Romana (romanabunny) wrote in orlandofanfics,


my first attempt at slash fic.... :) enjoy and leave feedback (coz I love it so!)

Title: Sordid Masterpiece 1/3
Author: Romana Bunny
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t know these pretty pretty men and I make no assumptions as to their sexual preferences. None of this happened (to my knowledge) outside of my head, so don’t sue!
Beta: The fantastic Razzleslash

It was all a matter of timing. I was celebrating in my head when he came back into the bedroom. He was showered and wrapped in a towel, his bare chest still moist; I drank in the sight of him as if I would never see him again. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand along my calf, squeezing gently then massaging slowly. He was looking at my exposed body, casually exploring my skin with his gaze. I laughed softly and his eyes moved to my face. His eyelashes ghosted his cheeks as he perused my flesh through half-closed, lusty eyes.
“Take off that towel,” I commanded.
He stood up silently and discarded the cloth; I smiled at the sight of him.
I beckoned to him silently, never taking my eyes off of him. He moved gracefully like a panther toward me. He knelt on the edge of the bed and crawled slowly toward me, lapping at my skin starting at the calf he had been massaging. I sighed, contented. I had dreamt of this moment for so long, and wanted to savour it, wanted to make it last as long as I could.

It was a few minutes before he understood the significance of what he was reading. It took him a few minutes to realise that this was his friend’s fantasy.

He moved slowly upwards over my abdomen; caressing my skin, kissing, sucking and nipping at the flesh. He stroked my nipple gently. I writhed under his hand, wanting more contact, aching for him.
I shivered when he ran his tongue over the taught flesh that had puckered under his hand, moaning slightly when he closed his mouth over the bud, sucking and licking until I gasped.
“Oh Viggo!” I whispered, stroking his hair.

His eyes widened as he read his own name there on the page. He scanned the room for Orlando but he couldn’t see him; there were so many people milling around that he couldn’t catch a glimpse. There was a certain thrill about reading something so personal but he was also confused. He knew that Orlando had admired him for his work, knew that he had seen every movie he had ever made and he was flattered, but Orlando had always made it clear to everyone that he didn’t date co-workers.
He walked out of the lounge into the adjoining dining room; there were richly decorated walls, lavish furniture and crowds of well dressed, high-class people everywhere. He had seen Orlando hovering by the punch bowl not that long ago, talking to Richard, but he wasn’t there now. A huge buffet was set out on the table and people were talking in loud voices and chattering and laughing. The noise was getting to him and he wanted to get some fresh air, but he didn’t want to leave. He passed through the huge kitchen into the hall and disappeared into the dark study.  He knew no one would bother him here. Sitting down near the window that he opened, he relaxed into one of the many overstuffed armchairs that were dotted around. Relying on the floodlight outside, lighting up the lawn, he continued to read.

My fingers delved deep into his soft locks, entwining and tugging gently until he looked up at me. He smiled at me, loving the look of lust in my eyes. I dragged his face closer to mine and growled, “Kiss me, I’ve waited so long.”
He couldn’t resist the longing that he heard in my voice, he wanted to give in to me right then but he decided to tease me a bit longer. I strained to reach his lips with my own, but he shifted out of my grasp and laid down on the bed beside me. I flashed him a predatory grin as I pounced on him and pinned him by the shoulders, trying to initiate the kiss I wanted, but he lifted me off of him as if I weighed nothing, rolling over until I was underneath him, his body pressed to mine.

The night was chilly and the breeze coming in the window was uncomfortably cold, so Viggo stood up to shut the window and the papers fell to the floor.
“Dammit!” He muttered. After shutting the window he bent down to retrieve the loose sheets, not realising that someone had walked into the room and that they were standing watching him. He sat back down in the armchair and concentrated on sorting the papers into the right order. Whilst turning them round the right way and trying collate them, something caught his eye on the sheet at the top.

As I climaxed I screamed out his name. My orgasm coursed through me like liquid lightning, causing me to melt against him. Holding onto him, trying to still my rapidly beating heart, the white calm descended. I was exhausted and satiated. I felt so happy; I bent down and kissed him, tongue roaming his mouth languidly. When I broke the kiss I looked down into his beautiful grey eyes and breathed,
“I love you so much, Viggo Mortensen.”
“I love you too, Orlando Bloom, more than life itself.”

“I love you so much,” he muttered, scanning the last few lines again. He smiled a little. Is this just fiction? Is this just a projection of his fantasies onto me? Does he really want me?
He knew deep down it was something that he wanted, something that he had longed for, thought about and agonised over for many hours. He had not wanted to broach the subject in case he ruined their friendship and working relationship. It is hard to work with someone when you feel uncomfortable around them and he certainly didn’t want to stop working with Orlando, just because he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing his silky skin, his eyelids, or his hair. He was unsure of the age difference; Orlando was only 24 after all. He may not want someone old enough to be his father lusting after him, may not want to have the added baggage that he had to carry. Even with all his reservations Viggo still wanted to drink in the perfume of Orlando’s skin, the smell of his body when the fire inside them had raged and left them in each others arms, vulnerable and sensitive; that calm feeling of drifting off to sleep with his elf snuggled into his shoulder, comfortable and safe.


