Sean.
He was the beginning of everything, and the end. Of any voice Orlando might have heard, Sean's was the one that could ruin everything. Don't do this, Orlando pleaded silently. Things are starting to change for me. But Sean's voice continued to unroll from the spool of tape, uncaring of the inner turmoil that wracked him.
"Last night opened my eyes, Orlando. It made me realize there are too many things left unresolved between us." Sean's voice sounded guarded. Orlando immediately pictured the older man rubbing at his jaw as he often did when he was uncomfortable. "I need to talk to you. There's a lot I need to explain. I know I owe it to you."
*I owe it to you*
Orlando hated the flutter in his stomach.
"I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night," Sean continued. He cleared his throat and for a ridiculous moment, Orlando imagined him to be nervous. "Let me do this, Orlando. It's important for us both. This can't remain the way it is. I think deep down, you agree with me. Think about it."
He didn't want to think about it. Not about Sean, not about what had happened. Not about what could be done to make it better between them. If Orlando did, if he dared to consider the ways it could work, he knew things would change. He would be vulnerable again.
"I hate you," Orlando whispered. But it wasn't Sean he hated it. It was himself. Already he could picture the next few hours of his life unfolding before him and in them, he was with Sean.
How much of it was obsession, how much the compulsion of a bruised ego? Orlando felt like a man drowning in his weaknesses. He didn't know how to save himself from his own self-destruction. Viggo's words could keep him afloat, but what if they, too, disintegrated beneath his hands?
Orlando stared at the silent answering machine. All it had taken was a simple phone call and he was hooked once again. Bitterness welled up in him. He swept the machine from the counter and watched it shatter against the kitchen tile. Each spinning shard was a piece of himself, useless.
**************************
It was unusually quiet in the make-up trailer. Everyone else had left for the set, leaving him in silence. He welcomed the quiet. Savored it. He was probably going to be late, but he didn't care.
He was staring at Legolas, who was staring back at him. Sorrow etched the elf's face. Orlando could not remember ever seeing him this way. He touched the mirror, tracing the features he saw there.
"What do you know that I don't?" he asked softly. But the voice wasn't Legolas'. It was Orlando's. Beyond the prosthetic ears, beneath the fall of the golden wig, Orlando was there, after all. Today of all days though, he wished he could complete the transformation and lose himself in Legolas. Today, Orlando did not want to be found by anyone.
"Orli."
Reluctantly, he raised his eyes and found Dominic standing behind his chair. The other man was in his Hobbit costume. If possible, his face was sadder than Legolas' had been.
Staring at his friend's reflection, Orlando realized how many mistakes he had made lately. How selfish he had been. It churned with an acid realization in his gut. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for everything."
Dominic met his gaze, didn't react as Orlando continued. "I couldn't give you what you wanted, Sblomie. What you deserved. You would have been better off if you'd met someone else. I'm sorry."
Dominic's brow creased. "It wasn't just you, Orli. I started it. You didn't want me from the beginning, remember? You wanted Sean." He passed a hand across his eyes "But I convinced you otherwise and it's been that way ever since."
At the mention of Sean, Orlando looked away.
"Maybe if I'd kept my head about things," Dom went on, "I wouldn't have gotten hurt. It's my own fault. You never gave me a reason to hope that there'd be anything more."
Orlando winced. He touched the bridge of his nose, hiding his face. "Sblomie--"
"No, I'm not mad about it," Dominic interrupted. He took a deep breath. "I see things more clearly now. Elijah--" He laughed, shaking his head in bemusement. "I don't know what's happening, but it's all right, Orli. I wanted to tell you that. I was able to talk it out with Lij yesterday and..I don't hate you."
Stress that had been gathering around Orlando's shoulders eased a notch. The mess with Dominic was something he considered to be entirely *his* fault. To learn that in the end, Dom would be all right...Orlando met his eyes in the mirror. "Thank you," he said faintly. "I don't think I could have handled it if you hated me."
Dominic looked down, shuffling his feet. "Elijah's told me some things. Things about himself--" he colored slightly, making Orlando smile "--and things about you and--and Viggo."
Orlando clenched his jaw. "What about Viggo?"
Dominic raised his head. "I hardly know him. But from what I've seen of him, and how he stood up to me..." He gave a rueful smile. "Maybe he's what you need, Orli. Someone solid. A tree."
Is that what he needed? A tree to latch onto in the whirlwind of his life? Orlando shook his head. "I don't know what I need anymore."
"Sometimes you don't need to know. Just go with what feels right."
Orlando hoped the fear he felt wasn't reflected in his eyes. "What if I don't know? What if I can't trust it?"
Dominic's hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed. "You weren't always like this, babe."
No, he wasn't. Before Rings, before Sean, he had been different. He'd been cocky and self-assured, not because he knew he was a good lay or could have anyone he wanted, but because no one had given him a reason to think he *shouldn't* be confident with himself. He'd been naive, sure, but he'd been full of hope, too. Somehow, he had allowed all of that to change.
