Title: Even Angels Fall: To Crash, To Burn Author: Jo Rating: NC17 Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen Summary: When fame is overwhelming, even angels fall. Warnings: this one isn't going to be pretty...there's going to be language, violence, drug/alcohol abuse, and angst up the wazoo. If that ain't your thing, hit the delete button now Author's Notes: Inspired by "Let Her Cry" by Hootie & The Blowfish, lyrics have been tweaked here. MAJOR thanks to Wendy for emotional support, beta work, and research on this thing. Takes place roughly 1-2 years in the future. For Wendy for her 'inspiration' in matters of dialogue and nosebleeds and for Carnaline for the vision of angelic demons Disclaimers: They're not mine, I don't own them, this didn't happen...well, it could have, but they didn't tell me about it...any resemblance to real life events is strictly coincidental and no implications should be drawn because this is a work of FICTION "You're brooding again, love." Orlando's softly spoken words snapped me out of my reverie and I looked up to find him standing beside my chair. His voice was rough, a little hoarse from sleep, and his hair was more tousled than usual, making my fingers itch to run through the dark strands. Unsure of what to say, I smiled faintly. He had wrapped a sheet around his body before coming to find me, leaving one shoulder and arm exposed. His bare feet peeked out from beneath the bottom edge of the ruby satin and I didn't have to look to know that his toes were curling into the carpet. All of his bruises were hidden. All save the faint purple mark marring that one perfectly formed cheekbone. "I didn't mean to wake you." He shrugged the bare shoulder, the movement graceful in its simplicity. "I don't sleep well when you're not in bed with me," he said, stepping around to stand in front of me. "You know that." "I'm sorry," I murmured as I reached out to catch his free hand and hold it lightly. He just shrugged once more and then smiled at me. That smile was so beautiful and dazzling that not even the memory of what had happened earlier could detract from my feelings for him. "Care to talk about it?" He asked as he sank into my lap. I closed my eyes and tried not to cringe at the fleeting expression of pain that crossed his face when he wiggled around to get comfortable. Finally settling down, he rested his head on my shoulder and sighed contentedly. "Talk about what?" I kissed the top of his head, burying my nose in his soft hair and inhaling deeply, the clean scent of the herbal shampoo he used infusing my senses. My arm instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him even closer as he shifted slightly. His body rested comfortably against mine and I was once again amazed at how right it felt to have him in my arms. A soft sigh and he tipped his head back to press a soft kiss on the underside of my jaw. "What you were thinking about," he said, returning his head to my shoulder, his hand creeping up to rest against my chest, his palm flat over my heart. He told me once that the slow, steady sound of my heartbeat comforted him at night, allowing him to sleep without fear of nightmares. "I was just thinking about that time in New Zealand." He laughed very softly and said, "Which time in New Zealand?" "The first time," I said quietly. "The night I showed you the Southern Cross." He grew still, his shoulders rigid under my arm and then he relaxed. Another soft laugh and his fingers toyed with the amulet around my neck. "I remember that night," he whispered. "That was the first time I ever got stoned and then all my dreams came true." "They did, huh?" I said and smiled as I pressed my cheek against his hair. He nodded and his fingers closed over my necklace. "They did. For months I had dreamed about you," he said, his thumb brushing over the amulet. "Dreamed you wanted me the way I wanted you, dreamed of you touching me and kissing me. But I was sure you thought I was just a child and that you were only putting up with me to be polite." "I never thought you were a child, angel," I said, wrapping both arms around him. "Ever. And I never put up with you to be polite. I wanted you to spend time with me, wanted you to be around me because I was head over heels in love with you." "I know that now. But then...then I wasn't so sure. And then that night," he murmured, "When you stopped me from leaving and kissed me and then made love to me.... I realized that you wanted me like I wanted you. Everything I had dreamed about came true then because of you." I closed my eyes and held him gently, mindful of the soreness in his body that I had put there. Long minutes passed before I spoke again. "We didn't actually make love that night," I said and he laughed, the sound musical in the darkness. "It was close enough for me," he said and I could hear the grin in his voice. Then he grew serious again. "A lot's happened since then." "Yes, it has," I said, ignoring the vague trickle of alarm that went through me at his words. "I love you, Viggo," he said suddenly and his voice sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I love you, too, Orlando," I said quietly, hugging him tightly and cradling his head against my chest. "Always, min elskling." We sat like that, not speaking, for a long time. He fell asleep, cuddled against my chest, his breathing soft and even, his fingers curled tightly around the amulet he had given me for my birthday. Even with him there in my arms, I couldn't stop brooding as I stared into the fire. + + + Christmas Eve, 1999 New Zealand Christmas in New Zealand was like nothing I had ever experienced. The seasons were reversed from what I was used to, so the holidays were right in the middle of summer. It wasn't easy getting into the Christmas spirit when everyone was running around in shorts and not much else during our off time. But Orlando had managed to do it. It had been close to two months since that night he arrived unannounced at my camp site. Two months of unbelievable happiness and bliss. It had taken him exactly three days to move his things into the house I was renting for the shoot and we had spent every possible minute together. It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out that there was something happening between us but the rest of the guys just accepted it and moved on with things. I was deeply grateful for that. I thought that Sean had a few reservations at first, but after spending time around us he seemed to get over all that. The house that we shared had been decorated for Christmas, compliments of the Orlando Bloom Interior Design Agency. I laughed the night that I walked in and discovered that, while I had spent the entire day on the set, he had been busy. