Come on, does it really *have* to rain during the battle of Helm's Deep? I mean, isn't it bad enough that we're battling the forces of evil? But no, we have to stand and get muddy and drenched for nine weeks, all at night, as rain towers beat down on us harder than any army of Uruk-Hai ever could. To steal one of Lij's favorite phrases, this totally sucks ass.
As if the shoot isn't enough to make me miserable, the heat has gone out in my car, so by the time I get home, I'm freezing and soaked to the bone. I stagger through the front door, dropping my keys and heading to the bedroom. Sleep. Now. If Orli's looking for sex tonight, he's going to be severely disappointed. I'm exhausted, and the lucky boy didn't have to be on-set tonight, so I'm definitely not working to make his night any better. Me? Bitter? Hah.
"Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?" Orli gasps as I kick off my shoes.
"Helm's Deep happened," I say.
He kisses my cheek, and then frowns. "You're freezing, Vig!"
"Yeah, the heat went out in the car."
"You're gonna get hypothermia if you stand there all freezing and wet. Come on, get out of those clothes, and I'll get the shower ready for you." A shower means I'll have to stand up for a few minutes, when all I want is to collapse on the bed. However, I've learned that when Orli is in drill-sergeant mode, there's no arguing with him.
My wet clothes fall with a splat to the tiled floor of the bathroom, and I realize my teeth are chattering. If I die of pneumonia, my ghost will haunt PJ 'til the end of his days. Orli adjusts the temperature of the water until it's to his liking, and then he guides me under the scalding spray. I have to admit this feels wonderful, as the chill slowly starts to ebb out of my body. Having shed his own clothes, Orli hops in the shower with me and begins to scrub off the dirt and mud that's caked on my skin.
"Why didn't you get clean and warm before you left the set?" he asks with concern.
"I just needed to get out of there before I got the sudden urge to turn Pete into a shish-kebab with my sword."
Orli laughs and begins to shampoo my hair. There's nothing sexual about these touches; they're meant to relax, not arouse. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, kissing his soft skin; I'm convinced he uses some kind of moisturizer, but he denies it. When I'm finally warm and clean, he grabs a huge, fluffy towel and wraps me in it. "I can do this," I protest half-heartedly when he dries my hair.
"Let me take care of you."
I murmur my assent, and he grabs a clean pair of boxers and a tee-shirt. "Thanks," I say, smiling for the first time in hours.
"Do you want some tea or something? Did you have dinner? We have that leftover casserole I could heat up."
"I'm fine, love," I laugh.
"Well, can you do me a favor, then?" He's still naked, and I wish he'd put some clothes on, since seeing him undressed always has the same effect on me, no matter how tired I am.
"Anything," I tell him, running a comb through my wet hair.
"Leave the room for two minutes. I have a surprise for you." His brown eyes are sparkling, and I know what that means – full-on Orlando Bloom mischief.
"It better be worth it," I warn.
"Trust me."
Realizing resistance would be futile, I go out into the hallway, staring at the ceiling paint for a few minutes, until Orli calls my name. I open the door, and am caught halfway between amusement and arousal. There's my boyfriend, posed suggestively on the bed, wearing his Legolas costume. "You're insane," I chuckle.
He pouts, which only serves to make him look positively edible. "You don't like it?"
"Oh, I didn't say *that*."
"This is all because of Lij, remember? He had that idea of Aragorn and Legolas shagging before Helm's Deep. But don't worry, I won't make you wear your costume. However, you do get the opportunity to ravish a woodland elf." He winks at me, looking far more tempting than anyone should be able to.
"I get to ravish you, huh?"
"After a night of hell on earth, I figure it's the least I could do for you. Besides," he says with a grin, "I don't want you resenting the fact that I spent the day in our nice, warm home." Smug bastard.
"I don't have to call you Legolas in bed, do I?"
"Yes. Now come on, I have a nice place where Aragorn can sheathe his sword."
"Okay, no sword jokes," I groan.