He covered Dominic's hand with his own. "I can't believe how much you still care about me, after all that I've done. "
Dominic smiled and leaned over the chair. He pressed his lips to Orlando's and kissed him, not passionately, simply in affection and remembrance of their history. "Don't be afraid anymore," he whispered against Orlando's lips. "I think you've been that way long enough."
***********************
Ever since Sean's message last night, Orlando had hoped that somehow, magically, he would be able to avoid speaking to him. Unfortunately, though magic may exist in the world of Tolkien, it was studiously absent from Orlando's life. Sean was waiting for him at the edge of the set.
It was the first time Orlando had allowed himself to fully study the other man since their break-up. Now he remembered why. Sean was as handsome as ever. The grooved lines of his face, the experience bracketing those verdant eyes--all the things Orlando had become infatuated with were still there. It was why he had never indulged before now.
He felt the noose tighten as Sean stepped in front of him. Everything that he'd felt before with Sean--*everything*--flared to life as if not a day had passed since they'd last slept together. Unbidden, Orlando remembered the feel of Sean's calloused palm curving over his hip and sliding down his thigh. He remembered the crush of Sean's body over his, the scent of his aftershave as their faces rubbed together. A flush of heat washed over his skin. He hoped it wouldn't be evident beneath all the make-up he wore.
"Orlando." It was different from the way Viggo said his name. Softer, rounder, less a claim of possession than an exhalation of need. It still made Orlando shiver.
He nodded stiffly, determined to keep his hold on things. "Sean."
The other man's eyes were dark with tension. When had they ever been so green? "I take it you received my message." Orlando nodded. "I meant what I said," Sean continued quietly. "We need to talk about things. I've made a lot of mistakes with us. I'd like to rectify things."
"Rectify things," Orlando repeated. "What, exactly, does that mean?"
A pained expression crossed Sean's face. "I think I might have made a mistake back then."
Orlando wished he could have been cool enough to laugh. He wasn't. "You did make a mistake. It's too late to go back and change it."
Sean searched his face. "Why is it too late, Orlando? Did it mean so little to you that you won't even consider starting over?"
Resisting the urge to blurt out the truth made the sweat pop out on Orlando's forehead. "You don't understand," he managed in a voice that threatened to crack. "I can't go back to that. It would kill me, Sean. *I can't*."
Despite his efforts, Sean heard what Orlando hadn't wanted him to. The older man hesitated only a moment before reaching up to finger a lock of Orlando's wig. "I was afraid of a lot of things back then," he murmured, uncaring that Orlando was stiff with tension. "I was going through a divorce, I have my daughters to worry about. My career." He raised his eyes. "Even so, I know what we had was good. I made a mistake letting it end the way it did."
"You did," Orlando replied bluntly, and he meant more than being dumped.
Sean understood. He nodded, his fingers following the golden hair back to Orlando's scalp. Orlando's every sense became focused on the spot where Sean's fingers hovered beside his cheek. "Let me make it up to you," Sean said. There was a husk to his voice that Orlando didn't think he was imagining. "I'll take you to dinner. That silly fish and chips place you like. We'll talk things out. Like we should have back then."
He bridged the distance, touching Orlando's skin. No, Orlando thought, wretched. He fought not to close his eyes as the familiar fire spun through his body. Something in his expression must have given him away, because Sean smiled.
"I've always loved how responsive you are," he murmured with a soft laugh. The words made Orlando's legs tremble. He held himself still as Sean's hand drifted to the back of his neck. A rough thumb rubbed gently against his nape. "Come to dinner with me," Sean urged. "Let me make it up to you."
The tug was slight, but Orlando leaned towards Sean as if all will had been sapped from his body. He closed his eyes as Sean's breath whispered against his ear. "I haven't forgotten, Orlando. Not one thing. It's what I think about at night. Did you know that?"
Blood pooled in Orlando's groin. He felt himself filling with a hated, pained desire. "I remember everything," Sean repeated. The edges of his lips brushed Orlando's earlobe, making him gasp. "Every inch of your body, every whimpering sound you used to make when I touched you. Everything."
"Don't do this," Orlando pleaded weakly. "What you did was wrong. You can't make me forget it by bringing up sex."
Sean's hand was somewhere near his groin, not touching, just *there*. "I'm not trying to make you forget anything, Orlando. I'm trying to remind you why you should give me another chance."
Don't let him do this, a faint voice cried out in his head. There aren't any second chances after what he did. "If this is just about sex, I could find anyone," Orlando managed.
Hot breath moistened his ear. "So could I. But I want what I had with you. Don't you remember it, Orlando? Don't you remember the feel of me?" The fingers on his neck stroked. "The feel of me inside you?"
"Damn you," Orlando muttered beneath his breath. He was hard and aching and Sean hadn't even really touched him. Images flooded his mind. Remembered sensation buzzed along his nerves. Sex with Sean had been fantastic, it was true. After the first time--which had been painful for its own reasons--he and Sean had found a rhythm that kept Orlando up nights just remembering it. Leave it to the older man to bring it up...