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, fully trimmed, and decorations adorned the living room. He was determined that our first Christmas together be perfect. I didn't have the heart to tell him that being with him made it perfect for me without all the wrappings and trimmings and presents. The days passed in a blur and we were all so wrapped up in the movie that Christmas Eve arrived before we realized it. Peter, being Peter, wrapped up filming early that day and announced that we would have the next two days off to celebrate the holidays. That announcement was met with a very loud, very enthusiastic cheer. As everyone started to drift away to return wardrobe or remove hobbit feet or whatever it was they planned on doing in the next ten minutes, Orlando caught my arm. "Give me an hour before you come home," he said. "But --" "Please, Viggo?" How could I resist when he stood there like that, smiling and looking utterly charming in his elf ears and blond wig? "Very well," I said, giving him a quick kiss. "But not a minute more than hour, angel." He smiled brightly and flashed me a thumbs up as Sean grabbed my arm and started to haul me away. "You can stand to be out of his sight for an hour, old man," Sean said as he started to remove his sword harness. I just grinned at him and stuck my tongue out. I knew it was childish but I felt too good to care. Green eyes rolled in exasperation and Sean laughed. "You're helping him, aren't you?" Sean rolled his eyes again at the teasing accusation and dropped the harness and sword into the waiting hands of one of the prop handlers. He gave the sword hanging at my hip a pointed look and waited patiently as I handed it over to the girl, along with the various other weapons that were scattered about my body. "Why on earth do you think that I'm helping Orlando?" Sean asked as we turned our steps towards the wardrobe trailer, intent on getting out of our costumes and back into real clothes. Absently, I thought of how Sean had stopped calling him Orlando and reverted to calling him Orlando not long after it became obvious that Orlando and I were together. "Because he's plotting something and it's probably something that you'd take great delight in helping him pull off," I said. Sean shrugged. "I honestly don't have any idea what he's up to, Viggo. Orlando's got a mind of his own and he certainly doesn't seem too keen on discussing you with me." I glanced at him quickly but his back was to me. Opening my mouth, I started to say something and then stopped, shrugging it off and following him into the trailer. An hour later, I stood outside the front door of the house. "Orlando?" I called out, shutting the door behind me. "Angel?" No answer, but an inviting trail of clothes led across the living room floor and down the hall. Intrigued, I followed the garments and arrived at the bedroom door. With a soft laugh, I placed my hand against the wooden panel and paused for a moment. He was on the other side of that door and I could only imagine what was in store for me. He had managed to surprise me several times in the course of the relationship and I had no doubts he would continue to do so for a long time to come. "Orlando?" I called again softly as I pushed open the door. I froze and stared at the sight that greeted me. The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out every trace of sunlight and plunging the room into shadowed gloom. Fat candles circled the bed, their flames burning brightly and glistening off the new satin sheets that covered the mattress. And there, in the center of the bed, arms stretched over his head and wearing nothing but a sultry smile, lay Orlando. "I was kinda expecting a bow on my present at least," I said, grinning and leaning against the door. He just continued to smile at me as he slowly pulled his arms down and pressed a red bow to the center of his chest. "Well then," he said, sliding his hands behind his head, "Why don't you come unwrap your present, love?" I was surprised I didn't trip in my haste to get to the bed. I leaned down to kiss him as he sat up, my fingers easily removing the bow and tossing it aside. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling slightly, and then his mouth was touching mine and I forgot everything else. No matter when or how many times I kissed him, he always tasted of peppermint and smoke. The combined flavors had become an aphrodisiac for me and before he even pulled my t-shirt over my head I was hard, my erection straining painfully against my zipper. "You're beautiful," he said against my chest, his tongue darting out to flick against my nipple as his hands found the waistband of my shorts. A little pop as the button was released and then a muted burr as his fingers slid the metal tab down. Scant seconds later, my shorts followed my shirt and his hand was wrapped around me as we tumbled onto the bed together. Fingers explored, stroking and touching, and mouths traveled over firm skin, tasting the faint saltiness of the sweat that started to cover us both. I lost myself in the sensual delight that was Orlando, sighing as his mouth and hands traced the contours of my torso, gasping when his mouth closed around me, groaning in frustration minutes later when he stopped and slid up my body. "Make love to me," he whispered, white teeth nipping sharply at my bottom lip. He pushed his hips against mine and the temperature in the room rose by a good ten degrees. I struggled to put together a coherent sentence, unable to think straight with his body covering mine. "I thought that's what we were doing," I managed to say in a ragged voice. He smiled faintly and cupped my face with his hands, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips before answering me. "No, Viggo," he said, his voice soft, his dark eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them. "I want you to really make love to me." I stared at him for a minute, not quite comprehending what he meant. And then it hit me. Since that first night, we had done plenty of experimenting, satisfying each other using mouth and hand but never taking that final step. We had talked about it and we both wanted it eventually. I knew he was a virgin in that area and he had made it very plain that he wanted me to be his first. The thought both thrilled and terrified me. He wanted to give me that gift and he trusted me enough to not hurt him. I had never lied to him about my past. I had been with men before him, both giving and receiving. But with him, I had been content with what we had been doing, not wanting to rush anything. We both knew it was a huge step and, once done, it couldn't be taken back. That he was nervous about it had been obvious. The act itself is so intimate, if he hadn't been nervous I would have worried more. As it was, I worried plenty about how I would react when he finally decided he was ready. And then I was faced with that decision and all I could think about was the way his hips were undulating against mine. "Orlando...angel, are you sure?" I asked. I was surprised that I managed to get the words out. His skin felt like raw silk under my fingertips as I slid my hands down his sides to grasp his hips. Holding him still, I drew in a deep, shuddering breath. That breath was sucked right back out of my lungs by the fiery kiss he bestowed on me. His hands, still cupping my face, moved up to tangle in my hair, his long fingers anchoring themselves securely so I couldn't pull away. Even without that, I wouldn't have moved. I enjoyed kissing him too much. His tongue sought mine out aggressively, the kiss hard enough