I love the rain.
When I woke up this morning, I was exhausted and dreading a day of riding through Middle Earth, especially since my arse was more than a little tender (courtesy of my devastatingly sexy, ridiculously stamina-empowered, and well-endowed boyfriend). But before Viggo could even mount his trusty steed – the horse, not me – the sky clouded over and Pete called off filming for the day as the first droplets fell.
So I spent the day watching the telly with Viggo, John, and Ian, except for two hours that were occupied by a very twisted telephone conversation with Atti (not that there's any other kind). We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, and I enjoyed watching Ian trying to put the moves on our waiter. After a lengthy debate with John over whether Legolas nances or prances, Viggo and I said our goodnights and made our way up to the room we shared.
Viggo quickly called Henry and I went into the bathroom, trying to scrub the residual glue off my ears once more. Whoever said acting is glamorous should walk a mile in Elijah's hobbit feet. I walk out of the bathroom and see Viggo standing in front of the mirror, Narsil in his hands, practicing his badass routine.
"You look ridiculous," I tell him. "Wearing just boxers and waving a sword around."
He turns to me and frowns. "I just thought that I wanted some extra practice handling phallic objects. You have a problem with that?"
"Oh, I don't know, Vig. You seem to have a pretty good grasp on handling phallic objects already."
Viggo just shakes his head and laughs, setting Narsil down on the chair
the way one would set an infant down in a crib. Get a grip, Viggo,
really. It occurs to me that I'm in love with the bastard love child
of Errol Flynn in Robin Hood and Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's
Nest. I shake my head violently, trying to suppress that disturbing
image.
"It was so nice just to have an unexpected day off," he sighs,
and I nod in agreement. We've been driving ourselves crazy with the
relentless pace Pete has set, and although I know it's crucial to finishing
the movie on time, it's really difficult to just stop and catch my breath
sometimes. I flop down on the bed and leer suggestively at Viggo.
"So, big boy . . . fancy a shag?"
"Did someone spike your lembas with viagra?"
I just casually undo the button on my jeans and smirk at him. When he glares at me (or tries to), I lick my lips and pull down the zipper. He wants to play hard to get? Fine. I lazily slip my hand under the denim and sigh, adjusting myself on the pillows. Closing my eyes, I begin to stroke myself to hardness. After a moment, I pull off my tee shirt and then use one hand on my crotch and the other to lightly skim over my chest.
Cracking an eye open, I see Viggo standing there, shifting his position and biting his lip. I slide the jeans all the way off and arch my back so I'm thrusting into the air. "Guess I don't need you after all," I tease.
With a growl, he literally leaps onto the bed and pins me to the mattress. "Tease," he snarls. Before I can say the snarky comeback that's on the tip of my tongue, my mouth is otherwise occupied by the kissing force known as Hurricane Viggo. We've somehow both shed our boxers, although I'm not quite sure how that happened, but who am I to complain? I groan at the feeling of complete skin-on-skin contact and hook a leg around Viggo's waist, pushing my hips up at him. Okay, so I'm impatient, but who could blame me?
Apparently my eagerness isn't off-putting to Viggo as he pushes my leg off of his body and starts moving his tongue in a zig-zag path down my chest. Oh, here comes the good stuff. There seems to be no teasing tonight as he quickly licks the circumference of my tattoo before inhaling my cock. I'm starting to think that Viggo was a porn star before he made 'respectable' films. I wonder what his porn name would be . . . maybe Biggo Mortensen. Hehe, that's funny. This is what happens when all the blood in my body is diverted from my brain.
I'm wrenched out of my weird stream-of-consciousness mindset (a hazard of spending so much time with Viggo) by the realization that Viggo is no longer sucking my cock. "What the fuck?" I ask indignantly. The maddening creature just chuckles and swirls his tongue in a spiral around the length of my erection before blowing cool air on the overly sensitive skin. "Wanker," I protest weakly.
Viggo laughs and licks up the side of my erection, bringing to mind an unfortunate memory of The Prophecy. Will not think about that. Will not think about that. Will not think about that. "Something wrong?" he asks as I squirm a bit.
"N-no. I just . . . please don't tease."
He decides to have mercy on me and goes back to his regularly scheduled program of sucking my cock. My fingers curl in his hair, and he understands my silent plea for release, moving his mouth on me with even more earnestness. The orgasm is quick and brutal, as my head hits the headboard of the bed. "Fuck that hurts!" I yell, right after crying his name.