"I remember the feel of *you*," Sean told him, his voice thickened with arousal. "I want it again."
His hand brushed briefly across Orlando's groin, forcing him to bite back a moan. Sean pulled away slowly. It was as if a storm cloud had blocked out the sun. Everything seemed darker than it had before. "Come to my house tonight," Sean cajoled, studying him. "Be there, Orlando. I'll make it good again."
Orlando watched him walk away. His body trembled with reawakened desire. He could have Sean back. Sean wanted *him* back. The thought astounded him. Maybe Sean had heard about Orlando's break-up with Dominic. Or maybe Sean had seen him with Viggo and been jealous. Whatever the reason, Sean sounded like he was even willing to apologize for what had happened between them. Everything could return to the way it was.
But was that a good thing?
The ache of lust made it difficult to think clearly. It had always been Sean's advantage--Orlando's blinding need for him. If he went back to Sean, Orlando knew he would have the most amazing sex imaginable. Maybe even more so, now that Orlando had more experience with men.
But what then?
What happened outside of the bedroom? Some of Orlando's ardor began to cool as he recalled how impersonally Sean used to treated him when they were in public. Because of his crumbling marriage, Sean had insisted that he and Orlando be a secret. It meant no touching in public. No affection. No acknowledgement at all, actually. Could Orlando go back to that? Back to a relationship without love? He had had that with Dominic. It hadn't been so bad, Orlando told himself.
Then Viggo walked onto the set.
A different sort of need filled Orlando's veins and its intensity shocked him. He stared longingly at the firm, chiseled profile of Viggo. He imagined again the arms that had enfolded him. Why must it be such a risk to want to be cared for by someone? Why was it so frightening to need?
He tensed as Viggo noticed him. Steel blue eyes held him frozen in place. Orlando sucked in his breath at the slow heating of desire that warmed every inch of his body. He told himself it was lust again. But deep inside, he understood that with Viggo, it was somehow different. It was more.
Viggo walked up to him. Orlando thought he knew what the other man was going to do. But whereas Sean might have walked past him with a meaningful, secretive look, or Dominic would have kissed him dramatically, eliciting cat calls from the rest of the crew, Viggo took his hand and gently pressed it to his lips. Orlando searched the soft blue gaze looking up at him from above his hand, and found he didn't know what to do anymore.
********************
Orlando carefully buttoned the last button on his new blue shirt. He checked his reflection in the mirror with a critical eye. Sober brown eyes looked back at him, limned by shadow. The hint of fear clawed lines into his face on either side of his mouth. He knew he wasn't very attractive at this particular moment. Inside, he felt even uglier.
Viggo's words came back to him, as warm and thoughtful as they'd been this afternoon after shooting. "You did a wonderful job," Viggo had told him. "Peter's very pleased right now and I'm quite impressed myself."
In the mirror, Orlando watched the blush of pleasure suffuse his face once more.
"I'm lucky I made it through," Orlando had replied, embarrassed. "It's rather difficult concentrating with you around."
Viggo had arched a brow. "Is that so? Well, be flattered: I feel the same way around you." He'd touched the tip of Orlando's Elven ear with a look of awe on his face. "You're beautiful, Orlando. You have no idea."
Just as it had then, the blush faded as coldness invaded Orlando's body. Viggo had called him beautiful. Would he have said the same if he'd known of Orlando's shameful reactions toward Sean just hours before? How could he be beautiful when the thought of being in a purely sexual relationship with Sean was more appealing than a loving one with Viggo?
*It's because you're afraid.*
Maybe he was. But knowing it didn't make him feel any less so.
He stared hard into the mirror, looking for the person he thought Orlando to be. Even without the trappings of Legolas, it was difficult to truly see himself. He wondered how he had let it get this far. He wondered if he would do anything about it.
He grabbed his coat from the closet and slung a scarf around his neck. It was cold outside, the sun having set early now. The chill made him feel even more nervous if that were possible. His fingers were numb as he let himself into his car.
How many times had he done this before, sneaking about after work so the cast would never found out? And how many times had he been forced to drive to Sean's place, because the other man refused to meet Orlando in a situation beyond his absolute control? At first, the secretive nature of their affair had been part of the turn-on. Towards the end, it was something Orlando had grown to resent.
He rolled his head, trying to relax himself as he drove through the streets almost blindly. Voices in his head were screaming for him to turn around, to call a halt to something that would most likely leave him hurt yet again. Several times, paused at a stop light, he nearly steered the car into a U-turn. But being the glutton for punishment that he was, he forced himself to keep driving.
He pulled up in front of the house far quicker than he would have liked. He sat for a moment, listening to the tick of the engine.
"You've come this far," he muttered to himself, staring at the welcoming light on the front porch, "half-arsed won't do it. You've got to make a complete fool of yourself this time."
He laughed harshly and took a fortifying breath. He climbed out of the car and walked to the front door swiftly, not allowing himself the time to change his mind. He knocked forcefully on the door and managed not to bolt as the door swung inward.
"I'm supposed to be with Sean," he said in a rush. "Convince me I've made the right decision."