to bruise both our mouths. The whole time, he held his body perfectly still on top of mine. I could feel his erection pressing against my lower abdomen, the heat of it searing my bare skin. When he finally pulled back, I couldn't tell which of us was breathing harder. "I'm more sure than I've ever been in my life." His dark eyes bored into mine and his thumbs brushed across my temples. "I want this. I want you. Make me yours, Viggo...please." I could deny him nothing. I had known that from the first moment I saw him and he walked over and said "Hello, I'm Orlando Bloom." I knew I couldn't deny him this. Nor did I want to. How could I say no to the very thing I wanted with every fiber of my being? I couldn't. I let his hips go and slid my hands up his forearms so my fingers could loosely encircle his wrists. Holding his eyes with mine, I kissed him lightly and smiled. His eyes sparkled in return and that gorgeous mouth curved upwards, his dimples appearing in a flash. Without speaking, he released his hold on my hair and rolled off me, sprawling on his back and pulling me with him. I propped myself up on one elbow, my body half covering his, our legs tangled together. He laid quietly beneath me, his body fairly quivering with anticipation and a touch of fear. He knew it would hurt at first. But he also knew that I would do everything within my power to diminish the pain as much as possible. He smiled as my fingertips traced his cheekbones, his eyelids drifting closed when my fingers moved up to stroke his smooth scalp over his ears. "No one has ever given me anything as precious or as dear to me as this," I said very softly, just above a whisper. "I love you, Orlando." There, I had said it. Finally. His eyes flew open and he stared at me. His mouth opened and then closed, and his hand tightened on my hip. "You...you love me?" He stammered, his voice full of wonder. I nodded and watched in awe as tears filled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around my neck and held me tightly, his face buried in the curve of my shoulder. I could feel his tears wetting my skin as I held him. "I love you, too," he whispered after several minutes. His voice was muffled. He lifted his head and kissed my lips, my cheek, the curve of my jaw. His lips touched my earlobe and I could feel his warm breath stirring my hair. "Make love to me, Viggo." "It will be my pleasure, min elskling," I murmured in his ear, rubbing his back from neck to hip and back. "But I want this to be perfect for you." "It will be," he said, his voice low and insistent, his body twisting in my arms. "As long as it's you, it will be all the perfection I'll ever need." Somehow, he always knew just what to say to reassure me, to make me forget the eighteen year difference in our ages. I never felt old with him. And I honestly believed that he no longer felt too young with me. Until I met him, I had never truly believed in the old adage that love knows no age. I knew that I could have the worst technique in the world when it came to sex but he would still think it was perfect. He loved me that much. And that knowledge humbled me. So I smiled and kissed him again. He relaxed and watched me with those wide eyes of liquid chocolate as I rolled away from him for a moment. A barely muttered curse because I couldn't find what I was looking for in the nightstand drawer. Then his arms were around my waist and his lips were pressed to my shoulder blade. "I made sure everything was prepared, love," he murmured against my skin. One arm moved away and then his hand returned, holding a small bottle. I smiled again. Everyone always accused me of being orderly and practical, but Orlando had me beat. He had planned this for weeks and I had never suspected a thing. He laid back against the pillows, his hand stroking my thigh as I settled on my heels. Opening the bottle, I sniffed and looked at him with an eyebrow arched. He just grinned unrepentantly. "Vanilla," I said and laughed softly. "Nice." He had the grace to blush, but he even managed to make that look elegant and sexy as hell. "Well," he said, "It was either that or something floral and I don't think either of us wants to be smelling like roses at dinner tonight." "Good point." I let a few drops of oil leak out onto my fingers, rubbing them together and smiling. The consistency was perfect. Thin enough to provide perfect lubrication, but thick enough that it wouldn't dry out too fast and become sticky. Closing the bottle, I set it aside and turned my full attention on him. His hands tangled in my hair as I let my mouth and fingers explore his body fully, starting at his throat and gradually working my way lower. By the time my lips touched the point of his hip, he was writhing beneath me, his soft groans and sighs fanning the sparks of desire inside me into a raging inferno. When I nudged his thighs further apart and touched just the tip of my tongue to him, he stiffened and his hand tightened almost painfully in my hair. A sharp gasp escaped his lips and his back arched when I let my tongue swirl around his tight entrance before pressing the tip into the opening. I teased him like that, I don't know for how long, and his soft cries were almost my undoing. For the sake of us both -- and in hopes of prolonging the experience for him -- I decided it was a good idea to move onto other things. "You are so beautiful," I whispered as I slid up his body to capture his lips. His eyes were tightly closed and one hand was knotted in the sheets. He trembled in my arms, his body humming with leashed passion. I knew I wasn't in much better condition as I could practically feel my blood throbbing through my veins in a slow and heavy rhythm. "Fuck," he mumbled against my lips. "You...teasing me." "Never, angel." He arched against me, our bodies touching from head to feet. Still kissing him, I fumbled blindly for the bottle, my hand landing on it completely by accident. We were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat by then. My hair hung around my face in damp strands, clinging to my neck and shoulders as I moved. His, cut short as it was, was plastered to his skull and his skin -- that wonderful olive tone that no amount of tanning can ever achieve -- glistened in the candlelight. His body moved constantly against mine, never lying still for more than a few seconds. Trembling, literally aching from wanting him, I almost dropped the bottle twice before I managed to squeeze enough out to coat my fingers. His body was so tight around my finger when I slid the first one in him. He gasped softly and clutched my shoulders, his short nails leaving tiny crescent marks in my skin as he tried to adjust to the invasion. I worked my finger in and out of him, adding a second only when he fully relaxed. Kissing his throat and face, I murmured softly to him the whole time, urging him to touch me, to feel what I was doing to him, to let the rest of the world go. When I added a third finger and found the tiny bulge I had been seeking, his eyes went wide and he made a strangled sound in his throat. "Bloody...." He rasped, his eyes closing tightly and his fingers digging into my shoulders again. He