Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (1/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Feedback: Yes, please. Archive: Please ask first. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Summary: An encounter with the supernatural changes a bitter drama student's life forever in a tale of love beyond death. Warnings : AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. *mwah* Posted May 15, 2003 ***** All right, Bloom, just grit your teeth. There's nothing scary about an abandoned house. Only half of it is twisted and gutted. The other half is fine; it's just been abandoned for a while. Ugh, it doesn't help that the whole package is looming like a bloody great gargoyle over the surrounding area. At least there's a full moon out, so I can see inside the charred half. Bollocks, why did I ever take that daft bet? Because you're a 20-year old git who had to brag that _you_ weren't afraid when this haunted house was mentioned. Being completely sotted probably didn't help, either. So, of course, I let my mates talk me into spending the night here. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to hang out with them in the first place. I still remember cackling as they recounted the story about this house, seeing as how it's relatively close to Guildhall. Apparently, a reclusive artist died in a fire here. He never finished his last painting and his ghost still haunts this house, taking its revenge on whatever poor sod comes by to stay the night. The last person who spent the night here, some poor bird, was discovered dead the next morning, every single bit of blood drained from her body. The ghost apparently sucked it out and used it as paint for his unfinished picture. It still gives me a slight shiver when I think about it, but I'm sure it's just complete rubbish, which is why I opened my big yap. Yes, that's me. Orlando Bloom, cynic extraordinaire. If you ask me, the whole world's just going down the crapper, so why not live fast and hard? It's not like I'll make a bit of difference or a lasting impression. Okay, that's not completely true in my case. I don't do some of the nastier drugs, and I use condoms, but frankly, when I go, I want to go quickly, not wasting away in some hospital. Brr, just gives me the chills just thinking about it. Now where was I? Right, ghosts and ghost stories, a big pet peeve of mine. I get the wind up about them because I firmly believe that there is no afterlife. We become worm food when we die, and that's the end of it. I also get irritated because some of them have to do with some bloke who killed himself in despair over some lost love or whatever. Ugh. And that's another sticking point with me. I hate all of that romantic mushy stuff that people seem to get into. It's all just a sham anyway, the hearts and flowers are just the warm-up motions so that you can get into someone's knickers, so why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to shagging? It's certainly served me well enough. And that's all anyone really wants to do. Shag. Love is just a myth perpetuated by people too daft to know that all relationships will eventually fail. I know I sound bitter, but I realized at an early age that I only fancied blokes. I know that we supposedly live in an age of tolerance, but tell that to the teen-aged bastards who picked on anyone who acted the least bit poncy. I managed to hide it pretty well, going balls- out on sports and pretending to flirt with every single bird who crossed my eyesight, but the fact that I even had to do it in the first place really narked me. Amazing how the threat of getting your teeth kicked in because of your sexual orientation puts the damper on romance. So, I just shag away, no attachments, no regrets. All right, enough philosophizing, it's making me morose. Time to get back to business. I find a window that leads into a not too burned out section of the house. I manage to climb in without slipping and landing on my face, which is an Olympic achievement for me, since I tend to be a bit of a klutz. I've broken more bones during my lifetime than I can count, except for my back, fortunately. And who knows how long it'll be before than one goes? I swear, if I wind up paralyzed, I'm just going to end it all, because there won't be any point to going on. Such cheerful thoughts. I haul my backpack and my sleeping bag in with me. I pick my way over to one of the rooms on the non-burnt side. Lots of unsteady floorboards creak underneath me. Damn, there are a lot of cobwebs here, too. No signs of rats, though. And it's eerily still here. Fuck, maybe there's some truth to this story after all. Oh Bollocks, I can't chicken out now. I'll have a look around, see if there's someplace warm to stay the night. At least the moonlight is making it easy for me to see. Bits of broken furniture, lots of cobwebs, and...Ah! An undamaged section of floor. Picking my way across, I wander into the non-dodgey section of the house. The doors are rusted open, and I pick the first one that leads into a non-drafty room. Hmm, it's a bit dark in here, but there's still some moonlight pouring in through a small window. I see that this room is relatively bare and a fine layer of dust is covering everything. And there's dust and cobwebs everywhere in this pile in the corner. Hullo? There's something else underneath here. Looks like a canvas sheet. Smart one there, Orlando. It is a canvas sheet, and it's covering something. Oh god, maybe there's part of a dead body here. Now I'm being paranoid. There's no rotten smell, and the shape looks awfully flat. Probably some furniture. Remember, challenge your fears: don't let them get the better of you. Still, I can't help holding my breath as I pull the canvas off. Nope, not a dead body. Worse. An unfinished painting on an easel. Christ. This is not happening, this is not happening... I shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths. It's just a painting, you silly bugger, no need to get the wind up about it. Relax. It's not going to eat you. After a few moments, I get the courage to open my eyes and look at it. The tension in my back eases when nothing happens. I start studying the canvas. It's not a bad piece of art. It looks like someone was doing a picture of some bloke in a reclining position. Hmmm...curly hair, brown eyes. And it's a nude. Now I have to move it into the moonlight to see the rest. Wonder how well this guy's hung... Shit. ShitshitSHIT! My heart is going like a jackhammer again. The picture is unfinished, but half of the face has been filled in. And it's mine. Same eyes, same cheekbones, everything. Okay, don't panic...breathe...that's it. Must be a rational explanation, remember, you don't believe any of this supernatural crap... Oh, wait a minute, Bloom, is there any reason why your friends couldn't have this done ahead of time? They're actors, after all, they know other creative types. Cheeky bastards. That's it. They planted this here to scare me. There's no blood on the canvas, which is a big cock-up on their part. They should have added it if they wanted to frighten me enough to welsh on the bet. Well, I'll show them. I happily roll out my sleeping bag, whistling to myself. As I settle in, I blow a kiss to my portrait and say, "Good night, you handsome devil, you," before I try to sleep. Emphasis on the try. I wind up tossing and turning a lot. Small noises keep me awake because I'm completely amped. I eventually give up and look at my watch. Bugger, 3am in the morning. Alright, time for some help. Pull the vodka out of the pack and have a good swig or three...ah. Now to light up the joint...mmm, niiiice...much better... put the joint out before you get too woozy...good... feeling very light now...drifting... *** Hmmm. I must be dreaming now. I remember fading out, and now I'm standing out in the middle of the field. And I'm not stoned. I don't recognize this area, but hey, that's dreaming for you. And it's perfectly sunny and the birds are even bloody singing. Gah. Can I get any more twee? Oi, it looks like there's someone a distance away. Well, I can't very stand here with my thumb up my arse, so I may as well go to greet him. Christ, it's hard to walk in this dream world. I feel like I'm trying to made headway through a bunch of molasses. The figure is getting clearer now. It's a bloke, I can't see his face because his back is to me, but it's definitely a bloke. He looks to be about my height, broad shoulders. He's wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and wow, those forearms are nicely sculpted. Mmm, and those trousers are cupping a fairly nice arse. And he's studying something on a canvas. Figures. I wonder how many picture-related themes will be popping into this dream? Wow, Mr. Nice Arse has got amazing hands. Strong and powerful looking. Mmmm, I like this. Been a while since I had a great wet dream, and this one is warming up nicely. Okay, time to get closer. Christ, this is difficult. It seems to take forever before I'm practically right behind him. He's still looking at the picture, and he's completely oblivious to my presence. That's fine, though, I can get some quality ogling of that smashing bum. Now that I've had a chance to really study it, I have second thoughts. It's not a nice arse, it's a _damn sexy as hell_ arse. Now I _have_ to cop a feel. Bugger, snails can move faster than this. Well, I might as well look over his shoulder while I'm trying to move and get a gander at... Oh, fuck me. He's looking at the same painting I saw before I fell asleep. I must have made a noise, because he turns around... and, oh, wow... He's got chiseled, beautifully rugged features framed by longish, sandy brown hair. But it's his eyes that capture my attention. Intense, cobalt blue eyes that drill right through me. He looks like he's in his late thirties, but that doesn't turn me off at all, which is surprising for me, since I tend to prefer blokes closer to my own age. He smiles gently at me and my heart does several flip-flops. Fuck, I'm behaving like a giggling schoolgirl, get a hold of yourself, Bloom! "I've been waiting for you," he purrs. Bollocks, that low voice...so achingly sexy and husky... it's making my cock hard just listening to it, and my heart flip-flop again. Shit, why am I having trouble breathing? He reaches out with his left hand to stroke my cheek. Fuck! I feel like I've just stepped on a live wire. Even my hair's tingling. Argh, I think my knees have gone weak. C'mon, Bloom, stop that right now! I'm saved from further embarrassment when he pushes down on my shoulders. Taking his cue, I sit down on the grass, and he starts stripping me. Oi, I can actually feel him touching me. Alright! I love tactile wet dreams. About fucking time that we get to the hardcore stuff...Oh yeah, baby, that's right, strip my jeans off and check me out, look at how I'm ready for you... Now grab my cock...Hey! Instead of paying attention to me, my dream man moves my limbs around so that I'm in a reclining position and stands over my stomach. Okay...I'm confused. I can't really shag or blow him from this position. Maybe he just wants to jerk off on me? I'm not in the mood to get splattered on, so I try to pull him down on top of me. Bollocks, did I mention how bloody difficult it is to move around here? Gah. I bet Sisyphus had an easier time than I'm having. He stops me with a "Hold still," in that come-hither voice of his. Damn, the huskiness of it is making my cock stir some more. Hell, he could probably read a grocery list in that lethal purr, and I'd probably come from listening to him. Hmm, I can just hear him saying "whipped cream," wrapping that throaty voice around each syllable. Yummy. But I'm on familiar territory now. Lust good. I'm content to stay in this position if I can get a shag out of him, or hey, even a nice blowjob. Mmmm, blowjob. And hey, if I have to just lie here to get it, that's fine, too. I usually have to do all of the work, so this is a nice break. Besides, sooner or later the multitude of really hot, hung, and horny men with rope, whipped cream, and ice cubes will pop by, and I can have a proper wet dream. Did I just alliterate? I'm so clever... Surprisingly, all that happens next is that my dream man swings the easel around so that he can paint me. How utterly dull. And now he's squeezing some paint from a tube onto a palette. Bollocks, we need some more hardcore action here. I open my yap to protest when he looks at me. Oh god, those ice blue eyes. I can't stop looking deep into them. I feel like I'm getting pulled in. Fuck me, but the way he's looking at my face is just...wow. Those intense eyes...not just studying me, but it feels like they're drilling straight into me. Usually when I get stared at, I get sized up like a piece of meat. But this is different. I feel like I'm the only thing that exists for him right now. Hmmm, getting a nice warm feeling inside. Ugh, hearts and flowers time again. Slap yourself again, Orlando. Shit, tell me I'm not blushing. Oh no, I _am_ blushing. Someone shoot me now. Damnit. Come on, Orlando...breathe, get control of the situation. Don't want him taking advantage of you getting soft in the head. But bugger, this _is_ a dream. Why not let myself go for once? Hell, it gets tiring fighting against the entire world, so why not? Hmm, kinda nice to not have to worry about anything. Christ, never thought I could stay in one place for this long, but I can't get enough of the way he's looking at me. Eventually, he stops and says quietly, "Come here." I stand up and walk sluggishly towards him. When I'm close, he cups my face and strokes my cheek with a paint-spattered finger, leaving a streak of brown pigment. He's looking at me with so longingly that I feel butterflies flapping in my stomach. Oh god...oi, what's with the sad expression on his face? Does my breath stink? He whispers, "We don't have much time," before he leans in and captures my lips. Christ, I've never been kissed like this before. Every nerve comes alive as he wraps his tongue around mine and slowly explores my mouth. The blood rushes to my head, and I feel like I'm getting sucked out through his mouth. I feel myself surging into a complete, dick-dancing, buzzing high. But he's slow and teasing, too, drawing me out, melting me into a nice warm puddle inside. Oh my god, I feel dizzy now, and...wow...forget about breathing, forget about everything except those lips... His big hands tangle in my hair, and he continues to steal my breath away. I feel empty when he reluctantly pulls away. Empty? This is definitely not Orlando-ish. Then I feel his hard body pressing against mine, almost as if he's trying to merge with me. Now a familiar ache goes through me. Yes, that's good. Hormone crazed lust good. Much better than that weird puddly feeling. Oh yes, press up against me, babe, need to feel your hot body...mmm, he's hard as a rock, and impressively so. Oh god, is that whimpering coming from me? I don't care. I want to get him starkers and sink into him, _now_. Wish I could say something, but my voice won't work for some reason. Bugger it all. So I grind against him, hoping he'll get the hint. He smiles and leans in for another kiss, but I feel faint, and it looks like he's far away now. This is not fair, I don't want it to end so soon! I cry out, "Who are you?" Guess I found my voice. Damnit. He begins to fade from view quickly, and I hear him whisper softly, "Come back to me, I'll be waiting." Everything then goes black. I come gradually back to consciousness, it's light out, the sleeping bag's completely open, I'm lying on it without a stitch of clothing on, and I'm already wanking my raging hard-on. Christ, need to come so badly... Those full lips, yes...Oh god, I bet they would look wonderful, wrapped around my cock and sucking the life out of me. And I'd love to fuck that tight little arse of his, love to hear that sexy as hell voice of his screaming my name as I ram into him over and over...yessss, oh I'm close now, so...YES! Oh, man...good thing I'm lying down, because I'm really dizzy now. Christ, what a dream, and what a mess. Damn, looks like I shot on my chest and I actually hit my face. Time to call Guinness. Mmm, maybe I should spend more nights in haunted houses, that was one of the best wanks in my life. I'm vaguely disappointed at the lack of sex, though. My wet dreams usually have something more graphic happening. But that look of his...I feel tingly again, but it's not the same tingle I feel whenever I'm horny. It makes me feel warm all over and a bit wobbly. Ugh, I must still be knackered. I'm actually contemplating mush. Give yourself another mental slap, Orlando. Remember it's all rot...*whack*...ah, much better. All I need are several stiff drinks and a good shag with some delectable, sexy men, and I'll be my old self again. I pull out some tissues out of my pack to wipe myself off. Tissues have become a permanent fixture on me, since I've got a libido that won't stop. Wonder what that says about the women who always seem to carry tissues in their handbags...hmm, didn't know that I couldn't strip myself so efficiently in my sleep, could be a useful skill, that. Wonder if I could sleep-shag, too. As I finish cleaning up I notice that the picture has been added to. Shit. No, you're hallucinating. Right. Or are you? Only one way to find out... I'm shaking as I touch the newly added spot. Wet paint comes off on my fingertips. Impossible. The boys just went over the top with this prank. I'm sure of it. Breathe. Focus. Okay, wipe the pigment off on another handy tissue. Now dress and pack up. Your mates are just having you on, that's the ticket. There are no such things as ghosts. Okay, time to scramble out of the window and get back to Robert's flat. Make that _run_ back to his flat. I'm sure Robert's the wanker who set me up. His girlfriend is quite the artist. He also enjoys seeing me make a fool of myself. Prig. I run to his door and hammer on it. Comeoncomeoncomeon, answer it. Robert finally opens the door, far too slowly for my taste. I bust in past him. "Bloom!" he says, his eyes are still vaguely woozy from probably having too many pints last night. "How went your night?" Oh right. Like he doesn't know. "You should know, you git. Amazing job with the artwork, but Julie should really get my good side next time." "Wha'?" he looks completely stunned. Smashing acting job, I must admit, better than his usual work. "What are you talking about, Orli?" All right, I've had enough. "Stop taking the piss with me, Robert. You planted that painting in that haunted house to frighten me. Well, it didn't work, mate. Pay up." "I didn't do any such thing. And neither did anyone else." His eyes finally focus. "What's that on your face?" What? No, he's seeing things. Bugger, where's a mirror? I have to look. There's one, look at it, don't panic... Shit! This can't be happening...you're high, you're hung over, you're... "Orli, why is there a streak of brown paint on your cheek?" --- end part 1 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (2/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: Please ask first. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Orlando goes back to the house. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. I forgot to credit her in Chapter 1, so I'm doing it now. *huggles* Posted May 21, 2003 ***** I must be barking mad for coming back, but I can't let it rest. I'm sure that there must be some rational explanation for what happened. Maybe someone spiked my alcohol or my weed. Maybe there's someone lurking around here and I just had some weird half-asleep remembrance of him feeling me up. But most of all, I refuse to let this scare me. Nope, not going to happen, not to me. So here I am, standing in the yard outside of the house again. Talk about deja vu. Well, sort of. It's daytime right now. After visiting Robert, I ran back to my flat, cleaned up, stocked some supplies, and came straight back. This time, I'm prepared. I brought a mirror with me, just so that I don't go running around like a berk with paint on my face again, several books, some food to nosh on, water, a torch, and some ghost-disproving material. I'd say "ghost-busting material", but I'm not really trying to bust a ghost, just prove that it's some wanker having me on. Hmm, do female ghosts have busts? Come to think of it, do male ghosts have cocks? Oh right, my dream man did have a very lovely feeling one...Christ, slap yourself and belt up, Orlando, he's _not_ a ghost, just some pervy bloke who gets off on scaring the hell out of poor, innocent, young things. Well, just poor, young things, in my case. You know, I really should have asked someone to come with me, but I'm sure they would have laughed their arses off. Besides, I have to know the answer for myself. And anyway, it's about time I got around to reading "Lord of the Rings". I didn't have the patience for it when I was younger, so I thought I'd give it a try again. This house definitely looks less imposing in the daylight, but I still feel a tingle of fear as I see the painting of myself. I force myself to stare at it until my heart slows down to a reasonable speed. Okay, I can deal with it now. I'm good. Right. Don't think about how it looks exactly like you...kill that thought, Orlando. Do something else useful: like, checking the dust around here? You could see if another human being was here last night. Of course, that's before any useful evidence was erased by some smeg-head named Orlando flailing around in the morning. Guess I was in a panic when I packed up. Bugger. It's not like I can deduce anything, anyway. Orlando Bloom, Super Klutz Investigator, just doesn't have a good ring to it. Guess it's time to sit, crack open "The Fellowship of the Ring," and just wait. Man, this book's a hard read. Wish I could have some nice thought-provoking alcohol to make it go faster, but I want to be alert tonight. Shit, Frodo's _still_ in the Shire. How many pages has it been? Ugh. It's a wonder that this book has become so popular, it reads like a fucking dictionary. Nothing happens, of course, while I wrestle through pages and pages detailing life in the Shire. So, why in bloody hell did it take Gandalf 17 years to get back to him? What was he doing, smoking an entire field of pipe-weed? Bugger this book, I'll read it later. Hmmm, it makes a nice, satisfying thud when I toss it into the corner; maybe it has a future as a fly swatter. And still no ghost...I mean, bloke, lurking around. Fuck, I'm a git. Bloom, you thick bastard, nothing's going to happen right now. If anyone is going to barge in, he'll do it in the evening. You've seen enough horror movies to know how it works. Bad Orli, no biscuit. So what do I do now? I mean, besides sitting around with my thumb up my arse again. You know, even though I got the shit scared out of me when I woke up, I really liked being with Mr. Nice Bum. I'd love to have another shot at him again. Hmm, ghost or no ghost, he did have a wicked mouth. Loved the feel of my dream man's mouth on mine, wonder how that talented tongue would feel on my cock...uh oh, trousers are getting much too tight. Unfortunately, I need to hold off on doing the five knuckle shuffle. There's no rubbish bin around here, and leaving spunk-encrusted tissues around for hours is just too nasty. Blowjobs are nice and clean. Too bad I'm not flexible enough to suck myself off. Maybe I could get his lips wrapped around my prick tonight...mmm. Oh, stop it already, Orlando. There's a good boy. Pat yourself on the head. No, the one on top of your neck. Shit, maybe ignoring my cock is going to be harder than I thought. All right, what can I do to kill time until evening falls? I can't wank, I can't drink, I can't get high...guess I should have taken up knitting or something. *snort* Oh, that's a good one. Wait, I have a fantastic idea: I could go into Orli-exploration mode. On the surface, there's nothing amazing about the rest of the house. It's pretty much abandoned and empty. But man, it's kind of creepy that there are no insects or vermin around here. You'd think there'd be something around, at least some sodding cockroaches. Ignore the fact that your hair is standing up slightly, Bloom. Okay, I'm done exploring and I'm back to where I started. Now what? I guess I could recite some lines from Shakespeare while I'm waiting. With different accents. Ah, better, but something's missing...wait, I could try leaping about a bit, too. Now this is fun...ouch. Tripped on something and fell down. Shit, I should watch where I'm going or I'll kill myself before evening. Hmmm, if an Orlando dies in a haunted house, and there aren't any insects here, will my corpse just lie around and rot away? Argh. Now you're getting weird. Okay, back to doing the lines... Finally, it's dark. Time to turn in. But first, a few precautions. I tap around the walls and listen. Okay, nothing hollow. No hidden passageways. Good. I'm putting my sleeping bag right in the middle of this room. No easy access to it from the window, door, or walls. Because I don't want to be sleep-stripping anyway, I take off all of my clothes, and neatly arrange them so that they're around my sleeping bag in a certain pattern. Starting at the walls and working my way back towards the middle, I sprinkle flour all over the floor, making sure that I cover every inch. There. If anyone tries to come into this room, he'll make a mess in the flour. And if he wants to screw with my sleeping body, he'll have to move my clothes around or step on them. Okay, now time to turn in for the night. Well, that was the original concept at first. I wind up tossing around again. Guess I'm still wired. Argh. Well, I don't really want to stare at the ceiling, so I look around the room. Of course, the only thing to stare at is that picture. With the moonlight on it, it looks pale and it kind of glows. Almost...like a dead man. _That_ was definitely a mistake. Okay, Bloom, close your eyes and try not to think about it. Got it? Good. Crap, what was that noise? Deep breath. Settle down, Orli. Okay, try to sleep. What was that? Nothing. Hasn't it been a while? Check the watch. Shit, I've been doing this for hours. Bugger. Maybe I should count naked men jumping over a fence to put me to sleep. Ha ha. Great. No, you're not nervous Orlando, not at all, nope, not really. And denial is not a river in Egypt. Christ, did someone just drop the temperature a bunch of degrees? It's suddenly colder than a witch's tit in here. I see my breath and I'm glad that I'm in a sleeping bag, or my nuts would be shriveling up. Shitshitshit. I feel like someone's just walked over my grave. And I'm not alone. _Something_ is out there. I pull out the torch and click it on, pointing it toward the door. Fuck. Nothing there. I sweep the room with it, and I don't see a thing. I definitely don't remember this happening. On the other hand, I was stoned and drunk last night. I don't think I would've noticed a lorry running me over. Oh god, is that chill getting closer? And then I _feel_ it. I feel something cold touching my face, so bitterly icy that it feels like I've plunged my head into a newly thawed pond. The torch drops from my hand, and I try to catch it, but my fingers won't respond. In fact, my entire body won't move. I'm paralyzed. Shit! No! The iciness is seeping into my blood, and now it's flowing through me. Cold encloses my face, and now it's going down into my throat, following the flow of my blood, spreading out into my chest through my veins. God, it almost hurts...heart's beating like a frightened rabbit's... Bugger! Move your arse, Bloom! Do something! Christ, it's creeping over my torso, my hips, sliding down my legs...my teeth are chattering now as the chill closes over my feet. I feel another icy bite against my lips, turning them blue. BOLLOCKS! Something frigid is prying my mouth open, slithering inside and probing...NO! Suddenly, the biting numbness against my tongue turns into a vaguely familiar hot tingle dancing through my mouth...and now I feel a lovely warmth spreading through my face and curling through my body. It kind of feels like the slow, fuzzy feeling I get when I'm buzzed. My brain feels extremely woozy now. It's as delicious as the cold was terrifying, and I wind up sinking into it. /Sleep,/ I hear a familiar low, husky voice saying. But I don't hear it in my ears, it almost echoes in my brain. Strange. /Go to sleep, I'm here./ I can feel his voice rumbling through my body now, and it's sooo nice...I feel myself drifting away... When my vision clears, I'm in a field again, and I'm completely starkers. Note to self: whatever I wind up sleeping in, I'm going to be wearing when I dream. Do not, repeat, do not wear any embarrassing knickers to bed. Ugh, and the birds are still tweeting. Gotta work on changing that next. I take a gander around, and my lovely stranger is looking at the painting again. He's closer this time. Maybe about 7 meters away or so. And now my brain catches up to the rest of me. Guess he is a ghost...no! Get a hold of yourself, Orlando. There must be a rational explanation for what just happened. But I saw it with my own eyes, or rather, felt it with my own skin. That chill must have come from him. Ker-ching! Ghost 1, Orli 0. Bugger, they do exist...don't panic, Orli. Face your fears. Concentrate on something else. Think of anything... breathe, that's it...he used to be human, remember...okay, I'm good. Wait a minute...What the _fuck_ did he do to me? First, I can't sleep, then he creeps me out, and now I'm in dreamland? Thanks a lot, you sod; I love having my head messed with. Good, Orli. Get narked. Anger good. "Oi!" I yell. I try to walk, but my limbs still feel immensely heavy, which makes me really brassed off. He turns around and smiles. Wow...it's a dazzling smile, one that lights up his entire face. His eyes are shining with joy as he approaches me again. I feel myself melt and go all sort of mushy inside. Fuck! Orlando, you're supposed to be angry. Don't you dare fall into the twee trap. "Hello again," he purrs, taking my hand and pressing the palm to his lips, causing little shivers to shoot through my body. Train of thought derailing...where was it...um, don't you dare fall into...right...no falling, I can do that. Oh god, is he tracing the lines in my palm with his tongue? He is...wow...Fuck! Focus, goddamnit! Think of something frightfully nasty. Margaret Thatcher naked, now there's a horrifying sight...ugh, yuck...okay, good...focus...huh, he's murmuring something to me. I wind up concentrating on his voice, trying to go beyond the sexy husk. Mmm, tongue...bugger, concentrate! Oh man, his accent is mostly Yank. Mmm, yank. Just what I want him to do to my...shit, Orli! Right. Huh, there's some sort of overlay to his accent. Accent...right...wait, what was I thinking about? Right, I was thinking about how that feels good...his tongue against my palm. Mmm, and now he's rubbing his cheek against the area he licked...nice. Damnit, focus. "I'm so glad that you're back," he whispers. He wraps his arms around me and buries his nose in my hair...aah... feels good... "I've been waiting so long to have the chance to hold you." His tongue traces the whorl of my ear. Oooo, instant Orli-puddle. "To cherish you," he whispers in that drop-your-trousers- and-shag-me-now voice. Definitely turning in an Orli-puddle now. No, no Orli-puddle. Orli-puddle bad. Orli-puddle way too twee. Anger good. Focus...Margaret Thatcher...push him away...shit, that's hard to do...damn heavy air...okay, good...brain clearing up now that he's not so close. Now give him the bollocking he deserves. "Sod it, why the hell did you have to scare the shit out of me?" That's good, Orlando. Use your theatre training to get more projection in your voice. "I'm sorry, angel. That happens whenever I touch someone. I tried to make it as short as possible." Now I'm feeling really stroppy. "Bullshit. Can't you turn it off?" Good seethe to the voice, take a bow, Orli. "Can you stop breathing?" he replies mildly. "That chilly touch is a part of me. I can't get rid of it." Oh. Then he smiles a warm-hearted, generous smile to show that he's not angry at all with me even though he has every reason to. Now I feel really guilty and really, really small. Is there a nice rock for me to crawl under? Shit, no rock. Before I shrivel away from shame, he gathers me in his warm arms again and holds me close. Mmm, I'm definitely growing fond of the feeling of his nose buried in my hair. Fuck, why is it so hard to think? "It's all right, angel. We can only see each other when you're dreaming." He kisses me lightly and then runs his thumb over my lips, sending shivers through my body. "You looked like you were having trouble sleeping, so I helped you along." "Christ, couldn't you have done it without touching me?" "No. I needed to make some sort of extremely close contact with you or it wouldn't have worked." Oh, bugger, that cold sliding into my mouth must have been his tongue. Wait, why the hell would he want to see me again? And I still don't know why the painting looks so much like me... Christ, Orlando, it's obvious. He did it because he wants a piece of your arse. Figures. He wants to take advantage of me just like everyone else. Guess ghosts aren't so different from people in real life after all. You've had blokes try to impress you in the past by playing guitar or whatnot; this is no different. Ah, some focus is back. Good. "So why did you create this particular painting?" I ask rather stroppily, gesturing towards the easel. "Why does it look like me?" "It is you." "Bollocks, we've never met before. How would you know?" "Because I've dreamed about you. Because I've dreamed about the two of us being together even before the day that you were born." Bam. Okay, reality has left...repeat, reality has completely left the room. ----- end part 2 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (3/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: Please ask first. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Some explanations are in order. