TITLE: Heart and Shoulder (21/22)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Getting lucky in Kentucky (Orli's POV)
FEEDBACK: To (badly) paraphrase Galadriel: "This task is asked of the
beloved readers. And if you do not do it, Elizabeth will be
sad." In other words, let me know what you think!
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: If I knew any of these people, I'd be the happiest
girl in the world. But I don't. So that means this is all
pure fiction, and I don't make any claims that these stories are true,
nor do I make any money off of them. This is all just to satisfy
my demented imagination.
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just let me know where it's going
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A permanent thank you to my beloved Lostiawen for her
support, beta skills, and insanity
DATE WRITTEN: September 24th, 2004
"You're here!" I cry as I fling open the door and see Viggo standing on
the other side.
"I'm here," he affirms. He steps into my hotel room and shuts the
door behind him.
I throw myself into his arms. "Oh God, I've waited so long for
this, Vig. I pissed away so many takes this morning because all I
could think about was how long it's been since we've been together and
how much I need to see you."
Viggo graces me with a beautiful, laugh-line revealing smile.
"Well, now you can see me. And do some other things to me, also."
"Feeling pervy are we, old man?"
"What do you expect? It's been almost a month since we've seen
each other."
"Yeah, and phone sex is great but it just doesn't compare."
"Neither does our vibrator," he sighs. "Although at least Pokey
hasn't sank his claws into this one."
"Not yet," I laugh. "But there's still time for that kinky,
diabolical cat to get his paws on it."
He snorts. "I wasn't aware that a house cat could be kinky."
"Trust me, he's kinky. And I miss him like hell."
"I know you do, Orli." Viggo kisses my hair. "You'll be
back home in another two weeks."
"Not soon enough," I grumble.
"Come on, don't take that attitude. Why don't you tell me about
all of the fun you've been having here?" he suggests as he subtly
steers me towards the bed.
"Well, this *is* a really terrific shoot."
"See? You always tell me you're having a great time."
"Yeah, that's true," I admit with a smile. "The people are
wonderful; everyone's so low-key here. I mean, you'd never guess
that Cameron is the kind of guy who's worked with stars like Tom Cruise
before."
"Baby, you know that *you're* a star now, right?"
"Um, yeah." I blush and look down. "Anyway . . . Kirsten is
just so cool. She's funny as hell. And she's so much fun to
drink with!"
Viggo laughs. "Should I be worried?"
"Christ, Vig. She's got girly-parts. Those don't do it for
me anymore. Maybe I'll hook her up with one of the hobbits,
though. They might hit it off."
"Sounds like a plan, my little Cupid."
"Don't mock me," I say, narrowing my eyes.
"I would never dream of it," he smirks.
I snort and ruffle his hair. "Yeah, right."
"We're getting distracted," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the hollow of
my neck. "You were telling me what a nice time you're having
here." I shiver as his tongue slips out and caresses the spot he
just kissed.
"Uh . . . yeah. Well, it's nice to do a film where I don't have
to use any weapons. And I can actually wear normal clothes
instead of poncy period costumes."
"But I like it when you flash your chest with a pirate's outfit, or
when you show off those legs in a Trojan skirt. Not to mention
how Legolas' leggings showcased your ass."
"Hey, a good pair of jeans can showcase my arse," I argue. To
demonstrate, I turn around and shake my bum at him. I hear a
little growl, and the next thing I know, Viggo's tackled me and pinned
me to the bed. "Madman!" I shriek.
"Tease," he counters.
"I'm not a tease." Yeah, right. And Achilles and Patroclus
were 'just cousins.'
"Yes, you are. You live to drive me crazy." His voice is a
low rumble in my ear as he slowly kisses his way from my forehead down
to the collar of my tee-shirt. Frowning at the cloth barrier, he
reaches down for the hem and slips the shirt over my head, tossing it
aside. My breath hitches as he continues his sweet assault down
my chest and torso, dropping lazy kisses on seemingly every patch of
skin he can find.
"You're driving *me* crazy," I whisper, arching up to meet the softness
of his lips as they glide over my neglected skin.