whimpered then, turning his head and kissing me as my fingers worked inside him, slowly and gently stretching his body. I was determined not to rush. Time passed slowly for us that afternoon as I brought him to the pinnacle again and again only to pull him back just short of it, alternating between my tongue and my fingers until he was nearly sobbing with frustration. "Are you ready, angel?" I whispered in his ear, easing my hand between us to stroke myself with fingers freshly coated in oil. He nodded, clearly not trusting himself to speak as his teeth dug into his bottom lip. I kissed him softly and lifted one leg to rest on my shoulder, guiding the other to drape across my thigh. Guiding myself to him, I leaned forward, smoothing one hand down the outside of his thigh as I placed tiny kisses at each corner of his mouth. "Viggo...." He breathed, his fingers touching my ribs. "Just relax," I said softly as I started to push against him. I could tell by the way his features tightened that it was a little uncomfortable even with all the time I'd spent preparing him. I shifted my hips slightly and pushed a little harder, feeling another brief moment of resistance before muscle gave way and I was past the opening. "Oh," he said in this tiny voice, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands tight around my biceps. I eased in a little further and watched the myriad of emotions that played across his finely chiseled features. His forehead creased and his lips tightened, but he opened his eyes and looked at me, and I was nearly undone by the depth of the love I saw in those dark pools. "You okay?" He smiled a little at my concern, gradually easing his death grip on my arms. "Hurts," he mumbled. "I know," I said, brushing the back of my fingers against his cheek. "That will go away in a bit. Just stay relaxed." He nodded and I gently retreated, only to ease back in again, this time pushing a little deeper. With slow, rocking motions, I took my time and let his body adjust to my presence. It was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I kept a tight rein on myself as I gradually worked my way into his body until I was fully seated, my hips flush against his. Then I held myself still, my hands stroking his skin, my lips moving over his face in feather-light touches until I felt him relax fully beneath me. When I sat back and slid my hands down to lightly grasp his hips, he offered me a tremulous smile. He looked so beautiful lying there. For a moment, I wondered what I had done to deserve him. And then he raised one hand and touched my lips. "I love you," he whispered. "Mi corazón es tuyo*," I said and he smiled. "And mine yours," he said, letting his fingers slip down across my chin to land lightly on my chest. "Love me, Viggo." "Always, angel," I said and began to move. Long, smooth, gliding strokes. Soft words were murmured and hands touched everywhere. Mouths met and parted, releasing quiet sighs and drawn out groans, tongues darting out to moisten dry lips as bodies moved together. Orlando was a natural and within minutes he was moving with me, almost instinctively knowing how to shift and what muscles to tighten so that we both received the most pleasure. The universe narrowed down to the two of us and time lost all meaning. Again and again, I brought him up, taking him higher each time until I knew that to pull him away once more would be cruel. So I curled a hand around him, my voice coaxing him to abandon himself as my hand pumped him and my hips worked against him. The memory of his face when he came will remain in my mind until my dying moment. Dark lashes fanned against cheekbones, mouth slightly open, a tiny crease crossing his forehead. His skin seemed to glow from inside and his voice was breathless as he cried out my name. His body tightening around me almost broke my control, but I held on with an iron will, drawing his orgasm out. Then I was unable to hold out any longer and gladly surrendered with a hoarse shout. His arms caught me as I collapsed against him, spent and exhausted, my body covered with sweat -- mine and his -- and oil. The scent of sex mingled with vanilla as he kissed me. I had no idea of how long we laid there, wrapped in each others arms. "Merry Christmas, love," he said in a drowsy voice against my shoulder. "Thank you," I said softly, my hands caressing his back as I held him. He snuggled deeper into my arms and mumbled something about sleeping and showering and setting the clock so we wouldn't be late for the dinner Ian had planned. I closed my eyes and smiled. We were late for the dinner. + + + mid-December, 2002 Los Angeles, California The Two Towers premiere post party "Did you dress him tonight? He actually looks presentable." I turned at the amused voice and found Sean Bean standing beside me. I followed his gaze and saw he was watching Orlando and Elijah as they held a very animated discussion that involved much wild gesturing of hands that held drinks and lit cigarettes. Orlando paused in his recitation to take a drag from his cigarette, then turned and winked at me before returning his attention to Lij. "I just mentioned that I like that outfit on him," I said. Sean's soft laugh let me know that he hadn't believed me. I just smiled and shrugged. It wasn't a lie. Orlando, being Orlando, had wanted to wear one of those eye-wrenching shirts of his. I had merely looked up from the book I was reading and mentioned that, since it was winter and all, I thought he looked nice in the black jeans and dark green sweater he had worn out to dinner the week before. He had given me that petulant look that had appeared all too often on his face in the past few months and then pulled out the sweater, studying it for a moment. Much to my surprise, he had chosen to wear that outfit to the premiere. I was sure that teenage girls world wide would be thrilled when they saw the photos afterwards. "So," Sean said, drawing me out of my thoughts. "How are things with the two of you? Haven't spoken to you much lately." "They're good," I said, my mind shying away from the scene nearly two weeks previously where Orlando had goaded me into hurting him. He still carried faint, finger-shaped bruises on his hips and I felt almost overwhelmed with guilt every time I saw them. "Great movie, Viggo!" I turned and missed the sharp look Sean gave me. Or rather, I saw it and pretended not to. Things were good with Orlando. He had just developed a few quirks in the past year, that was all. But I still loved him more than anything else and he loved me. That was all that mattered. "Vince," I said, shaking his hand and smiling. "I didn't know you were going to be here." Vince Vaughn smiled and shrugged. "I wrangled an invitation when I heard you were going to be here. How've you been?" "Not too bad," I said before introducing him to Sean with a casual comment about co-starring with him in the remake of Psycho. We stood there for several minutes, chatting about various things, catching up on the past few years. Then the aroma of cigarette smoke with a spicy undertone enveloped me about a half a second before Orlando plastered himself to my side, one arm slipping