As he pulls his mouth off of my now-spent cock, he looks at me with something akin to hurt in his eyes. "What'd I do?" he asks.
"No," I gasp, still trying to reclaim my senses. "Was . . . wonderful . . . just hit my head."
A grin spreads across his face, and I glare at him. "Sorry," he chuckles. "Need me to kiss it?"
I just glare at him some more. "It's nice to know you get enjoyment out of my suffering."
Viggo's trying very hard not to laugh as he kisses my scalp. "Better?"
"Fuck off."
Now he *does* laugh, and I have to admit it's contagious, as my irritation slips away. It's difficult to stay annoyed with him when he's grinning and laughing. Still, I have to get *some* payback for his laughing at my pain. I straddle him and kiss him fiercely, feeling his erection poking my belly. When he tries to lean up so as to increase our contact, I sit back and wag a finger at him. "Now who's being impatient?"
He makes a grumbling sound but lies back on the pillows. Crossing his arms, he gives me a defiant stare, as if to say, 'what are you going to do to me?' This could be fun. "So," I say conversationally. "What do you feel like doing this weekend?"
"Orli . . ." He's trying for a menacing tone, but it's not quite convincing.
"I was thinking maybe we'd go to this club outside Wellington. It's supposed to be nice, and maybe I'll even get you out on the dance floor."
"Never," he growls.
"Hmm . . . would you dance with me if I did this?" I flick my thumb over the head of his cock, smiling as he unsuccessfully tries to stifle a moan. "Or this?" I smear his pre-cum around the head before leaning down to take just the tip of him into my mouth.
"You're evil."
"Answer my question, Vig. Will you dance with me this weekend at a club if I do this?" I begin to suck him a bit, enjoying this feeling of blackmailing him through sex. "No?" I ask at his continued silence. "Hmm. Too bad." I abruptly roll off of him and climb under the covers. "Good night."
"What?! You can't leave me like this?"
"Oh come on. You have a hand for a reason."
"But . . . it's not the same!"
Oh yes. This is fun. "You had your chance."
"Okay, okay!" I have to grin at the look of sheer desperation on his face. "I'll go to the club, I'll dance with you, I'll do the fucking polka while wearing hobbit feet and one of Arwen's dresses! Just finish it!"
"The polka, eh?"
"Orlando Bloom, I will seriously kill you if you don't finish what you started right now!" I'm actually impressed that he's able to string together sentences at this point.
"Fine," I sigh exaggeratedly. "But don't say I never do anything for you."
Getting out from under the blankets, I wink and take him into my mouth again. I feel positively evil, only not really, as I *am* giving him what he wants. He growls in frustration, and I know it drives him crazy that I don't have any hair he can grab onto. So I make up for it by basically letting him fuck my throat. He gives as well as he gets, so it's always worth it. He still manages to keep his composure for a while before his orgasm washes over him, and I wait until his breathing reaches normal levels again before kissing up his body.
"That was unfair," he tells me, kissing my forehead. "Using underhanded tactics like that."
"Well, you survived."
"Barely."
We just lie there for a few minutes, until I start to get restless again. "Can't stay still?" he asks with a wry grin.
"Of course not."
He kisses me, and I sigh happily into his mouth. Viggo tastes like the wine we had at dinner, and the chocolate mousse we shared for dessert, and me. The kiss continues for many long moments, no urgency or ferocity, just soft, slow sweetness. Dear God, I'm twee. But again, who could blame me? I'm a bit surprised when he pulls me on top of him, wrapping an arm around my waist and thrusting up at me, his cock beginning to harden again. "Lube," he murmurs.
I nod and reluctantly slide off of him, grabbing the tube from my bag. He takes it from me, and I smile, eager for what comes next. He coats his fingers, and I lie back, stroking myself to full erection. I practically jump out of my skin as I feel him rubbing his gelled fingers along the length of my cock. My eyes widen and I look at him.
Viggo laughs a little. "You know, you're really irresistible when you look confused, love."
"But . . . you want *me* to . . ." I can't think of how to finish that sentence.
"If you want to," he shrugs. Fuck the man and his nonchalant attitude.
"But . . . I don't know how!"