The smile that kissed the corner of Viggo’s mouth was seen by the figure in the shadows by the door and the muttered but misinterpreted token of love was registered. There was no movement, no admission of spying, just a silence that Viggo broke.
“Jeez, why do you bring this to a party with you?” He asked himself.
The figure just looked on, silently committing every detail of Viggo’s appearance to memory. The dark suit that wasn’t quite black - more of a charcoal - tailored to fit his broad shoulders, but to accentuate his slim figure. He was wearing a matching shirt with the top two buttons undone and his tie removed long ago. Unusually for Viggo there was a pair of black socks and shiny black leather shoes on his feet. More often than not you found him pottering around barefoot, or with a pair of black battered boots on. The light outside shone through the window, producing a long rectangle of pale white light which fell over his shoulder onto the thick burgundy carpet. His hair looked like a halo of silver light around his head, his face in deep shadows.
Outside the door Viggo could hear the party still raging on and didn’t want to leave the comfort of the quiet study just yet, but he did reach over to the small table at his right elbow and turned on the small lamp that sat on it. Just when his eyes adjusted to the new brightness he spotted someone standing by the door.
Startled, he jumped and clutched at his chest.
“Shit! You scared me!” Viggo exclaimed.
“I’m sorry.” A soft voice proffered.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on an old man like that,” smiling up at him, Viggo chuckled.
“I just wanted to retrieve something you have of mine.”
Viggo looked down at the sheets in his hand and blushed slightly. He looked up at Orlando; he was wearing a navy blue suit and a gaudy purple sweater with yellow, lime, lilac and black stripes. It was an ensemble that only Orlando could pull off: it was hideous, yet he made it look strangely alluring. His hair was cut into a ridiculous looking Mohawk that made his face look thin. It was cute, in a weird way. His perfectly smooth skin was glowing with an ethereal beauty. He looked every inch the immaculate elf minus the blonde hair and cold eyes.
“I’m sorry, I…”
Orlando cut him off abruptly “You should know better than reading other people’s private stuff.” There was a little anger in his voice that made Viggo get a bit upset.
“You left it lying on a side table in a public room full of people, and the top sheet had a copy of my schedule for the next week attached to it! I thought it was something for me!” He retorted in a slightly more clipped manner than he had wanted.
Orlando made a few steps toward him and put the glass he was holding on the small side table. He squinted down at Viggo and held out his hand indignantly, gesturing for the papers, “Well, I thought since you already had a copy of your schedule and I needed to know when I was working with you, I borrowed it from Peter and photocopied it, I was planning on letting you know. There’s not a law against it, as far as I knew, and I didn’t mean any harm by it, I had to leave it with my other notes because I was ambushed by Peter and you know how he is when he wants something, I had to abandon them there. I was hoping that no one would notice them, or pry through them at least. I meant to pick them up before anyone noticed, they aren’t really of any great interest to anyone else but me, and I don’t know if you read them, but they are private and… and… you weren’t meant to see…” He tailed off. He was slightly drunk and nearly incoherent and making big hand gestures to try to hide the fact that he was very close to tears. Viggo had stood up during this tirade and walked calmly over to him, raising an eyebrow at “notes”, which made his eyes flicker with a secret pain. The annoyance Viggo had felt at his huffiness melted away by the time Orlando got to the end of his ramble and Viggo knew what he had to do.


