TITLE: Some Kind of Heaven (14/22)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
WEBSITE: https://www.angelfire.com/scary/randominsanity/RandomInsanity.html
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Getting creative (Viggo's POV)
FEEDBACK: It's a giddy little thrill at a reasonable price
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my twisted imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my friends
DATE WRITTEN: July 28th, 2003
Blue. This canvas needs more blue. But this blue is way too dark. I must have some lighter blue around here somewhere. I rummage impatiently through my studio before changing my mind and seeking out maroon paint. Yes, maroon will do nicely.
"How's it coming?"
I whirl around, miraculously managing not to spill any paint, to see Orli leaning against the doorframe of the studio. "It's coming along okay," I manage to say, putting down the paint. "How was your nap?"
"Refreshing." He stretches his arms above his head and yawns. "I needed it, you know. You can't keep me up until all hours of the night with your libido like that. I have to get my beauty sleep."
"No, you don't," I chuckle as I look at him clad only in loose-fitting pajama pants that hang low on his hips. His curls are mussed up from sleeping and he has a sinful little smile on his face. "You just woke up and you look sexy as hell."
"Thanks," he laughs.
"You're welcome." I walk over to the small sink so I can wash my hands. "So are you all caught up on your sleep now?"
"Mm-hmm." Orli comes up beside me and pours some of the liquid soap onto his hands before taking my own soapy hands and helping me clean the paint off. "Favoring blue paint today, are we?"
"I was. I had just decided to use maroon when you came in."
"Am I interrupting?" he asks as he switches from cleaning my hands to massaging them.
"Not at all."
"Are you sure? I know you wanted to paint today."
"You've been sleeping for almost three hours, love. I got a lot done this afternoon."
"Good," Orli says, continuing to give me one hell of a hand massage.
"Feels good," I murmur. "I never knew that washing my hands could be this exciting."
"Ah, well I can make anything exciting," he tells me with a grin. "It's a rare and valuable talent."
"And I'm very glad that you have that talent." We rinse our hands under the warm water and then dry them off.
"So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon? Are you done painting?"
"Yeah, I think so . . ." My voice trails off as sudden inspiration strikes me.
"Viggo?" Orli grins at me. "What are you thinking about? You've got that look in your eyes that means I'll probably be naked in two minutes."
Yeah, I'm sure I *do* have that look in my eyes. "Stay here, okay? I'll be back in a second."
"Take your time," he tells me, his grin widening.
I sprint down the hall to our bedroom and reach under the bed to drag out our 'little box of fun'. Sifting through it, I find what I'm looking for and run back to the studio. "Okay," I say breathlessly, returning to find Orli exactly where I left him.
"What do you have behind your back?" he asks, trying to peek around my body.
"Well, it turns out that I *do* still want to paint today. But I'm thinking about trying out my handiwork on a different type of surface."
Orli laughs. "A different type of surface?"
I hand him the box of edible body paints. "Remember these? Dom and Billy gave them to you for your birthday a while back, and for some reason we've never used them."
"So does this mean that I'm your canvas?" he asks, his brown eyes dancing with excitement.
"Yes it does."
"Well, when duty calls . . ." He puts the box down and practically rips off his pajama pants. "Where does the artist want me?"
My jeans suddenly feel unbearably tight as I look at Orli standing naked in front of me, his cock already hardening. "Um, just stand there," I stammer.
"Alright." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose that would make him look like a classical statue if it weren't for the adorable messiness of his curls. It's like someone gave Michelangelo's David bedhead. "Is this good?" he asks with a saucy grin.
"That's just fine," I tell him. I crouch down and open the box, surveying the different tubes of paints inside. "Well, we have eight colors here, each one with its own flavor."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I hold up a tube and read the label. "Hmm. Red is cherry flavored."
"You know, I could make a hundred dirty jokes right now, but I'm not going to."
"I appreciate that," I laugh, squeezing some of the bright-red paint onto my fingers. "Where to begin, where to begin . . ." I slowly circle his body, contemplating options. "So many possibilities."
"You better do something soon, old man, or I'm gonna take over," Orli warns.
I chuckle. "Don't worry, Orlando." My finger reaches out to draw a line along his collarbone, streaking bold red onto the flawless olive skin. Goose bumps immediately surface on his skin, and I smile. "Now let's see if it actually tastes like cherry." Orli lets out a little sigh as I lick the edge of the painted line. "Yes, it's very fruity. Just like you."
"Cunt," he retorts. "Keep painting."
"Yes, dear," I tease. "How about some orange? Orange color *and* flavor -- very nice." I apply another line of paint just below the red one before sliding down to draw an abstract pattern on his hip. My hand blindly fumbles around in the box and retrieves kiwi-flavored green paint. A long, broad streak of green seems perfect for his chest, so I paint it right down the middle.
That little sun tattoo that I adore so much is distracting me, so I grab the grape-flavored purple paint and delicately trace over the design with my paint-covered pinky. More paint follows -- blueberry-flavored blue, lemon-collored yellow, strawberry-flavored pink, and vanilla-flavored white. Orli's body is now colored in a brilliant riot of colors, from blue streaks on his cheekbones to swirling pink designs on his ankles.
Most of the colors are concentrated on his chest, to the point where very little of his actual skin is visible. I wrote 'meleth-nin' in purple on his forearm, right next to the elvish tattoo, and our anniversary is written in red on his shoulder: 11-12-99. There's even a few lines of impromptu poetry on his upper back in white and blue. His cock is fully hard, and perhaps the only part of his body that doesn't have paint on it; even his ass has dashes of yellow, orange and green.
"So?" Orli asks with a smile. "What do I look like?"