"What do you expect after a month of celibacy?" I can barely make
out his words; they're muffled by my jeans as he kisses the prominent
bulge between my legs.
"You weren't celibate, Viggo. You used a vibrator."
"You're splitting hairs, love." Before I know it, my jeans and
skivvies have joined my shirt on the floor, leaving me completely
starkers.
"Oh, shut up and take your kit off."
He snorts. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."
"You want me to talk dirty?" I smirk. "I can do that."
"So you've proven to me many times before." Viggo stands up to
slowly pull off his clothes until he's as naked as I am. The
sight of his erection jutting from a nest of curls, already glistening
at the head, causes my own cock to twitch in my hand. He looks
good enough to devour. Hey, that's not a bad idea!
Devouring Viggo could be fun, if possibly messy and dangerous.
"I'm going to devour you," I tell him.
"What?" There's a confused look on his face that doesn't last for
long, as I grab his arm and pull him back down onto the mattress with
me. Once I have him squirming underneath me – yes, I *can* be
that strong when I want to – I slide down and inhale his cock without
any pretense.
The singular taste and smell of Viggo assaults my senses for the first
time in weeks, making me moan around the thick flesh in my mouth.
I slide my hands up the familiar territory of his chest, seeking to
touch him in any way that I can. A deep rumble of satisfaction
echoes through his body as he runs his fingers through my hair, telling
me without words how much he's missed this.
I bob my head up and down in a voracious attempt to lick every inch of
the slick cock that's poking at the back of my throat. Relaxing
my throat muscles, I gradually take him all the way in. There are
already a few drops of precome that slip off the head of his cock so I
can taste them, but I want more than that. As always, I'm
desperate to taste every last bit of him that I can. And now,
after spending so long apart from each other, what I really want is to
make him come so that I can swallow it all down. Pervy?
Yes. Obsessional? Maybe. But I'd challenge anyone in
my position to do something different.
Viggo's constant moans are echoing through the room, letting me know
that I'm performing my task well. The sound of those low, throaty
sounds sends shivers through me, and I find myself wondering what other
noises he'll be making before the night is over. More moans would
be lovely, and some wailing and crying out in ecstasy is always
appreciated. Of course, screaming my name as he climaxes
rapturously is the ultimate goal. I'll see if I can push him to
that point.
Judging from how he's trembling under me, it might not be that long
until I reach my goal. With each thorough swipe of my tongue
along the length of his cock, he seems to draw more and more taut with
arousal. To be honest, I'm not sure who's enjoying this more: him
or me. I've missed him so much that the fact that I'm able to
touch him, taste him, and show my love for him right now makes up for
all the nights I've had to spend alone.
Every second of this is heaven for me. I keep roaming my palms
over his warm body, touching him everywhere as if trying to reassure
myself that he's really here, that this isn't simply another one of my
give-Viggo-a-fantastic-blow-job fantasies. No, this has to be
real. The fact that I can feel his pulse when I touch his thigh
makes it real, as does the almost-painful sensation of his fingers
tightening in my curls when I begin to suck his cock with a little more
vigor.
And when he finally cries my name loud enough for them to hear it in
the lobby, spilling into my mouth at the same time, I know that this
can't be just a fantasy. Because even in my dreams, Viggo never
sounded as sexy or tasted as yummy as he does now. I wonder
offhand if he's changed his diet. Well, I can always ask him
about that later. There are better things to do at the moment –
like make love to my gorgeous boyfriend.
He's sprawled across the bed, body slack and limbs akimbo from the
pleasure I've just given to him. There's a small grin on his
face, letting me know that he's ready for Round Two. I straddle
him, sliding my erection over his firm stomach and drawing a shudder
from deep within him.
"Is that what you want?" he rasps. His hands come up to cup my
arse, making me quake with need for him. "To take me?"
"I want to make you scream," I tell him without reservation. "I
want you to feel how much I've been dying to be deep inside of you for
the past month."
Viggo's breath catches. "Oh, God . . . make me feel that," he
gasps. "Please."