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. The "shag me rotten" expression was taken from Cassandra Claire's "Very Secret Diaries of Aragorn, pt. 2" And sorry that this part was delayed a bit, my chatty Orli muse wouldn't shut up, the bastard. :) Posted May 25, 2003 ***** Okay, I'm already having trouble dealing with the fact that he's a ghost. But being able to see the future? And with me? Brain is refusing to understand this. Stop gawping with your mouth open like a fish, damnit. Say something, Orlando. "Th-that's impossible." Shit, guess I was more upset than I thought, can't even talk properly. Then it hits me that he's having me on. "Oh, that's a good one, mate." I start laughing, but then I stop dead. Bugger. His eyes tell me he's 100% serious. And judging by that look, I've also just carved his heart out with a spoon, stomped it into pieces, and pissed on it for good measure. Argh, I'm such a wanker. "I'm sorry," I mutter. I look for the rock that I wanted to crawl under before, and the bloody thing _still_ hasn't appeared. "It's all right, angel. I know this is hard for you to understand." Christ! Does he have to be so understanding? Now I feel like complete scum. He cups his rough hand against my cheek again. Great, don't do that, I'm a complete arsehole. No...I can't bear to look at him after what a blithering pillock I've been. I think I'll stare at the ground, thank you very much. Shit, he's putting a finger under my chin and tilting my head up. Oh god, those beautiful blue eyes...I'm drowning in them...and the butterflies are back in residence. "I've always known that we would meet in this house," he says softly. "I began having visions of you when I was alive." He gestures towards the canvas, "You were in this pose on the grass, and I tried to capture it, but I never finished my work." My heart's thumping again. "The fire." He nods. "I was in another room and the smoke filled my lungs before I could get out. As I was dying, all I could think of was that my fondest wish was never completed." He looks incredibly sad. "And now I'm bound here until I can fulfill it." God, I'm so confused now. "But there's no such thing as being able to predict the future. There's no rational explanation for any of this." Shit, my voice is squeaking. "Why does there need to be one? Can't you just believe?" he asks. His voice lowers to a husk, "Can't you just let yourself go?" His lips are hovering just above mine, and our hot breaths are mingling together. Can't think anymore with him so close, with his wonderful scent intoxicating me, with his mouth hovering just over mine. His presence is so overwhelming that my tongue darts out to nervously lick my lips, and I wind up swiping it across that tantalizing mouth in the process. Oh, SHIT! You could've used the electricity that just jolted between us to power a city. Need to feel it again... As if he's sensing my thoughts, he closes the small distance between us, and I open my mouth hungrily to meet his. Christ, he kisses like a fucking typhoon. My head spins as he claims my mouth, my lips, and my tongue. He continues to kiss me until I can't breathe and my cock is so hard that I swear that all of my blood has rushed there. And again, I feel the tenderness underneath his urgency, his tongue caressing mine like I'm the most precious thing on this planet. Wow...those lips...wait, wasn't something bothering me? So hard to think...fuck it, I just want to feel this...mmm... Ooo, he's pressing his erection against my thigh. So hard... god. Mmm, I grind against him eagerly, feeling the cloth graze against my cock. I need him. Now. "Let me take care of you," he says. "Yes..." I try to grind my cock against his, but he holds me in place. Guess he has other ideas, damnit. I hate waiting, I want to shag him _now_. His eyes are glinting with amusement as I grunt in protest. "Patience," he says. Fuck that. "I want to enjoy you," he purrs as he kisses his way up my jaw. He pauses to twirl his tongue in my ear, killing any more arguments from me. My knees go all wobbly, and he turns me in his arms so that my back is against his chest. "I want to savor you," he breathes in his sexy as hell voice while he nibbles his way down the back of my neck. Damn, I didn't know I was so sensitive there. Each nip shoots a little bolt of fire through my body, and the lick afterwards with his hot tongue just makes me weak inside. He begins to tweak my nipples as he laps at the hollow of my neck. Christ, that feels good. I moan softly, feeling the press of his shirt against my back, and his hard prick against my arse. Wish he weren't wearing trousers... Oh god, more contact, please...I feel completely on fire, my brain going into a complete meltdown as he touches me. He's teasing my nipples into hard peaks, gently rubbing them between his two fingers, making me ache in the pit of my stomach. He plants tiny kisses slowly down my back, while caressing my chest and stomach with his big hands. God, I feel like I'm being wrapped in a decadent cocoon. Butterfly-light touches from his lips burning my back, his warm, slightly rough hands spanning my front...I can feel my cock pulsing eagerly in response. Christ, he's killing me. He picks up one of my hands and sucks on a finger, that deadly tongue twirling and wrapping around the sensitive pad. I make a little noise in my throat, and I flip over so that I can push my hips against him. He gives me a throaty laugh. "Just wait," he says. Wanker. He's not the one being teased. "Easy for you to...ohhh," I rasp, my complaint cut off as he sucks on another finger, swallowing it completely. He proceeds to lavish attention on every single digit, licking his way up the sensitive inside of my arm. As I'm trembling, he kisses his way across to my other arm, and gives it the same slow, teasing treatment. He covers every single centimeter of remaining skin in front of him with those maddening nips, licks, and kisses, ignoring my nipples and my cock. I'm completely shaking by the time he's covering the last area, the inside of my thigh. My body's so tightly wound up now that his lips are scorching me like little brands. "Please..." I gasp as he licks away at the small patch of skin, completely ignoring my crotch. I'm trying to talk, but I'm so muddled that stringing any sentence together is almost impossible. Christ! He's finally decided to pay attention to my nipples... god, his tongue is so fucking hot against them...so wet... Oh yes! He's using his teeth now...tugging on them...mmm, so good... "Yes?" He asks me playfully. Bastard. Fuck, he keeps running that scorchingly hot tongue over the tip of my nipples, looking at me with that sinful glint in his eyes... brain...work... "Need...need to come." "How badly to you want it?" he purrs. Sodding tease. I try fighting through the thick atmosphere to take care of myself, but he easily grabs my hands and stops me. Then he starts tracing patterns on my skin with his tongue and nibbling on me, keeping me on the edge until I want to scream. "Fuck...finish me off...oh god, please..." I plead. I'm whimpering shamelessly now, completely helpless in his grasp, and I could give a flying fuck about how desperate I sound. He finally stops and reaches down for my cock. Yesss... Oh. My. God. I just felt every nerve come alive and dance, like my whole body has turned into one large extension for my prick. Fuck, I've never felt this good before. His blue eyes lock with mine as he wanks me, and I see the complete tenderness in his gaze. Oh god, I'm just sizzling inside. This is so amazing that talking soon becomes overrated, and all I can do is make small, strangled cries as he strokes me. "That's it," he purrs in my ear. "My beautiful angel. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel it." Oh god, that dark, throaty voice, making me ache all over, making my cock throb almost painfully. I moan and fight through the heaviness, bucking into his hand. Mmmm, he's squeezing my prick deliciously, milking it until I start leaking at the tip. I quiver as he smears the wetness around with his thumb, making me feel as if I'm going to burst. He's still looking at me intently, watching me come apart. It's too much. "Please," I manage to choke out thickly. He starts pumping me in earnest now, and I start crying out loudly. "I love the feel of your hot cock in my hand," he coos, "I want you to watch you come in thick, hot spurts and then I'm going to lick it off my fingers." Oh god, that dirty talk, that husky voice...mmmm, bringing me so close...so...oh god...what is he doing with his hand... Christ...my blood's pounding in my ears as his hand dances wickedly over me...jesusfuckdamn feels so good...ooooh god, he's sucking my nipple again...feels like a fucking furnace...and he's still lookly hotly at me...so hot...so...OH FUCKING GOD! FUCK! Christ, that was sensational...I'm glad he's holding me because I can't stand up. Wow, we're both a mess...I coated my stomach, and got a good deal on his hand...shit, did I really produce that much come? Oh man, he's licking his fingers clean now and it's sexy as hell to watch. "You taste wonderful," he purrs as he kisses me back. Mmm, that tastes good. Brain going bye-bye now. What was I doing? Right...talk to him, Orlando. Oh god...he's cleaning my stomach off, Christ...now, what was I thinking about? "Let me paint you some more," he says in his come-hither voice. Paint me? Right, that must have been it. That sounds like a great idea. Now, how do I sit down? Oh good, he's helping me. I take up my pose on the grass, still a bit flummoxed by everything. Ah, this is nice...not as nice as his hand...god, that was incredible. Do they give out knightships for handjobs? Bollocks. *slap* Get a hold of yourself, you cunt. Where are your manners? You haven't taken care of him yet. Fuck, I may shag indiscriminately, but I'm not a cad. I try reaching for him, but that daft molasses-shit atmosphere still keeps me from moving very fast. "It's all right," he says quietly. "Just enjoy." I'm stunned. This is definitely unusual. Whoever I take a tumble with usually expects some payback. And for some reason, I'm feeling like a right bastard for getting all the attention. I should have my head examined, because me getting all the attention is normally a dream date. Must be something in the atmosphere. That's it. He paints for a bit, and I start feeling that warm twee feeling as he gives me that look. Damn, not again. Need to distract myself...I try to open my yap to ask him more questions, but he hushes me up. Bugger. Guess he needs me to stay still. Oh well, I'll ask him afterward. It's really not easy sitting still and trying not to feel mushy inside. Somehow, I manage, mostly because I'm still trying to figure out everything he's told me so far. Eventually, my dream lover puts down his brush. He then walks over and scoops me up so that he can give me another one of those dizzying kisses. Ooo, I could get used to this... *slap* Shit, why do I keep forgetting myself? "We don't have much time again," he says quietly. Bugger. "But I have so many more questions." "Patience." Fuck patience. "What..." "Shh, don't talk." He melts me again with his lips. Christ, that mouth should be illegal. "You're about to wake up," he says huskily. I see him pull something out of his trouser pocket, but his hand is closed around it, so I can't get a good gander at whatever it is. He gives me another toe-curling kiss as he slips the object into my hand, wrapping my fingers around it before I can have a proper squint. Hmm, it feels cold in my palm. Before I have time to think about it some more, he presses another kiss to my closed fingers. It sends a thrill from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. "For you to remember me by," he purrs. I feel that fading away feeling again, and I try to ask him something, but it's suddenly too hard to talk. Damnit, I still need some more answers! My dream man says soothingly, "I'll be waiting for you to come back. I'll always wait for you." He's fading off into the distance, and I finally manage to make my mouth work. "Wait! What's your name?" I hear him softly say, "Viggo," before the field fades away and goes black. I can feel myself waking up now, and I pry my eyes open. Even though I'm expecting it, my heart still thumps as I carefully open my hand. There's a small pendant cradled in my palm, a silver teardrop with a yellow stone set in the middle. Now what, Orlando? *** Well, there's only one thing to do when cornered with something of this magnitude: get seriously monged. So here I am, in a pub late Sunday morning, drinking everything I can get my hands on. Goddamnit, why me? I'm not special, I'm not an extraordinary guy, I'm not anything. Now, I have a ghost fancying me. Let's be honest, it's more like he's fixated on me. And I'm still having a hard time swallowing all of this "we're meant to be together" rubbish. Fuck, Viggo was talking about fate, wasn't he? Sod him, I know exactly what my fate should be: it's to get so royally pissed that I have a nice blackout about this whole thing. "Hello, Orli. A bit early to hit the pints, isn't it?" someone says beside me. I jump three feet in the air because I didn't even see him coming. Bugger. Yup, I'm definitely upset about Viggo. And not monged nearly enough. Well, it's someone I recognize vaguely from one of the parties, but hell if I can remember his name. One of those mates of a mate of someone who I've only barely met. Shit. Blond, nice body and arse, but no bells are ringing. I think his name is Dave or Chris or something common. Christ, he's looking at me expectantly. Time for standard answer number 3. "A bit. But I think I prefer your wonderfully shaggable presence." He sidles closer to me. "Why don't we go somewhere more quiet?" he purrs as he stealthily grabs my crotch. My cock immediately leaps to attention. Hmm, haven't had sex in the gents yet. That's what I need: a nice, hard, nasty shag with someone to take my mind off of the weirdness in my life lately. Especially since I've been feeling a bit...I don't know...off, since I left the house... Viggo's house, really. *slap* Your mind is wandering, Orli, concentrate on the sexy bloke with you. I give him my best shag-me-rotten smile, and gesture over to the toilet. My hook-up picks up on my signal and we head over there. I'm groping him as we bustle into a stall...right, now I remember why I never have sex in the loo: it's really disgusting in here. I really don't want to know what that brownish-coloured stuff on the wall is, and I think the germs here are about to unionize. That's quite odd, it's never bugged me before. Why now? Fuck it all, don't think about it, you need to forget about Viggo. As I close and lock the stall's door behind us, that rum feeling starts up again. Oh, fuck it, concentrate on having a good time, Orli. The blond grabs a hold of my cock again. Oh, those fingers do feel nice. Shit, just remembered..."Erm, I don't have any lube." Or a condom for that matter. I usually pack them before I go out to the clubs, but I wasn't really expecting to be on the pull this morning. Fuck, maybe _those_ should become a permanent fixture, also. Fortunately, my hook-up is very understanding. "Then we'll just have to make do," he says before he unzips my fly and pulls my cock out of my knickers. I see my prick rapidly disappearing into his mouth. Mmm. He's got a good thing going there with his tongue, lapping around my entire cock and applying lots of suction. Wait, now I remember his name. It's John. Nice technique he's got there, definitely not someone I've had it off with before. Yes, I can identify any bloke I've been with by his blowjob technique; each one of them is distinctly different in how he does it. Man, that would make a smashing idea for a blind taste test...have a bunch of hot men taste _me_ first. Then I could put on a blindfold and try to identify them by how they suck me off. Goddamnit, you're being rude, Orli. Why is your mind wandering? Pay attention! Right, mmm...he's running his fingernails over my balls...not as good as Viggo's hand, though. Oh god, that hand... Christ, why the fuck am I thinking about Viggo now? That's frightfully impolite. Concentrate, Orlando. Yum, nice hot tongue lapping at the slit of my cock, heat all around me...yes...oh, that's good...yes, lots of suction... mmm, I bet Viggo would use a lot of suction...and that wicked mouth...oh my god, and it would be a hundred times more amazing that his hand...yeah, Viggo... John stands up and looks pretty narked at me. "Who the fuck is Viggo?" Oops. Guess I was thinking aloud, sod it all. Quick, Orli, improv an excuse. You're an actor, after all. "I meant to say 'we should go', but you scrambled my head so much that it came out as a garble." Ooo, smooth save, Bloom. Does he buy it? He glares at me. Shit. Okay, time for plan B. I quickly unzip him and purr, "Let me make it up to you, luv," before I pull his cock out and start sucking him. Unfortunately, my thoughts keep straying to Viggo. I want to have Viggo in my mouth, and I want to taste him all over. I want to have him squirm under my tongue, and this time, I'll be the one making him beg...Shit! Can't get him out of my mind. And for some reason, I really feel like I shouldn't be here with John. This feels...wrong. "I'm sorry," I mutter as I stop. "I'm too sotted to do this." "Never expected you to be a cock-tease, Orli," John growls as he tucks himself back in and zips up his jeans. He storms out of the loo, and I can't say I blame him for being upset. What's going on? I've _never_ felt this way about a hook-up. More importantly, I can't get Viggo out of my sodding mind. Bollocks, what's happening to me? ---- end part 3 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (4/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Feedback: Yes, please. Archive: Please ask first. Summary: Orli tries to sort things out. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. BIG HONKING WARNING : This chapter contains imagery that might be very disturbing and violent for some people. You have been warned. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. And thanks to Elizabeth for acting as my sounding board for this part! *mwah* The "Catherine" I mention here is in no way associated with Kate Bosworth. I just needed a common name, and that's what popped into my head. Posted June 1, 2003 ***** I can't explain my behavior yesterday, and today isn't much better. I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with Viggo. He's filling all of my thoughts. I keep fantasizing about him constantly. I fantasize in class, I fantasize while I'm in the bath...hell, I even fantasize about him while I'm waiting in an otherwise boring queue. The more I try _not_ to fantasize about him, the dirtier the fantasies get when they come back, usually at the most embarrassing times. So, I've finally given up and I just let them fill my mind. Unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of loose trousers in my wardrobe, so I've been trying to keep the embarrassing stiffies down by wanking. Which means that I've had to do it an awful lot lately, much more than when I was in my teens. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing, but I think I've just taken the gold medal for jerking off. My poor cock has probably developed calluses by now. Maybe I should ask it how it's holding up, but I have a feeling the answer will be "Sod off and use lube next time." Wish I could tell my brain to go bugger itself. It's decided that all of my fantasies should have me bottoming. I _never_ bottom. No way am I losing control and letting myself be that vulnerable with another person. God, am I sick or something? Nope, no fever. Mad cow disease? Hmm, no. The last burger I touched was well before the first herds had ever been infected. Bubonic plague? Christ, now you're reaching, Bloom. I also feel like total shit because I couldn't get much sleep last night. I woke up in a cold sweat, with my heart hammering. I don't know what it was I dreamed, but I do know that it was something horrible. At least Viggo didn't pay me another visit. Guess I actually have to be at his house for it to work. Shit, speaking of which, did Viggo do something to my mind? He was able to make me sleep...but then he said that he needed to be in close contact to do it. Of course, that's assuming I should trust him in the first place. I'm still disturbed by the unOrlando-ish twee thoughts I keep getting when I'm around him. He must be fucking with my head in order for me to think that way, and I'm not convinced that these sodding fantasies aren't his fault. And then there was that little incident with John... On the other hand, if he really wants to screw with my brain, he should make me come back to him. I haven't felt any strong compulsion to go back to the house, so maybe he isn't doing anything. Unless that's what he wants me to think... Christ, I am staying _away_ from that house until I figure out what the fuck is going on. ************ Well, so far, this has been a charmer of a week. It's Tuesday, 2 days since I last saw Viggo, and I've only probably gotten about 6 hours of sleep. Not even having a joint has relaxed me enough. My dreams woke me up again. Christ. No nightmare has ever kept me from falling back asleep. What the hell is happening? "Orlando! Pay attention!" Bugger, mind's wandering again. I just fluffed my line. Concentrate, Orlando. You don't want Neal, your teacher, to get his knickers in a twist. Why, oh why, did he insist that our exercise for today would be to act out a random scene from the play we've been studying? Yes, I know, it doesn't sound too bad, but my classmates get to pick the scene, and I don't get to pick my partner. We have to draw lots to see who we're working with. And of course, I got stuck with Catherine. She hates my guts because her boyfriend dumped her and then slept with me a week later. She somehow thinks it's all my fault, even thought it's well known that I never involve myself with anyone. My classmates decided to pick the sex scene, knowing _exactly_ how uncomfortable this would make the two of us. Sadists. And Neal's a big believer in Method acting, so he insisted we both take off our shirts and sit on a mattress he borrowed from the props department. After all, we can't really do anything convincing if we're clothed. I'm sure everyone took that into account, too. Bloody wankers. Well, never let it be said that I don't suffer for my art. "Orlando!" Right, I have a line. Gotta be Seductive Orli now. Catherine's doing her hesitation thing, because her character's still unsure as to whether or not we should shag each other, and I have to convince her that this is right. "Elanor, believe me, you're all I could ever want." Huh, wish I could figure out what was up with the nightmares... "That's a really nice delivery, Orli. Could you make it any more unconvincing?" she says dryly, low enough so that Neal can't hear her. "It's not like I've got a great source of inspiration in front of me," I whisper back. Score. Two points for Orlando Bloom. She's furious, and she looks like she's going to punch me. "Catherine! Orlando! Your scene." Okay, focus. I try to look at her smolderingly as she does her lines. Ugh, okay, put the script down and start snogging her...well, try to act, Bloom...don't think about your problems... Christ, why can't I have a nice, dirty, Viggo fantasy right now? "Orlando, Could you make an attempt to look passionate? At least close your eyes," Neal says. Shit, guess that was a pretty sad excuse for a kiss. *slap* Come on, Orli, focus. Catherine whispers, "Too used to sucking things instead of kissing them, Orli?" She should talk. I heard some very nasty stories about her from her ex. Before I can give her a proper comeback, Neal says, "All right. Try kissing her again, Orlando. And put some feeling into it. Pretend that she's someone that you really lust after." Right...close eyes...think of Viggo. Okay, much better...press lips together...think of his firm lips and not these kind of dead-fish lips against mine...ugh, and Viggo wouldn't wear enough perfume to kill a horse...crap, why does lipstick have to taste so bad?...well, don't think about it...oh Christ, I have to stick my tongue in her mouth now...can't we just fake it?...no, Neal won't think it'll look convincing unless we actually do it...ugh...well, Bloom, you've done worse...think about something scabby to distract you...like the time someone dared you to lick a frog and you took him up on it...well, that makes pushing my tongue against hers at least bearable...shit, she had bangers and mash for lunch...disgusting...I feel like rolling my tongue up and taking it out to get dry cleaned... okay, now we fall back onto the "bed"...ugh, now I've got to clutch her to me and roll the two of us over...god, if I do that, I'll pick up her perfume and smell like a cheap tart... Christ, the things I have to do...well, here goes..."Ouch!" Oi! That hurt. "Sorry, Orli," she says innocently. "I didn't mean to jab you in the balls." Sure you didn't. Bitch. "All right, that's enough for today, people," Neal yells. I jump off the mattress like it's full of lice and get dressed. Damn, wish Viggo were here with me. Love to have him pin me to the mattress while he fills me with his big cock... "I don't really appreciate the compliment, but I guess I was the lucky lass who changed your mind," Catherine says. Huh, wha? Oh, sod it all, I've got a massive hard-on and I'm wearing tight jeans today. Fucking bollocks! _Now_ I get the dirty Viggo fantasy. My brain needs a massive spanking and a good talking to. Shit, I think I've turned a shade of red that doesn't exist yet. Guess I get to name it. Hot, Bothered, and Hung Orli Red? Bloomin' Git Crimson? My classmates have just noticed the bulge in my jeans, and they're snickering. Someone kill me now. No, really. Just take a knife and stab me dead or something. I don't think I'll ever live this down. Please? Nope. No luck, of course. "So, do you fancy me now?" Catherine says, batting her eyelashes. "Although I do prefer lads whose little black books don't read like the telephone directory." Pot. Kettle. Black. Her ex dumped her because she cheated on him. And this wasn't the first bloke she did it to. In fact, the joke making the rounds at Guildhall is that Catherine can only shag other people's boyfriends. And although she protests otherwise, she's quite indiscriminate. At least I'm honest about not wanting any attachments. "If I ever go straight, it won't be with a slag who thinks that the Kama Sutra is an Indian restaurant," I bite back at her. Okay, she's brassed off. Serves her right. "Break it up, you two," Neal says. We look sheepishly at him and mutter our apologies. I finish throwing my shirt on and I rush back to my flat. God, they're going to take the piss for days about my little display. I need some time alone. I take a cautious sniff as I pull my shirt off. I was right, I now reek of eau de putain. I'm going to need at least two washings before this crap will come off. And I need to brush my teeth to get that residue of meat and gravy out. Hmm, hot bath sounds good. Something relaxing... I turn on the taps and jump in once the water's at a good level. Aaaah, much better...tension's leaving...mmmm...feels good to rub soap on my chest...wish Viggo were here to do this...getting me all nice and lathered and slippery... he'd probably open me up with his fingers first... I grab some of the silicone-based lube that I have sitting on the corner of the tub and pour some onto my hands. I work a finger in slowly...ah, yes, just like that. Oh god, feels good to brush my sweet spot...I slide in two more fingers while I use my right hand to wank myself. Mmmm, so good...Viggo would be merciless at this point...he'd wriggle his fingers around until I begged him to shag me...yeah, then he'd bend me over the side of the tub and plunge his magnificent cock into me, fucking me until I screamed. Oh...yes, just like that...ohhhh, Viggo. VIGGO! Christ. I feel wobbly now. Maybe _now_ I'll have a good sleep. Mmm, and I smell like myself again. Life is good. I dry off, do a quick brush of the teeth, and everything's back to normal. Ah, the day's looking up now. Just as I'm thinking of jumping into bed, the phone rings. Shit, guess I should answer it... "Hullo?" "Orli! Robert here! Thought you'd like to go motorbiking this afternoon." Fuck, does he remember me acting odd on Sunday morning? I'm really not in the mood to deal with any more needling. Better beg off this time. "Sorry, man. I'm completely knackered." "Since when has that stopped you, you mad bastard? We can knock some pints down afterward, and it'll be my treat." Bollocks. I can't turn down free beer. Well, let's see if he remembers anything... "Christ, you still owe me for the bet, you twat. And so does everyone else. I knew I should have collected when I dropped by your flat." "We'll pay up Saturday night. So, are you in or out?" Fantastic! He completely forgot about it. Of course, he _was_ pretty hung over. "In." "Thought so," he says. "Where are we going?" "The usual spot." I smile. We found a perfect area with a lot of open countryside a while ago, near the outskirts of London. "See you in a bit," I say as I hang up. I throw on some jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and grab my heavy jacket and helmet. I'm probably being daft, but I need this. Sleep's overrated, anyway. *** Robert gives me two fingers as I tear past him. I laugh as I gun my bike up a steep hill. It's a bit dodgy here, but I don't care. I just love jumping over the hills at mad speeds, getting that adrenalin rush as I fly through the air. Aaahh...I'm completely buzzed. No worries about class, about the nightmares, or about Viggo. Viggo...he'd probably be narked that I'm doing this, because he seems to be the calm type. Wonder if my antics would make him angry? Angry enough to make him throw me onto the ground and pin my arms above my head? Angry enough so that he would kiss me until my lips were bruised? Would he fuck my mouth to punish me? Hmmm...oh shit! Just hit a slippery patch on the ground. Shit...starting to tip...fuckfuckfuck...Christ, got it straightened out, but just barely. Robert pulls up next to me and flips up his visor. I do the same. "You alright, Orli?" "Yeah, man, I'm golden. Sorry, my mind's been wandering a lot lately." He claps his hand on my arm. "It sounds like it's time to hit the pub." We bike back to London, and knock back quite a few at the pub. I'm nicely pissed by the time I stumble back to my flat. I strip and flop onto my bed. Now maybe I'll sleep...mmm...drifting... Unfortunately, I have the nightmare again. Even though I can't remember it, I get the feeling that I've been having the same one for the past few days. Shit, I'm shaking. There's no way I can go back to sleep. Bugger, I've only been out for a couple of hours. Fuck, what do I do now? I could read, but I'm too edgy to sit properly. Shit, I could use another good hardcore fantasy of Viggo to distract me right now. Come on brain, produce one? Please? Fine, hold out on me, you twatting bastard. See if I feel guilty the next time I kill millions of your cells on my next drinking binge. Viggo...shit, I still have unanswered questions about him. How did he become a ghost? Fuck, wish I had done more than watch the occasional horror movie. My ghost knowledge is pretty shoddy. Wait, I remember that Edward was rabbitting on about ghosts last Saturday at the pub, and that's why we started talking about Viggo's house. Of course, I told him that he was talking out of his arse. Christ, what did he say? Think, Orli. Shit, I can't remember. It's not too late in the night to ring him, but how do I get the information I need without letting him know about Viggo? He'll really take the piss if I actually admit that ghosts exist. Hmm, if I can somehow steer him onto the subject of ghosts, he'll yabber on for hours once he's certain that he's got a captive audience. But how do I do it? Fuck. Think, Orlando. No other ideas? Well, there's no way around it, Bloom, pick up the phone and dial his number. "Hullo?" "Edward? It's Orli." "What's up? Other than embarrassing yourself in class?" "Sod off, you cunt." Bugger, I forgot that one of his mates shares that class with me. Now he's going to needle me for hours. How do I steer the conversation over to ghosts? Oh wait, I have it..."That's a fine way to talk, you bastard, you owe me." "So, how did it go, Orli? Did the ghost come after you?" Good, hooked him in... "No, man. Spending the night at that house was a complete doddle." "Are you sure there was nothing there?" Edward sounds a bit disappointed. Figures, ghosts and the supernatural have always fascinated him. Never thought I'd actually be encouraging it. "Well, man, it was amazingly creepy. And I might have heard something odd. Why?" "From what I hear about the bloke who died, he seemed like prime ghost material." Score! "Uh, why do you say that?" "Well, ghosts are basically souls who can't go on to the afterlife because something drives them to stay here," he answers. "Really?" I say, trying to sound as casual as possible. Quick, grab a pen and jot this down, Orli. "Yes, you wanker. For instance, one way a ghost can get formed is if a person dies and the poor sod doesn't get interred correctly. The soul becomes restless and wanders around until its remains are given a proper burial." "Uh huh." Come on, Edward, keep going. "And you know what else?" "What?" Score again! I can tell by the sound of his voice that the floodgates are now open. "A ghost can also get created when someone is murdered: it stays in this world until it fulfills its need for vengeance. And sometimes, a person comes back as a ghost because they have some sort of unfinished task holding them here. Once it's done, they go on to the afterlife." Edward then starts going on about other stuff; I try to write some of it down and pay attention, but he's throwing out terminology that I've never heard of. I occasionally mutter something to keep him going, trying to pick out the bits that don't sound like gibberish. "...and some ghosts can affect people in the real world through their dreams..." Note that