around my waist as he noisily kissed my cheek. "Who's your friend, love?" His dark eyes gleamed as he blatantly studied Vince. "Orlando, this is Vince Vaughn. We worked together a few years ago on a remake of Psycho," I said. Orlando just nodded, never taking his eyes off Vince. "Vince, this is Orlando Bloom...or Orlando as pretty much everyone in the world calls him now. He--" "Played Legolas, yes, I know," Vince said with a grin. "Well, yes," I said. Orlando seemed to be trying to crawl inside my jacket with me. "He um...Orlando, stand still for a sec, would you please? He's my lover." Point for me. I managed to shock Vince, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it. I could tell by the way his eyebrows had made a fast climb towards his hairline. Sean muttered something behind me and Orlando just smirked. "Pleased to meet you," Orlando said, not bothering to hold out his hand, still smirking. Sean muttered again and Orlando turned his head to flash him a dark look. "Viggo, love," Orlando said, detaching himself from my side, "Lij wanted me to tell you to be sure that we don't leave before he can corner you and pick your brain about something." Another kiss on the cheek and he vanished into the swirl of people. Seconds later I could see him standing with Lij again, smoke from a newly lit cigarette encircling his head, a fresh drink in his hand. Dom and Billy joined them and I lost sight of their little group in the crowd. I wasn't worried. I knew Orlando. Soon enough he would come looking for me again. So I turned my attention back to Vince and Sean, drawing them both into a conversation about recent projects we had each worked on. I had no idea how much time had passed when Vince looked at his watch. He said something about having to get up early and, making his excuses, shook Sean's hand and hugged me. As his arms slipped from around me, I smelled the now familiar tang of cigarette smoke and spice. "So," Orlando said, his voice soft, his hands shoved in his pockets as he rocked on his heels, his eyes darting from me to Vince and back again. "So." "Oh, bloody...." Sean muttered, setting his drink down on a nearby table. "So what, Orlando?" Orlando looked at him with narrowed eyes and then turned back to Vince. I blinked, unsettled by the look in those dark eyes as he studied the other man. He tilted his head. His tongue snaked out to sweep across his bottom lip. His hands -- those wonderfully beautiful hands with long, slim fingers -- left his pockets, drawing a crushed, nearly empty pack of cigarettes with them. He continued to study Vince as he shook out a cigarette and put it between his lips, glancing only briefly at me when I held up my lighter. "Honestly, love," he said, blowing out a thin stream of smoke, the cigarette tucked between two fingers as he languidly lifted it to his mouth again. "I thought your taste was better than that." Vince looked a little confused with Orlando's eyes still on him. I was confused myself. Sean, off to my right, was muttering steadily under his breath as he ground out his own cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "Orlando, what are you talking about?" I could see Sean shaking his head from the corner of my eye, but I ignored him. My attention was focused on Orlando and I didn't like the gleam in his eyes. Those eyes rolled and he gave me a withering look. "I thought," he said slowly, speaking as if to a child, "that you had better taste than that." "Orlando, I don't --" "Really, Viggo," Orlando said in a scathing tone, his eyes moving back to Vince. "If you're going to fuck around on me, you could at least have the decency to pick someone equal to me in looks." Vince gaped and Sean cursed soundly. All I could do was stare in shock. Where had he gotten the idea that I was cheating on him? My mind couldn't grasp the concept of his jealousy, not when I had never given him any reason to doubt my faithfulness. I knew Orlando must have seen Vince hug me, but I couldn't believe that he would think there was anything more than that. I realized I hadn't said anything yet, but my brain refused to work. I just stared at him, my eyes taking in his elegant beauty, the way his hair fell across his forehead in that one spot, the faint spots of color high on his cheeks, the feverish gleam in his dark, dark eyes. "So," Orlando said, speaking to Vince this time. "How long has this been going on? Since you worked with him or is this something new?" I absently noticed the almost conversational tone to his voice, my mind still trying to comprehend his accusation. I could hear Sean speaking softly behind me, but his words were a buzz. Orlando stood there, patiently waiting for Vince to answer. And poor Vince had no clue where this attack had come from. Hell, I had lived with Orlando for three years and had no clue where this attack had come from. "I don't --" "Oh, come now," Orlando said mockingly. "Surely we're all friends here. I mean really...I've fucked Viggo. Now you have. Sean here," he waved his hand towards the man in question, "Well...anyway, tell me. Is this something new or has it been going on for a while?" His voice had taken on an ugly note and he watched Vince through narrowed eyes. One step, then another. He was standing right in front of Vince now. In any other situation, the six inch difference in their heights would have been laughable. Given the words that had come from Orlando's mouth, it was just scary. Vince didn't have the longest temper in the world and if Orlando provoked him, there was no telling what would happen. And I just stood there, watching, unable to think of a single thing to say. Me, Viggo Mortensen, published poet, couldn't think of a single damn thing to say. "Ah, I see," Orlando said with a harsh laugh. "Now that I've found out about it, we'll all just pretend it didn't happen, that it, mates?" "This is ridiculous," Vince said. I could hear the disgust in his voice. It was almost as bad as the disgust I knew I would see in Sean's eyes if I looked at him. I didn't. Vince said something to me that I didn't hear and started to turn away. "This conversation isn't over yet," Orlando said. In all the time since the filming, he had never shed the grace that had carried him through eighteen months of playing an elf. Gracefully -- almost painfully so -- his arm moved and his hand grabbed Vince's wrist. Stronger, much stronger than he looks, he pulled Vince back around. My eyes blinked and I saw a blur. I was stunned when I saw Orlando holding Vince's fist. Sean was silent, seemingly startled by Orlando's ability to block Vince's hastily thrown punch given the difference in their sizes. Slow motion movement, like it was happening to someone else...or like a dream. I watched, even more stunned, as Orlando's own fist came around and connected with Vince's jaw in a muffled crack. The silence in which it happened touched the crowd around us, moving out like slow ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. People turned to look, but Sean had already tackled Orlando. "What the fuck!" Vince had passed angry and he held his jaw, glaring daggers at Orlando. I stepped between them hastily, my frozen