"I will. I promise." I lean down and kiss him
all-too-briefly before sliding off of the bed to fetch the small but
vital tube that we need. "Lube," I explain when he raises his
eyebrows at my sudden disappearance.
"You couldn't have placed it a little closer to the bed?" he grumbles
playfully. "I need you *now*, you sexy thing."
"Just hang on," I laugh.
"Can't. Get over here."
I launch myself onto the bed, prepared at last. Viggo grabs the
lube and applies some to his fingers, spreading his legs wider so I can
get an unfettered view as he pushes the slick digits inside of his
body. What a beautiful sight. A smile spreads across my
face as I watch his body welcome the thick fingers, knowing that my
cock will soon follow.
"See how much I missed having you fuck me?" Viggo gasps.
I nod dumbly, my mouth turning dry as I watch the spectacle that's laid
out before me. The thought of that tight hole opening up for me
is almost too much, and I have to squeeze the base of my erection to
prevent myself from getting too worked up. It doesn't work.
He's tempting me too much. I wonder if selling his soul in return
for being a sex god was part of getting into character for playing
Lucifer all those years ago.
"Please, Orli . . . don't make me wait any longer," he begs. The
sound of the most sinful voice I've ever heard offering up words of
supplication proves to be more than I can bear. Really, why
should either of us wait a second more? Haven't the past four
weeks been torturous enough? Doesn't he deserve what he's asking
for? And why am I still debating this with myself?
"I won't make you wait." I grasp his wrist and pull the fingers
from his body. There's a soft groan that echoes through the room
as he finds himself empty and wanting again, but I quickly cover his
body with my own in a silent pledge to satisfy his needs.
"Please," he whispers again. The mere tickling sensation of his
breath passing over my cheek is enough to make me quake with sheer lust.
"Yes," I sigh.
Being prepared beforehand makes all the difference. Instead of
having to pause now for an awkward lubrication of parts, I'm able to
sink into him without any resistence. The familiar, beloved
sensation of being clasped and pulled in by Viggo's hot sheath floods
through me, touching every part of my body from top to bottom.
Despite the sterile hotel decor that surrounds us, I know at this
moment that I've come home.
Strong legs encircle my waist while gentle hands perch on my shoulders;
I shiver at the blazing intensity that's reflected back at me through
his blue eyes. A part of me wants to celebrate our reunion by
letting loose and thrusting as fast as I can until I lose all of my
control. But I decide that it's better to go slow, allowing me to
savor every moment and every touch.
I begin gliding in and out with an unhurried pace, trying to take the
time to concentrate on every last aspect of how Viggo's body feels
around me. I'm wrapped up in a world of pulsating heat and smooth
tightness, and each thrust I make feels like a plunge into an ecstatic
abyss. This time around, *I'm* the one who's making all of the
noise, as my wanton moans prove to be loud enough for both of us.
Beneath the racket that I'm making, I can barely hear my boyfriend's
mewls of pleasure and the creaking of the bedsprings.
The gorgeous sight of Viggo's hard cock pressed up against his belly is
now all that I can focus on. One of his hands starts moving down
so he can wank, but I push that hand away. We've both wanked
enough lately, and I think that I should do the honors for him.
He certainly doesn't object when I grasp the heavy weight of his
erection in my palm and slide the velvety flesh back and forth.
Frantic gasps tumble from his lips, and I revel in how much he seems to
desire me. Finally I can stand no more, and lean down to kiss him
with all of the passion that I can summon.
His cock twitches in my hand, responding to the kiss as forcefully as
his cock responds to my fingers. With every one of my leisurely
thrusts, Viggo pushes his hips back at me, forcing me deeper into his
body. He's now gone from gasping to groaning, a low, deep sound
that stokes my desire even further. I push deep inside of him,
aided by the way our sweat-slicked bodies work together after years of
practice that have made this familiar but never mundane.
"More," he pleads. "Orli, please!"
"Easy, gorgeous," I tease. "We're going to go nice and slow."
"But I need you!"