one down, Orlando. Hmm, didn't something similar happen in "Nightmare on Elm Street"? I think I prefer my ghost, though, _much_ sexier and he gives handjobs to die for. Shit, I know what you're going to think next, Bloom, just _don't_ go there. Eventually, Edward notices that it's getting late and he stops. We say our goodbyes and hang up. Shit, my head feels like it's going to explode because it's stuffed full of too much information, like Keanu Reeves' character in that awful movie from a few years ago. God, what was the name of it? The only line I even remember is Keanu shouting, "I want a ten thousand dollar-a-night hooker!" Hmm, wonder if the rentboy I played could get that much? Maybe I could re-enact that role for Viggo? I could proposition him, and do a sexy lip lick to reel him in. Wonder what he would ask for...Bugger! *slap* I need to ignore my own advice for now, and concentrate on something other than fantasies about Viggo. Okay, let's look over the list...Viggo doesn't seem to be the violent type, so vengeance goes out the window. Hmmm, maybe he wasn't buried properly? That doesn't make much sense. The house wasn't completely destroyed in the fire, so he probably left a corpse. That leaves the unfinished task. Hmm, Viggo did mention that he was bound to the house until his fondest wish was fulfilled. Can't think of what that would be...shit, you thick bastard. The painting. He can't rest until he finishes the painting of me. Fuck, now what? I really can't leave him to wander around the house forever. But on the other hand, I'm still not sure if coming in contact with him is healthy for me. Either way, I'm busy with classes, so I'll think it over and figure something out by Saturday. Unfortunately, the rest of the week goes by in a haze, because I haven't been able to sleep at all. Every time I try to rest, the nightmare returns, and I get so wound up from it that I can't go back to bed. I slog through each day, keeping myself going through sheer bullheadedness. It's Friday night now, and my mates want to hit the clubs. Robert has come by to fetch me, but I can barely focus on him. Fuck. I need sleep. Badly. "Christ, I can't go. Just leave me here," I say to him. "Orli, are you ill? This is the highlight of your week. There are some very shaggable men waiting for you," Robert says. "Bugger off. Go without me." "On the other hand, you do look like complete shit." Wanker. Typical Robert response. God...the walls seem very, very far away right now. "Orli? Orli, I asked you a question." Hmm, wha? Robert looks concerned. "Christ, you're out on your feet. Come on, let's get you to bed." Why is he pushing me towards the bedroom? Right...I need sleep...fuck, I can undress myself, can't I? No...I can't. God... so tired. Ah, lying on the bed now, much better. "Try to get some rest, mate," Robert says as he leaves. Wish I could...drifting again... It's dark now. Darkness around me, surrounding me, choking off my senses, then I feel pain, feel the bones in my back shattering...pain shooting through my body...I'm strangling on my own blood...filling my mouth...can't breathe, hurts... can't move...No, pain everywhere, daggers through my body.. fuckithurts... "NO!" Shit! Another nightmare. And this time I remember, just all too vividly. Oh, Christ, I'm shaking and my heart feels like it's going to thump out of my chest. I need to take a walk, clear my head. God, I can still smell the blood...and my head is still fuzzy. In fact, I think I just made it worse. I'm still groggy from not enough sleep and the nightmare...so tired...which makes the blood seem that more real...no, don't think about it. As I walk on the pavement, I think I see a dog in pain. Poor thing's writhing in agony, but it's not making a sound. That's odd. I try to get closer, but it disappears from sight. What the fuck? Huh, I'm near Viggo's house. Didn't know that I had wandered here. Oh god, blood is dripping down from the moon. I can see each drop forming, glistening perfectly as it hangs there... shit, no! Stop it! God, I feel so out of it. I don't quite feel like I'm here... wait, what's that? Oh, bollocks. Looks like a few drunks are following me. And they're bigger than I am. The blood, blood is flowing everywhere...they'll make it flow...Bugger! Stop that and try to get away! I cross the street, trying not to look nervously over my shoulder. Please, please leave me alone...Fuck! They're following me and keeping up. They'll kick my arse and my bones will crack, and the pain won't end, blood will be dripping from their hands...no, fuck, there's no place to go...no place to run...wait, I could try to lose them in Viggo's house. Fuckfuckfuck, they're gaining...ignore the knot in your stomach. Christ, run faster, Orli. RUN! Oh shit, my heart is in my throat and I can't breathe. They'll grab me and beat me up or worse...heart pounding... they'll stick knives into me and laugh...and I'll scream and feel the blood in my lungs and throat and...no! Thank god, there it is, I hope I can get through the window in time. Oh god, Bloom, this is no time to do your klutz thing. I'm caught... shit, tug hard, get loose, c'mon you stupid piece of cloth comeoncomeon...shit, no, now my blood's dripping off the ceiling...slow drip like a faucet, leeching the life out of me, each drop beading...no...fuck, tug again...Yes! I'm free. Thank god, I'm in. Now maybe if I hide they'll go away...oh no, I see the shadows coming closer... closer...I can hear my heart thudding faster. Fuck, my temples are pounding. Ohshitohgod, I'm outnumbered and there's no one here, no one but Viggo. Bugger, work voice, work! Come on, damn you... "Viggo! Help!" Oh no...my voice is just coming out as a painful whisper. I'm too scared to shout, too scared to scream. Please, _please_ let him hear me. Suddenly, I feel a ghastly chill permeating the area. It's much worse than the one I felt earlier in the week. This one makes my skin completely crawl, and I feel like there's freezing cold insects burrowing down into my veins, skittering through my body. It passes by me and the dickheads following me suddenly stiffen up. Looks like they feel it, too. The air actually looks hazy around them. The cunts who tried to mug me are looking confused, and then they start partially dissolving, writhing in pain before they scarper away on their good legs...Fuck! I'm glad they're gone... Oh god, I think I'm hyperventilating. Getting dizzy... bugger, my hands are shaking...don't think about it, Orli...don't think about them punching you in the face...shit, I can't...god, I feel like throwing up...what? The cold's completely gone now, and my face now feels a little... fizzy. I feel a tingle against my lips, and I open my mouth gratefully to Viggo's kiss, feeling his comforting warmth flood through me. /Sleep,/ I hear him whisper. Yes, sleep... When I come to this time, I'm in his arms. "Angel," he says as he holds me. "Are you all right?" Damnit Orlando, think of an excuse...any excuse. Improv... fuck, I can't. I'm too knackered, too upset, too confused. I still feel like I'm going to lose my lunch at any second, and my body won't stop trembling. I shake my head mutely. He hugs me tighter. "Everything will be fine," he says soothingly, stroking my back, "I'll always be here for you." He nuzzles my hair and whispers, "I'll always protect you while you're in this house." I sink into Viggo's embrace, shuddering with relief. ------- end part 4 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (5/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Feedback: Yes, please. Archive: Please ask first. Summary: Comfort and smut, ghost-style. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. My net connection is incredibly wonky right now, so if e-mail to me bounces, either post to the group, or try again later. I assure you that I am not going away until this is done. Posted June 12, 2003 **** Viggo holds me tightly, stroking my back and my hair. Fuck, I'm still shaking like a leaf...I'm too drained to do anything but huddle in his warm arms. Feels so good let him hold me, having him stroke my hair. I feel safe now. I have no words to express my overwhelming thankfulness that he was there to rescue me. I feel my eyes getting watery. Bollocks, don't you _dare_ start crying now, you twatting bastard. Don't be a wuss, Orli. You learned long ago that wusses get their arses kicked. Deep breaths, okay, good. At least my stomach has settled down now. And thank god, my limbs don't feel like they have fourteen stone weights attached to them anymore. We eventually sink down to the grass, and Viggo just continues to hold and caress me, waiting until my body stops twitching and my breathing goes back to normal. He changes his grip on me and says, "Let me take care of you," before he scoops me up into his arms. I'm still too buggered to argue, so I just wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face against his chest, inhaling his scent. Mmm, it's nice and soothing, and I just let myself drift. He carries me over a small hill in the distance, and the daylight suddenly gives way to a full moon and a star-filled sky. What the fuck? Oh right, I'm dreaming. There's no logic here. But I like this a lot better. Hmm, maybe I'm a closet Goth? I've always preferred being out at night and I like ruffled garments. On the other hand, I'm not really into wearing black and I can't stand techno. Guess that shoots that theory down. Viggo interrupts my thoughts by putting me down on the bank of a stream, which is a bit of terrain that I've never seen before. He strips me pretty quickly, which is fine, because I still feel out of it. I'm glad he's scooping me up in his arms again, because I don't think I could stand or walk right now. Without batting an eyelash, he walks into the stream fully clothed until he's about chest deep in it. I'm about to make a comment when he puts his finger on my lips to silence me. "Just feel," he murmurs softly. Mmm, yes, the water is amazingly warm, like a bath. Aah. This must be some strange dream-water, because neither of us gets the least bit wet; however, it feels like I'm wrapped in some wonderfully warm, soft blankets. Viggo puts me down and gradually works his fingers into my tight muscles, not saying a word. Oh god, this is heavenly. He knows exactly how much pressure to apply, and my knots just give way immediately. I'm melting into a little Orli puddle. Hmmmm, love this. Could just lie here, swaddled in warmth, feeling him massaging me. Eventually, he finishes, and he carries me out of the stream, laying me out on a blanket that has mysteriously appeared on the shore. I have no idea where it came from, and frankly, I couldn't give a shit right now. He pulls me to his chest, holding me tight again and nuzzling my hair. "My beautiful angel," he breathes into my ear as he strokes my bare spine. Fuck, he's causing each little centimeter of my skin to tingle when he does that, and I feel my cock stirring in response. I need to see his face, now that I don't feel afraid anymore. I push lightly against his chest, I need to thank him for rescuing me...oh sod me... My brain must have been completely out to lunch, because I didn't see how breathtaking he looked under the moonlight. But now I can see how it's turned his skin a pale silver, highlighting those perfect cheekbones, and turning the blue of his eyes deeper and richer in colour; making them look both molten and icy. He's gazing at me with such adoration that I feel like I'm drowning in those depths. So beautiful...Oh god, I need him, I need to feel more of him, I need to feel alive again, and burn the last of that fear away. I lean in and kiss him furiously. Yes, I need this. I need Viggo rolling me over and gaining control. I need him possessing my lips, taking what I have to give. I let out a throaty moan as he wraps his tongue around mine, branding me as his. I practically rip his clothes off his body while we continue kissing like there's no tomorrow. When we come up for breath, I freeze. Bugger all, he's got a sweet body. Broad chest, well-defined muscles, six pack stomach, arse just as sexy as I imagined, and...oh fuck, he is _hung_. Viggo must have caught me gawping again. He smiles his warm smile and he starts nibbling on my neck. I'm completely on fire now. Nothing matters, just the feel of his tongue and teeth on my skin...oooo. Feels like each little nip is electrifying the nerves underneath my skin as he travels down... I reach for him, and start stroking his stiff cock, feeling the heat of it in my hands. He moans as I twist my hand along the length, but then he grabs my arm and pulls it away. "No," he breathes, "Let me..." Before I can say anything, an open bottle of wine appears in his hand. He rolls me onto my back and pours some on the hollow of my neck. Shit! That's cold! Oh god... his hot tongue lapping it up...feels like fire and ice rolled into one...I can almost feel his tongue beneath my skin. I'm burning up now, I feel as if I've been placed in the middle of a bonfire. Fuck...I can't do anything now except react to him. He's pouring the wine down my body now, and following the pale liquid path down with a series of licks. The piercing heat of his tongue is leaving fiery trails on my skin. I'm moaning loudly now, and I wrap my fingers in his hair, holding him against my body. The wine has pooled in my navel, oh shit, Christ...heat and cold and wet hit me all at once. He drifts lower, pouring some wine over my sun tattoo, before tracing the lines of it. I can feel the hot path of his tongue sizzling the chill of the wine away. Fuck, so good, so very good... I'm thrusting upward, whimpering softly. God, I need more. Viggo smiles at me before taking a long swig out of the wine bottle. Before my fuddled brain can figure out what he's doing, he inhales my cock in one swallow. FUCK! The icy bite of his mouth just surrounds me, making every bit of my erection temporarily numb, and then it fades into pure molten heat, boiling my blood through my cock. Shit...god, I'm losing myself. Feels like I'm becoming part of the heat in his mouth... oh my god...Christ...YES! He sucks me until I stop shaking, and then he licks me clean. He crawls up my body to kiss me, and I roll my tongue around the tang of white wine mixed in with my taste and Viggo's. Delicious. He continues to kiss me, tangling his hands in my hair, sensuously exploring my mouth, and pinching my nipples between his fingers until I'm squirming. God, he feels so good...better than all of my dirty Viggo fantasies...he's slowly twirling his tongue on my nipples, and my cock stirs back to life again. Shit, that tongue is lethal, I can feel the little shocks starting up through my body again...I look into Viggo's eyes, and they're alight with so much naked lust that my throat goes dry. Oh god, he's making me burn...another blowjob is not going to be enough...I want... no, I _need_ him. In me. I need to feel if that cock is half as wonderful as his tongue. Need it so badly that I can taste it. "Viggo, take me." "Are you sure?" He rasps, sending shivers through me. "Yes." I feel his finger drifting down the cleft of my arse and I tense up. Shit, there's no lube around here. "It's okay..." he says soothingly, "we don't need anything extra. You're dreaming. Just believe..." Okay, breathe, Orlando...don't need lube...shit, I can't do it...doesn't help that I've never had anything thicker than a few fingers inside of me... "Let me in, angel. Don't worry..." I'm shaking now, and he kisses me deeply. "Just relax..." he says as he drifts lower, pushing my legs up to my chest. I feel his hot breath against my arse...is he going to... oh god, yes, he's licking me. Yes...SHIT! ohmygod, his tongue is pushing inside, so wet, so hot...ohgoddon'tstop.... don'tstop...getting so close...oh, Christ, he's stopping... Shit. His eyes are burning as he crawls up the length of my body. I'm about to whinge when he leans in and kisses me again, silencing me. I'm becoming so addicted to the feeling of his tongue seizing hold of mine, his taste, his scent...Christ! He just pushed a finger fully into me and there's no hurt, just...oh god, that feels so fucking good...feels like every centimeter inside of me is lighting up to respond to his stroking...yes...oh yes, he's just added another one. Mmm, god, I can feel the heat from his fingers curling their way inside me... fuck, he hasn't even touched my prostate and I'm seeing stars already. I start pushing back against his hand. "Viggo...do it. I trust you." He positions himself and gives me another one of those devastating kisses as he sinks smoothly into me. CHRIST! His cock is scorching me inside and I can feel it throbbing. Shit, and now the heat is spreading through my body, seeping through every cell. Oh god, and now he's moving...Holy. Fuck. Each stroke is just roasting me, and every nerve ending is feeling fizzy and light, tingling and dancing and sending a pure rush to my brain. Oh my god, I've never felt this kind of a high. It blows past motorbiking over the hills or snowboarding at top speed. I'm climbing higher...I almost feel like I'm flying... So goood...yes, he's hitting my sweet spot just right... I'm melting...I grab his hips and urge him faster. I want him to fuck me into the ground. Shit, no. He's teasing me. Pulling out fully before he slides back in. Ooooh, I feel like my bones are dissolving. Feels so good... He's murmuring softly to me, "That's it...just let it go..." as he thrusts slowly within me. I'm clawing at his arms, trying to get him to slam into me, but he draws it out, working me until I'm a quivering heap underneath him, and the two of us are moaning as he slowly sinks into me. I'm totally losing my grip on things. All that matters now is his hard cock sliding into me, stroking me within, sending me soaring... "God...Viggo...please! Harder. Please!" He suddenly picks up the pace, pumping me as hard as he can. I can practically taste each stroke in my mouth, and they're sending sparks straight down to my cock. Oh shit...oh god...harder...yes...oh, god yes...OH FUCK! VIGGO! My brain explodes into a thousand lights, and then I'm floating...from somewhere far away, I notice that Viggo's thrusts are getting a little more ragged, so I start sucking on his neck and clamping down on him, urging him to come. He soon moans loudly, "Angel!" Shudders go through his entire body as he orgasms. Whoa, that's odd, I can feel his cock pulsing, but I don't feel anything filling me. He tenses above me, mouth open in a silent cry, and then he collapses on top of me. Shit, the stars are really pretty tonight... so that's what it's like getting shagged...god, that was incredible...I don't think I've ever come before without having someone touch my cock...sod it all, I think my brain just went missing...wonder where it went...oh, _bugger_...I feel shivers even when he's pulling out. Mmmm, Viggo's cleaning my stomach with his tongue now. So considerate. He wraps his arms around me and pulls my head back onto his chest. I normally don't cuddle after a shag, but I really don't want him to stop holding me protectively. And I'm too out of it to tell the mushy feelings to sod off and stop telling me that this feels right. Well, it almost feels right. Something's...off about this. Is it his chest hair ruffling against my cheek? No. Hmm. Is it his breath tickling my hair? No. Hell, now I know what it is: there's no heartbeat thundering under my ear. Viggo's also not breathing heavily or sweating, even though he spent a considerable amount of time shagging me senseless. Oh well, it was still amazing. Argh! There must be an evil twee gremlin in my head, because it's now telling me that I should want more. Put a sock in it, you twat. But then the gremlin laughs at me when I look up into Viggo's face. He immediately takes my breath away. Fuck all, he looks gorgeous...hair tousled from our recent shag, his eyes a deep azure colour now. Viggo smiles that dazzling smile of his and picks a yellow wildflower from the grass. He runs it slowly over my kiss-swollen lips. "My sweet angel," he says reverently, turning me into an instant Orli-puddle again. "You're so beautiful when you come." Oh god, I'm blushing again. "Um, thanks, old man. You're not too much of a slouch, either." Gah! Could you sound any less daft? Bugger, at least I didn't confess that he was the first person to shag me. Viggo suddenly looks concerned. "Is something wrong?" I ask. "You were extremely tired when I touched your mind. What happened?" Sod it all, he knows. "I can't sleep. I'm having horrible nightmares every night." Christ, never knew my voice would sound that tiny. "I went walking...and then those men..." I choke off a little sob. No, don't you _dare_ start again, Orlando. He holds me closer. "As long as you come here, I can keep the nightmares and any other threats away." Viggo's soothing voice soon calms me down, and he makes no remarks about the fact that I'm being less than manly. God, how long has it been since I could be a little weak around someone? Shit, it sounds like a great deal, but there's still this matter of this fixation he has on me. Fuck, well, grit your teeth and clear it up, Bloom. Hopefully, he won't get too brassed off. "Viggo...I'm not sure that I can come here again." "Why not?" "I can't give you what you want. I-I've never been one to form attachments." Viggo looks sad, but he cups my cheek and says softly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable like that. I won't mention it again." I shuffle my feet a bit. Why the fuck do his beautiful eyes have to pierce right into me like that? "Please don't stop visiting me, I enjoy being with you," he says, stroking my neck. His voice lowers to that sexy husk, "And I enjoy touching you." Shivers start shooting through my body again. Fuck, after that session of shagging, I don't think I could keep my hands off of him. "I still owe you one. I want to do something for you in return," I reply. "You can model for me." Whoosh. I'm glad he asked first. Not that I wouldn't offer, but I don't want to make it look like I'm following along with this fate crap. Unfortunately, I think the evil twee gremlin is here to stay, but I'd rather deal with it than the bloody nightmares. "All right. I'll spend my nights here and pose for you if we keep having mind-blowing sex." I see him give me a mysterious little smile as he says, "All right, angel." Wow, that was easy. But now I have to ask..."Viggo..." "Yes?" "Um, where did the wine bottle come from?" He smiles. "I exist partially in the spirit world and partially in the dream world. It's trivially easy for me to manipulate the environment." "So, you can do anything you feel like here?" He nods, and I feel a complete shit-eating grin coming on. This is going to be fun. ---- end part 5 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (6/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: Lirimaer, Aniron, Mirromere, CIB. All others please ask. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Orlando gets a startling revelation. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. And I apologize in advance for how large this chapter is, but a lot of stuff happened and I didn't want to interrupt the flow of things. It'll be worth it, believe me. Posted June 14, 2003 ****** Well, true to Viggo's word, he's been able to keep the nightmares away. I was so knackered that I pretty much spent the day in the dream world without any extra help from him. The problem was that I didn't want to spend the day just sitting in the field, so I thought about asking Viggo to twat with things so that I could have some fun. I wasn't too sure about how I was going to ask him without sounding like a spoiled brat, but he figured it out first and offered to shape the dream world into whatever suited my fancy. I immediately asked him to let me try bungee jumping and skydiving, two sports that I've been dying to have a go at. The field faded, and I found myself in the cargo hold of a plane with just Viggo there, and no visible pilot. Viggo explained to me that he couldn't create people or animals, but he could create pretty much anything else, and that it was impossible for me to get hurt in this realm. Just to check, I hurled myself out of the plane as soon as he finished talking. I got a great rush, but it still felt a bit off, since it was dream-falling and not real falling. Still, I loved it. I loved it so much that I must have thrown myself out of that plane at least a couple of dozen times. The bungee jumping was just as thrilling. Damn, I can't wait for the chance to try both of them in the real world. I tried surfing, but dream-water just doesn't behave quite right, so I gave that up and I decided to go swimming in the Arctic instead. Then after that, I scaled Mt. Everest and snowboarded the whole way down it. Man, that was such a rush! Eventually, I got tired of playing, so I posed for him a bit, and we talked. Turns out that Viggo was born in the States, but his Dad moved his family to Denmark when he was a teenager. He became a part-time artist after he graduated, and he got married to a singer while he was in his late twenties. He and his wife split, however, and he wandered about the world, working odd jobs, until he came to England. Then he took up residence in this house and became a full-time artist and photographer. I told him about how I was born in Canterbury, and about Sam and me mum. I also told him about how I dropped out of school at 16 and moved to London, studied theatre, did plays and small parts, and how I'm now at Guildhall. It was nice, though, talking with Viggo. He looked like he was really listening to everything I was saying, like everything was important. And he gets this great expression on his face when he's listening to me. And no, that is not a twee thought, thank you very much. I had Viggo wake me up when it got dark so that I could get some food, something to drink, and take a piss. I returned to his house shortly after to sleep. That is, I returned so that my real body could sleep. In my dreams, though, I literally spent the whole night getting shagged. Fuck, do you know that he requires almost no recovery time? I'm glad that all of the penetration is in the dream world, or else I'd have a hell of a time sitting down. And shit, the places we've shagged in. I still can't believe some of the things he came up with. I had to do some shopping on Sunday, but I was back at Viggo's as soon as I could. I spent the day really cutting loose with my imagination; doing stuff that I never could in the real world, like riding a roller coaster while I'm perched on the outside of the cars. I tried to see how far I could fly by exploding a lot of dynamite under my arse, danced on the moon completely starkers, and jumped a racecar over the length of the Great Wall of China. And that was just for starters. Once I was tired of playing, we shagged for a good bit more before I actually felt like I could sit still enough to pose again. While I was lying on the grass, I actually got the bollocks to grill Viggo for some answers. Shit, some of my questions were downright rude, but I had to know. I'm still remembering the smile on his face when I asked them... "Viggo, how in the fuck is everything you're painting here appearing in the real world?" Oh yeah, nice and polite there, you pillock. "It's because I'm actually painting it there." "Huh?" Oh, _that's_ a brilliant reply, Bloom. Have a cookie. "When you're dreaming in this house, the gap between where I exist and where you exist is weakened. But I can see into both worlds simultaneously. So, while you see me painting here, I'm actually painting in the real world," he says patiently. Well, that explains one thing. But where the fuck does he get the stuff to paint with? "So, uh, where is the paint coming from? You don't use blood for the base, do you?" "I have some paints and supplies hidden in this house. Objects I'm closely tied to aren't affected by the passage of time." He looks amused. "Blood for paint?" Argh, why did you have to blurt that out? You might as well have asked him, "Don't ghosts usually kill people instead of shagging them?" He then lets out a long belly laugh. Christ, he's breathtaking when he's happy like that. Shut up, gremlin. "Where did you get that idea?" "I heard that some poor lass spent the night here and you sucked her blood out and used it to add to your last picture." "Did anyone ever tell you her name?" Oh. No, they didn't, which means that it's an urban legend. Damn, now I feel like a git for falling for that one. "No." Viggo paints me for a bit more, and I'm too embarrassed to open my yap for oh, about another sixty seconds. "Viggo?" "Yes?" "Where did the molasses-shit atmosphere go?" He arches his eyebrow, "Molasses-shit? Angel, you need a refresher course in biology. Unless things have changed a lot since I died, molasses doesn't produce waste products," Fuck, Viggo, take me literally, why don't you? Cunt. Oh, great, he's laughing again. And despite what it looks like, I am _not_ pouting. Ignore the gremlin; do not pay attention to his sparkling eyes. "I mean whatever that daft stuff was that kept me from moving. I don't feel it now." "I enter your dreams because your mind lets me. The more open you are to my presence up here," he says as he gently taps his forehead, "the easier it is for you to move." "So, if I completely decided that I didn't want you in my head, I wouldn't be here?" "That's correct. You can lock me out of your brain. And I would be completely invisible to you." Well, that explains why only certain people see ghosts. If I hadn't been stoned and drunk that first night, he probably wouldn't have been able to visit me. Then we veer off into talking about ourselves again. I'm rapidly becoming comfortable around Viggo. He never judges me, and it's really nice to hang around someone who won't do that. A lot of people have far too many preconceived notions about me, which is why I'm pretty particular about whom I have as a mate. And other than the second time I visited him, he's been steadfastly mentioning anything to do with the dreaded four-letter l-word or f-word. I enjoy his company immensely, and I really hate to leave him in the morning. "Orlando, pay attention!" Oh shit...right, I'm in class now. If I'm not thinking about some of the discussion I had with Viggo last night, I'm having a bloody hard time concentrating because I keep thinking about the world-class shagging I got last night. Sod it all, I'm not sure that I can go back to ordinary blokes. When you're with someone who can do _anything_ to his world, real world sex just doesn't cut it anymore. And the dirty Viggo fantasies have disappeared. Still haven't figured out where they came from in the first place, but I don't give a shit. The real thing is _so_ much more mind-blowing. I sort of pay half attention to the lecture and then I scarper out of there as fast as I can. As I go out the door, though, I see Robert waiting outside. "Hold it right there, Bloom. I haven't talked to you for a few days, and you haven't returned any of my calls." I haven't? Oh bollocks, I haven't. And the last time he saw me, I was in pretty sad shape. "Erm, sorry mate. Been busy." "Doing what, Orli? You were completely knackered on Friday." "Um, I don't really want to talk about it." I try to leave, but Robert's grabbed a hold of my wrist. Shit. "Bollocks. We are going to lunch, and you are going to tell me." He hauls me off to a little hole-in-the wall Indian restaurant so we can talk. After the waiter takes our order, he says quietly, "All right, Bloom, spill. I tried to check on you Saturday evening, but you wouldn't answer the phone. I figured that you had found a hot date, so I waited until Sunday to ring you again." "I'm sorry, I was in and out a lot." "You gave all of us quite a scare. If it weren't for the landlady saying that she saw you on Sunday, we would've called the police." Okay, Orli. Time to put those acting lessons to use. "Sorry, man. I was completely asleep until Saturday evening, and then I remembered that I had an appointment to go to." "An appointment?" "Yeah, some nutters artist-type needed a model. I had an interview with him and he offered me the job." "That still doesn't explain why you weren't out on Saturday night." "Like I said, he's nutters. Only wants me to work nights." Robert shakes his head. "So when do you sleep? You look pretty radiant for someone who's started a new night job. And you can't have been working that late. Not unless he's some sort of psycho." Bugger...quick, think of an excuse, Orli. Robert is staring at me. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you found a really nice piece of arse. You've got that completely smug look plastered across your face." Whew. Better play up on that. "Okay, you wanker, you found me out. I only pose for an hour in the evening, and then I spend my nights over at his place. He's an incredible shag." "Really?" "Really. He's got a body to die for, a very large prick, and he's completely insatiable in bed. And, fuck me, he's got a great imagination...he should open a school for some of the stuff we've done." "Care to spill on details?" Shit. Normally I would, but I can't really tell him that I shagged Viggo in the middle of a volcano last night, can I? "No, you wanker. Get your own hot artist and find out." He grins. "Already got one. Just remember to throw him our way when you get sick of him." "Sure," I say, faking a laugh. This is an old in-joke between us, but it's kind of ticking me off now. No way am I going to get bored with Viggo anytime soon. I _like_ being able to do anything I fancy. And I am not being twee. This is just so new that I'm sure it'll be a while before I tire of it. Shit, _how_ many hours will it be before nighttime? **** I appear in the field in his arms without a stitch of clothing on. Since I'm going to be naked for most of my time here, I decided last night to cut out the middleman. I see that Viggo approves, if that hungry look means what I think it does. I wrap my arms around his neck and press closer. "So," I purr in his ear, "what's on the program tonight?" "Not in the mood to play in the dream world?" he asks, those beautiful blue eyes taking my breath away and making my cock tingle. I trace my tongue along his ear, hearing his breath hitch. "No. I want to spend it with you and whatever your dirty little mind can come up with." "Then I think we should catch up on our astronomy." What? The field suddenly fades and we're tumbling in space among the stars, completely weightless. God, it's beautiful out here. Viggo gives me a little push and I drift closer to them. The dream-stars are little glittery pins of light that flutter like tiny butterflies. I can't resist reaching out and capturing one in my hand, and I grin madly as it sends a little sizzling tingle through me as I cup it in my palm. Viggo drifts up to me and opens my hand, letting the star flit out into space. It leaves a small trail of multi-colored light, and before I can reach out and touch it, he leans in to kiss my palm, touching his lips to the still-tingling area. Oh god, his mouth is so hot, almost burning. He starts slowly kissing his way up my forearm, each little kiss electrifying me down to my cells. As usual, my cock leaps immediately to attention. I spread my legs, hoping he'll get the hint, but he continues his slow ascent up my arm. I see his clothes turn into a cascade of sparkles before they flow off his skin in a shower of flashing lights. Showoff. I want him to stop teasing me, so I start wriggling, and I almost squeak in surprise when we go tumbling into space. A soft mattress suddenly appears to stop us, and after we bump into it, he sets us upright. Viggo gives me a throaty laugh. "You'll have to be careful. Every time you move suddenly, we'll roll head over heels." Smug bastard. If he weren't so sexy I'd give him a bollocking. "So how are we going to shag?" He laughs again as he positions his cock at my entrance. "Action and reaction. If I push one way, you'll have to push back in the other direction." His eyes glint dangerously, "I want to see how long you can keep it up." Hmmm, a challenge. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. "As long as you can, old man." "Good." I lower myself onto his cock as he pushes upward, and we both hiss in pleasure. Oh god, I don't think I'll ever get tired of feeling him fill me. He starts stroking me slowly inside, and I fall into easy rhythm with him, matching him effortlessly. As always, every single nerve from the roots of my scalp down to my toes lights up as he lazily thrusts into me. I'm tempted to quicken the pace, but it'll send us tumbling, and being with Viggo has taught me to slow down. He pulls out as far as he can before he slides back into me, making me lose track of everything bit by bit with each fluid stroke. We stay locked together for what seems like ages, floating slowly in mid-air, languidly pushing against each other until I feel like I'm going to burst. He continues to draw it out until the barest whisper of his lips against my skin makes me shudder. I start whimpering, and he changes his angle so that he's hitting my sweet spot. My cries increase, and he continues his slow, steady pace, not letting up until I come with a soft moan, shuddering as I spill hot liquid across my stomach. Viggo's not far behind me, and he thrusts hard into me twice before groaning out loud as his orgasm washes over him. His last thrusts sent us tumbling again, and I laugh giddily. Sex with Viggo is addicting, whether hard and fast or gentle and slow, and I just feel so alive afterwards. He eventually puts us back on the field and I say. "You bastard, forcing me to go slowly." He kisses me gently on the lips. "I didn't hear a complaint from you, angel." I grin cheekily at him. "I wasn't complaining. I was just commenting." I wrap my arms smoothly around him and purr, "Let me pick the place for round two." Viggo smiles and kisses me again. "Your wish is my command." *** Morning breaks too soon for my taste, but I do have real world obligations. I get back to my flat and do my usual morning routine before I rush off to class. Today, we're doing an interesting exercise. We have to put a new spin on some classic old characters, and we have props available to help us. I picked Robin Hood, and it looks like I'm first. I pick up the prop bow from the table, and my vision starts swimming...when it clears, I see what looks like Viggo, but it's really hard to focus on precise details. I somehow know it's him, but I can't say why. And he's a real person, not a ghost. I try to look down, but somehow I can't, like I'm looking through a telly screen. Ooookay, try the peripheral vision. Waitaminute, that's my hand, and I'm holding a bow and arrow. Looks like I'm posed to shoot something. He's photographing me. And I'm wearing some sort of costume, but I can't make out details. I hear a voice saying, "You should really get out more, Viggo." Crap! That's my voice! And I feel...different. Like I want to leap around for no reason, like everything around me is just sodding _fantastic_. What in the fuck? Viggo says, "I see no reason to. I'm fine here." "That's what you think. When was the last time you got out and painted the town red?" "Orlando! Will you please stop talking? I don't know why I agreed to do this." Hmm, I feel mischievous all of a sudden. "It was your idea to take pictures of me, old man. Tell you what, I'll keep my mouth shut if you let me take you to dinner and out to a club for a night." "No." I feel myself putting it down. 'Bout time, I was getting a bloody cramp from that bow. "Then you'll have to find another model." I hear a grunt. "All right, Orlando. God only knows why I indulge your whims." "It's because I'm irresistible." He snorts and I laugh. "Earth to Orli! It's your turn. Unless your interpretation of Robin Hood is that he's catatonic," I hear Catherine's voice saying. Wha? Bollocks, what was _that_ all about? I'm back in the classroom now, but I swear that it seemed like I was somewhere else during my little fade-out. "Shut up, Catherine, I was trying to get into character." Shit, hope this isn't going to be a regular thing. At least this isn't as bad as the nightmare. Anyway, I'm able to concentrate and give my performance of a tortured and conflicted and conflicted Robin Hood. I get some high marks and applause from everyone, even from Catherine. Hmm, I should definitely keep shagging Viggo, it's doing wonders for my acting. Anyway, things progress like this for a few months. I spend my nights over at Viggo's, have my fun and get shagged senseless, then I pose for a bit. Emphasis on the "bit". I'm sure any other artist would've been done by now, but after my little indulgences, we spend so much time shagging and talking that Viggo never gets to add much. And frankly, I don't give a toss. I was afraid of getting teased by my mates, but they haven't said a word. In fact, they seem happy for me. And I actually find myself opening up to Viggo. I wind up telling him lots of personal stuff that I just never had the courage to talk about before. He just exudes patience and understanding, so I don't feel like I'm just whinging. Besides, he didn't make fun of me during the time when I was scared shitless. If he can be supportive after that little display, then I know I can trust him to actually listen to my other worries. And dare I say it, I'm actually growing fond of him. No, not the dreaded l-word, but I do enjoy his company immensely. Unfortunately, the weird fade-outs continue to bug me during the daytime, and they're getting more intense. I'm not sure what they mean, but two things are constant: they're always from a first person perspective, and they always involve Viggo and myself. I've seen us slow dancing at a nightclub. I've seen us walking together on the beach. I've seen us kissing each other on a field, and shagging each other...And every single time, the details were fuzzy. All I know for sure was that Viggo was real, and that I was always a happy, bouncy Orli around him. Christ, am I having those visions that he was talking about? I really don't know what's going on, so I just let them be. For some reason, I feel uncomfortable about talking to Viggo about them. On the day before my birthday, my routine came to a screeching halt. I was sitting in class, going over another play. The main character grows increasingly psychotic, but what gets my attention is this bit from Neal: "Now, I know some of you will have trouble getting into the mindset of someone who's paranoid, so I have a method exercise that you can do. Try to stay up for a few days. If you have gone without sleep long enough, you'll not only hallucinate extensively, but you'll become paranoid. And the interesting thing about paranoia is that you fully believe that people are really out to kill you, no matter how irrational it may seem." Shit. That night when I found refuge at Viggo's. Now I see it clearly. I was hallucinating. I was hallucinating the blood, hell, I might have even hallucinated the people. And even if I didn't, my paranoia at the time probably convinced me that they were out to get me. Come to think of it, the dirty Viggo fantasies stopped completely once he started shagging me. And then there was my weird behavior in the gents: that didn't happen until after I let Viggo stick his tongue in my mouth. And shit, the nightmares didn't start until after I first visited him. Bugger! The arsehole _was_ fucking with my mind. After class, I find Edward as soon as possible, and drag him over to my flat so that I can grill him. "Edward, don't take the piss, man, but I have to ask you some questions about ghosts. Please, believe me when I say that it's important." He looks like he's about to be a smart arse, but I guess I look desperate, because he just says, "Shoot, Orli." "Can they screw with your mind? Like, can you get thoughts that are not your own?" "Well, yeah. But that requires that they get in really close contact with you first." "How close?" "Well, they have to touch you somehow. The longer the contact, the more of a hold they can get on you." Sod it all. That long, cold kiss Viggo gave me. Must've given him easy access to my head. I must've looked liverish, because Edward looks uncomfortable and begins looking about my flat. He spots the pendant with the yellow stone that Viggo gave me on top of my dresser, and he picks it up. "Orli, is this a gift?" "Yeah, man. From that artist I'm seeing." "Well, he must be sotted with you, because it's set with an Orlando stone." What? How did Viggo know? The entire time I've been with him, he's never called me by name. It's always been "angel". I blink, and suddenly the Orlando stone seems awfully familiar. I start seeing flashes again...I see Viggo fastening it around my neck...And then the room fades away as I'm assaulted by images. I'm falling again... someone's looking at me as I fall...I feel myself hit the ground and I hear a sickening crunch as the bones in my back shatter...blood everywhere, I'm drowning in pain... things go black...I see my bloody hand holding up the stone... and then another pair of hands takes it. "Orli?" I can see Edward talking to me, but I'm having trouble focusing on him. And then another image hits me. I see Viggo's hands taking the Orlando stone from me. And suddenly, I know that it was Viggo's face looking down at me as I fell. **** Shit. Shitshitshit. I know I'm being incredibly daft beyond all measure, but if he's going to kill me, there's nothing I can do about it. And I need answers. "Viggo! Goddamnit, where are you?" I feel a warm touch against my face. Oh yeah, right, Mr. I-Can't-Turn-This-Twatting-Cold-Off-Bollocks. Another lie. Arsehole. /Angel? What's wrong? You're early./ "Tell me something new. We need to talk, now!" /All right. Sleep.../ For once, the twee gremlin is not bothering me. Viggo looks really puzzled. "What's wrong, angel?" "I want to know why you're fucking with my head!" "I have no idea about what you're talking about." "Bugger off! You caused the nightmares, didn't you?" "No, I didn't." Fucking liar. "Tell me a new one. There was no one trying to kill me, was there?" "You called for help, and there were two people on the property, coming toward the house, so I scared them off." Shit, they were probably teenagers out on a lark. Fuck, what a mess... "You arsehole. After I met you, I couldn't even think of shagging anyone else without it bugging me, and I had sodding dirty fantasies about you night and day." Good, keep it up, Orlando. "Who else could do that to me? You probably did this all so I would walk right into your sodding ghostly hands. So that you could kill me." "What?" Bollocks, he's good at faking surprise. "You heard me. Does this sound familiar? 'I saw it in a vision.'" "Excuse me?" "I've been having fucking visions of us together in the future. And then you killed me. I saw your face before I fell to my death. And I thought that I could fucking trust you. That's a laugh." "Orlando, that's enough." Shit, he's actually starting to get brassed off now, but I'm not going to give in. I'm too narked. "Oh, _now_ you finally use my name, because your 'angel' has seen through you. Well, fuck you, Viggo. If you want to kill me, do it now. Better than getting my back broken. And take this back," I say, throwing the Orlando stone at him. "Orlando, shut the fuck up! If you want answers, I'll give you answers." "Then give!" He gestures towards my portrait, "I started this painting before I died 20 years ago. It's of a man who loved me, but who I couldn't bring myself to admit that I loved back." "B-b-but that's me, isn't it?" "His name was Orlando Worthington. I originally hired him as a model for Paris." He pauses for a bit and his eyes soften. "He fell in love with me, and I was too stupid to admit it back before I lost him." I suddenly feel cold. "Lost him?" Viggo holds up the pendant, "I gave this to him, and it became his favorite piece of jewelry." He sighs. "He broke his back and died, on January 13th, 1977 at 9 in the evening. He was 21." "But that's..." I can't finish the sentence. I was born a little after 9pm. And that would mean... As if he's reading my mind, Viggo says, "Yes. You're my Orlando's reincarnation." Shit. This is not happening. I repeat, this is _not_ happening. But then the images from my fade-outs come rushing back... and I can see them clearly now. Fuck, they're not images, they're memories. I am introducing myself to Viggo and I immediately fall in love as I shake his hand. I know that this man is the one. The one to complete me. He's wearing clothes from the '70s, and his eyes have a cold glint, like he's been hurt badly by someone. I see myself donning the Paris costume and posing with the bow. After I get to know him better, I persuade him to have dinner with me, and he drops some of that glum demeanor. More dinners...more chatting while I'm posing, and I eventually get him to open up. He had been unlucky in love before, but he was sure that his wife was his truest love. And she burned him. Left him for his best friend. He never recovered after that. Freezing his heart so no one could reach him. Memories cascade down...we're spending more time together... becoming friends...and I can see that he feels the tension, the unresolved attraction between us. I try to focus on the events fast forwarding past me, and I manage to pick one out. It falters, then plays at normal speed...we're slow dancing at a nightclub, now. "Isn't this better, old man?" "Not really..." Shit, I know that this is an act Viggo's putting on, and I want to thaw him. "Come on, let's get out of here," I hear myself say as I drag him outside. I take us walking out on a moonlit beach. It's breathtaking. "Viggo, do you believe in fate?" "I can't say I do, Orlando." "Well, I do. And I know we're meant to be together." "That's preposterous." "Can't you believe? Can't you let yourself go?" I say as I lean in and capture his lips...God, his kiss is so sweet. It's the perfect moment... Fast forward now, and I see us spending time together. Shagging. Laughing. But Viggo's too bitter, too unwilling to open up completely. I see him giving me the Orlando stone...but no matter what I try, he won't let me in to his heart... The memories are slowing down...it's raining out...and now I see us arguing... "Orlando, I can't love you..." "Why not?" "I just can't. I'm not the type to form permanent attachments anymore. Besides, I'm nineteen years older than you, and we're the same sex. We don't have a chance." "Bollocks! None of that matters! We're soulmates, Viggo, I can feel it!" "I'm sorry, Orlando." As he says these words, I feel my heart tearing in two. "How can you say that you don't care about the two of us? That you don't care about me? Am I just your rentboy? Is that all I am, just a great shag?" "Orlando, it's not like that..." I look into his eyes, and I see the true answer: he can never allow himself to return my love. I feel myself shattering inside. "Just sod off and leave me alone, Viggo. I'm sorry that we ever met." "Orlando!" I leave, storming out angrily into the rain. I know that a friend of mine is throwing a party tonight, so I go there to get drunk and high on everything and anything I can get my hands on. Just when I think I've just started to dull the pain, I see Viggo. Oh fuck, he's tracked me down. I stumble away from him, onto the balcony. "Orlando, stop this right now." "S-shod off, Vig." God, I'm so monged and fucked up that I can't tell which way is up. "Orlando, come back and we'll talk." "'ready did that." I pull the pendant off my neck. "And take thish bloody thing back." "Orlando, please." And he grabs my arm. "I shyaid, 'Sod off!'" I wrench backwards and crash against the railing. It gives away under my weight, and I tumble with it. Oh shit, I'm falling. Viggo leans over the edge, and I see the panic in his face as he tries to unsuccessfully catch me. "Orlando, noooo!" Just as I dreamed, I hear the sickening crunch as I hit the ground, feel the blood filling my lungs, and the overwhelming pain. I struggle to stay conscious, and after what seems like an eternity, Viggo appears at my side. "Orlando, please don't die, angel." I cough up blood. "Too late now, Viggo." I hold up the pendant in my bloody hand. Tears are filling Viggo's eyes as he takes it. "Give this to the lucky person who...can make you love again..." I have another painful fit of coughing. "Orlando, no, please come back, I..." I hear him say before the world starts getting smaller and turns black. I remember silently screaming when his last words to me got cut off. And I died still loving him. I then remember wishing with all of my heart and soul for a second chance. For another crack at making this right. And beyond all odds, it looks like I got it. At a price. The hurt Viggo inflicted ran so deep that I carried it over into this life. It colored all of my attitudes, making me bitter, cynical, and allergic to the concept of love. Until I found him in this house. Then my memories about him and my feelings for him tried to break through. All of the weird visions: the fade-outs, the nightmares, they were just flashbacks. "You remember," he says. "Yes..." I feel sick inside. As I'm still reeling, Viggo says, "I spent the next year in a haze. I was completely directionless. Then, I had a dream of you posing for me in a field. Even though there was nothing like it nearby, I knew that the field was somehow connected with this house." He pauses and gestures towards my portrait. "I started receiving the dreams nightly, and they were so clear that I was able to paint you from memory. And then the fire occurred." "How the hell do you know that I'm your Orlando's reincarnation?" "You're his spitting image. He lost his father when he was 4. He dropped out of school to pursue a drama career at 16. He had one sister who was two years older than he was. But even before we talked about your past, I knew as soon as I looked into your eyes." And he still hasn't said that he loves me. Shit, now I'm really brassed off. "Sod it all, Viggo, you're using me to assuage your guilt." "Orlando..." "No! You feel guilty that you caused my death, and now you're trying to make up for it. Taking me in, listening to whatever rot I had to say, being the only one I ever bottomed to. You don't care about any of it. And you still don't care about me. You just wanted a great shag." "Orlando, it's not like that..." "Fuck you! Fuck all of this! This is a sham!" Shit, I need to leave, but how do I get out? Wait, I remember...I concentrate as hard as possible on how ticked off I am, how I absolutely don't want Viggo around...Score! I feel that familiar fading away feeling and the dream world is rapidly going black. "Orlando, please! What are you doing?" "Locking you out." "You can't do this, I love you!" I hear him whispering faintly before I'm back in the real world. Oh, _now_ he says it. Fucking cheap trick. "No, you don't. Just sod off and leave me alone, Viggo. I'm sorry that we ever met." I say to the air before I stalk out. I don't hear a reply. Guess we never learned. History repeated itself, almost word for word. What a fucking waste of time. **** You know, my birthday shouldn't be so grim, but it is. I'm fairly depressed about the whole thing with Viggo. How could he do this to me? Oh yeah, and that reincarnation business, too. Gah, do the years from my previous life add to this one? Am I effectively 42? God, I hope not. My mates and I are having lunch at Edward's house. I hear Edward cursing as he joins us at the table. "What's up, mate?" "The sodding door on the roof terrace is warped. I can't get it open." I look up. "That's because you're being daft, mate. I could open it easily from the outside." "How? There's not a lot of room up there." "I'll just kick it, it'll be a doddle." There's a drain pipe a couple of meters away and I shimmy up it smoothly. Fucking Viggo...bollocks, don't think about Viggo, you twat. Just get the job done. Where's a foothold? Ah, a piece of gutter. I put one foot on it. Seems solid enough. I step onto it fully...Viggo, you fucking bastard...wait, what's that sound? Oh Shit! The gutter is collapsing. FUCK FUCK FUCK! And I'm falling, just as I did in my previous life. And my stomach sinks as I realize something else: I died on my 21st birthday the first time. And now I'm going to do it again. ----- end part 6 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (7/10) Author's site: none Email: changeling@planetx.org Author's site: http://www.planetx.org/~changeling Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Aftermath of the fall... Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. I'm sorry that this chapter was delayed. In addition to being enormous, I accidentally deleted about 500 lines of it earlier in the week, d'oh! :( Posted June 20, 2003 ***** That shit people tell you about your life flashing before your eyes right before you die? Well, I can personally say it's a bunch of bollocks. I didn't have enough time to see everything before I hit the ground. I hear the sickening crunch of my back breaking. Fuck... the pain is worse than I remembered...things going black... pain's gone now, though...huh, that's odd, I feel weightless. I open my eyes, and I'm back at Viggo's house. What the fuck? Then, I feel the touch of Viggo's mind. /Orlando?/ I turn around, and there he is, right beside me. /Fuck! You scared me!/ Oh shit, I can see him and respond to him, which means that I'm a ghost... /You're not dead, Orlando. Not yet./ /What???/ /Your spirit detached itself from your body because you're hovering at the brink of death. I brought you here so that we could talk./ Sodding Viggo. Still interfering in everything. /What the fuck makes you think I'm interested in listening to you?/ /Please.../ /Just bugger off and let me rest in peace, Viggo. It's over./ I try pushing him out, and it doesn't work. Argh! I'm stuck here. /So how long in the fuck are you going to hold me hostage? Is this your twisted idea of revenge?/ Viggo glares at me. /Orlando, what have I done to you to deserve this abuse?/ /Bugger, do I have to go into it again? You lied to me, in both lifetimes. Do you know how many times I've extended my trust to people, only to have them fuck me over?/ /I'm sorry for what happened to you in the past, Orlando, but you're being unfair to me./ /Fuck you./ He says quietly, /Orlando...what would you have done if I had told you that you were a reincarnation from the start?/ /I would've laughed my arse off at you./ I say, my mental voice sounding incredibly tiny. /I could feel your bitterness when you first came to visit me, because I had to touch your mind. I wanted to take it slowly because I was so afraid of scaring you off./ I still a bit narked, though. I don't need to be babied. /I still think that you could have trusted me a bit more. It would've saved me some agony./ /Yes, I should have realized what was happening when the nightmares were keeping you awake./ Fuck, he would have to remind me about them. Thanks for bringing back memories of that humiliating incident, Viggo. /What?! You didn't know what those were from? Some great fucking mind reader you are./ /I'm not perfect, Orlando. It takes concentration, and I can only get emotional impressions. When you came to me that night, all I could feel was your fear and exhaustion./ /Oh./ /But I still fucked up. And I don't know what to do now to make you stop hating me./ As he's talking mentally to me, I can vaguely feel something tickling in the back of my head. What the... I focus as hard as I can on it...oh shit, I'm getting impressions from Viggo. And he's in pain. Oh my god, he's in about as much pain as I was when he rejected me. Bugger, I can't believe I was such a wanker. And I now feel like the biggest fuck-up in the world for causing this wonderful man so much agony, because I still do love him. Yes, I love him and I finally see how wrong I was. But I still have to know one thing.../Viggo?/ /Yes?/ /What were you telling me when I gave you the Orlando stone? I died before I heard everything./ His eyes close briefly and when they open again, tears are shimmering on the surface. I feel a stronger wave of agony, and when he speaks again, his mental voice is almost a whisper. /I said, 'Orlando, no, please come back. I love you. I love you and I'll give anything, even parts of my soul, just to have the chance to hold you in my arms again.'/ And even through my unskilled reading, I can feel that his love for me is overwhelming and untinged by guilt. Oh god, how could I have doubted him? Bloom, you are the biggest cock-up in the entire world. /I'm sorry that you had to wait another lifetime to hear it, and I'm sure that you don't believe me. I'll leave you now, Orlando./ What? He can't feel my emotions? Oh god, he must be in so much pain that he's not bothering to read me. My eyes water, and I don't bother trying to fight back the tears. /Viggo, don't. I forgive you. And I'm the one who cocked it up. I shouldn't have gotten angry. Please, touch my mind./ I clear my head and just try to let him feel how much I love him. His eyes soften, and I know that we don't need to say anything. We can feel our love for each other. He wraps his arms around me, and although I can't actually feel him touching me, a pleasant fizz starts going through my body. /I don't blame you for getting angry, you were frightened from everything I overloaded you with./ /Bugger that. I insist that I was the bigger fuckwit./ /No, I was. I.../ /Viggo? Shut up./ And I silence him by kissing him. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Emotions and impressions flood over and overwhelm me. I feel another set of hopes, fears, memories, thoughts, and at the center of it is a bottomless love. I can't take much more and I break the kiss. Viggo looks as dazed as I feel. /Sod it all, what was that all about?/ /I think I know. As spirits, there are very few barriers between our minds. When we kissed, we completely opened up to each other./ /So I felt.../ /...everything that was me. And I felt everything that was you./ /Fuck./ I'm so awestruck that I don't notice the strong tug pulling my spirit at first. But it builds in force, and I see that a door of white light has appeared. A pinch of my skin starts getting pulled towards the door. Viggo looks alarmed. /We're out of time. You need to rejoin the living as soon as possible./ And if I go back, we'll never be able to touch for real. Never really be able to spend time as a couple. /No./ /What?/ /Viggo, if I go back to my body, how will we continue to be together? Just seeing you at night is pretty half-arsed./ /If you go through that door, we'll still be separated./ Fuck, that's right. He's still hasn't finished his task. /Then I'll stay here./ Viggo shakes his head. /You can't. Your desire to remain here isn't strong enough to turn you into a ghost. You either have to go through the door, or you have to go back to your body. If you stay, the door will eventually pull you through, or worse, pull you apart./ I'm still hesitating, and Viggo says gently, /Please go back, angel, we'll make it work./ I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Fuck, what a decision. /What if my back is so fucked up that I'll never be able to walk again? I can't live like that./ /It won't. I know you'll get better. Have faith./ Despite the reassuring tone in his voice, I just can't bring myself to do it. /But what if it doesn't?/ I say weakly. /Courage, angel. Face your fears./ And I feel his love and support flooding through me. Shit, he's said the words that I always say to myself. All right, Bloom, you know what to do. Something occurs to me, though. /Shit, I won't be able to see you when I return. You'll still be stuck here./ /Not if you let me mentally bind myself to you. It's similar to possession, but I'll just be riding in your body instead of taking it over./ /All right. How do we do this?/ /Orlando, in order for the binding to work, you'll have to open your mind and let me slip in. I'll have access to all of your thoughts and emotions. Do you trust me to not abuse that?/ God, I love how he never presumes anything, even though I have no more doubts about him. I try to transmit as much confidence in him as I can. /I do. Let's go./ Viggo grabs my hand. I feel a tingle spreading through me and soon, I can actually feel him in my mind. /Now we need to go back to your body together./ /Can we make it in time? The pull is getting stronger./ /I can get us there. Hang on./ Oh shit, we're flying! We cover the distance back to Edward's house in a heartbeat. Bugger, is that me? My body looks twisted and broken. Fuck, looks like I landed somewhere inaccessible. Inaccessible, that is, unless you were a stupid git who fell from a roof terrace and bounced off a railing. /You lead the way, Orlando./ We dive as fast as we can into my body. This is not going to be pleasant. Lights...blood...pain. So much pain. Sod it all, I hate it when I'm right. Edward is calling my name. "Orli! Orli, can you hear me?" Edward calls again. "Yes..." I gasp. I think there's blood in my lungs, and it hurts to talk. "Hold on man, we've called the ambulance." I cough up some blood. Motherfucking bollocks, every nerve is screaming at me, and I can barely see. It's going to be a while before help comes. /Angel, concentrate on my voice./ I can't see Viggo at all, but I feel his warm presence inside of me. I open my mind as much as I can, and he starts talking to me. His voice is soothing, and the pain starts fading down to a faint buzz, distracting me from everything. There's a lot of activity, and I vaguely realize that I'm being loaded on a stretcher. Shit, they're bringing me out by helicopter. As I hear it taking off, Viggo keeps me company and he talks to me the entire way. **** I spend most of the next three days listening to Viggo's soothing voice, and I'm happy that he's here, otherwise I'd go absolutely nutters from boredom. He can hear and see through me, and he keeps the pain down whenever a doctor or nurse has to do something unpleasant to me. Viggo tells me that the binding is taxing, and he has to mentally withdraw daily. He tells me it's sort of like sleeping, but he'll still be here when he "wakes up". Fortunately, it's easy for me to predict when he'll be gone, since he's as regular as clockwork. During the hour that I'm alone, I just lie around in a dopey haze. The fantastic thing is that he can still visit me in my dreams. He can't shag me, though, because I need to stay immobile, and I know that I thrash around a lot in the real world when we're having it on. Instead, we spend our time cuddling and talking. On the fourth day, a grim-faced doctor comes in to have a talk with me. "Orlando, I've looked at your X-rays closely, and I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you." Oh, shit. I try to ignore my stomach clenching, and I say bravely, "Yes?" "We're going to operate today, but the damage to your spine was extensive. There's a very strong possibility that you will never walk again." /Don't worry, angel./ I hear Viggo whispering in my head, and I know that he's right. I calmly reply, "I see. All right, then, I'll be ready." The doctor looks incredibly confused, because I'm not the least bit upset. I plaster a weak, shaky smile on my face and he regains his composure. "Very well. I'll get the staff prepped," he says as he leaves. Heh, never flummoxed a doctor before. /You'll stay with me during the operation, won't you?