"Fine. Just picture it, though. Aragorn and Legolas have just made up after their little argument. The battle is fast approaching. They're alone in that room, because Gimli needs a bathroom break."
"You're nuts," I laugh. However, this does have . . . possibilities.
"We have trusted you this far; you have not led us astray," Orli says, reciting the dialogue. "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."
I roll my eyes, making Orli grin. "There is nothing to forgive, Legolas," I say in Elvish.
He smiles gleefully and pulls me down onto the mattress. "Would Gondor like to conquer Mirkwood?"
"Would Viggo like to slug his boyfriend?" I shoot back. He pouts again, and I just have to kiss him.
Orli gives a little moan of surprise before wrapping his arms around me and grinding his hips. "Verily, my king, you wear strange garments tonight," he tells me. "Tell me, where is this place your tunic refers to?" Tunic? Oh yeah, tee-shirt.
"New York City? Ah, Legolas, it is a blissful place with no elves."
"Wanker."
"Hmm, wanker. Is that an elvish word?" I laugh, kissing him again.
He just glares and rolls on top of me, nipping the sensitive skin of my neck. "And what of the Lady Arwen?" he asks. "She gave you her immortality, and you're cheating on her."
"Hey, you made the first move," I remind him.
"You're not wearing her necklace. Does that mean I have
your heart?"
I roll my eyes. This is the most demented form of method acting in the world. It's also undeniably hot, as Orli slithers down and removes my boxers. "No, it just means I don't like the necklace. I hate costume jewelry."
Our ridiculous banter ceases as Orli takes me into his mouth without prelude, sucking hard. "You need to be relaxed before you can go into battle, Aragorn," he tells me as he pulls away to tease my thighs with gentle bites.
"I swear to God, Orlando . . ." I close my eyes in frustration.
"Who is this Orlando you speak of?" Another bite. "And swear to the Valar, Aragorn."
Whatever nasty retort was hanging on my tongue is forgotten as Orli lavishes attention on my erection once more. I thrust my hips up as his fingers skim over my balls with devastatingly light touches. When a finger nudges against my opening, just enough to tease, I grip the sheets. "Please," I gasp.
"Who has your heart, Estel?" Ah. Back to the game. Well, if this is what it takes to make Orli finish me off . . .
"Legolas," I moan.
If his mouth weren't full of my cock, I know he'd be smirking. With one last swipe of tongue and a finger that pushes and twists inside me, Orli brings me to climax, welcoming my come as it explodes in his mouth. As my breathing tries to find a steady pattern again, he pulls off my shirt and kisses his way up my stomach and chest. I pull him into a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue.
Reaching down, I slide a hand into his taupe leggings and grasp the familiar weight of his erection. I free it from the restrictions of cloth, and Orli groans in gratitude. "Hmm," I say, leaning to kiss the head.
"What?" His voice is strained.
"That is no orc horn," I say, pointing at his dripping cock.
Orli swats me none-too-gently on the head. "Yeah, and you know all about horns. I know what Boromir did to you with his. Besides, that's my line."
"We're freaks, Orli," I laugh.
"But you love it, Vig."
"True."
I begin to suck him gently, loving the feel of his flesh and how it jumps under my movements. But Orli doesn't let me get far. "Aragorn," he pleads, bringing my head back up his body.
"Yes, Legolas?" Jesus, I'll never live this down if anyone finds out.
"I need you inside of me. Please. We may die tonight, and I cannot pass this world without knowing the pleasure of being fucked by you."
"How eloquent."
I roll off of him and search for the lube, finding it in my knapsack, apparently still unpacked from the weekend's camping trip. My hand hits something in the bag, and I get a wicked idea. "Close your eyes, Legolas."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a king, and I'm telling you to."
"You're not king yet, and I'll never be one of your subjects."
"Legolas." My tone is now menacing, something I've perfected during my months of playing Aragorn.
"Fine. But a shadow and a threat is growing in my mind."
"Yes, and your wanton desire is growing between your thighs."
"How poetic."
"Shut up, little elf."
"I am *not* little, Aragorn. You should know that."
"Just shut your eyes."