"I'm right here!" I laugh. I really shouldn't laugh, since I
understand his desperation. But I've decided that what we need
tonight is something more drawn-out than our usual hasty, hungry
reunion sex. It should be a real celebration of coming together
again, not just a slapdash, wham-bam-thank-you-man fuck. So no
matter how much Viggo protests, even in that alluring bedroom voice, I
refuse to give in and start reaming him blindly.
At least it seems as though he's beginning to see the wisdom of my
decision, as he stops arguing his point and contents himself on
writhing underneath me. Ooh, writhing Viggo is always such a
delectable sight. My mouth makes a beeline for every available
patch of skin on his body, and I'm dropping wet, loving kisses anywhere
I can find room for my lips. This only leads to more writhing,
which leads to more kissing, and so on. And all the while, the
delicious thrusts continue. Life is good!
In fact, life doesn't get much better than when you have a writhing,
trembling Viggo beneath you, obscenities tumbling from his mouth in
three languages. Then his whole body tenses right before he comes
with remarkable intensity. He clamps down on me, effectively
trapping me in a vise (a pleasurable one, to be sure), and driving me
to pound into him over and over. The measured pace is gone,
replaced by my newly bared desperation; all that I can see, all that I
can smell, all that I can touch is Viggo. And it's more than
enough to make me come.
With a way-too-dramatic scream, I reach my climax and immediately
collapse on top of my satisfied boyfriend. My work is done for
the evening. Please hold your applause until I can move again.
When I summon the ability to do more than just lie there, I pull out of
Viggo with a rueful groan and flop onto my back. "That was
brilliant," I sigh. "Absolutely brilliant."
"Yeah, you weren't bad yourself," Viggo deadpans.
I snort and mock-punch his shoulder, causing him to groan with faked
pain. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that the elderly need
delicate care," I tease.
"You're going to pay for that one, elf tart," he growls.
"Make me." We're both grinning so hard that my face is hurting
and Viggo is sporting those laugh lines around his eyes that I adore.
"You asked for it."
I shriek as he pounces on top of me, his energy seemingly restored in
the blink of an eye. That's not fair! I'm still recovering
from our sexual Olympics! He starts tickling me, finding all of
my weak spots without any difficulty. When I finally cry for
mercy, his touches turn from ticklish to sensual, starting another
round of kisses, caresses, and lovemaking.
*****
I really should be sleeping. There are only three more hours
until I'm going to get a wake-up call from the hotel concierge, and
I'll have to drag my pathetic arse back to the set for another day of
filming. Still, I'd rather lie here and watch Viggo sleep than
join him in slumber. I know that's totally irrational, but it's
one of those things that happens when you're in love so much that
you've abandoned common sense.
I'm almost *afraid* to fall asleep, as if Viggo being here with me is
all a dream. It always amazes me that he drops everything to
visit me on the set time after time. It fucks up his schedule,
gives him horrid jet lag, and forces him to eat way too many stale
airline peanuts, but he puts up with those hardships just so he can see
me. And even though I'm the one who chooses to leave our home in
the first place, you'll never hear him complain about it.
What did I ever do to earn this wonderful man? Oh, I know that
I've made sacrifices of my own in our relationship; our love isn't a
one-way street. We have a true partnership, one that's stronger
than ever despite all of the hits that it's taken. And now we're
planning on our biggest step forward ever with the plan to adopt a
child. It's really an amazing journey that we've taken together.
Maybe I should get him something special. Yeah, I should.
Something to let him know how much he means to me. Okay, I
realize that he knows I love him, but I could give him something beyond
that. Something special. Something astronomical.
I sigh and ponder this for a few minutes, watching my lover breathe all
the while. My fingers drum anxiously against the sheets as I try
to come up with a good idea for what I could possibly give to
Viggo. Shit, this is tough. I can't think of
anything. Score one for my powers of . . . wait! I got
it! It's not really a gift; it's a plan. A secret
plan! A *brilliant* secret plan!
Now all I need is to start putting it into action. But I think I
should get some sleep first.
Heart
and Shoulder Part 22
More
Viggorli
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