tongue finally thawing so that I could speak. "He's drunk," I said quietly. Desperation in my voice but I didn't care. Part of me screamed that Orlando wasn't drunk. He was a happy drunk for the most part. The other part of me -- the larger part -- beat that part into submission. I could hear Orlando cursing loudly behind me, the sounds of a struggle underlying it as Sean held him tightly, arms wrapped around Orlando's chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Vince flashed me a quick look and then stopped. He looked back at me, his eyes searching mine and, just like that, his anger vanished. Sean's voice drifted to my ears, but I couldn't decipher what he said, only that he was talking to Orlando who still fought. "You should take him home," Vince said gently. Surprising after the way Orlando had attacked him. "Someone as pretty as him won't last two hours if they lock him up for fighting." I nodded, at a loss for words again, and turned to Orlando and Sean as Vince walked away. Sean still held him tightly and Orlando still fought. Kicks had now joined his methods as Sean's grip served to hold him on his tip-toes. His face was flushed and sparks snapped in the depths of those eyes as I reached out to touch him. His sweater rode up, baring his stomach. He jerked his head away, practically spitting in his fury. I gestured and Sean let him go. Reluctantly. I avoided those green eyes again, not wanting to face the questions I knew where there. "Orlando, stop it," I said softly. He jerked away from Sean and glared at him, breathing heavily, hands tugging his sweater back into place. He stepped forward, his features contorted into an ugly expression. In front of me, eyes locked on mine. Then his head moved and he looked at Sean. As much as I had disliked the look in his eyes when he had studied Vince, I liked the one he leveled on Sean even less. If jealousy were given physical embodiment, at that moment in time it would have had large, dark eyes, olive skin, a soft, pink mouth, and dark chocolate hair that fell around it's ears in soft waves. "I see how it is," he said, that ugly note back in his voice. "You see how what is?" Sean asked. I could tell he was trying hard to control his temper by the way he held himself. Green eyes slightly narrowed, hands clenched at his sides, feet spread for balance. That Orlando would provoke Sean of all people stunned me beyond belief. "Viggo's not fucking Vince," Orlando said. That soft voice was low and it raised the hair on the back of my neck. "No, I'm not, Orlando," I said, touching his arm lightly. I could feel the heat of his body rising through the heavy knit of the sweater. So warm, so alive. Orlando was not a cold person. He never had been, in bed or out. But now...now he sounded cold. I found I didn't like it at all. "As if he could see anyone else but you," Sean snapped, eyes still glaring at Orlando. "Yes, and you've hated that for years, haven't you, Sean?" Orlando stepped closer to Sean, shrugging off my hand. They were more evenly matched than Orlando and Vince had been, but Sean still held the advantage of weight and experience. I couldn't believe this was happening. I was barely aware that Lij, Dom, and Billy were behind Sean. "What --" "Orlando, you're being ridiculous," I said. Cut Sean's words off but I couldn't listen. Refused to hear what he might say. I could feel his eyes on me, their touch like a weight bearing me down. But I wouldn't look. Couldn't. Had to focus all my attention on Orlando. "Am I? I don't think I am," Orlando said, practically vibrating in his fury. His attention focused on me. I stood there, trying to think of something to say. My mind blank, my eyes wide. As I watched, one graceful hand lifted and rubbed his nose. "Sean doesn't hate you, Orlando," I said quietly, grateful that the people around us had returned to their own conversations. I reached for him again but he backed away. "You're not fucking Vince! You're fucking him," Orlando hissed. Sean's face blanched and I could feel my own grow pale. "Orlando, that's not true," I said, sounding strangled to my own ears. His eyes moved from me to Sean and back again, that hand lifting and rubbing his nose once more as he sniffed. Those fingers rubbed repetitively for a moment as he watched us closely. Then he dropped his hand and shrugged. "Whatever," he said and spun on his heel. The crowd swallowed him before I could speak. I stood there, sensing the confusion from our dear hobbits, the betrayal and anger from Sean. His emotions were strongest, rolling over me in waves. One step, then another, and Sean's hand was on my arm. "Let me go, Sean," I said, just barely loud enough for him to hear. He shook his head, his hand tightening on my forearm. A gentle tug, pulling me around to face him. "How long has he been like this, Viggo?" Sean asked. Anger and concern warred in his eyes, neither one clearly winning. "He's just had a little too much to drink." Even as the words left my mouth, I could tell that he didn't believe me. It was true. It had to be true. The alternatives were just too frightening to contemplate. "I've been around Orlando drunk," Sean said, still holding my arm. "That is not how he acts. He's done more tonight than just drink, or I'm bloody insane." "He's drunk, Sean. Let it go," I said tiredly. Sean looked like he wanted to say something else. I turned my head. I didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear the accusations that were sure to come. I just wanted to find Orlando and hold him and show him how much I loved him. And then I wanted to take him home. A soft sigh pulled my eyes back to Sean just as he released me. "Fine," he said, turning slightly so all I could see was his profile. "But watch him." I nodded and then walked away. Regardless of what had happened there, I knew Sean would be at the party Orlando had planned for the next night. They would all be there. None of us could be in the same city and not end up getting together. Much like the tattoos that had been permanently inked on our bodies, our bonds were part of us. But I couldn't think about that. All I could think of was Orlando accusing me of being unfaithful with Sean. In a dark alcove in the hallway leading to the restrooms, I found Orlando. Back against the wall, he was hidden deep in the shadows. I knew he was there even before he moved. "I knew you'd find me," he said softly, tiredly. His voice sounded unsteady "I couldn't not come after you," I said, stepping into the alcove with him. A faint flare of red light and a soft hiss let me know he'd lit another cigarette. Seconds later, a cloud of clove scented smoke enveloped me. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd left me here." His voice was definitely unsteady, sounding much thicker than normal. I was close enough that I could see his hand tremble as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. Ice clinked softly as he set his glass down on the tiny table beside him. "How could I leave you here? I can't live without you, you know that," I said quietly. No sudden moves for I had no wish to startle him. One step. Pause. Another. Close enough to touch. He looked at me and I could see tears hovering in his lashes -- those long, thick, dark lashes that women would kill for. One tear fell. Then another. I reached for him and he fell into my arms. "I'm sorry, Viggo," he whispered brokenly. I could feel his tears soaking my dress shirt but I didn't care. All that mattered was that he was in my arms. "Shhh," I murmured, stroking his back gently, enjoying the feel of his sweater beneath my palms. "It's alright, angel." "I's not," he mumbled, sniffling loudly. He shifted, arms snaking around my waist, face pressing against my throat. "I was...was...." "Hush," I whispered, turning my head to kiss his cheek. "I could never do that to you, you know that. I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea back there." He lifted his head and started to speak, but I silenced him the best way I knew how. I kissed him. There, in the dark, we stood and held each other, lips locked together in a silent restatement of our love for each other. Peppermint and smoke and a touch of cloves lingered on my tongue when we pulled apart. His eyes were red and he rubbed at his nose, but he was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. "Let's go home," I said and he just nodded and laced his fingers with mine. + + + The wall in the upstairs guest bathroom was hard. I knew this because my head bounced off it when Orlando shoved me against it. His arm was heavy across my collarbones and his body was plastered against mine from chest to knee. He turned off the light and closed the door behind him when he slipped in and I could just barely make out his form in the dim moonlight coming through the skylight overhead. I could hear his quiet breathing in the darkness and smell the faint hint of alcohol on his breath. "Orlando, what --" "Shhh, love," he said with a soft laugh. He licked my bottom lip and ground his hips against mine. "I want you." "We've got a house full of guests." I didn't have to point that out. He knew it. That soft laugh again, this time right in my ear before sharp teeth closed over the lobe. "That's what makes it so exciting," he said. His warm breath wafted across my ear, raising goosebumps on my arms. One arm still lay across my collarbones, but I felt the other one work between us, first sliding underneath my shirt and then moving down to fumble with the waist of my jeans. Button, then zipper, then warm fingers dipping inside to touch me. I almost moaned aloud, already hard. "Orlando," I managed to say as the pressure of his arm left my chest. Soft rustling of clothing, rapid movements, body sliding against body. He sank to his knees in front of me, his hands tugging at my jeans, working them down over my hips. Then those long fingers closed around me, stroking me, and I forgot how to think. So warm. Fingers moving easily over my heated flesh, his soft laugh drifting up to my ears. Unable to control my body any longer, I leaned back against the wall, my hands tangling in his soft hair. "Want to taste you, love," he said, his fingers still stroking me. Fingers tightened in his hair and I gasped as he enclosed me in soft, wet heat. My eyes closed as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me, centering between my legs. I could hear faint moaning and realized it was coming from me. If anyone happened to walk in.... But I no longer cared. At that moment, there was just Orlando and me and the darkness. God, it felt as if he was trying to suck out my very soul. His hands on me, touching and fondling as his mouth moved. And his tongue. His tongue could make a saint crumble. I certainly wasn't strong enough to hold out against it. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood when I stiffened, brilliant sparkles of light wheeling behind my eyelids as I emptied myself into him, feeling his mouth and throat work around me. After, he pulled up my jeans and tucked me inside, making sure I was zipped and buttoned before standing up and kissing me hard. His tongue speared into my mouth as his fingers sank into my hair and I could taste his own unique flavor of smoke and peppermint, laced with bourbon. And over it all lay the taste of me still on his tongue. Those teeth sank softly into my bottom lip, nipping it lightly before he pulled back with a husky laugh. "I love you," he murmured. His hand touched my face, his thumb brushing across my lips. "Love you, too," I said in as calm a voice as I could manage. It wasn't very calm. He laughed again and then he was gone. I had no concept of time as I stood there in the dark bathroom, leaning against the wall, waiting for my pulse to stop racing and my breathing to return to normal. I was convinced that Orlando was going to be the death of me eventually. Finally, I drew shaky hands through my hair, smoothing it as best I could before returning to the real world and the party that was happening downstairs. Rejoining the crush in the living room, I was suprised to find how little time had actually passed. I passed three of our dear hobbits where they lay sprawled on a couch, a tangle of arms and legs. When they were together, I was never sure where one ended and another began. The only one not involved in the hobbit pile was Astin, but I knew he was around somewhere. Continuing to move, I passed Ian at the bar. A brief nod and a smile and I moved on. Plenty of time to talk to him later after the crowd had thinned out some. Moving constantly, walking through the house, pausing only briefly here and there to say a quick "hello" before my feet took me elsewhere. Outside the door to the den, I stopped. Orlando was inside, leaning against the heavy mahogany desk, his palms braced behind him on the surface. That little Orlando-smirk graced his mouth and I wondered who he was tormenting this time. "What sort of game are you playing this time, Orlando?" The voice surprised me and my mind flash backed briefly to the night before. It seemed as if Orlando was once again attempting to antagonize Sean. I absently wondered if it was something he did on purpose or if it just came naturally to him. I drew back into the shadows of the hallway, shifting slightly so I could see them both without being seen. "No games, mate," Orlando said as he stood up and strolled towards Sean. "Just wanted to...thank you for your help last night." Orlando's word, while innocent enough on the surface, caused bells to go off in my head. Odd expression on his face, eyes fixed on Sean, who had backed up a few steps. He had no clue he was standing right in front of the wall. "No need to thank me," Sean said quietly, watching Orlando warily. "I just thought that Viggo --" "Ah yes, Viggo," Orlando said. "He has no clue, you know." "No clue about what?" Sean was nervous. His voice betrayed him and Orlando sensed it, pouncing on the tiny weakness much like a cat on a mouse. "No clue about you," Orlando said. And then his hands were on Sean's shoulders, shoving him back against the wall. Before Sean could react, before I could speak, Orlando kissed him. Even from where I stood, I could see the soft, wet, pink of Orlando's tongue slip between Sean's lips. I felt sick to my stomach as I stood there, frozen. Orlando had accused me the night before of betraying him with Sean when all the while, it had been him. My lover and my best friend. I started to turn away and stopped as Sean shoved Orlando hard enough to send him staggering back several steps. