasp and press, as the need to be joined together physically becomes more intense. He leads me to our bedroom, where we take our time to carefully remove each other's clothes, not wanting to rush our lovemaking tonight. Naked, we drink in the sight of each other. I know that he is imprinting the vision of me into his brain - lovingly storing the memory which will be retrieved and lingered upon fondly in the weeks that will pass before we see each other again. His hand comes to my chest, and he traces a slow line to my stomach, coming to rest at my navel. I reach for him, and draw our hips together, my hand buried in his hair as I bring him towards me for a kiss. Our lips never leaving each other, we descend to the bed. He lays me gently on the pillows and bestows loving kisses to my lips, down my throat, to my collar bone. His hands roam my body, dipping between my legs to skim over the tender flesh that is aching for his touch. I cry out when he gently strokes my hardness, and a rush of intense desire floods through my awareness. I turn my body towards his, and my mouth and hands move over him with the same loving care that he is showing me. Sweet it is, this lovemaking. So entirely bittersweet. When finally his slicked fingers penetrate my body, I arch towards him, moaning into his kiss. And when the length of him replaces his fingers, I cry his name and grasp desperately at the body which is hovering over mine. We make love slowly and sensuously, both of us wanting the experience to last. We murmur words of love and devotion to each other, amidst our sighs and moans. When the release claims us, our eyes are locked, and the only thing we know is the euphoria that overcomes us. The light of the moon filters in through our window, bathing our sweaty bodies in a blue glow. Wrapped around each other, neither of us dares to speak, for fear that the spell that binds us will be broken. We remain that way until morning. Then the harsh light of day intrudes upon our sanctuary, and reality crashes in on us. It is time to get up. Time for dreaming is over.