"You look amazing -- if I do say so myself. Here, let me show you." I take Orli's hand and drag him into the bedroom so he can look at himself in the full-length mirror that hangs on the inside of the closet door.
"Wow." He turns around, trying to get a good look at his back. "Holy fuck, Vig. This is . . . wow."
"Do you like it?"
"I *love* it. You're a bloody genius, you know that?" He grins. "I think this needs to be photographed for posterity."
"Definitely," I agree.
We go back to the studio and I grab my camera, snapping one shot of Orli unaware and about ten of him in various poses. He thinks up all of his own poses -- one of him looking back over his shoulder at the camera, one close-up of his painted face, one of him stroking himself while lying on his back, and so on. After the photo session is done, I smile and skim my hand down his painted chest.
Orli grins at me. "Want a taste?" he asks.
Instead of answering him, I simply bend my head and attach my mouth to the inviting hollow of his neck, tasting grape and blueberry mixed with the familiar taste of Orli's skin. My mouth moves lower, sucking at an orange-flavored nipple until Orli moans and tangles his fingers in my hair. Meanwhile, I begin stroking his erection with slow movements.
"Yes," he hisses, tightening his grip on my hair.
I lick and suck at every inch of skin on his chest, swirling the different flavors around on my tongue as my hand speeds up on his cock. A few moments later, he comes with a gasp and a shout, his seed flowing over my fingers. He looks at me with hooded eyes and a satisfied smile as I lick my fingers clean.
"The paint may taste good," i say as I wrap my arms around him, "but you taste much better."
He laughs. "Well, I think it's my turn now," he tells me in a husky voice as his hands pull at my tee-shirt. Taking the hint, I step away to strip off my clothes. "Much better. Now, I think I should exercise my own artistic tendencies."
"Fine with me." I smile and allow Orli to go to work with the edible paints.
The first thing he paints is my face, decorating it with splashes of orange and yellow, and adding a red stripe down the cleft in my chin. My neck gets a quick swipe of green, and then he draws abstract patterns on my arms with every single color. Random bits of color decorate my legs and chest, while my stomach features a blue arrow that points down to my cock.
"What are you writing?" I ask as his painted fingers scrawl across my back.
"You'll see," he says in a tone of voice that makes me grin. After all, Orli's nothing if not mischievous. "Okay, stay perfectly still."
I raise my eyebrows at the feeling of him writing on my ass. "Orli?"
"Hang on a second . . . and done!" he proclaims triumphantly. "I wrote a poem for you, Vig."
"On my ass?" I ask with amusement.
"Well, it starts on your back. Here, I'll show you." We go back to the bedroom to look at the mirror. "Okay, so I know it's backwards in the mirror, but can you figure it out?"
I burst out laughing at what he's written: 'I know Viggo's sexy and superfine/But don't dare try to steal him, because he is MINE'. The MINE is written on my ass, two letters to each cheek. "You are *insane*," I choke through my laughter.
"I know," he says proudly. "Now, back to the studio so I can get some pictures of *you*." I grin and follow him to the studio, still chuckling about his demented but sweet poem.
"You've become quite the porn photorapher," I tease as he snaps some pictures of me.
"Well, it's all due to the inspiration. Now, I have a wonderful idea."
"Oh, God . . ."
"Seriously, Vig," he says with a grin. "Trust me on this."
"What's the idea?" I sigh, resigning myself to whatever fate Orli's chosen for me.
"Get down on all fours and crawl."
"Kinky," I laugh.
"No, you idiot. Just an idea based on one of *your* bloody films."
"Ah, I see. You're taking a cue from 'A Walk on the Moon'."
"Yes," he admits, blushing a little. "You looked ridiculously hot in that movie, and my favorite part was when you were covered in body paint and doing that crawling thing. Oh, and doing that instense-sexy look you do so well. God, that drove me crazy. So maybe it's a weird request, but please?"
I chuckle. "As if I could ever say no to you." Obliging my boyfriend, I crawl across the studio floor towards him, allowing him to take two or three pictures of the momentous event.
"God, you're so sexy," he says when I reach him, pulling me up for a kiss. His hand wraps around my erection and I moan against his mouth. "I think it's time for one last taste of that paint, don't you?"
All I can do is nod as he retrieves the lemon-flavored yellow paint and applies it to my cock; I'm oddly touched that he's using his favorite color. Orli sits me down on the studio's battered red corduroy couch and kneels between my spread thighs. He licks a long stripe up the underside of my erection, causing me to shudder and close my eyes in anticipation of more.
"Open your eyes, Vig," he urges. "Watch me do this."
I'm greeted with the sight of Orli's open mouth descending onto my cock, sliding me into his mouth with one slow and smooth motion. His hands press firmly on my hips to prevent me from thrusting into that impossibly sweet mouth, and he chuckles around my cock at my little grunt of frustration. He moves up and down, sucking hard as he goes; when he pulls back and licks at the head, I actually whimper.
One of Orli's hands slides down to cup my balls while the other starts to stroke his own erection. With no pressure holding my hips down, I can't help but thrust a little when he takes me in deep and swallows. He keeps sucking eagerly and I know I won't last much longer -- he's too damned good at this. When his thumb presses against my opening and his teeth scrape very gently against my cock, I let myself go and come while crying his name. He slides off of me and moans his own release a few seconds later.
"Yeah, you also taste better than the paint," Orli laughs tiredly, climbing up onto the couch to sit beside me.
"We owe Dom and Billy a thank you note," I say.
"No way I'll ever give those little buggers the satisfaction of knowing we used the stuff," he tells me.
"I suppose you're right," I chuckle.
"Viggo?"
"Hmm?"
"We really need a shower."