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Are you insane?" Orlando laughed, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth before slowly straightening his shirt. "Not at all," he said, clearly unfazed by Sean's anger. "I was just...giving you a gift." "A gift?" Sean glared and took a step forward. Almost, I stepped out of the shadow and revealed myself, stopping at the last second. "You are my best friend's lover. What kind of gift do you call that?" "The only taste of Viggo you'll ever have," Orlando hissed and stormed out of the room. He didn't see me standing there. Shock settled into my bones. He and Sean weren't having an affair. But his implications.... A quiet noise caught my attention and I looked up to find myself staring directly into Sean's crystal green eyes. His expression seared itself into my brain, becoming a permanent part of me. I knew I would see his face for a long time in my dreams. "Viggo, I --" "Viggo!" I turned at the piercing shriek. Other voices joined it and then Lij came tearing around the corner, slamming into me because he was unable to stop. We almost went down in a heap but I caught my balance, gripping his shoulders tightly to keep him from falling. "Lij, what --" "Viggo, you gotta come quick! Orlando's dancing on the fucking roof!" His words penetrated the haze that covered my brain and I took off running, barely aware of him and Sean right behind me. + + + By the time I arrived in the backyard, a small crowd had gathered. I had prayed the entire few seconds it had taken me to leave the house that this was just some twisted joke that Orlando had put Lij up to. I didn't have to see the upturned faces to know it was no joke. "Orlando, keep your fucking clothes on!" Lij yelled. "No one wants to see your dick!" I tilted my head back and looked up at the gyrating figure two stories above us. My heart leapt up into my throat and lodged there, refusing to move. Spinning in circles, arms outstretched, head thrown back. His feet moved closer to the edge and then away. He had already shed his shirt and, from where I stood, I could see that his pants were unbuttoned. No music played, but his body moved in time with some silent rhythm in his head. "Sure they do, Lijah," he called back, his movements never stopping. "Viggo wants to see it. He likes it." "Why don't you come down here then, angel? So I can see it up close," I called, trying to keep my fear for his safety out of my voice. "Nooooo, like it up here," he said. His hands moved in to touch his chest, sliding down the smooth skin to tease at his zipper before he flung them out once more. "Come up and dance with me, Viggo!" "What the hell did he take, Elijah? Tell me!" Sean said. I could hear Lij protesting and wondered if Sean was shaking him. No time to turn and look. All my attention was focused on Orlando. "Come down here and then we'll dance, Orlando. I'll put on your favorite CD," I said, never taking my eyes off him. More sputtered protests from Lij and a growl from Sean. Someone -- it sounded like Billy -- said something that sounded like acid but I wasn't sure. All the words behind me were running together in a blur of noise. "God damn it, Orlando! Get down here!" Sean yelled. His only response was two uplifted fingers from Orlando. Any other time it would have been amusing. Any other time, Orlando wouldn't have been dancing on the roof, in peril of falling off the edge and splattering himself across the concrete below. "Orlando, please," I said. "You're scaring me." "S'okay, love," he yelled, his body still moving in that strange, primitive rhythm. "I can fly!" My body was rigid with fear. I could feel Sean's hand on my shoulder, hear his voice in my ear as he let loose with a string of cuss words that would make a sailor blush. And still, Orlando danced. "Orlando," I said in the sternest voice I could muster. It lost most of the effect by the way it shook. "Come down off that roof right now." "Very well," he said just loud enough for those of us on the ground to hear him. He took three steps back and then ran. My heart stopped when he leaped off the edge of the roof into the air, his arms stretched out like wings. Gasps all around me, Sean's fingers digging into my shoulder, Lij's voice screaming. For a moment, it seemed as if he really could fly. His body, so graceful in everything he did, arched out away from the house and then he folded up slowly. A perfect jack-knife before opening up once more. My eyes followed his descent and I realized he was laughing. I thought I was going to pass out when he splashed into the water in a beautiful dive. Seconds later, his dark head emerged and he swam to the side of the pool. He pulled himself out and stood there dripping, smiling at me as I stood there staring at him. "Did you see me, love?" He asked, his soft voice carrying across the water that seperated us. "I flew." I nodded, unable to speak. Then Sean was there in front of him, large hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he shook him. Orlando just laughed, his body loose and his head wobbling. "Have you gone completely insane?" Sean yelled. "You could have died!" Shake. "You stupid, stupid child!" Another shake. One more before Dom and Astin were there, pulling Sean away from him, dragging him back as Orlando stood there laughing. Numb, not moving, I just watched. Those dark eyes sought me out and he winked. Fingers to his lips, blowing me a kiss, then inside he went, still dripping water everywhere. "Viggo," Sean said, his voice tight with anger. Unsurprised to find him beside me as I trudged towards the house. "How long has he been doing this?" "He's always been like this, Sean," I said dully. The adrenalin that had carried me through the dance and then the dive was gone and I was tired. "You know that. Bungee jumping, sky-diving, s--" "How long has he been doing drugs, Viggo?" Hands on my arms, gripping tightly, pulling me to a stop, forcing me to face him. I opened my mouth to deny it and he shook me. Hard. My teeth snapped together with an audible click. "He took acid tonight, Viggo. Billy told me. They were with him." Sean's eyes blazed with fury and he shook me again. "How long?" "He's not --" "Damn it, Viggo! Stop making excuses for him," Sean snapped. "Stop lying for him!" "I --" "He's going to kill himself," Ian said softly, covering Sean's hand with his, concern clouding his clear blue eyes. "He needs help." "I...." I trailed off, letting my head fall forward. I couldn't focus. My hair was in my face, blocking me from their sight. "How long, Viggo?" Sean asked again. He wanted to shake me some more. I wouldn't have stopped him. "I don't know," I whispered, sounding almost as miserable as I felt. "Months." Sean cursed again and then his hands were gone. Ian's arm around my shoulders, steering me towards the house, following Sean as he slammed inside. Oh, God. Please...help Orlando. continue... * Mi corazón es tuyo - My heart is yours.