/ I ask Viggo. /I'll be there and I'll talk to you the entire time./ /That's all I could wish for./ They come for me in the afternoon, just at the tail end of Viggo's rest period. He talks to me through the prep work, and he comforts me as the anestethic takes effect. Unfortunately, it makes me so dopey that I have trouble replying to him. He's unfazed, and when it's obvious that I'm too out of it to carry on a conversation, he fills in the time by telling me stories. He continues talking to me until I feel myself coming back to consciousness. /I need to see you./ I say. /All right. Sleep,/ and I drift off again. I fling myself into his arms as soon as I appear in the dream world. He summons up a blanket so that we can lie on top of it and cuddle. "I still don't know if I'll be able to walk," I say. "You will. I heard the doctors, the operation went well." I sigh. "Yeah. I'm actually pretty sure that I will. I just had to air out that last little doubt. You know, I still have my memories from my previous life. It's still a bit confusing, because I'm remembering two different things. I'm slowly sorting them out, though." I kiss Viggo gently. "One thing is for sure, I've gotten a new perspective on life and death." "Oh?" "Uh-huh. On the one hand, I'm not afraid anymore of dying, now that I know it's not the end-all, be-all of everything. But I'm not going to go daftly to my own death, either. Not very many people are blessed enough to get second chances." "I'll always be thankful that you were one of lucky ones," Viggo says, burying his nose in my curls. "And I almost bitched it up. It was amazing how much my anger at you basically poisoned everything I felt. It actually really sucked being a hardcore cynic. I couldn't enjoy squat, and it almost cost me my life and your love." I pause before I continue. "And I was immensely selfish, man. It didn't occur to me that there was so much more to people, to the world around me. Well, I'm not going to put the blinders on anymore. I know that I've been given a precious gift, and I don't want to waste it. I want to enjoy my second shot at life to the fullest." Viggo kisses my head. "I'm glad you came to that realization, angel." I laugh. "Christ, I just sounded really old and long-winded just now. But if you think about it, I'm effectively 42." Something suddenly occurs to me. "Hey, if I'm that decrepit, that would make you sixty-something, old man." I grin cheekily at Viggo. "You're an extremely horny bastard considering that you should be in an old age home right now." Viggo chuckles, "It doesn't quite work that way, Orlando. I perceive the passage of time differently, and the years you spent alive don't stack with each other." I stick my tongue out at him, "Wanker." Feels good to let myself go and be a bit silly. He shuts me up by kissing me, turning me into a little puddle of goo. Hmm, if this is my reward, maybe I should be more of a smart-arse. He ends the kiss with a light swipe of his tongue against my lips, and then he pulls me down so that we can lie back and look at the stars. I smile, thinking about the time I actually got to hold one. That was just such an amazing moment, one that I'll cherish forever. As I'm leaning back and sighing, Viggo recites a poem to me; it's a lovely one, but one line really grabs my attention: "surrender yourself to the touch of destiny's hands." "Viggo, the poem's about us, isn't it?" He kisses me and says, "Yes. I composed it while I was waiting for you to get out of your operation." "I'm honored. I love you so much." "I love you, too." *** Needless to say, everyone is surprised when I actually walk out of the hospital on crutches twelve days later. Mum brings me over to her place to stay while I'm recovering. I won't go into my convalescence, because it's boring as all shit. Also, Viggo wasn't sure if shagging me in the dream world would have bad real world effects, so we still held off during that time. Well, okay, there was one interesting thing that happened. My Vicodin wore off sooner than expected one day, so Viggo stayed around and dulled the pain until it was safe for Mum to give me another one. It cut into the very beginning of his rest period, so he had to leave pretty fast. However, just as he was withdrawing I saw a flash of... something...before he was gone. That something was achingly familiar, but the more I thought about it, the more it got away from me. I decided to shove it into the back of my mind and deal with it later. Before I was released, the doctor cautioned me against indulging in any sort of vigorous activity for the next few months, and that included wanking. I think my bollocks turned a new shade of blue while I was waiting for my back to heal. Once I can hobble about a bit on my own, I have a final visit to the doctor, and he gives me a clean bill of health. He tells me to take it easy, but I can otherwise go back to my own flat. Sam drives me there and helps me to the door. Thank god that there's a lift here, or else I'd be in serious trouble. I put the key in the lock and swing open the door. Home, sweet home...oh shit! What's a new bed doing in here? "Surprise, Orli," Sam says. "It's from me and Mum." I hug her. "You two are the best." "What do you want to do with your old bed? We had the removal men break it down, but we weren't sure if you wanted to keep it as a spare or if you wanted to flog it somewhere." "Just leave it. I'm sure I'll think of something, Sam." "Take care of yourself, baby brother, and try not to break the new bed too soon; especially since you can't go two days without shagging." I stick my tongue out at her before I laugh and hug her again. After she leaves, a wicked idea forms in my head. /Viggo?/ /Yes, angel?/ /Can you keep stuff from happening to things that I plonk down in your house?/ /Yes. That's actually very easy. Why do you ask?/ /Because I was wondering how I was going to stay over with my dodgy back.../ I hear his mental chuckle. /How are you going to move your bed over to my house?/ /I'll take care of that right now./ I ring a bloke who I know will do odd jobs and he says that he'll be over. When I hang up, Viggo says, /So, is he going to put it together?/ /Yes, but I need you to put the linens on afterward./ /Excuse me?/ /Oh come on, old man. He'll get really suspicious if I ask him to do it, and I certainly can't. Please? I'll make it worth your while./ I say the last sentence with a throaty purr. Viggo chuckles. /All right./ When the bloke arrives, he looks at me skeptically when I tell him where I want him to deliver my stuff. "There's nothing there but an abandoned house, mate." "Look man, it's for a dare, okay?" He says, "I dunno..." Viggo says, /Sounds like he's not buying it. Too bad I can't leave your body to persuade him./ /I'm glad you can't! I don't want to have to clean up the mess when he pisses himself from your sodding cold thingy./ /My 'thingy' is anything but cold, angel, you should know that./ Argh, just the mention of his cock is starting to give me a hard-on. /Wanker! I'm trying to concentrate./ /I didn't say anything.../ he says, trying to sound innocent. /Yeah, right. I'm sorry, love, but that tone of voice just doesn't work for you./ /Would you rather have me talk dirty to you, instead?/ I can hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. /Don't even! I've gone without anything for so long that my dick gets stiff from a light breeze./ "Hey, are you okay?" Shit. Forgot that there was someone else here. Time for a quick excuse... "Sorry man, I haven't had lunch yet, so it's a little hard to concentrate." I smile my brightest smile at him. "Come on, I'll pay you extra for your trouble." He doesn't look convinced. "Half again your usual rate?" I offer. "I'll double it if you get it set up within a half hour." /Where did you get that kind of money?/ Viggo asks. Shit, that sexy voice of his should be outlawed. /Rainy day funds./ The bloke finally says, "All right. Cash up front, though." I go into my wardrobe to scrummage for the box where I keep my spare money, and I spy on him out of the corner of my eye. I let out a mental laugh. /What's so funny?/ Viggo asks. Ha, he wasn't paying attention. /He's checking out my arse. Guess my gaydar's defective today. I could've tried to persuade him with one of my shag-me-rotten smiles./ /That doesn't always work on everyone. You're not _that_ irresistible, Orlando./ Damn, how do you pout mentally? Viggo purrs, /However, if you smile like that for me, I'd love to throw you down onto the ground.../ /Viggo! I need to think!/ Mercifully, Viggo does keep quiet, and I close the deal. Hmm, a thought just popped into my head. /I was just wondering about something.../ /Yes?/ /This binding you're doing is sort of like possession, yeah? Why can't you just possess someone so that we can touch each other?/ /You've been watching too many movies. Possession is a lot more unpleasant than you think it is. In order to take over a person, I have to force my way in and violate their mind./ /So, it's like.../ /mental rape. Yes./ /Shit./ /Angel, I have to rest again. If you arrive at the house before I return, go to the back. There's a small opening there, and if you use it, you won't have to climb in./ I feel him withdrawing. After he leaves, that little memory that I filed away pops back into my head. Now I know where it's from: it's something that I saw in that jumble of overwhelming information shooting through my head earlier. During the time that Viggo and I shared everything. Bugger. I wish I had known sooner. I'm going to have to talk to him about it, but I want to wait until morning. I pop over to Viggo's house, grateful for public transport. I find the opening he was talking about, and I squeeze through with no problem. I work my way back to his room, and I smile as I see my old bed neatly set up inside. I timed this right, because I feel Viggo "waking up" at that moment. /So, will you be kind enough to provide maid service?/ /Just give me a few minutes to remove the binding./ His warm presence disappears. Fuck. After having him almost constantly there for months, it now seems like part of me is missing. I see the linens being lifted into the air, and I watch with amusement as the sheets get pulled on and tucked in by an invisible Viggo. The cheeky bastard makes hospital corners and then turns out the blankets when he's done. I strip and carefully get in, falling asleep easily. We've waited months, and I am not going to get slowed down because I have to doff my clothes. We pretty much didn't waste any time. As soon as I appeared, Viggo promptly jumped me and proceeded to shag my brains out. Well, that's what I wanted him to do. We actually still had to go at it slowly because of my back, but that didn't stop it from being volcanic in intensity. I swear that I fucking felt the Earth move. As we're cuddling afterward, I breathe out a lengthy sigh of contentment. I can't believe that I used to hate this. "Happy?" Viggo says. "For now. I still want more." "We should hold off until I check on your back in the morning." I grumble, even though I know he's right. He kisses the top of my head and says, "I want to give this back to you." He gestures, and the pendant with the Orlando stone appears in his hand. I smile and lean forward so that he can put it on me. I feel the cold touch of it as it first hits my skin, and then it warms, like it was always meant to be there. I flop back against his chest, stroking the pendant gently. "Thank you." "And I want to give this back, too," he says as a book appears in his hand. I try to read it, but the letters are wiggly. Okay, I definitely can't blame my dyslexia on this one. "Um, I can't focus on it." He laughs. "I forgot. No one can read while they're dreaming. You should be able to figure out what it is, angel. You left it here a while ago." My eyes grow wide. "'The Fellowship of the Ring?'" "You never retrieved it after you tossed it into that corner, so I kept it." "Don't tell me you read it." He smiles. "What else would I do during the day?" I laugh out loud. "Sodding hard read. You can keep it, Viggo." He kisses me again. "Take it. I have a feeling that it will be important later." "All right." I cuddle against him, content for now. I can talk about the memory later. Right now, I just want to enjoy him. We spend the rest of our time talking and just lying against each other. Close to morning, I take a deep breath. It's time to broach the subject I've been dreading. "Viggo?" "Yes?" "Finishing the painting isn't your final task, is it?" He looks like he's going to deny it, but the dead serious look in my eyes freezes him. "No, it isn't," he says reluctantly. "Then what was your fondest wish?" He hesitates, and I say softly, "Please tell me." Viggo lets out a long breath and says, "I wanted to wake up at dawn with you in my arms, and watch the first rays of a new day shine on your beautiful face." "But we can't ever touch, can we?" He says quietly, "I was granted the ability to become solid and real for one night. And one night only." I close my eyes briefly. I know what I have to do now. "Will you do me a favor?" I ask. "Anything." "Finish the painting and then spend the night with me once my back is healed. In the real world." "What? Why?" "While I was in the hospital, you didn't really need to rest, did you?" I look at him pleadingly, silently asking him to tell me the truth. "No. I was blocking you. I was keeping you from touching my mind because you didn't need to feel what I was going through for that hour." I put my hand on his. "And I was so busying playing around when we first got together that I didn't notice your absences. Viggo, you can't keep doing this. Spend the night with me." "It's not that bad." Damnit, I wish he wouldn't be so noble. "Viggo, don't bullshit me. I felt it when we shared ourselves. I know that you're reliving your death every day." He closes his eyes and murmurs, "I didn't want you to find out." "It's not fair of me to keep you here when you suffer like that. When you've been suffering like that for the past twenty years." He looks at me, and his eyes are dark pools of sadness. "I can't lose you so soon." Shit, come on Bloom, you can do this. "Viggo, we found each other once. If you go to the afterlife, you could get reborn. The longer we put it off, the longer I'll have to wait to hold you for real." "You can hold me here." "Only at night. I want to have you with me for longer than that. Besides, it's selfish of me to keep you here." I give his hand a squeeze. "I was wondering why we had so long to talk after I fell. I think I was given another chance so that I could help you. You can't escape your fate, Viggo." Viggo lets out a long sigh. He runs his other hand through his hair and finally says, "All right." *** It takes another few months before my back heals properly and feels strong enough for vigorous shagging. Until then, I cherish every single extra night that I have with Viggo. However, the day finally comes, and I've never both dreaded and looked forward to anything this much. I stock up on supplies that we'll need before I take the bus over to Viggo's place. On the way there, I contemplate calling it off. No. You are going to go through with this, Bloom. Think about the pain he's going through every day. This is for the best. And maintain a positive attitude, or he'll pick it up. I go in through the back way, trying to think happy thoughts. I ditch my shoes and socks and stuff the bag containing lube and other things under the bed. Deep breaths...okay, call him now. /Viggo?/ /I'm here, angel./ In the middle of the room, I see something shimmering into view. It's Viggo. He's a transparent blue, and he's lit within by thousands of tiny lights. The lights flare, and I cover my eyes to shield them. As I'm blinking the spots out, I see him standing there. In the flesh. My heart thuds and I feel lightheaded. I wobble over to him, and my hand shakes as I tentatively reach out to touch his cheek. I feel the warm texture of his skin, and the scratch of shaved stubble. My breathing is ragged and my heart is pounding as I gently stroke his cheek, still not quite believing my senses. Tentatively, I run my fingers down his face, over his throat, and stop at his cloth-covered chest, letting my palm rest lightly over his heart. I tremble again when I feel it fluttering. He really is here. Solid. Alive. Viggo looks into my eyes, and covers my hand with his. I gasp, really feeling the rough texture of his hand for the first time. We lean to kiss each other. I brush my lips against his before I open my mouth in welcome. Oh god. I just combust inside as soon as our tongues slide across each other. As wonderful as our kisses in the dream world were, I could never fully taste him, never fully feel the rush inside that I do now, receiving all of Viggo's love and finally returning it in kind. Viggo's waited two decades for this kiss from me, and I give him everything until we have to stop because we can't breathe anymore. As we part, I touch our foreheads together, gazing deep into those breathtaking eyes, so full of love for me. As I drown in those cobalt blue depths, I feel a hunger growing inside of me. I've only explored his body in the dream world, and it's not enough. God, I'm not going to be satisfied until I've tasted every bit of him and committed it to memory. My cock is hard already, but it's going to have to wait. I lean down and start nibbling on his neck, tasting the salt of his skin and just savoring the texture of it under my tongue. Viggo's breath hitches as I kiss my way lower, dipping my tongue into the V of his shirt. I slowly flick the button open, and I thoroughly map every centimeter of pale skin that gets revealed. Viggo's knees start buckling, so I guide him over to the bed. He pulls us down, going slowly to make sure that my back doesn't get jolted. I somehow manage to keep my mouth on him the entire time. Once we're settled, I flick another button open. I work my way down his chest this way, kissing, nibbling, and licking everything I can get my mouth on before I pop open another button. Well, with one exception: I leave his nipples alone. Never let it be said that I don't learn from my elders. Viggo starts writhing underneath me, and he lets out a throaty moan when I finally twirl my tongue around his nipple, working it into a stiff peak. He groans when I stop, but there's so much more of him to explore. Once I reach his waistband, I sit back a bit. "Lift up." Viggo obediently sits up and I take his shirt off. He pushes my t-shirt up and starts caressing me, but I stop him, even though my body is aching for his touch. "Patience," I say to him, moving his hands just to the hem. He says thickly, "Angel..." "Hush. Just enjoy." He nods and pulls the t-shirt over my head, licking his lips when he sees that my nipples are already crinkled and hard. I give him a sultry smile as I take his hand and put one of his fingers into my mouth. He gasps as I suck on it, swirling my tongue over the pad, loving his unique taste. I give each finger a similar treatment before I press my mouth to his palm, tracing the lines with my tongue. I nip and lick my way up his arm and then I lavish my attention on his other one. Viggo's threaded his fingers in my hair, and he keeps stroking my curls as I work my way over his shaking body. I finally drag off his shoes, socks, trousers, and boxers. My cock feels way too constricted inside my jeans as I drink in the sight of his beautiful, naked body. Smiling wickedly at him, I pop the button on my jeans and slowly strip out of them. I took off my knickers before I left my flat, and Viggo's breath hitches as my erection springs free. He growls as I wrap my hand around my cock and slowly stroke it. "Orlando," Viggo rasps, "get over here." I walk over as sexily as I can and I crawl into bed with him. I'm really tempted to start licking his hard cock immediately, but I'm not finished with his body yet. He grunts in protest when I scoot down and start sucking a toe, but I tell him to be patient again. I give his feet a thorough exploring before I work my way up his leg, pausing briefly to draw lazy circles behind his knee with my tongue. Viggo makes a noise deep in his throat and grips the sheets in his hands. I smile and blaze a path up his leg, stopping short of his groin before I shift over to his other foot. He curses at me, but I continue my slow pace, and by the time I reach the top of his other leg, he's a complete, delirious wreck. He watches me with glazed over eyes as I push his legs up to his chest. I part his hot cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off of them, and I hear him panting in anticipation of what's coming next. I lean in and slowly trace the crack of his arse with my tongue. I hear him starting to moan and I poke my head up to grin wickedly at him. There's moisture dribbling out of his erection, and I resist the urge to lick it. I then dive back down and circle my tongue along his entrance. I'm rewarded with a loud cry from him, so I continue tracing around the pucker, listening to those delicious sounds coming from his lips. I keep teasing him until he's about to explode from the tension. I give one last flick with my tongue before I quickly jab it inside. Viggo almost convulses off the bed, but I hold him down. God, he's so hot inside... I stab my tongue deep within him until he's writhing and pushing back against me, knuckles turning white as he grips the sheets. Fuck, he's so sexy when he loses himself like this. I feel my cock dripping, but I want to finish what I'm doing. I then back off, and I hear a growl of annoyance from him. Patience, Viggo, I saved the best part for last. Grinning at him, I blow a hot breath over his cock, feeling an ache inside of me as he responds with a husky moan. I close my lips over the head and lap up the precious fluid leaking from the tip. Oh god, I've been craving to do this for so long...I roll the salty liquid around on my tongue, enjoying the taste of it. Viggo clutches his hands in my hair, and I know that he's trying to keep himself from thrusting into my mouth. However, I know that I can take his full length, so I relax my throat and gently guide his hips up. I hear him hiss in pleasure as he fully slides in and nestles his cock in the back of my throat. I start flicking my tongue around his erection, and Viggo's control just breaks. He thrusts up hard into my mouth, panting heavily. I take in his thick length, lapping my tongue against it. He starts shaking harder, and then he pulls out, his eyes blazing with lust. "Don't want to...finish that way," he gasps. I nod and fish the bag out from underneath the bed. I pull out a bottle of gel and hand it to him. As he's coating his fingers, I lie back and just lightly stroke my cock, if I do anything more than that, I'll come all over the sheets. Viggo drizzles more lube over my entrance before he slowly starts working the tip of a finger inside. Christ, my whole body is going to burst, and I want him to fuck me _now_. "Viggo, please! I'm ready." "But I don't want to hurt you." And I know what he means. Although we've shagged countless times, it's all been in the dream world. But fuck, I _need_ to feel him. "I won't break," I say reassuringly, "I've had fingers inside me before. It'll be okay." I grab a pillow and put it under my hips for extra support. "All right." And I can tell by the husk in his voice that he's having problems restraining himself. I moan as he slides his finger inside of me. "More," I plead. He quickly adds another, and I start pushing back against them. Taking the hint, he adds a third. Fuck, that feels so good..."Viggo...please. Fuck me. Oh god...I need you..." I say thickly, pumping myself on his hand. Viggo makes me hold out a bit more, making sure that I'm well lubed before he pulls his fingers out. I whinge at him, but he just smiles patiently while he spreads a generous amount of lube on his erection. I spread my legs as wide as I can, and he positions his cock at my entrance. I force myself to relax as he slowly pushes the tip in. It's still a bit uncomfortable, and Viggo pauses while I give myself a little time to adjust. I nod at him. He gives another push, and I gasp. It's a little much, and I clench him tightly. "Easy...just relax," Viggo says soothingly. I concentrate on my breathing, and my body finally eases up. I smile and nod again, and Viggo leans forward to rest on his elbows before he gives another push, finally sliding past the resistant ring of muscle. We both hiss as he fills me. Oh god, this is amazing beyond all words. I put my hands on his shoulders, clutching him tightly as he continues to penetrate me slowly, sending every part of me buzzing alive. When he touches bottom, I feel a jolt shake my entire body, and it's so fucking fantastic that I shout his name. "Angel..." he says huskily, "Oh god, you're so tight..." We just hold there, feeling the connection between us, our breaths mingling with each other. I can only describe it as magical, and we lose ourselves to it as long as we can. Our lust can't wait, and Viggo soon starts thrusting slowly and it feels so good that I just lose it and cry out. I pull Viggo towards me and wrap my legs around his hips. I want to feel his body against mine, feel his lips while he rocks within me. I hungrily kiss him, tangling my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept away. I start mewling against his mouth as he picks up the pace, filling me over and over again and gliding over my sweet spot. It doesn't take long before I start whimpering because I'm close. Viggo sucks on my tongue and reaches down to grab my cock. I scream into his mouth as I immediately explode, splashing all over his hand. I grip him tighter, and he breaks our kiss to moan out my name before he comes with a loud roar. I shudder as I feel his cock pulsing and filling me with hot liquid for the first time. I look at him, recording his expression, the feel of his body shaking over me, the final gasp that comes out of his mouth before he relaxes. This will be one of my last memories of him, and I want to make sure that I remember everything. Viggo pulls out, and I protest a bit, because I want him to stay inside of me. He groggily rolls to one side, and draws me up against his chest. I snuggle against him, feeling the heat radiating off his body. I brush my fingers over his face, enjoying the feel of the sweat beading on the surface. I lean in closer so that I can hear the thundering of his heart. Fuck, I'd never thought I'd get to do this, to feel him. After a while, we start getting sticky, so I reach into the bag of supplies for some wet-naps. After I wipe us off, I pull out the empty bag that I packed for rubbish, and chuck the soiled stuff in there. Viggo chuckles. "You're very prepared." I smile. "I planned for every contingency. I even brought flavored lube in case we wanted to go down on each other after we've wiped ourselves off." "Should I even ask how much lube you brought?" "Enough different types so that we'll be up most of the night trying them all," I say with a cheeky grin. Viggo smiles slyly. "Well then," he purrs, and my cock leaps to attention, "we should start now, so that we can have enough time for each one." We didn't quite stay up all night, but we tried. In the end, we finally dozed off. However, I'm not used to having another person in my bed, so I wake up shortly, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around me, and his head buried in my hair. Our bodies fit together perfectly, almost as if we were made for each other. I shift about so that I can look at his face without waking him up. God, Viggo looks so beautiful as he's sleeping. I trace the lines of his face with my fingers and I smile contentedly. I feel complete now. I've given him everything I have, and he's given me everything in return. I just sit there, watching him, losing track of time. Eventually, though, I notice that it's starting to get lighter. Shit. I feel tears starting to form, and I fight them back. Using every bit of my acting skill, I force myself to smile as I gently shake Viggo awake. "Viggo...wake up. It's almost dawn." He stirs sleepily, and I take in every detail as those amazing eyes open and slowly come to full alertness. Once he's awake, his eyes are filled with sorrow. I buck up and continue to sweetly smile at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You have to go now," I say steadily. Fuck, I should be knighted for this performance. Viggo says quietly, "I'll come back to you. No matter how long it takes, no matter where you are, I will return." The unshakeable tone in his voice gives me hope. "And I'll wait for you, even if it takes you another lifetime before you find me." Viggo smiles at me. "I want you to have the painting, angel. Take good care of it." Breathe, don't cry..."I will. Oh god, Viggo, I love you so much." "I'll always love you, Orlando." We press ourselves together and kiss each other for the last time, pouring all of our love, all of our passion, all of our hope into it. As we part, the first light of dawn peeks through the clouds and shines down on the bed. Viggo cups my cheek and caresses it with his thumb, his eyes brimming over with love. I turn my face and kiss his palm gently, wishing that I could suspend time and enjoy this moment forever. Suddenly, his breath hitches and he starts turning transparent. I grab his hand and lace our fingers together, keeping the smile on my face as he fades away. Far too soon, I can't feel him anymore, and his features are disappearing. He whispers faintly, "Goodbye, angel." And then he's gone. I stare at my empty hand, memories of touching his warm skin still fresh in my mind. "Goodbye, love," I say in a shaky voice before I curl up in a ball and cry my heart out. I eventually pry myself off the bed and go to the easel. It's facing the wall for some reason. Huh. Wonder why Viggo turned it backward? I swing it around and gasp. The words to our poem are painted on the corner of the finished portrait. "Surrender yourself to the touch of destiny's hands," I say softly, before the tears start pouring out again. ---- end part 7 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (8/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: CIB, Lirimaer, Mirrormere, Aniron. All others please ask, I'll surely say yes. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Orli copes with Viggo's absence. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. Thanks to Elizabeth for her wicked sense of humor and for kick-starting my Atti muse. *mwah*, sweetie! Posted June 30, 2003 **** It's been almost a half a year since I said goodbye to Viggo, and I've not done much. I couldn't bear to get rid of my old bed, so I had my new bed moved into storage, and had my old one moved back into my flat. I put the linens that we slept on in the closet. I can't wash them, not when they're the only remnants I have of his scent. I had his painting framed, pretty much depleting almost all of my spare cash. After I dealt with it and the bed, there was nothing left to occupy my time, and doubts started to gnaw at me. I hear the familiar questions in my head. Will Viggo actually get reincarnated? How does one assure that? It's not like just anyone can fill out a request form and wait for the next baby to be born. Shit, will he _ever_ be able to rejoin me? All of these questions have eaten away at me, causing me to fade into this zombie-like haze where all I do is go to class, come home to take care of housework, and then just sit around aimlessly, just like I'm doing right now. Fuck, I miss him so much. I just feel so lost now without him, and empty. I feel so listless, and I very rarely go out. Well, with one exception. A month after Viggo left, I actually managed to pry myself out of the flat and go to a birthday party for my friend Joanne. She introduced me to a bloke named Andre Schneider, and we clicked incredibly well. Atti and I talked to each other almost daily afterward and we grew quite close. Still, I would get moody in the middle of our conversations, but Atti was generous enough to let things be. Unfortunately, he's now go a bug up his arse about the fact that I haven't been out, and he's been nagging me with increasing frequency. I've been begging off, because frankly, I just don't want to do anything. Okay, enough whinging, Orli. Think about something else...something happier. I sweep my eyes over my portrait, just as the afternoon sun strikes the glass, dazzling me with the reflection. I touch it and smile. This makes me think of Viggo's camera from my previous life, bloody flash was always too bright... Viggo's camera clicks and spots leap before my eyes as he takes another picture. It's beautiful outside, and I really don't want to stay in and be blinded. Besides, didn't the Greeks worship the sun? When he stops for a second to adjust the lens, I try to plead my case. "Viggo, can't we take this outside?" He frowns at me, "The light's not right, Orlando." Looking at him mischievously, I walk over to the kitchen and grab a bottle of olive oil. "Orlando..." he says warningly. I then slink out the back door, shedding Paris' toga as I go. "Orlando, get back here!" I go out into the yard, and stretch provocatively out on the grass in a patch of sunlight. I pour some of the olive oil onto my body and start slowly rubbing it into my chest and stomach. Soon, the afternoon rays are gleaming softly over my skin. I turn my head and purr, "Any complaints about the lighting now, old man?" Viggo licks his lips and puts down the camera, before lowering himself onto my body. "No." My fingers caress the cool glass as I come back to the present. So many memories of him... The phone rings, jolting me out of my reverie. I automatically pick it up without thinking. "Hello?" "Hey, OB, it's Atti." Shit. "What're you up to?" "Um, nothing." Please Atti, leave me alone. "And that's your fucking problem." "I'm all right, Atti, really." "No, you're not. I'm going to pop by to check on you, and you'd better open the door for me, or I'll break it down." Hmm, need an excuse..."I'm just about to go to the grocer's." "Well, then, you can let me in. I'm standing right outside of your door on my cell phone." "What?" "I'm tired of you hiding, Orlando. Open the fucking door." Shit. Atti can be a real pain sometimes. I'm kind of slow, but I wind up opening it. He barges in with a bottle of vodka. "Here. A peace offering. Figured it would keep you from throwing me out," he says. "You guessed right." I grab two glasses and get some ice out of the fridge, before I pour a shot for each of us. Atti picks up his glass before he wanders over to study my portrait. "So this is it?" he asks. I nod. I had opened up to Atti easily, and had told him about Viggo and what he meant to me. I had to tap dance around a few details, though, which made me feel pretty grotty. One of which was telling Atti that Viggo died, which in a way was true. Atti whistles. "Nice." I quickly down my shot and start to pour another. "Thanks, mate." "He must think a lot of you since he overexaggerated the size of your cock," he adds. Typical Atti. Figures. "Cunt. That's a life-sized depiction. And how would you know?" Atti grins and says, "I have it on good authority from your two gross of ex-shagging partners." I groan and flop onto the couch. "Emphasis on the ex. There's only one man for me, now." "And both of your hands." "Why do I put up with you?" "Because I'm too stubborn a bastard to leave you alone and let you wallow." Fuck. Well, I don't have a good comeback, so I grab my glass and start sipping at the vodka. I toy with my pendant, watching as a drop of moisture falls onto the stone from my glass... Water crashes around us as Viggo thrusts into me on a raft in the dream world, stroking my sweet spot. I moan loudly, "Oh god...more...Viggo..." I love having him inside of me, just letting myself go until all that exists in the world is the feel of his cock inside of me. "I'm close..." he pants, as he grabs my twitching erection. I scream as I come, and he follows seconds later. He holds himself above me until his body stops shaking and then he gently rolls to the side, being careful of my back. I snuggle up to him and he kisses me tenderly. "I love you," he says. "And I love you." I say, trying not to think about the fact that we only have a few more days together. A raindrop falls from the sky, striking my pendant and beading on the surface. Soon more follow, and beads stick over our bodies and hair without getting us wet. "Why is it raining?" I ask Viggo archly. His face lights up with that dazzling smile of his, and I feel an ache inside of my heart. God, will I be able to say goodbye to that beautiful face? "I decided to randomize the weather patterns a bit. Thought it would be a nice change." I push on the drop. It kind of bows in and sticks a bit to my finger, and it has a weird gelatinous quality. "Ugh, it feels like snot." "Are you criticizing my rain?" I pretend to think for a bit. "Yes," I reply cheekily as I try to splash some water on him. The water freezes in mid-splash. It then turns around and washes over me instead. Viggo chuckles. "Twat!" I say as I tip the raft, sending us tumbling into the ocean. As we sink below the surface, surrounded by its comforting warmth, we wrap ourselves around each other and passionately kiss... "Or-lando!" Atti's voice jolts me back. "Sorry, Atti, just lost in thought about him." Atti sets down his glass. "All right, I'm getting tired of this." He walks over to my wardrobe and starts rifling through it. "What the fuck?" "You've been locking yourself in this flat since Viggo died and all you've done is mope." He comes back with my helmet and jacket and tosses them at me. "If I drag your lazy arse to the pub, you start drifting off into your little dreamland. Well, fuck that. We're going out on a little motorbike trip. Now." "There's not enough room for both of us, you daft cunt." "I came here on my own bike." "You don't have a proper jacket." I say, hoping that Atti will let me go. No such luck. "It's on my bike, along with my helmet." "I'm still not going." I yelp as Atti suddenly grabs my wrist and drags me to my feet. "I'm not taking no for an answer." "Fine," I grind out. Fuck, he's a stubborn bastard. I put on my helmet and jacket. I'm still grumbling when I start my bike, but I stop when Atti immediately tears out of the car park. I flip him off and follow, trying to keep up with him. It's not very easy, because he's doesn't care if I get stuck behind a light or if a bloody car is in my way. Somehow, I manage to stay with him. The city eventually gives way to the countryside, and Atti immediately guns up the first hill he sees. Crazy wanker. Well, if he wants to play it this way... I rev my bike and zip past him, easily jumping over to the next hill. He tries to pass me up, but I don't let him. Soon, he's the one trying to follow me, and I feel a familiar buzz going through my body. Sod it all, he was right, I did need this. Needed to feel the adrenaline rush again, needed to feel alive. I pull my helmet off and inhale the air. Cool, crisp...I let out my first laugh in a long time. Oh god, how I missed this. Atti pulls up next to me and grins. "Thank you," I say solemnly. He claps me on the shoulder. "Welcome back to the land of the living, OB. Now do me a favor and make sure it stays that way." "Well, there's a party tonight that I was going to blow off..." "I'm going to pick you up and make sure you go," Atti says firmly. "What time should I be by?" "A couple of hours." "Deal." We drive back, and Atti splits off when he gets near his place. As I pull up to my flat, a dog comes running up to me. "Hullo, luv, aren't you a pretty one?" I say as I pet her. She's a cute mutt: short-furred, white, and with a small black patch over one eye. She wags her tail furiously and licks my hands. I don't see a collar, and she looks like she's been starving. "Come on up for a bit. I can feed you." She follows me up to my flat without any hesistation. I give her some scraps, but it's not enough. Hmmm. I can't just let her go hungry like this. I pop down to the grocer's and buy some food for her. She barks happily when I return and she devours the smallish portion I give her. She looks up at me with soulful eyes. "Sorry, luv. I don't want to stress your stomach. Wait a bit, and I'll give you some more later." She tries it again, silly girl. God, who would abandon such a lovable dog? I try ringing my neighbors, but none of them own her or have seen her around before. I persist, but no dice. Trying to figure out where she comes from takes longer than I thought, and before I know it, Atti's pounding on my door again. I whip open the door. "I'm sorry, Atti, I lost track of time." Atti looks at the dog and says, "I see you have a new addition." "She's a stray. I'm just feeding her." Atti gives me that smug grin of his and says, "You may as well name her. I think she's here to stay." "Oh, shut up." Prig, he knows me too well. "Well, at least get ready for the party." Damn, Atti can be pushy. "And I suppose you'll stay here until I go?" "As long as your alcohol supply lasts." I hurry up and change. Atti sniggers when he sees me. "It's a good thing you're not on the market, OB." "Why?" He shakes his head as he looks at my shirt. "You're wearing a striped, neon yellow shirt with ruffles. The only blokes you're going to attract are the ones into clown sex." "Fuck off, Atti. I'll have you know that I look smashing in it." I bend down and pet the dog's head, "What do you think, luv?" She barks happily and jumps up and down. "For that, my dear, you get a treat," I say as I feed her a dog biscuit. "You're overruled, mate." He rolls his eyes. "Orlando, dogs are colorblind and only think with their stomachs. She probably fancies it because it looks tasty." "Huh? Are you implying that this amazing shirt resembles dog food?" "No, I'm saying that it looks like a dazzlingly bright cat turd." "Sod off," I grouse at him. "Come on, you cunt, let's go." He drags me off and the party is in full swing. God, I missed this so much... "Orli! I haven't seen you in ages!" I get a big hug from Elizabeth, who's another friend that I've ignored. Shit, I really need to reconnect with all of my mates. "Yeah, I decided to rejoin the human race." "Well, it's a good thing you did, sweetie. You've probably been ignoring the local gossip, haven't you?" "What's up?" "The casting people from Lord of the Rings are holding auditions in May. They've exhausted the pool of established actors, so they're opening it up to drama students now." "Shit, that's fantastic!" "Isn't it?" Her mobile phone rings. "Damn. Could you excuse me for a bit?" "Sure." As she leaves, I turn over this recent tidbit in my head. Fuck, Lord of the Rings. Looks like Viggo was right, and I was wrong to doubt that he would return. So far, he's predicted that all would be well with my back, and now, the auditions. I couldn't ask for a clearer sign from him. *** I spend all of my time before the auditions start by knocking back the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and trying to get more information on which parts are available. If I want to have a snowball's chance in hell of getting in, I need to go for a lesser part. After a lot of research, I decide that Faramir is the best possibility. Unfortunately, the cold reading almost throws me completely off. I had prepared for a very heroic role, but their version of Faramir is a lot more shady. Fortunately, I'm able to draw on the bitterness and anger from my past and put it into the performance. However, I get the standard, "Don't call us, we'll call you." I go back to my flat, and I hear a happy bark as I put the key in the lock. "Hullo, Maude. Daddy's home," I say as I open the door and she launches herself into my arms. Yes, Atti was right. No one claimed the dog, so she's mine now. I sometimes wonder if Viggo sent her to keep me company. I'll have to ask him when he comes back. A couple of weeks go by, and Fiona tells me that I should be getting a call soon. When I come back from class, there's a message on my machine. My hands are shaking when I press play. "Orlando, it's Amy MacLean from the Lord of the Rings production team. I'd like to thank you for your time. You had a good reading, but we've decided to go with another actor for Faramir." Shitshitshit! "However, Peter was wondering if you had some free time to come in to read for Legolas. If you're interested, give me a call." What??? Wait, did I hear that right? Rewind...listen... oh shit, I _did_ hear that right. Fuck, Legolas is one of the major characters...and they want me to read for him? How in the _hell_ do I relate to an elven prince? Hit the books, Orli...let's see...what in the fuck does an elf sound like? Tolkien says their voices are musical... okay, that part doesn't sound so hard...I can alter my accent so that my voice sounds more liquid, but how do I get behind a character that is immortal? Gah, there's no way I can research for this part. Think...wait, I have it. I just only hope that it works. I call Amy, and set up an appointment for tomorrow. I may as well go diving in. I try not to shake too much as I walk into the audition the next day. Oh shit, Peter Jackson's here. In person. Okay Orli, breathe...don't blow it. They haven't cast Legolas yet; you have to convince them that you're perfect for it. As I do my reading, I draw on what I remember about Viggo and magnify it. I remain calm, cool, collected, and fiercely loyal to the Fellowship. I try to let my body language speak louder than my words. I let the little things pass by me because they just aren't important in the big picture. I try to make my movements as graceful as I can, which is actually the hardest part. My klutziness really rears its ugly head when I'm nervous, so I deliberately slow my steps down to make sure that I don't trip. I also try to remain still a lot, just to minimize the chance that I'll fall all over myself. I leave the audition, hoping that I did well. No one has said anything, but I catch Peter's eye on the way out, and he looks immensely pleased. *** I finish packing my last bag. Fifteen months. Fifteen months in New Zealand. Working with people like Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Ian Holm. I can't sodding believe it. And I'm in a major role. Me, the snot-nosed drama school student. Holy fucking shit. I look at the Orlando stone in my hand. I kiss it softly, saying, "You'll always be with me, love," before I let it rest against my chest again. I make a vow then and there to start living my life fully in New Zealand. I told Viggo that I've gained a new perspective, and it's time to put my money where my mouth is. Just as I finish that thought, I hear pounding on the door. Must be Atti coming by to pick me up. "So, ready to bid this shitty place goodbye?" he says as I open the door. I nod dumbly. "Do you have everything? Keys, money, passport, extra condoms?" God, what if I crash and burn? Shit, did Atti ask me something? "Yeah," I say automatically. "Hel-lo, you wanker. You're not paying attention." "I'm sorry, Atti. I'm just jittery about this role. It's so big. And..." I twist my hands and fidget. Atti sits down and looks steadily at me. "You'll knock them dead." "But..." "And Joanne will take good care of Maude." "Well..." "And I told you that I would take good care of your painting." "I'm sorry, Atti, I just can't help worrying about everything. I'm leaving so much behind..." I say. "OB, Joanne will look after Maude like she's her firstborn child. And I swear that I'll be extra careful with your portrait," he pauses to grin at me. "After all, I can't let prime wanking material like that get damaged." "Atti!" "Just kidding." He grins at me, "Time to go, you daft cunt. We've got to meet Sam and your Mum at the airport." The drive is uneventful, but I get a bit teary as I say goodbye to Mum, Sam, and Atti. I already said goodbye to my mates at the blow-out party they threw last night, but the full impact just doesn't really hit me until now. I suddenly feel very alone. God, I hope I meet up with my co-star. Fiona mentioned that I may run into Billy Boyd at Heathrow, but I don't see any indication of him. I feel twitchy as I change my pounds for New Zealand dollars. So much riding on this role... "Excuse me," a voice with a Scottish accent says behind me, "are you an elf? You look like an elf. Is your name Orlando?" I turn to face the speaker. He's a short bloke, but he has a very open and friendly face. His blue eyes are twinkling with amusement, and I know that we're going to get along spectacularly. "Billy!" I exclaim, hugging him. My worries immediately melts away. He claps me on the back. "I'm glad I found you, Orlando. This will make the trip go a wee bit faster." "So am I, Billy," I say, grinning until my face feels like it's going to split open. "And call me Orli, it's not as much of a mouthful." As our plane takes off, I find out that it's Billy's birthday, so I order champagne for him. Billy and I get along smashingly. If even half the cast is as nice as Billy, I'm going to enjoy this project immensely. I lean back and sigh, "Fifteen months in New Zealand, can you believe it? I've never been away from home for so long before." "It is quite a long haul. I'm leaving my Gran behind, and I'm going to miss her terribly." "I'm leaving my mum and my sister Sam. I really wish that I could've brought Maude with me." "Your girlfriend?" "My dog." I say as I smile. Billy notices that I'm toying with my pendant. "That's an interesting necklace, Orli. Where'd you get it?" Uh oh. This could get awkward. I can't really tell him that I got it from Viggo, because then I'll have to explain that he's dead. Not really a good thing to bring up in casual conversation. Shit, what should I do? Fortunately, the flight attendant comes by at that moment with more champagne. After she serves us, I quickly change the topic. Billy just goes with it, so we yap about lighter things for the rest of the trip. After we land, Megan, one of Peter's assistants, comes by to meet us. "We're having a dinner tonight so that you can get to know some of the cast," she says. "Fantastic!" I say. "Sounds great," Billy adds. She says, "Let me show you to your houses, first, so that you'll have time to get settled in before dinner." We get our luggage and she leads us over to a limo. I get dropped off at a lovely little rental by the sea. Shit, it's beautiful out here. I can't believe I never took the time out to appreciate it all. After I unpack my bags, I just sit on the deck and take it all in. I inhale the salt air, and just let things be. I feel completely at peace now. I check my watch. Time to get ready for dinner. I shower, change, and put on one of my more conservative shirts. Megan comes by to collect me. Billy's already in the car, and we chat some more on the way to the restaurant. My palms feel clammy as I walk in. God, I hope I make a good first impression. Of course, I make a complete prat of myself by tripping over my own feet when I get close to the table, and I fall flat on my arse. I brace myself for the inevitable sniggers. "Whoa! Are you okay, man?" A voice above me says instead. Huh? I look up and it belongs to a very young bloke with really, really blue eyes. He extends a hand to help me up. "Yeah, only my pride wounded." I say as I grab it and haul myself to my feet. "Orlando Bloom." "Elijah Wood." Fuck, I had to do that right in front of the star of the film. Argh. "Sean Astin," the bloke next to Elijah says, extending his hand. He notices me fidgeting. "Don't worry about it. After all, the hobbits are going to be wearing enormous feet, and I'm sure that we'll be tripping over ourselves every day." I smile at Sean. Something about him is just very friendly and reassuring. I get introduced to Dominic Monaghan and Stuart Townsend. Apparently, the cast has been arriving in little groups, so I'll meet everyone else over the next few days. After a bit, I settle down once I notice that no one makes any comments about the fact that I've been a git, and we warm up to each other completely. Eventually, we all start talking about our respective homes. "Sean, your wife was willing to pack up and sod off here with your daughter? God, she must love you," Dominic comments. "Yeah, I'm a very lucky man." Stuart says, "I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate moving all the way here. What about you, Orlando?" I quickly get up. "Excuse me, Stuart, I have to use the gents." I actually slip out the back and light a fag. I'm sure that these are a great bunch of people, but I can't really blurt out "I had a boyfriend and he's dead now", after just meeting them, can I? Just then, Stuart comes out the back. "Thought I'd find you here, Orlando. I wanted to apologize. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." "Don't worry about it, man," I say as I pat his shoulder. Uh oh. He's tensing up slightly. Wonder why? I let it slide, and we go back in and have a nice dinner. I can't wait for tomorrow, because I start weapons training. This is so fantastic that I can't even begin to describe it. The next several weeks just feel like a dream: sword practice, archery practice, movement training, costume fittings, hanging out with the hobbits and Stuart, enjoying New Zealand during our off-hours. God, I feel like there's so much to enjoy, and I want to experience it all. Elijah is amazed at my boundless energy, but I always give a secretive smile when he asks me where I get it from. Not that he'd really believe me, anyway. The hobbits and I bond rather closely, and they become my second family. In fact, Peter and Fran become more like relatives than employers. In this atmosphere, I have no trouble telling them what I can about Viggo. I don't really bond as well to Sean Bean or John, but I'm sure that I'll get to know them better eventually. I just wish that I could get close to Stuart. After all, we're going to be working together a lot. He's rather tense and jumpy around me, and I eventually figure out the problem. He wants to shag me, but I don't think he's even acknowledged to himself that he's attracted to men. As a result, we wind up not becoming as close as I would like. I really try as subtly as I can to point out to Stuart that I'm not interested in anyone right now, but I don't think he quite gets it. I keep trying, hoping that he'll surprise me one day and drop the sexual tension he feels around me. Speaking of surprises, I found one on my doorstep some time after I arrived: a cardboard cylinder sent overseas by Atti. It looked like he had sent me a poster, and I had sincerely hoped that it wasn't some explicit porn thing he picked out to embarrass me. Well, I was completely wrong. I don't know how he did it, but he sent me a reproduction of my painting. I mounted it on the wall across from my bed, so that I could see it easily every night. So now, whenever it's time for me to retire, I climb under the sheets and look at it fondly, letting memories of my last night with Viggo lull me to sleep. *** This should be interesting, we get fitted for wigs today. God, is _anyone_ going to be wearing their own hair? Anyway, I'm kind of shifting in my chair as they start shaving my curls down. After they've cut it a bit short, a blond wig gets plopped on my head. Blond??? Diana, my make-up and hair person, sees my expression and says, "You'll be wearing blue contacts, too, Orlando." Fuck, I'm going to be unrecognizable. Talk about losing yourself in a role... "Now, Orlando, we're going to have to raise your hairline so the wig will fit. I'll try to cut back as little as possible." "All right." While she's trimming, I see someone coming in...oh shit, it's Liv Tyler. In the flesh. Crap. Liv Fucking Tyler, a bloody 100 percent Hollywood star. Don't stare Orli, don't stare... She smiles at me. "Cool! We've got another elf in here. I'm..." "Liv Tyler. You don't need any intro for me, luv, I've seen all of your movies." Shit! Did I just interrupt her? Shitshithshit, I am _such_ a stupid git. "Thank you," she says, looking vaguely embarrassed. "And you're..." Work, tongue, work. "Orlando Bloom." She laughs as she gets in her chair. "That's a cute name." "Um, thanks." Argh. Come on, Orli, you're going to be working with her, try to say something meaningful. Diana has finished taking back my hairline. "So, what do you think?" I blurt out, "I dunno, what do you think, Liv?" Fuck, now she's going to think I'm hitting on her or something. She smiles mischievously and giggles. "I think it would look cuter if you got a mohawk." That small girly giggle completely takes me by surprise and makes my nerves calm down. Wow, she's not treating me like I'm less than human. If the rest of the big name stars are like this, I'm going to have a fantastic time. "Orlando, is this fine, or do you actually want to cut it that way?" Diana asks again. Oh right...ugh, I'm not too crazy about mohawks. I'm sure Liv suggested it as a joke, but, hmmm. This is a start of a new life for me, so why not sacrifice my hair as a symbolic gesture? "Sure. Take it back, Diana." Diana shakes her head, but starts the clippers. Liv shrieks, "Orlando, I was just kidding!" I smile at her, "And it was a fantastic idea. By the way, call me Orli." "All right, Orli." That night, I go clubbing with Dom, Elijah, Billy, and Stuart. The hobbits make fun of my new haircut, but Stuart is surprisingly quiet. After a while, Dom, 'Lij, and Billy decide to dance and go on the pull, leaving me and Stuart at the bar. Stuart whistles. "Boy, there's a lot of temptation here," he says, looking over at a crowd of women. I follow his eye. "Not for me, Stuart. Never been interested in birds, and no one can replace Viggo." He looks at me with an unreadable expression. Is he bothered or relieved? "Still in mourning?" he asks. I nod. Since Stuart's been a bit distant, I haven't really talked about Viggo with him; all he knows is that we were in love and that Viggo died somewhat recently. "How long has it been since he passed away?" "Almost a year and a half," I reply. "Tell me about him, Orli," he says, patting my hand. This is probably the first real physical contact we've had. I smile before I start talking. I'm so glad that Stuart is finally easing up around me that everything comes pouring out in a bit of a rush. After I'm done, Stuart hugs me and says softly, "He sounded like a great bloke. I'm sorry that I'll never get to meet him." "Never say never, mate," I reply. *** It's been another week, and Stuart and I get along fantastically now. My talking about Viggo seems to have banished whatever attraction he had for me. I bounce into the make-up trailer today because the hobbits, Aragorn, and myself will be in full costume for the first time. Stuart has a later call, so I probably won't see him until after we're done. Diana starts my transformation promptly. I squirm as she applies the glue to my ears. How can something be cold and itchy at the same time? As she blends it, I refuse to look at myself in the mirror, worried that the final result will make me look like a demented Vulcan or something worse. After she finishes with the ears, she plops on my wig, and then applies about a hundred layers of pale make-up to disguise my olive skin. "All right, Orlando, just pop in your contacts, and we'll be done," Diana says. Bugger, I hate my contacts. I'm glad I got a lesson earlier, because I just couldn't bring myself to touch my eye at first. I grit my teeth and slip them in. Once they're seated correctly, I hold my breath. Okay, Orli, time to look in the mirror. Hope I don't look too stupid... Christ, that's amazing. Is that me? "Come on love, off to costuming." Right, costuming. Stuart and the hobbits agreed to meet me after we're done so that we can all laugh at how ridiculous we look. Unfortunately, there's a little hitch up with my costume, so I'm the last to arrive. 'Lij is flopping his ridiculous feet around and playing with the large toes, making everyone snigger. Dom sees me and wolf whistles. "Now _that's_ what I call a hot elf tart." 'Lij says, "Hot elf tart? Sounds like a dessert." "Hey, I'd eat it," Dom replies. I stick my tongue out at him. Billy adds, "We should hijack Orli after work. I bet we can make some good money on the side flogging him on street corners." I cheekily reply, "My rate's pretty high, mate. I can suck a watermelon dry." Elijah rolls his eyes and says, "Do I really want to know?" "Hey, I had to research for my rentboy role somehow." Sean groans, "Too much information!" Everyone else is still making catcalls, so I turn around and ponce around a bit, overexaggerating the elven glide and adding a generous waggle to my hips. I then look over my shoulder and give them a saucy wink. Dom says, "Damn, Orli. It's too bad those leggings aren't tighter, you have a cracking arse. We'd corner the female market if you could show it off." "Good point, Dom. I'll tell Ngila to tighten them up. What do you think, Stu?" I ask, looking at him. Oh shit, I do _not_ like that very hungry look in his eyes. "I think..." he purrs as he creeps closer to me. Fuck, he's twining an arm around my waist and he's leaning forward to whisper in my ear. "...that Aragorn has the obviously superior arse." He finishes, cackling with glee. "Wanker!" I say, trying to grab him, but he scrambles away quickly. I start chasing him around, but one of the make-up people sees us and shrieks out, "MIND THE WIGS!" We stop cold. Damn. Stuart and the hobbits are laughing until they're red in the face. I draw myself up. "This insult will not go uncontested. We shall see who has the better arse, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," I loftily say in my Legolas voice. "And how do you propose to do that? Where can we seek out an impartial judge?" Stuart replies in his Aragorn voice. "It is simple, Aragorn. We shall stand side-by-side and moon the camera. The hobbits can then poll the cast and crew." Stuart grins and drops his accent, "You're on, Orli. A hundred dollars says that I win." "Deal." Elijah, Dom, and Billy whoop in approval. Sean moans, "Peter's going to kill us." *** It took a bit of timing, because we had to figure out how to undo the laces on our costumes, but we pulled it off quite nicely. We got a nice round of appreciative yells from the female crew members and from some of the male ones. Surprisingly, Peter actually didn't have much of a reaction. He did remind us that we were on a tight schedule, but that was it. Of course, his nonchalant attitude really discouraged Stuart and myself from any more on-camera antics, because we felt immensely guilty. By the way, neither of us won the bet. It was an even split down the middle, although I think Liv only voted for Stuart because she has to kiss him. Everything's going smoothly until about one and half weeks into filming. Stuart's girlfriend dumped him pretty messily, so the hobbits and I take him to a pub so that he can drown his sorrows. He gets extremely pissed, and I volunteer to drive him home because we live close to each other. After I pull up into his driveway, and drag him out of the car, I have to prop him up because he can't properly stand. I wind up slinging one of his arms across my shoulders and walking him to his door. "Stu, I need your keys." "Fuck..." he fumbles for his keys and can't seem to find them. I grumble and reach into his pocket, finding them with minimal groping. I open the door and haul him inside, getting his sotted arse up into the bedroom. As I'm holding him next to the bed, trying to get his jacket off, he sways and slurs, "Orli..." "What is it?" "She hates me. Damnit. Am I a bad person?" "No, you're not. In fact, I think you're wonderful," I reassure him as I hug him close. "Thanks, Orli. You're my besht friend...And I really fancy you..." Uh oh. Shit! He's trying to kiss me. "Stuart, you're monged." "Jest a little kiss." He sways against me heavily, and I lose my balance, causing us to fall back on the bed. Stuart wraps his arms around my neck and starts trying to press his lips against mine. Bugger, he's rolled on top of me and he's grinding his crotch against mine. Better stop this _now_. "Stuart! Fuck, I'm not interested." I yell as I push him off. He looks hurt. "How can you say that? Yer the firsht man I've ever wanted." Oh no, I was hoping that something like this wouldn't happen. "Stuart, I'm not ready for anyone new, remember?" I remind him. "But Orli...I love you," he says reaching for me. I jump off the bed quickly. Shit. "Stuart, you don't mean that." "Yesh I do...please don't dump me, too, Orli." Oh god..."Stuart..." I say gently, "I'm still in love with Viggo. I love you as a friend, but I can't..." "Fuck you, Orli!" "Stuart, please..." He tries to stand up and focus on me. Suddenly, he turns green and moans, "Oh shit, I'm going to be sick..." I hustle him over to the toilet and hold his hair back while he prays to the porcelain god. He's pretty out of it afterward, so I pull his shoes and socks off and get him into the bed. "We'll talk in the morning," I say softly as I leave. I have no such luck, because Stuart spends the morning hiding from me. It takes a while, but I finally corner him before we start filming. "Stuart, about last night..." "I don't remember a thing, Orli. And I really don't want to hear about anything I might have done," he says, a little too tensely. It's obvious that he doesn't want to talk about it, so I let it drop. We get onto the set, and he winds up blowing his lines and missing his marks continually. On the eighth take at the Prancing Pony, he blows it again, and he goes into a loud tirade about how everyone's fucking up. Before it can get too ugly, Peter says mildly, "Fifteen minute break, everyone." Stuart storms off to his trailer. I rush up to Peter. "Peter, I need to talk to you, now. In private." "All right," he says. I take him aside and say, "Don't be too harsh on Stuart, please? He's taking this break up really hard. Especially, um..." Shit, can't tell him what happened last night. "Especially because he and his girlfriend didn't really part on the best of terms. She broke up with him by voice mail." Which is true. That's part of the reason why he got so pissed in the first place. Peter looks at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that. All right, Orlando, I'll give him some space. I'm glad that you're looking out for him." "He'll be fine after a few days," I say. Unfortunately, he's not. Stuart was pretty disturbed by his pass at me, and it just eats at him. He doesn't want to get anywhere near me, because it just gets too uncomfortable and awkward for him. And if he's forced to be with me for a scene, he gets really snarky with me after the camera stops rolling. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I want to give him some breathing room, but I also want to talk things out with him. I wind up leaving him alone, which proves to be a big mistake. Stuart winds up taking his frustrations out on Peter, bitching at him about the constant rewrites, Aragorn's lines, you name it. When he's not bitching at Peter, he's being stroppy to everyone else. I'm not really completely sure why he's acting this way; I think he's got more issues besides me lurking inside of him. Either way, he refuses to talk about it with anyone. We try to weather it, but eventually the bitching turns pretty abusive. After about a week of this, Peter has had enough, and tries to take Stuart aside to have a word with him. It erupts into a major row, and Stuart is fired. Fuck, now who are we going to get to play Aragorn? *** Peter gets immediately on the phone, but he maintains the utmost secrecy. Guess he doesn't want anyone to be jumping the gun and spreading gossip to the local rags. Two days later, I hear that our new Aragorn has been signed, but no one will tell me who. I try bribes, cajoling, and puppy dog eyes, but no one will spit it out. I corral 'Lij on the way out of costuming. "Alright, I'm getting tired of this. Who's going to be the new Aragorn?" "No one's told me shit, Orli. Peter and Fran's lips are completely fucking sealed. All I've heard is that they're bringing him onto the set late tomorrow afternoon to film Weathertop." "Well, I guess we'll meet him then." "Yeah. I wonder who it is?" "Someone as mad as I am, I hope. I need a bungee jumping partner." 