He pressed the pages into Orlando’s hand.
“God dammit, Viggo! Why did I bring it to a party?” he sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides, trying to stifle his tears, but feeling them threaten. He lifted his glass again and drained the contents then swiping the back of his hand over his lips he sighed again, almost resignedly.
“How many of those have you had?” Viggo asked, expecting to be told to fuck off but the response was quite genuine, “Only two, I’m not drunk yet, old man!”
Viggo knew better though, he had seen him quaff a few Buds as well and he knew that meant he was closer to being drunk than he was letting on. He had had to baby-sit the Brit many times in the parking lot of the local pub, rubbing his back as he sobbed about being a lightweight after vomiting.
Taking a firm hold of Orlando’s arms, Viggo pushed him back against the door and closed the distance between their bodies. Their faces were mere inches apart. There was a sudden fleeting look of panic in Orlando’s eyes, a fear of what Viggo was capable of, a fear that maybe he was upset at the thought of being in a gay fantasy and a tear which had been threatening jolted from his eye and slid down his cheek.
“I only read a little bit of it,” Viggo assured him.
Orlando nodded; it was nearly not even a nod, it was so slight. He was tense in the older man’s grasp.
Viggo scanned his face. You think it’s a great idea to question him now? He’s on the road to hangover, you think he’s gonna remember this in the morning?
He wanted to let him go, he could tell that he was pushing Orlando too far, that he was nearly afraid.
“It was quite hot.”
“Wha… I… umm…huh?”
“It was you and me.”
“Yes…” Orlando was incredulous.
Viggo could smell peppermint and vodka on Orlando’s breath and the warmth of it felt nice to him, he flashed back to his daydreams – Orlando lying panting beneath him, a glow about him that only comes with blissful release, the smell of sex and sweat all around him – and he smiled.
He released his grip slightly, and drew back from Orlando.
The panic was melting from Orlando and he was beginning to thaw in Viggo’s arms.
Viggo decided to go for it, there was no time like the present, and if it all went pear shaped then it would all be forgotten in the morning anyway.
“Was there a time before we started this film that you looked at me that way?”
“Yes.” He breathed; eyes downcast like he was revealing a shameful secret. “But it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t real before. It was just messing around; you were just a guy I liked the look of. I didn’t think I’d get to work with you.”
“You’ve known you were gay for a long time then?”
“Oh yeah, I came out ages before I even started acting.”
“You wanted to work with me, right? I mean, the story isn’t just a projection of someone I have played onscreen, it’s me. You wanted to work with me so you could write this story?”
With that Orlando snapped his eyes back up to look Viggo in the face, “No!” he said vehemently. “I wrote the story because I got to know you.”
His eyes were pleading with Viggo silently to understand that he wasn’t some crazy stalker fan. Viggo gazed at him and bid him continue.
Orlando dropped his gaze once more, took a deep breath and started in a low clear voice.
“You’re so crazy and fabulous and you don’t realize how gorgeous you really are,” blushing slightly he flicked his eyes up to meet Viggo’s to ascertain if he acknowledged the compliment. Viggo held his gaze; if he registered the boy’s flattery it was not apparent. “I don’t know how to describe how you make me feel. It’s all butterflies and rolling waves. I don’t see you as another colleague or a father figure, you’re a friend and I hope you and I can, um… be more than that.” Pulling himself up level with Viggo, he stood with more confidence.
 “Well, it was definitely not obvious,” Viggo said with a chuckle.
Orlando raised one corner of his mouth in a half smile. The reciprocating smile that touched Viggo’s eyes, making the little crinkles deepen, made the blue grey orbs sparkle like ice chips. It suddenly faded from his face and a look of worry drained the smile from Orlando’s.
Viggo quickly tightened his hold on his arms again, forcing him back against the door. He closed the distance between them for a second time, until his body was entirely pressed against Orlando’s, their noses barely apart. He could feel his breath come in short rasps. Orlando was breathless too; his eyes which had flown open now slid to half mast, in anticipation, in lust. 
Through the thin material of his trousers Orlando could feel the heat from Viggo’s body, could feel his excitement build.
Instead of pressing his lips to Orlando’s, Viggo whispered, “Read it to me.”
He almost didn’t realise what Viggo was talking about, but without missing a heartbeat he started speaking, knowing the words off by heart.

“‘Do you want another drink?’ he whispered to me, conspirators in the corner of the dark, smoky bar.
‘Sure, but lets make them somewhere less crowded.”
He raised an
eyebrow and smiled. I looked at him seductively and breathed huskily, ‘My place is not too far, we can be there in ten minutes.’”

“Is this what you want to hear?” Orlando asked.
Viggo was administering little butterfly kisses over his neck as he talked.
“Skip the meeting, as beautifully as you write, I’d rather you were naked,” he said with a wicked growl.
Orlando gasped, “You really want this, you really do; it’s so much better than my story.”
“Then forget the story, let’s write our own one together, right now.”
Viggo looked up into Orlando’s eyes and only now did he touch their lips together, with passion and wanting, begging entrance with his tongue to the warm, wet mouth that he had fantasised about.
Orlando moaned into the kiss as he parted his lips, Viggo’s tongue invading his mouth, battling with his own, and then retreating, only to delve in again. Viggo released his grip on Orlando’s arms and he wrapped them around Viggo’s neck. Viggo ran his hand down over Orlando’s arms, down under his suit jacket and over his toned chest. He hiked up the hem of Orlando’s sweater and when his hand touched the warm skin it stopped. He knew if he continued, his restraint would break so he forced his hand down onto Orlando’s hip instead.
He moaned again, breaking their kiss, “Touch me, Viggo. Touch me, I want it.”
“I want it too; I really do, but not here. Let’s not waste the story.”
Orlando kissed him again and crushed his body to Viggo’s, the heat from his chest and the smell of his skin and hair were making Viggo feel drunk. He wanted to undress Orlando and reveal his bare, sensuous skin, wanted to caress him and hold him. He shifted away from Orlando, holding him out at arms length. He gazed into Orlando’s perfect eyes, deep brown orbs masked only by his long lashes. Orlando had one arm still hooked around his neck; he looked like he was in a trance, all languid eyes and rag doll limbs. He mumbled quietly “My Viggo, my Ranger”.
Viggo wanted to devour him, wanted to keep him inside his heart forever.
“Let’s go, my apartment isn’t that far from here.” He took charge of his emotions, reining them in and holding them tight.
He led them out of the study and, grabbing their coats by the door, slipped out without anyone noticing they were even gone.


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