Legolas, er, Orli sticks his tongue out at me but complies. I
need to make some noise for this, so I hum the song of Luthien. Orli
teases me about my singing, I know he likes it. I quickly whip out
the camera, adjust the focus, and snap a picture. If he heard the
click of the shutter, he doesn't care. With the lube now in my hand,
I move stealthily back to the bed, expert ranger that I am, and quickly
coat my cock. The sight of Orli lying on the bed, legs spread, leggings
half-off, cock jutting out proudly is all anyone would need to get hard
again.
I kiss him as I enter him fluidly, my mouth muffling the cry
of shock and maybe a little pain, but he recovers quickly, thrusting his
tongue into my mouth and grabbing my ass to bring me closer. "Shit,
Viggo," he gasps.
"Aragorn," I corrected him. He started this little game, I'm just finishing it.
My hands slip under his tunic and pinch his nipples, feeling him squirm beneath me. Another kiss is started, and then another, and another. 'Poor Professor Tolkien is spinning in his grave,' I think idly. Orli wraps a hand around his erection and begins to stroke himself.
"So tell me, Estel," he pants. "Is this better than Boromir?"
"Yes," I moan, feeling his muscles drawing me in further. "Better than Boromir, better than Haldir, better than Eomer. Even better than Frodo."
Orli shrieks in amusement. "Aragorn and Frodo?"
"It's true, Legolas. I have a bit of a hobbit fetish. Just the right height."
We're laughing as we move towards orgasm together, and I wonder if sex has ever been this *fun*. Orli thrusts his hips up at me, his hands still firmly on my ass, and I come first, calling out his name. Quickly pulling out of his body, ignoring his whine of protest, I lean down, moving his hand off of his cock and taking the hot flesh into my mouth. With a litany of curses and incoherent sounds, he comes in my mouth.
"Wow," he mutters as I pull his leggings all the way off and do the same with his tunic. "Any stains I'll have to explain away?"
"Not that I can see." I toss him a pair of regular clothes to sleep in and he slides under the covers with a smile.
"So, how was that? I know it was strange, but I was curious."
"It was fun," I admit. "Bizarre, but what else is new? I mean, we're both nuts."
Orli laughs and kisses me. "In a better mood now?"
"You always put me in a good mood, love." I pull him close and slip a hand under his shirt, feeling the beating of his heart. "I don't want to have to go back tomorrow to do the same thing, though."
"At least I'll be there this time. And when we get home, we can do this again."
"Don't you think someone will get suspicious if our costumes keep disappearing?"
"Well, I could nick some other clothes and we could play Gandalf and Saruman, bitter ex-lovers." I stare at him for a minute before he starts cracking up. I can't help but laugh alongside him. "Sorry," he laughs.
"I don't think we'll be doing that anytime soon. Besides," I say as I kiss him again, "I only want Orli, not some character I don't really love."
"Same goes for me," he murmurs, turning off the lamp. "But it proves that old theory of yours."
"What theory?"
"That Aragorn and Legolas are lovers."
"Oh, that. Well, I only said that to get you into bed," I tease.
He laughs again. "It worked."
"Obviously."
"What about Sam and Frodo? Do you think they shag like bunnies?"
"Orli?"
"Yeah?"
"Go to sleep."
*****
It's been two days since I gave Sean A. the photo of Orli waiting to be fucked while wearing his costume. The photo was accompanied by strict instructions that only our friends who knew about me and Orli could see it or know about it (and I knew those instructions would be obeyed). So far, Karl, Lij, Billy, Dom, Ian, Hugo, Miranda, and John have seen it, and *Fran* winked at me this morning. Sean assured me that he sent a copy to the other Sean.
All that's left is for Orli to see it, and then I'm toast. However, the prospect of Orli pouting for a few days isn't enough to discourage me from doing this. And the threat of him withholding sex as a punishment is nonexistent; after all, this is Orli, who can't go three days without sex. As I sit waiting between takes, I hear what I've been waiting for.
"VIGGO! YOU CUNT!"