'Lij rolls his eyes. We spend another long day, and it's an exhausting one. I hit the pubs with the hobbits for a bit and then I stay up to read until it's about 3 or 4am. I have a late call, so I figure that now is a good time to catch up on other people's theories about reincarnation and the afterlife. There's some interesting stuff here. Some of it's completely wrong, but it is interesting. Anyway, I go to sleep, haul my arse out of bed late in the morning, and drag myself off to make-up. After I'm done getting into all of my Legolas gear, Fran approaches me. "Orli, could you just wait here a bit? I want you to and the hobbits to be the first people to meet our new Aragorn." "Sure." God, the anticipation is killing me. "I'll go fetch him," Fran says before leaving. The hobbits soon join me. "So, heard anything about our new co-star?" I ask them. "Nothing. Wonder why Fran and Peter are being so secretive," Dom says. "There they are," Billy says, looking past my shoulder. "Shit! He really looks the part." I turn around and freeze. It can't be...but there's no mistaking those chiseled features. Peter and Fran are grinning as they say, "We'd like to introduce all of you to our new Aragorn, Viggo Mortensen." I hear the hobbits whooping in disbelief. My body goes into complete autopilot. I fling myself around Viggo's neck and kiss him. Oh god, I've missed him so much... Wait...he's not responding. I pull away and I look into his green-grey eyes. Green-grey, not the deep blue that I'm used to seeing. And there's no affection in those depths. In fact, there's no recognition there at all. ----- end part 8 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (9/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: CIB, Lirimaer, Mirrormere, Aniron. All others please ask, I'll surely say yes. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: Is this or is this not the right Viggo? Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. This fic includes toy use. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. Posted July 7, 2003 ****** Bollocks. Okay, this is officially _the_ most embarrassing moment of my entire life. I don't think that there's a fissure deep enough for me to hide in. The Marianas Trench is probably a good start, but I think it's a bit shallow for my needs. At least everyone else is just as stunned as I am. Especially this Viggo. Sean is the first one to break the silence. "All right, Orli, you win. We'll pay you your three hundred bucks next week." I feel tempted to throw myself at Sean's feet and kiss them for saving my arse. Fuck, if I was female, I'd propose to him right now and offer to bear his children. Billy shakes himself and says, "I told you that it was a daft bet." Okay, make that two proposals. I love these guys. 'Lij looks like he's about to say, "What bet?" but Dom whacks him before he can blurt it out. Viggo blinks and says mildly, "That's a good one, gentlemen." Uh oh, Peter is actually furrowing his brow a bit. Oh god, he's royally pissed. The hobbits see it, too, and we hold our breath. Viggo turns to Peter and says, "Don't worry about it. You told me that the cast is one big family, so it's natural that they'd want to tease the new step-brother." I think Peter is still stunned. Viggo continues, "Besides, I'm really flattered that such a pretty elf would, um, want to make sure that I'd feel welcome." I see the furrow disappearing. We let out a collective sigh of relief. "All right, then," Peter says, going back into director mode. He quickly introduces us to Viggo and then says, "Shall we start shooting Weathertop?" The hobbits nod and we all head off. I have a few scenes to shoot on the second unit, but I'm done pretty fast. I dash over to the Weathertop set as quickly as I can. This is going to be interesting, because Viggo hasn't had any sword training. I see Bob giving Viggo some last minute pointers. However, I feel a stab of disappointment as I closely look at his eyes. I remember my Viggo originally telling me that he knew that I had returned as soon as we locked gazes. And although I see a handsome man with beautiful eyes, my heart is not leaping. Somehow, somewhere, fate has decided to have a joke on me. "All right, places people!" Peter says, jolting me to attention. The hobbits, Viggo, and the stuntmen line up on their marks. "And...action!" I hold my breath as I watch this Viggo fight. Oh my god, he's breathtaking. I can't believe how natural he is with a sword. And he sinks into Aragorn's mindset immediately. I have no trouble believing that he's an experienced swordsman fiercely protecting a bunch of hobbits. "Cut! That's a wrap, people!" We all applaud. Elijah claps Viggo on the back and says, "That was great, man! Want to come down to the pub and have a drink with all of us?" Dom chimes in with, "We promise the elf won't snog you this time." Viggo laughs. "I'm afraid that I'll have to turn you down today. I just got off the plane." I say, "No problem, man, get some rest. We'll have plenty of time later." Viggo waves to us. Elijah looks at me sternly and says, "And no excuses from you, Orli, we need to talk." I nod meekly. I'm out of make-up before they are, but I wait around until they're ready before we head down to one of our usual hangouts. We've ordered our first round when Elijah starts in on me. "All right, Orli, give. What the fuck happened today? Or do you normally stick your tongue down the throats of guys named after your boyfriend?" "Maybe I should change my name to Viggo," Dom says. "Sod off. You're not going to believe me, but he looks a lot like my Viggo. I just lost it for a moment there and thought it was him." "You're shitting me!" Elijah says, "That is just _so_ weird!" "Tell me about it," I reply. My drink arrives and I chug it down. I immediately signal for more alcohol. "Maybe Viggo had cousins? I mean, how many people are named Viggo?" Billy adds helpfully. No, Billy, I have a better idea. Fate is such a cruel bitch that I bet that if only one other person in the world was named Viggo, he'd still find me no matter where I was living. I'm tempted to tell Billy my theory, but I hold my tongue. Instead, I say, "Probably more than you think. Forget about it, man, I'm sure it's just one of those freak coincidences." "That's just too strange, though," Dom says. I shrug. "Either way, I'm happy that you guys saved my daft arse today. Drinks are on me." The hobbits whoop in appreciation. I turn to Sean, "And as for you, mate, I want to have your child." He chuckles and says, "You'll have to work that out with Christine." **** The next day, I find Viggo in the make-up trailer. "Good morning, Orlando," he says. "Uh, hey, Viggo." I start fidgeting. "Uh...look, I'm really sorry about yesterday..." He holds up his hand. "It's alright. As the new person, I kind of expect a bit of hazing. Especially in a tight knit group." "We're really not that bad, you know. Honest." His eyes twinkle. And I'll have to admit that he looks quite attractive now. Too attractive. Time to change the subject. "Um, anyway, I'm sure you'll have no trouble fitting into our family." Shuffling a bit, I look at his make-up mirror. There's a picture stuck onto the side and I lean in to have a squint at it. He's posing with a young boy. "That's a cute kid," I say. "Thanks, he's my son." Son??? My Viggo never had a son. Shit, don't gawp, Orli. Say something..."Um, er, so will you be relocating him out here with your wife?" Viggo says, "I'm divorced. Henry's staying in L.A. with his mother." "And she doesn't resent it?" "No, we're still friends." Bugger it all, this is _definitely_ different. Do I need any more convincing? "By the way," I say, "call me Orli. By the time you're done saying my name, I'd be kilometers away." "Unfortunately, I don't have a short version of my name, Orli," he says, his throaty voice giving my nickname somewhat of a purr. Shit, his voice is a pretty close facsimile. It just sounds...I dunno, younger, I guess. "Oh, I'm sure we'll inflict one on you," I say with a laugh as I plop into my make-up chair. "So, tell me a bit about yourself, since I'm going to be stuck here for a bit." "Well, I was born in America, but my father moved us around a lot. I lived in Venezuela, Argentina, and Denmark when I was young. After my parents divorced, I returned to New York as a teenager, and then I moved to Denmark after I graduated from college." Hmm, I just thought of something wild..."Have you ever been to England?" I ask a bit overeagerly. Fortunately, it looks like he's still jetlagged, so he misses that. "I had passed through London at one point," he says before he goes on to tell me about his life in Denmark before he finally moved permanently back to the States; and then he tells me how he got into acting. I only listen with half an ear; I was hoping that he had actually stayed in London, so that I could see if he had been near my Viggo's house. As he's finishing up, I smile. His make-up was finished by the time he was halfway through his story, but he decided to stay around to keep me entertained. I'm done now, so I pop in my contacts and we go off to costuming. "Alright, Orli, it's your turn now," he says with a grin as we walk together. I'll have to admit, he has a damn beautiful smile. "I think I'll bore you. It's not really as interesting as your life." He laughs. "And you're being modest. Peter told me about your daredevil antics while we were waiting for Fran to come get me yesterday." I flush a bit. "Um, he did?" Shit, I wonder what else he told Viggo? Viggo says mildly, "Actually, he told me that New Zealand had a lot of dangerous sports and that he would like me to stay away from them 'unlike a certain elf.'" "Er..." Great, say something, Bloom. He smirks at me. Okay, there's a trait he shares with my Viggo. He's a smug bastard. "So, tell me, Orli, what possesses you to throw yourself out of planes?" Shit, can't tell him the entire story. "I broke my back on my 21st birthday, and it changed my perspective on life." "I would think that you'd be less likely to do anything dangerous after that." I shake my head. "I was different before the accident. You wouldn't believe it now, but I was totally soured on everything. It kind of opened my eyes to what I was missing, you know?" Why in the fuck am I telling him this? Because, you git, you keep thinking it's your Viggo, but it's not. Oh man, and he's paying complete attention to what I'm saying. Just like my Viggo. This is not helping. We reach costuming by now. I grin at him, "Looks like we'll have to continue this later. Time to hit the old grindstone again." Viggo says, "Orli, working here will be anything _but_ boring." "I agree." The rest of the week is a haze because we have so much work to make up for. Friday finally rolls around, and the hobbits and I invite Viggo over to the pub. He politely turns us down. "No thanks. I have a lot to catch up on, and I thought that I would spend Saturday morning riding." "That's a fantastic idea!" I blurt out, "May I join you?" I need to study him some more. "Of course, Orli," he smiles. "I'll be by around 8." Bugger, I wish he wouldn't look like so beautiful when he does that. I go off to the pub with the hobbits, but I keep my drinking at a minimum, so I can be up and ready early Saturday morning. Viggo comes by to pick me up, and we chat on the way there. He's very knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects, and we fill the time quickly. I feel a warm fuzzy in my heart as I watch him play with the horses before we ride out. He catches me looking at him. "Aragorn's supposed to be able to talk to the fauna of Middle Earth. The more I work with the horses, the easier they'll feel around me," he explains. "And here I was thinking that you're a softie for animals," I joke. He smiles again. "I am. I have a spoiled dog at home." "That makes two of us. I had to leave Maude behind." We inevitably fall into trading stories about our dogs, and I'm just amazed at how easy it is to open up to him. And this time it's not the fact that he looks like my Viggo. There's just something so giving about him that I just want to tell him everything. I eventually blurt out, "Viggo isn't a common Danish name, is it?" "Not incredibly, why do you ask?" "Um, because my boyfriend was also named Viggo." Viggo says softly, "My condolences, Orli." What? Did I say...oh wait, I did. Sharp of him to pick up on that. "Shit, I'm sorry. That's not really something I should bring up when we barely know each other," I apologize. "It's all right, Orli. I'm actually honored that you're willing to share something that personal and painful with me. I realize that my name may make working together difficult, but I hope you won't hold it against me," he says. "No, don't worry about it. I know you're not him." He gathers me into a hug. God, those big arms are incredibly comforting. Still not like my Viggo's, but nice, nonetheless. "Come on, let's ride out and then get some lunch after we're done," he offers. "Deal." *** As the days go on, I start drawing inevitable comparisons between the two Viggos. This Viggo is a bit more of a wild man. Sleeps outdoors in his costume, goes fishing when he fancies it. He's got a wicked sense of humor, and he's prone to do the maddest things on impulse, like eating fresh roadkill. However, he also shares my Viggo's quietness, artistic talents, and generosity. Especially his generosity. He takes me under his wing, and just gives me tons of acting tips. I'm awed by his complete devotion to his role, as well as the fact that he's so compassionate. He just seems to know when someone is having problems, and always seems to know the right thing to say. His warmness began to draw me dangerously close to him, so I started needling him to keep a comfortable emotional distance. Like I'm doing today. "Hey, filthy humans!" I yell out. "It's time for Sean's death scene!" Viggo and Sean stop their game of chess and start walking towards me. Sean says, "I think the elf is getting too rowdy." I stick my tongue out at him while the props people fasten the arrows onto his costume. "Say that some more and you'll get an elf arrow to add to your collection." Sean says gruffly, "As if one of those prissy things would show up next to these manly orc bolts." Oh really? "Viggo! He called my arrows prissy." "Well, they are," Viggo says mildly. "Filthy humans!" I growl after I blow a raspberry at him. I'm really tempted to tackle one of them, but we've been admonished strongly about any physical horsing around while in make-up. I wind up pouting instead. Vig and Sean laugh. I'm about to retort with something witty when Peter booms out, "Places!" We immediately stop joking and get on our marks. Sean lies down on the leaves, and Viggo positions himself above him. I'm actually pretty eager to do this scene, because they were up late last night working out some of the dialog with Fran and Peter. They told me in the Cuntebago that they're probably going to improvise the rest. "And, action!" Sean starts delivering his lines. God, he is just so on with this bit. He captures everything that's tragic and noble about Boromir. But it's Viggo who gets my attention. Fuck, he's captured Aragorn's grief perfectly. Almost too perfectly. I start thinking of how my Viggo looked at me as I was dying, and the look is amazingly similar. My heart starts breaking again. I get so caught up in the scene that I almost forget my cue. I run in and slow down. They pull in for a reaction shot... "Cut!" What? "Orlando, that's a great expression, but only if you're a human. Elves don't understand death," Peter says. Fuck, forgot myself. I fluff the next two takes, but Sean and Viggo are fine with it. Bean even jokes that he's glad that I'm blowing my scenes, because he gets to have Viggo on top of him longer. Peter gives us a lunch break and I wind up sitting next to Viggo in the canteen. "What's bothering you?" he says softly. Bollocks, I can't hide anything from him. "Just bad memories associated with death." He puts his hand over mine and says, "It's understandable." His hand is warm and slightly rough. Damnit, Orli, don't you dare go there. I pull my hand away and say, "I've got to get something from my trailer." I trudge on over, trying to turn this over in my head. Wait, what the... "WHO THE FUCK DUCT TAPED MY TRAILER?!" I can't believe it. My entire trailer is completely wrapped up. Fuck. I see Dom scurrying away. As I'm sputtering, a camera flashes. Viggo lowers it, grinning like mad. "Gotcha, elf boy," he laughs. Wanker, I'm going to have to pay him back. Either way, that snaps me out of my doldrums. I briefly think about tackling him again, but Ngila and Diana will rip off my bollocks and fry them up if anything happens to my costume and wig. Peter calls us back, and we have no trouble filming the rest of the scene. As we're doing so, I start plotting my revenge. Hmm, I have only a half-day of filming tomorrow, and the day after that off... Two days later, I sneak into Viggo's trailer early in the morning and fill it full of dead fish and fake shit. He's going to love this one, because he's got a late makeup call. Unfortunately, Peter sees me and flags me down to talk about a script change. He drags me off and we discuss it a bit. However, by the time we're done, I still have time to spare before Viggo arrives. I sneak back to his trailer and look for a good hiding place. A heavy body suddenly comes out of the shadows and tackles me. I squeak in surprise as we both tumble on the ground. I wrestle with whoever it is, but he's much stronger than I am and he eventually rolls me onto my back. I blink and squeak again when I notice that I'm looking up into Viggo's green eyes. "So, elf boy," he says, his body pressing down on my own. Oh god, he feels good... "I came in early and found your 'present.'" His voice is incredibly raspy now, and I feel a stir in my cock. Shit! Stop that right now, Orli! I try to squirm away from him, but he pins one of my arms to the ground. With his free hand, he rucks my t-shirt up and starts tickling me. I start giggling, and he continues until I'm almost shrieking. I finally fling him off and roll over onto my stomach, laughing. "Filthy human," I giggle as he grabs my legs again. "Orlando..." Viggo says, his voice full of concern. I look over my shoulder and ask, "What is it?" His eyes lock with mine and his hand slowly reaches out to touch my exposed back. Oh god, he's tracing my scar, and that light caress is sending my pulse fluttering. I feel a sudden rush of lust shoot through me. Goddamnit, don't think that way, Orli! Someone calls Viggo's name and he lets me go. "We'll finish this later," he says with a throaty purr. Oh shit, I feel myself getting immensely hard from the promise in his voice. So much like my Viggo... I drive home as fast as I can, my nerves burning from the fantasies of my Viggo now filling my head. I try to squelch them, but they won't stop, so I decide to give in and have a nice long wank when I get home. I immediately run upstairs and strip. God, my body is just screaming right now, so I grab my toy from a box I keep under the bed. I also grab some silicone lube and a condom out of the nightstand before I hop into the shower. Just using my hand wasn't doing enough for me; so shortly after I arrived in New Zealand, I bought this waterproof vibrator. Unfortunately, the only design that came close to Viggo's thickness only came in jelly rubber, so condoms are a must when I use this toy. I turn on the taps, letting the hot water soak into my skin before I unroll the condom onto the vibrator. I close my eyes and start stroking my neck, thinking of my Viggo. He loved to caress my neck, splaying his big fingers over it...mmmm. I skim my hands lower, circling and pinching my nipples, letting the hot water pounding against my body remind me of Viggo's mouth, licking and sucking...oh god... I want his hot cock now. I grab the lube and squeeze some onto my fingers. I make small noises as I ease them in, remembering how careful Viggo was during our last night together, and the look in his eyes as he made me gasp. After I open myself up, I lube up the vibrator. I whimper softly as I tease my entrance with it. Viggo loved to do that, rub his hard cock around until I begged him... "Oh god, fuck me," I whisper as I ease the toy in. I arch back...oh, so good...he's filling me so much now. I start stroking my cock before I flick it on, moaning loudly as small shocks begin shooting through my body, remembering how Viggo's cock used to make me tingle inside as he fucked me hard, driving himself deep into me and making me tremble...oh god, yes...the cobalt blue eyes above me fade into grey-green. Stop that...I try to re-picture Viggo's clean-shaven face, but it quickly fades into one covered with stubble. "Viggo!" I scream as I come, and I'm not sure which one I'm talking about. **** Weeks go by, and it's hard not to stare at Viggo, to watch him. I really shouldn't be doing this, but like a moth to a flame, I can't help feeling being drawn to him. I have to keep telling myself over and over that he's not my love, and that it's just loneliness talking. Strangely enough, even though we keep needling each other and wrestling quite a bit, he never initiates anything else, which is fine by me. I'm confused enough as is. We're filming a scene in Edoras today, and I'm muttering to myself in Elvish when Viggo approaches me. "Don't worry about it, you'll do fine," he murmurs, noticing how nervous I look. Yeah, but I have to touch your hand and look into your eyes for this scene. "I guess..." "Places, people!" Peter calls. I line up on my mark. "Action!" Viggo walks on. "Le abdollen", I say before I look him over. "You look terrible." He laughs, and his face lights up so much that my heart skips a beat. Bugger, come on, Orli, you can do this. Grab his hand, don't think about how nice it feels, and put the Evenstar into his palm. Okay, good. He looks deep into my eyes and I feel my heart skip a beat. Shit. Focus, damnit. He grabs my shoulder and squeezes it. While I'm looking at him, Viggo suddenly drags me against his body and kisses me fiercely, his tongue possessively wrapping around mine. On instinct, I respond, melting into him. Tingles shoot up my spine when Viggo's hand reaches around to grab my arse. Fuck! I think I just made a small moan. "Cut!" Peter shouts, his voice bringing me back to reality. I feel Viggo pulling back, and he ends the kiss with a tiny nip to my lower lip. He grins at me, his eyes completely alight with mischief. I'm completely stunned, and I don't realize that my jaw is hanging open until he pushes it closed and says quietly, "I told you we'd finish this." The crew is hooting and making catcalls. I hear one of the female crewmembers saying, "If anyone wants a copy of that take, it'll be ten dollars." I come back to my senses and I growl, "Filthy human!" before I try to grab him. He darts out of the way, and I start chasing him around, even though Diana is shrieking, "MIND THE WIGS, DAMNIT!" Before I can catch him, Peter restores some semblance of order. Since we're a bit ahead of schedule today, he actually doesn't say anything to us. However, the rest of the crew has quite a few saucy comments. Although I do get tweaked a bit, no one mentions the moan, thank god, which probably means that they didn't hear it. What's odd is that Viggo doesn't mention it either. The second take goes without incident, and we have tomorrow off, so that'll give everyone time to settle down. Early in the morning, though, Viggo calls me up and says, "Let's go camping, elf boy." "Um, what?" Did I hear him right? "It's my peace offering. Just one night and one day. Unless you'd rather do something else?" I should turn him down, but instead, I say, "N-no. Camping's fine." "I'll be by to pick you up." Shit! I just realized..."I don't have anything on me." "Don't worry, I've got it covered." Damnit, Viggo, I wish you wouldn't. "All right, see you in a bit, then. Bye." "Bye." He arrives in record time, and I hop into his car. As usual, Viggo has no plans as to where he's going, so he just drives until we reach a spot in the middle of nowhere that he likes. It's dark by the time we find it, so he rolls out sleeping bags for the two of us, and starts a fire, refusing to let me help. He brought a cooler, so I crack it open and help myself to his beer. When he's done, we both settle down, eat, have more drinks, and chat. It's a clear night, and I can see the stars shining above us. I lie back on my sleeping bag after we're done and let out a gusty sigh. Viggo's looking at me with that intense gaze of his. I smile at him. "I used to dream about drifting weightless in the sky with the stars. I would float around, and the stars never got bigger, they were just these little pinpoints of light. If I drifted close enough I could catch one and just hold it in my hand, watching it as it glittered in my palm," I say dreamily. He sits down close to me and murmurs softly, "Didn't know you were such a romantic." "I'm full of surprises, old man." I say, laughing. I turn onto my side to look at him. Viggo shifts and settles down on his side, about a hair's breath from my body, facing me. "Yes, you are," he whispers. I sigh. His scent curls around me, smoky and with a hint of something exotic. The crackling fire causes his eyes to gleam with a feral light. His eyes are burning into mine, and I feel my cock getting hard in response. Shit, no. I quickly roll away and sit up. "'Scuse me, gotta take a piss. Beer's running right through me." I duck into the forest, needing some air. He's not your Viggo, you pillock. Remember that. Stop lusting after him. I wait a bit and then come back to camp, hoping that he's gone to sleep. Thankfully, he's dozed off, so I strip down to my briefs and my t-shirt before I crawl into my sleeping bag. In the middle of the night, I'm awakening by Viggo. He's thrashing around in his bag, and moaning loudly, as if he's fighting something. "Viggo!" I say firmly. He doesn't hear me. I unzip my bag and lean over to shake him. "Viggo, wake up!" His eyes are wild as he looks at me. "Viggo, it's me, Orlando," I say firmly. His eyes clear and he shakes his head. "What?" he says, confused. "You were having a nightmare." He tries to focus on me. Oh fuck, he's trembling. I unzip my sleeping bag and his. Before he can protest, I crawl into his bag and wrap my arms around his large body. "Want to talk?" I murmur softly. "Oh god, I dreamt of graves, Orlando. I was in lying in a graveyard and I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was dying." Oh shit. I murmur softly, "Do you remember anything about a fire?" He shakes his head mutely. Fuck, what a daft question to ask, Orlando. Viggo's still shaking, so I start to rock back and forth, holding him close. It's been so long since I've held anyone this intimately, and I've missed it. Before I know it, I'm singing a soft lullaby to him. Viggo starts relaxing, and eventually his breathing evens out. I zip the bag around us and fall asleep wrapped around him. My dreams are pleasant in contrast. I see my Viggo smiling at me. We're twining our arms around each other and kissing passionately, tasting and teasing each other. He eventually pushes me onto my back and I groan as he caresses my naked body. I can feel his cock pushing into me..."Orlando?" That's not quite Viggo's voice. Wonder why he's calling? That thought fades as he slides in. Oh god, and he's thrusting inside of me..."Orlando, wake up!" Viggo's face dissolves and fades to black. I groggily wake up to see Viggo Mortensen's face above me. He says quietly, "You were whimpering in your sleep. Are you all right?" "Yes..." I say huskily, looking deep into those beautiful, soft grey eyes. He runs his thumb over my cheek, "Orli..." he says, his voice thick, "I heard you moan yesterday." I blush furiously, and he pulls my face closer. "I'd like to hear it again," he purrs. His lips, so close to mine now. My body is still tingling from my dream. The distance between our faces is closing, and I still remember how good it felt to kiss him. Our lips start brushing against each other... "No!" I yell as I push Viggo away. "What's wrong, Orlando?" "Fuck, I can't, all right? I just can't." I go back to my own bag and drag it as far away from Viggo's bag as possible. I can't get back to sleep, so I wind up just sitting out by myself until morning breaks. Viggo decides to go back early, and we pack up in silence. God fucking damnit. Why can't I have _normal_ problems for once? *** Fortunately, Viggo doesn't hold it against me, and I'm content to leave it that way. Our friendly teasing stops being physical and just regresses back to verbal stuff. Even if it didn't, I think our tackling would have stopped soon after we started these sodding night shoots. Today's yet another day in hell. Ugh. We're on month two and three quarters, and this is just getting to me. I'm freezing my arse off, and I've been living like a vampire for what seems like ages. The other elves look just as miserable as I do. They're bouncing up and down to keep warm. I shiver under my blanket and sip my coffee. Viggo comes up and drapes his cloak around me. "You'll hurt your back if you stiffen up too much," he says quietly. I try to move and I wince. "Too late. Fuck, this hurts. I think the shield surfing killed me." Viggo starts massaging my back lightly. I try to edge away, but it feels too good. I finally give up and relax into it. Far too soon, Peter calls us, and we slog through our takes. It's freezing and wet, and by the time we're done, I'm hobbling a bit. Viggo says, "Let me work out those knots, Orli. You'll get a serious injury otherwise, and we still have more scenes to do." I nod dumbly and we go back to my house after I get out of costuming. I shake a bit as I stretch out on the couch. Viggo doesn't say anything; he just starts working on my back through my t-shirt. His fingers are wonderful, and I soon feel all of the knots disappearing. Fuck, I feel like such a cad for being so snarky around him. I sit up. "I'm sorry, Viggo. I've been a total bastard to you." He opens his mouth to say something, but I shush him. I smile weakly. "I don't know how to begin... Every time I look at you, I keep thinking that you're him. You talk like him, you look like him, you even act a bit like him. But I know that you're not my Viggo. And I've been subconsciously holding that against you." Viggo smiles warmly and hugs me. As I press my head to his chest, I tell him about my Viggo. When I finish, he says, "May I see his last painting?" I nod, and lead him up to the bedroom. He spots the poster immediately, and studies it, completely enraptured. After he's done, he hugs me close, "I can see that he loved you very much." I don't know why, but I whisper, "Please read the poem." And he does. I close my eyes, and I can picture my love reciting it as we cuddle under the moonlight. It reminds me too painfully of how much I miss him. Tears start flowing out, and I start sobbing, pressing my face into Viggo's shirt. Viggo holds me while I bawl, stroking my hair and murmuring softly to me. I finally get a hold of myself and I peel my face off his chest to look into his eyes. He reaches up to tenderly brush the tears from my cheeks. I can't help myself. I close the distance between us and press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. Oh. Fuck. I feel a jolt between us. Every nerve inside me came alive as soon as we touched lips. I pull back, but Viggo yanks me forcefully against him and starts kissing me hungrily. My body immediately starts singing as his mouth devours mine. I should push him away, but it's been too long since I've had any intimate contact, and the punishing hours spent at Helm's Deep have battered down my resistance. A small voice tells me to stop, but I ignore it, letting the sensations wash over me, instead. I open my mouth to him, greedily taking what he has to offer. Viggo's tongue plunges deep into my mouth, and he grabs my arse and pulls me against him. Oh god, the heat from his body is scorching, and I let out a needy moan as I feel his hard cock rubbing against mine. Viggo rains kisses across my face and then works his way down to my neck, sucking greedily at the hollow. I arch against him and whimper, wanting more. He pulls my t-shirt off and his lips swoop down to surround one of my nipples. I moan as his hot mouth envelops it, his tongue swirling around and teasing it into a stiff peak. I wrap my fingers in his long hair and push his face against my chest, feeling his hot breath ghost over my wet flesh. My fingers tremble as I unbutton his shirt, running my hands along the warm planes of muscle. Viggo's hand skims over my stomach, and he cups me through my jeans, his thumb rubbing across the head of my cock. I can feel him even through the thick material, and my eyes flutter shut as I push my crotch forward into his hand. He pushes me back onto the bed. He unbuttons the top button of my jeans and kisses the skin just underneath. Oh god, need him, want more...he slowly unzips me, pushing my briefs down at a tortuous pace and kissing each new patch of fuzz that gets revealed. I whimper softly; god, he's got me completely shaking. He drags my jeans and briefs off and pulls off the rest of his own clothes. His eyes are completely feral, and I tremble a bit as he rakes his gaze over my body. He drops down between my legs and takes a long, slow lick up the side of my cock. I groan, and he presses tiny kisses along my cock, making me shake. Once he has me writhing, he grabs my erection firmly and starts swirling his tongue over the head. I thrust up, crying out. It's been too long... Viggo takes my signal and envelops my cock with his mouth. Fuck! So much wet heat, surrounding me, taking me deeper...deeper. Oh god, I'm hitting the back of his throat, and now he's sucking me...oh yes, feels so good...but I need more. That familiar sweet ache fills my body. "Vig?" I say thickly. He looks up with my cock still in his mouth, his grey eyes blazing with lust. The raw hunger in his eyes makes me quiver again. "Fuck me." He reluctantly releases my cock, and I shiver as the cold air hits it. I reach into the nightstand and pull out a condom and some lube. He takes the lube from me and coats his fingers. He gently eases one into me, making me groan. I push down eagerly on his finger, wanting more. He adds a second, carefully stretching me, looking deep into my eyes for any sign of discomfort. As he scissors his fingers gently inside of me, I start squirming. He pulls his fingers back a bit and curls them, brushing my sweet spot. I let out a gasp and spasm slightly. Fuck, it has definitely been too long for me. He continues to corkscrew his fingers, keeping his touch light, making my entire body scream for more. "Christ..." I pant out, "Vig...fuck me, now!" I spread my legs wider and squirm underneath him. I need to feel him, need to have him so badly. His eyes are blazing as he rolls the condom on and lubes himself up. He positions himself at my entrance and starts sliding in. Oh god...he's so hot...we both let out loud moans as he enters me. He tries to pause midway, but I grab his hips and push myself fully onto his cock, hissing as he hits bottom. "Viggo..." I sigh as he fills me completely, his cock so hard that I can feel it throbbing inside me. "God, Orli, you're so tight..." he breathes. He begins to thrust slowly inside of me, sending sparks dancing through my body. Oh god, I wanted this so much. I start gasping as he sets a steady rhythm, filling me with every stroke. So good...oh god, I feel like I'm melting inside. I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him faster, curling my body upward so that I can suck on the hollow of his sweat-slick neck. Viggo groans and picks up the pace, thrusting hard into me. He leans down to kiss me, his tongue stabbing into my mouth at the same speed as his cock. I start crying out loudly now...god, he feels so good, so hot inside of me...I feel my body shaking and I whimper as he brings me closer... Viggo tears his mouth off of mine and husks, "Come for me." He reaches down to grab my dripping cock, stroking it hard. His voice is enough to send me over the edge and I scream loudly and clamp down on him as I climax, coating his hand with hot liquid. He shakes above me, and his thrusts start growing ragged. I push upward and give his cock a hard squeeze with my internal muscles. Viggo moans sweetly and convulses above me; I mewl as I feel his cock pulsing inside of me, feeling the surge of heat as he comes. He slumps down, panting. I'm extremely groggy now, and I just lie there limply as he pulls out, disposes of the condom, and cleans us off. He returns to bed and pulls me close so that we can cuddle, and I fall into an easy sleep. **** It's late afternoon when I wake up. God, this is so disorienting... Fuck! Viggo's in bed with me, naked. So I did shag him this morning. Shit, I can't believe I just cheated on my love so easily. You are a complete fucking wanker, Bloom. You can't even keep your dick in your trousers for what, two years? You knew that it was going to be at least an eighteen-year wait. You knew that he was going to come back, and you did it anyway. Oh fuck, Viggo's awake, and he's looking at me with those beautiful eyes. "Afternoon," he murmurs, his voice sexy as all hell. He reaches up to touch my cheek, and he strokes it gently, causing an ache to fill my body again. His hand descends lower, caressing my jaw. I look deep into his eyes...oh god, I know that look. He's in love with me. I grab his hand. "Viggo...please stop." "What's the matter, Orli?" I roll away. "I'm sorry...I...I can't do this. This morning was a mistake. I was just feeling so lonely, I miss him so much..." Viggo wraps himself around me, hugging me. His naked body is causing my nerves to go haywire. "There's nothing to feel guilty about Orli, you're too beautiful to remain in mourning forever." "It's not like that, Viggo..." "Hush. You're still young. And I l..." "No! Don't say it! Fuck, Viggo, you don't understand. Just leave me alone!" He stiffens up, and his eyes turn to ice. "Fine, elf boy," he grinds out. He gets up, puts his clothes on and leaves. ----- end part 9 Author's Name: Lostiawen Fic Title: Destiny's Hands (10/10) Email: changeling@planetx.org Rating: NC-17 Pairing: VM/OB Genre: RPS Archive: CIB, Lirimaer, Mirrormere, Aniron. All others please ask, I'll surely say yes. Feedback: Yes, please. Summary: The mystery of Viggo revealed. Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. Warnings : These are warnings for the whole fic - AU, romance, sap, some angst, creepiness. Author's Notes: Dedicated to those who have lost a loved one. Thanks to Linda, who's chatty Orli in "Pure Love" and "Infinite Love" was such an inspiration for my Orli. Well, this is the final chapter. I thank everyone who's stuck with this story and sent me feedback and support. I was really unsure as to how this one would fly and I'm glad that I received so many positive responses. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. And I am again sorry for the delay. It's Viggo's fault this time. Posted July 13, 2003 ***** I wince as I hear the door slam behind Viggo. Fuck, what do I do now? I should get out, maybe have a walk on the beach. That should clear my head. Clothes? Ah, here they are. Open the door, you arse... mmm, the air smells crisp. I trot out, enjoying the brisk wind. The beach is only a stone's throw away from my house, and I trot over to it quickly. Once I'm there, I just start wandering up and down the shoreline. Fuck, why did you do this, Orli? You wanker...cunt...twat. Okay, this is not working...try something else. I kick off my shoes, and stand in the cold water until I'm numb, trying to forget my worries. But that same question keeps burning in my mind, and I still can't answer myself. Shit, the sun's dipping right now. I would really, really love to skip work today, but I can't. Crap. Well, hop in the shower and get ready, Bloom. My stomach's flipping about as I slink into the Cuntebago. God, I hope that Viggo's done already...shit. He's sitting in his chair and he looks up at me when I come in. His face is completely impassive, but I can see the pain in his eyes. I flop into my chair, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "Evening, Orlando," Viggo says, but I can tell that he's straining to be polite. "Evening," I say, trying to keep my voice from cracking. My stomach is now clenching and doing some impressive tumbles. Fuck, Viggo, if only you knew...but I can't tell anyone. We get made up in silence, and Viggo leaves early instead of staying to chat with me until I'm done. Trudging over to Helm's Deep just intensifies my shitty mood, and I feel about as bleak and hopeless as possible. Shit, my eyes are misting over. Stop that. Right now. Stop. It. Good. When I get on set, Peter looks me over and says, "Orlando, your eyes are bloodshot. What's the matter?" Bugger. Well, time to cover my arse. "Um, maybe it's the contacts, Peter. I'll be okay." "I don't want you getting an eye infection. Take them out." A gopher fetches the case and I pop my contacts out. Diana puts cool compresses on my eyes until they go back to looking normal. She's frowning, and I'm betting that she suspects that something happened between Viggo and me. "If you ever need to talk, Orli..." she starts. "I'm fine, Diana. Honest. Just feeling a touch of the flu today," I lie. She shoots me another frown, but decides to leave me alone. Peter's calling for me, and I drag myself over to my mark. The rest of the night is pretty arduous. I wind up blowing a lot of takes, which I'm sure narked off a bunch of people. Normally, Viggo would come by and comfort me, but he's keeping his distance. I'm fine with it, though, because I really don't want to talk to him right now. Other than giving me the cold shoulder, Viggo appears to be calm and collected once the camera rolls, and I just shake my head. I wish I could lose myself into Legolas half as easily. I can't believe how much of a complete professional he is; he's smashingly unaffected by our problems with each other. In the middle of the night, that illusion gets shattered. We're shooting a scene where Aragorn is fighting through a swath of Uruk-Hai; suddenly one of the stuntmen screeches aloud in pain. Peter yells, "Cut! Medic!" Oh shit, looks like Viggo hit him across the face harder than usual. He's got a nasty gash, and it's bleeding. Viggo's apologizing profusely, and he's trying to help as best as he can without interfering with the medic. Shitshitshit. I'm sure that he's not concentrating because of me. Fuck. And I was so occupied with my feelings that I didn't think about his. Did you have to overreact and throw him out of your house like that, you thick bastard? I catch Viggo's eye and motion him aside. He glares at me in response. Okay, we're going to have to do this the hard way. It doesn't help that I'm getting flashbacks of when I tried to deal with Stuart. Peter eventually calls a break and I corner Viggo on his way to the coffee pot. "We need to talk," I say firmly. "Orlando, you've made it very apparent that we have nothing to talk about," he says, looking at me with contempt. Gah! "Fine, be that way," I bite back before I storm off. Later in the night, in order to avoid exploding, I wind up channeling my anger into the battle. I notice Viggo doing the same, although he's more careful this time. However, the stuntmen have some impressive bruises when dawn breaks, and he offers to buy all of them a round of beer to make up for it. Fortunately, tonight was the last night where we had to shoot scenes together at Helm's Deep. We spend the rest of the month filming separately, much to our relief. Things still remain tense in the Cuntebago, but we deal with it stoically. When we wrap on the last morning, a ragged cheer goes up from everyone. Well, everyone except Viggo and myself, because now we have to work closely with each other again. After a day off to resync our sleep schedules, we're back to shooting days. I'm glad to see Bean again, though, because he provides a nice buffer between us. I generally let Sean and Viggo do most of the talking while we're getting made up, and I only chime in when Sean directly asks me a question. The hobbits notice that I seem down most of the time, so they drag me off to the pub constantly, trying to cheer me up. It doesn't work, and eventually they pester me with questions. I just wave them off, because I really don't want to talk about it. One day, though, Bean pulls me aside. "What is going on between you two?" he hisses. I rub a hand over my forehead. Fuck, smudged my make-up. "It's complicated..." "Orli, he looks like shite every morning and the two of you rarely talk anymore. It's more than just 'complicated.'" "I can't talk about it, okay? And I need to go find Diana for a touch-up." Bean glares at me. "That can wait. The two of you had better settle whatever it is soon. I'm tired of being caught in the middle." "Tell Viggo to stop being a twat." He draws himself up to his full height and looks at me menacingly. Shit, I forgot how scary he can be if he puts his mind to it. He says, "No, Orli, the two of you will talk. I don't appreciate getting an ulcer every time I have to sit in the Cuntebago. And you may not have noticed, but the two of you are affecting everyone else. Settle it now, or I'll kick your skinny arse so hard that you'll need major surgery to remove my foot from your throat." I squeak, "All right." "Good boy," he says with an evil grin. "I'll have a chat with Vig later to tell him the same thing." I glare at Sean. "But what if he still says no?" Bean smiles a not very nice smile, "I'm sure that I can change his mind." *** Shit, I don't know what Bean did, but Viggo plops down next to me at lunch and mumbles that we should talk. He really doesn't look happy about it, and now my curiosity is killing me. Still, we should clear our shit out first, so I offer to meet him by the water cooler after we're done for the day. He agrees, and I somehow manage to not fluff my lines for the rest of the afternoon, even though I'm dreading our conversation. After I'm out of make-up, I wander over to the cooler. No Viggo. Must have had to talk to Peter about something. Soon enough, I see him approaching, and my stomach starts fluttering. When he pulls up close to me, I shuffle my feet a bit and we just stare at each other. Then we silently sit down on the grass together. Time passes, and neither of us is saying anything. I idly pick some of the leftover glue off my ears, and crane my neck around, hoping for some sort of last minute salvation. Oh fuck this...I started this mess, so I may as well start apologizing, "Viggo, I..." His eyes blaze as he says, "Don't play games with me, Orlando! I'm too old for this. If you don't want to sleep with me anymore, fine, but don't jerk me around." I cringe, but I deserved that. "I'm not jerking you around, damnit! It's just..." "What?" I grit my teeth. God fucking damnit. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I just can't. I'm sorry that I was such a rotter to you, but you'll never believe the real reason for why I acted the way I did." Viggo looks deep into my eyes and immediately calms down. He says patiently, "Please. No matter how ridiculous it sounds." I can't...shit, he needs to know something, Orli. How do I do this without having Viggo send for the men in the white coats? I lie back and close my eyes; may as well start and see what I can come up with. "He's not really dead." "I thought so," Viggo says softly. "What??" I jerk upright to glare at him. "Orlando, I've been over to your house and I thought it was odd that you didn't have any pictures of him at all. And you occasionally talk about your Viggo as if he's still alive." "Bugger." Great, who else knows? "Don't worry, you weren't being that obvious. I've just been studying you very closely," he says a bit sheepishly. I flop back onto the grass again. Unfortunately, now I have to embellish the truth a bit. "He's actually extremely camera shy. That's why I don't have any photos of him. This will sound weird, but...he went missing one day. He disappeared without a trace. No sign of foul play, nothing. The police have lost interest a ways back but I keep hoping that he'll miraculously return someday." "Then why tell people that he's dead?" "It avoids awkward questions." "Are you sure that's it, Orli?" I want to tell him yes, but something in his gaze tells me that I should think it over. I inhale slowly and close my eyes, taking time to sort through my feelings. No, Viggo's right. I've been denying it. I know bloody why I answer the way I do. I say in a small voice, "No. I tell people that my Viggo's dead because I've lost hope. Because I'm not strong enough to stand what may be decades of celibacy. I used to shag everything that moved, old man. I thought I changed when I met him, but that proved to be a laugh." Viggo says quietly, "Have you been attracted to anyone besides me?" I open my eyes to look at him. "No." "And why's that?" "Uh...because you're a lot like him." "Maybe it's a sign, Orli." I start biting my nails. "I...don't know. I'm not sure anymore." Viggo looks at me intensely. "Then I'll wait for you until you're ready." "Really?" "Yes. I don't want to lose you as a friend, elf boy," he says, edging closer so that he can put his hand over mine. Shit, that was a mistake. I feel the electricity immediately crackling between us and I automatically reach up to caress his jaw. Viggo rolls on top of me and kisses me hard enough to bruise my lips. I whimper and melt underneath him while my body goes completely haywire. He bites my neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and I moan loudly. God, I've got a raging hard-on now, and I arch against him, craving more. He suddenly rolls off of me, breaking my erotic haze. "We can't..." he says breathlessly. Cautiously, we scoot away from each other. My heart's pounding like a jackhammer, and I'm sure that Viggo's is, too. I glance down and see that he's got an impressively large bulge in his jeans. Before I can stop myself, I lick my lips. Viggo groans and says, "I can't do this alone, Orli. You're too fucking addicting." I say thickly, "So are you..." I feel so tempted to touch his cock, to trace it with my fingers. Fuck. Don't think about it, concentrate on keeping your distance... I push myself a little further away before I fumble in my pocket for a fag. It takes a while, but I finally dig it out and light it up. It actually takes me several tries, because my hands are shaking. After I take my first drag, I can feel myself easing up a bit. I hold out the packet, and Viggo pulls one out for himself. I toss him my lighter, and the two of us just lie back, smoking peacefully. "So much for me quitting," I say. "We're just replacing one addiction with another," Viggo says with a laugh. "Great. With your shaggeable presence around, I'll need to take up drinking heavily again to keep my hands off you." Viggo laughs louder. "Shaggeable?" "Sod off." Hmmm...I get up and take another drag. Viggo's not paying attention to me. Good. I wander closer to the cooler. I swiftly grab a half-empty cup of water that someone left around and throw the contents over his head. While he's sputtering, I blow a raspberry at him and dash off. "Come back here, elf boy!" he yells as he runs after me. I lead him on a merry chase around the set. He almost catches me, but Peter spots us in time and very calmly requests that we go somewhere else to play. Oh, about two months later, Viggo told me what Bean did to him. Apparently, Sean tackled him out by the stables and held him over a gigantic pile of horse shit until he promised to set up a meeting with me. Of course, I had to insult the old man after he was done, and he wrestled me to the ground. Surprisingly, we both managed to keep our gonads in check, so nothing more happened. I can see the love in his eyes, but I think we've both accepted now that we can only be friends. Everyone seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief when we get back to rough housing with each other. Things are now back as normal as they can be with a big production involving elves, hobbits, dwarves, and orcs. *** Viggo's sipping at his coffee between takes today. I walk up and playfully bat at his wig. "Looks like you're going to get a long overdue bath today, filthy human," I smirk. Viggo smiles at me. "At least the river doesn't have to be thawed. I felt very sorry for Andy when he had to do those shots." "Well, it's still going to be cold as a witch's tit, so I brought you something," I say, showing him my hip flask. "I filled it with that sorry Yank excuse for scotch you like to drink." Viggo's eyes light up. "You're a wonder, Orli." I grin. "Now remember, no alcohol until after you're done." "Yes, Mom." I stick my tongue out at him. Peter calls him just then. He gets into the raft with a couple of crewmembers. They paddle out to the middle of the river and then they hold him by the shoulders while he gets in. They keep a firm grip on him while he lies back and goes into a dead man's float. Once Peter gives the signal, they let him go. Shit, that river current is going pretty fast, and he just shoots by the camera. My heart skips a beat when I see him disappearing below an embankment. We wait for him to come back up, but we don't see him. After a minute, Peter yells, "Get the rescue teams!" They rush in and try to locate him. One of them shouts out, "He's wedged under something, we need the divers!" Oh no, no no no...Viggo's been under for far too long. The divers go down and haul him out of the river. Oh god, he's so still. "Viggo!" I scream. And it hits me then that I've fallen in love with him, much as I tried to avoid it. Great time to be realizing this, Orli. "He's not breathing!" One of the divers says frantically. The medics rush in and start giving him mouth to mouth. I get as close as they will allow me, but they hold me back. After many tense moments, he stirs, and he starts violently coughing. I push forward and clasp him to my chest. "Fuck, don't scare me like that, old man," I say, tears stinging my eyes. "Angel?" he says hoarsely. My heart almost stops. I must have heard him wrong. He pushes off my chest and locks his eyes with mine. They're a pure, cobalt blue. I start feeling dizzy. This can't be happening... "Orlando, are you all right?" Peter asks. "You're looking pale." "Uhm..." God, I can't think... "He'll be fine," I hear Viggo saying, snapping me back to reality. Wha? His eyes are back to normal. What the fuck? Viggo starts getting up, but Peter says, "I want the medics to give you a once over, Viggo, and then you're going home." Viggo is about to open his mouth and protest when Peter cuts him off. "No, Viggo, you're going home." I look at Peter with my best puppy dog eyes. "Can I drive him back?" Peter says, "You can have the rest of the day off, Orlando." My jaw is hanging open. Peter sidles closer to me and says quietly, "Go home and take care of Viggo, it's all right." I gulp, "Thanks, man." He smiles and pats me on the back. By the time I'm out of make-up, Viggo's patiently waiting for me outside of the Cuntebago. "Let's go," I say. He nods and follows me. He doesn't seem to be interested in talking, but I don't think I could carry on a decent conversation right now. I gawp at him all the way to the car park and I continue doing it when he gets into my car. I must have imagined things, because his eyes are still their usual grey-green color. Fuck. I turn to face him. "I'm sorry, Viggo. I thought..." He cuts me off by putting his arms around me and pressing his lips against mine. My head immediately starts spinning again as I recognize the familiar kiss. I open up to him, moaning as he steals my breath away and melts me inside; I lose myself in the feeling of his tongue wrapping around mine. As we break, his eyes are practically glowing a bright blue, and I feel my heart singing as I drown in a gaze that I haven't seen for over two years. Oh god, it is him...I feel tears forming and I don't try to hold them back. When I start blubbing, Viggo pulls me across the gear shift and cradles my head on his chest. "What happened?" I breathe. "You're back, but how..." "Let's go to your house so that we can talk," he says. I feel a thrill as the familiar inflections of his voice fill my ears. I practically break every traffic law speeding back to my place. Once we get there, I bounce up the driveway to my house, and then I practically rip the door off its hinges to get inside. Of course, Viggo takes his sweet time coming in, and I tap my foot impatiently while I wait for him. Bastard. We both sit down on the couch and I blurt out, "I want the whole story. Spill." Viggo puts his hands over mine and squeezes them. "Once I arrived into the afterlife, I tried for reincarnation, but something stopped me. I wasn't sure what it was, and I couldn't find the answer, so I spent my time watching over you, instead." I blush furiously. Shit, he probably knows that I shagged the other Viggo. He continues without saying anything about my embarrassment. "When Viggo Mortensen disappeared beneath the embankment, he started drowning. I saw his soul leave his body to hover in the spirit world. It looked like it was in distress, so I left the afterlife to see if I could help him." What the? "I thought you couldn't come back?" I ask. "Normally, you can't. The only reason why I could is because of the time I spent as a ghost. And there are limits. I can only go back to the spirit world--the journey is extremely difficult and draining, and I can't stay there for long periods. It's only something that I would do in an emergency." I look at my love. "But why do it for Viggo?" His face lights up with one of his beautiful smiles, "Because you both love each other. And since I couldn't return to you as a reincarnation, I wanted to make sure that someone else was there to take my place." "Oh," I say, blushing again. "I told him that I needed him to open himself to me." Viggo squeezes my hands again. "Once we touched each other, I found out that he had a piece of my soul in him." "What the fuck? He hasn't even been near London." Okay, the weirdness content in my life has just been multiplied by ten thousand. Viggo smiles gently at me. "Viggo actually stopped off at a London pub in 1978 while he was on a vacation. His flight was delayed, so he decided to spend the evening in town. "Unfortunately, he got quite drunk, and someone dared him to spend the night in a cemetery. He accepted, and after he passed out, a group of men wandered through and decided that he was an ideal target. They assaulted him, beat him to within an inch of his life, and left him for dead on top of my grave." "But that's just a coincidence isn't it?" "Not in this case. His soul was...dying, for lack of a better word. It couldn't sustain itself any longer and was fading into oblivion." I'm confused. "Shit, they really need a manual for this stuff." Viggo chuckles. "I'll see about getting one published, but I doubt it'll sell. The target audience has no money, after all." I stick my tongue out at him. "Cunt. Okay, so let me get this straight: the other Viggo's soul was going to fade out. Is that possible? I thought souls were eternal." "There's an exception to every rule, angel. I'm not exactly sure what causes a soul to die, but it does happen from time to time." "Is there any way to reverse it?" Viggo nods. "If a healthy soul fuses a small amount of itself to the waning one, the fading soul can be restored." "So you..." He nods again. But I'm also _really_ confused. "But your soul can't be in two places at once, can it? I mean, it can't be split apart, right?" "Angel, the principles that apply to your body don't apply to souls. Souls are actually very complex. Pieces of them can be separated from the original source and still function on their own." "So, the pieces are sort of like a cutting from a tree," I say. Viggo nods. "A small part of my soul remained with my body after I died, and you know what happened to the rest." "Are the pieces completely separate?" "No, there's a small, somewhat empathic connection between them. Each piece can sense any strong emotions emanating from the other, and they can feel each other's general presence." I go into the kitchen and fetch some water for Viggo, since he's been talking so much. After he has a sip, we continue. "I'm still confused, Viggo. How can you leave part of your soul with your body?" Viggo shrugs. "I don't have all of the answers, angel. It just happens." "So why didn't the old man remember me when he arrived in New Zealand? If he has a part of you, he should've recognized me and saved me a ton of embarrassment," I ask. Viggo starts belly laughing, so I club him with a pillow. "Shut up," I grump. He draws a shaky breath and kisses me gently. "I'm sorry, angel. But it was a priceless moment." I give him a quick peck. "All right, you're forgiven. Now answer my question." "The fusing process was extremely complicated, and I was too inexperienced at the time. Something went very wrong, so instead of donating a small amount, every bit of my soul that had been in the graveyard was forcibly joined with his. The resulting trauma scarred both of us." "Which is why Viggo doesn't recall visiting London..." "Yes, to keep its sanity, his mind blocked out anything associated with that night. All he remembers is passing through England. "I actually received the brunt of the damage. The part of me that was joined to Viggo Mortensen was subjected to a huge mental backlash. It burned out all of my memories, all of my experiences, everything except for my most basic traits. Fortunately, that piece of me managed to sever the connection to my ghostly self when the backlash started. It saved what remained of my soul from being irreparably harmed." I wince. "But the shock of being separated like that must have wiped that incident from your mind. Which is why I didn't see it when we shared everything." "Yes." "But you remember now." "Our memories were restored once we touched each other in the spirit world." I get the feeling that it probably wasn't that easy. I'm sure that he must have re-lived some of that pain. God, like he hasn't had enough already. That still doesn't explain why he's here, though. I'm not sure if I want to hear the answer. I swallow and ask, "Viggo...what happened between the two of you?" He looks a bit sad. "It turned out that the fusing was unstable. When the other Viggo drowned, the stress caused the bond to shatter, and his soul started to fade again. I tried to give him a little of myself again, but his soul was too damaged by the trauma from our forced joining to stabilize." My heart skips a beat. "What happened next?" Viggo says, "I managed to slow the fading down temporarily while I looked for a solution. He wanted me to let him go; he felt that he had received an unfair extension on life at my expense." I look at Viggo questioningly. He continues, "I examined the damage further and came up with a solution. He needed more that just a little bit of myself to avoid fading." "How much?" I ask, my mouth dry. "He needed all of me. And I made sure to do it right this time." I stare at him. "So...both of you are in there?" Viggo's eyes shift back to grey-green, and I hear Viggo Mortensen's voice saying, "Yes, we are, elf boy." I throw myself into his arms and kiss him soundly. He responds with a mix of raw intensity and tender love. My head is completely spinning as I feel him descending lower to plant little kisses along my jaw. I twine my fingers in his hair, and he swoops lower to suck on the hollow of my neck. I squirm happily in his grasp, feeling my nerves buzz out of control and feeling my skin heat up. While he's still nibbling on my neck, Viggo scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. I kiss every bit of his skin that I can get my lips on before he deposits me on the bed. He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb over it. "You're so beautiful, angel." I turn my head and kiss his palm, watching him shudder. Smirking, I gently trace lazy patterns with my tongue, enjoying the small moan he lets out. He gently pushes up my t-shirt, and runs his hands over my torso. "I missed touching you so much..." he purrs. "And I need you now," I say, yanking my t-shirt off. I quickly strip us both before I push him onto his back and straddle him. Fuck going slow this time, I want it fast and hard. My aggression seems to have the desired effect, because Viggo's cock is already hard, and I'm not far behind. Oh god, I want him _now_. I reach over into the nightstand and grab a condom and some lube. While I'm rolling the condom onto him, he grabs the lube and coats his fingers with it. He eases a finger in and I groan softly. I slick him up and whisper, "That's enough." Viggo can't really talk anymore and he nods mutely as I position myself over his erection. He grabs my hips, and I immediately sink down to take all of him in one stroke. "Christ!" I moan as I hit bottom, arching backward. Fuck, he's so hot inside of me. And I can't wait any longer. I start riding him hard, screaming and mewling as I impale myself on his cock, feeling each thrust in every square centimeter of my body. Viggo's thrashing underneath me, gripping my hips so hard that I'm sure he's going to leave bruises. He returns each of my fevered thrusts with one of his own, causing me to cry out further. I'm not particularly gentle. We've been apart for far too long, and I want to him to fuck me so hard that I'll be able to feel it afterward, to assure myself that he's real, that this is not some dream that I'll wake up from. At one point, he closes his eyes, and I say hoarsely, "Look at me, love." And he does, focusing those beautiful, intensely blue eyes on mine. God, I'll never get tired of the way he looks at me. I lean down to kiss him hungrily, sucking on his tongue and moaning loudly into his mouth as we frantically work towards release. Viggo tears his lips off mine and breathes, "I'm close..." In response, I start slamming into him and clamping down at the same time. He gives out a roar as he comes, lifting me off the bed as he arches up. I ride it out, squeezing him for all I'm worth, feeling the hot pulse of his cock inside of me. Viggo's eyes are still glazed as removes a hand from my hip and starts pumping my dick. I wail his name as I climax, spurting pearly liquid over the two of us. I collapse on top of him, the two of us still joined. Smiling, I press my ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I love you," he says. I look deep into his eyes and say, "I love you, too. Both of you." Viggo wraps his arms around me, and a small look of confusion hits his face as he tries to bury his nose into my hair and gets spiked by the mohawk. "Forgot about that..." he murmurs. I laugh. "Should've let the old man take over for this part." A thought just hits me. "Viggo, are the two of you going to keep shifting around like this? I mean, I can really tell who has the brain." "We will for now. However, we should gradually integrate over time." "Everyone's going to think you're seriously nutters." He shrugs. "They already think that Viggo's a little unstable. We'll just have to encourage that." I beam. "Brilliant idea. Erm...while we're on the topic, how in the fuck are you going to explain the new shade in your eye color? I mean, I've seen Viggo's eyes turn blue from time to time, but it's more of a greyish hue." "I won't. We'll just let them draw their own conclusions. Either that, or we can blame the lighting." "Hell, I'll tell them that you've been stealing my contacts," I say with a grin. He chuckles and just pulls me closer. We lie together for a bit, but Viggo eventually says, "I have to pull out." I groan softly as he does. Man, I miss him inside of me already. I hop out of bed and get something to clean us off while he disposes of the condom. We both return to bed and we snuggle under the sheets after I wipe us down. Shit, I'm still full of questions, but I'll limit myself to just one this time. "Um, something I was always wondering. Why does he look like you?" I say, twisting my hands nervously. Viggo chuckles. "He's always had a close resemblance to me. Maybe it was inevitable that the two of you would fall in love, also." I sigh as I rub my face against his chest hair. Another question flits into my head. So much for limiting myself. "Fuck, how are we going to explain this to Henry?" Viggo laughs. "Compared to what we had to go through to find each other again, I think that will be the easy part. Just trust that everything will work out." I kiss him and smile. Yes, it has worked out. We went through a lot, but it turned out in the end. I fall asleep in Viggo's arms, confident that my fate will forever be intertwined with these two men, and that we'll always find a way to be together. THE END