He laughs again and kisses me. "It's really not that complicated. Just insert, thrust, repeat."
"Cheeky."
"Orli, you don't have to do this if you don't want to, I just thought you might want to change things around a bit."
"Are you sure about this, Vig?"
"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't really want this. And besides, it may have been a long time, but I'm not exactly a virgin."
"Oh." I pause. "Oh!"
He spares me further embarrassment by not laughing again and just kissing my neck. "I want to feel you inside me. Don't worry about anything."
I nod. "So how . . . I mean, where should I be?" I feel very stupid right now, but I can tell Viggo doesn't mind. At least I didn't ask where to put it.
Lying on his back, Viggo pulls me on top of him. "Just like this." He hands me the lube, and I drop the tube twice before managing to slick some of the gel onto my fingers. He laughs again, but it's a comforting sound. "Don't worry," he says again. "I won't die if you screw something up. Besides which, I know you'll be great."
I'm nervous, but also undeniably excited. I'm also curious as to what it will feel like to be inside of a man; of course not just any man, it's Viggo. Slowly, tentatively, I brush a finger against his opening, and he squirms a bit, as if ticklish. Hmm. My finger breaches his body and I'm surprised how easily it sinks in. Not a virgin indeed. Vig lets out a throaty sigh and I add another finger, marveling at the sensation of his muscles drawing me in.
When a third finger enters him, he pushes against the intrusion. "More," he rasps. Nodding, I slide the fingers out, coating my cock with a bit more lube. Bracing my hands on either side of his head, I see the trust in his eyes and grin at him. Usually I'd try to come up with some stupid wisecrack, but not tonight. I groan as the head of my cock slips into his body, and Viggo's eyes widen, then flutter closed. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I hope that's a good sign.
Moving as slowly as possible, wanting to memorize every sensation passing through me, I push into him until I'm completely buried in his body. The feeling of being surrounded by incredibly tight yet welcoming heat is unbelievable, and I have to steady myself as I see my own pleasure reflected on Viggo's face. "Good?" I ask in a shaky voice.
"Wonderful."
"Am I hurting you?"
"No. It's been a while but . . . I need this."
"You feel so good." Man, that doesn't even begin to describe it. However, finding the perfect adjective isn't my main priority right now.
"I need you to move," he gasps, thrusting his hips up at me.
"Yeah." Move? But this feels so good!
However, I don't want to torture him, so I slowly pull back and then thrust into him. He moans softly, and I repeat my action. After a few thrusts, he pulls me down for a kiss. "Is this good?" I ask again.
"Put my legs . . ." he gasps. "On your shoulders," he finishes.
Obeying, I thrust into him again, and I can feel my erection brushing over something that makes Viggo literally scream. Ah. I've found his prostate. Still with one hand next to his head, I use the other to begin stroking his erection. I figure I'll just go with what I like when I'm in his position. Apparently my instincts are good, as he gets a somewhat crazed look in his eyes and continues to thrust back at me.
"God, Orli," he cries. "Harder."
My thrusts become quicker, and I'm now hitting his prostate with almost every push. I wank him with fast, hard strokes, beginning to get lost in the incredible feeling of being inside of him. His hands dig into my hips hard enough to leave bruises; not that I care. This is an absolutely amazing feeling. I can feel his muscles begin to clench around me, but I'm not ready for this to be over just yet.
I move my hand off of his cock and kiss him before he can utter words of protest. Viggo relents, letting me draw this out. I slow my pace until I'm almost barely moving. I can't help it. His loud moans have now changed to soft whimpers, and I can't believe that Viggo Mortensen is whimpering. This is an interesting turn of events.
Finally, however, I need release as much as he does, and I begin to speed up again, my hand returning to his erection. He's now pushing against my cock desperately, and it's only a few more thrusts before he reaches his peak. It doesn't take long for me to come either, and I collapse on top of him, feeling like I've just passed the world's most erotic endurance test.
"Wow," I say. Yes, I am highly intellectual after sex.
"Yeah."
"That was . . ."
"Yeah." He turns my head up so our eyes meet. "You were perfect."
I must have the most idiotic grin on my face right now. "Thanks." Settling my head down on his chest, I close my eyes.
"Orli?"
"Hmm."
"You have to move now."
"What? Why?"
"I'm getting sticky."
"Oh." I roll off of him with a grumble, reaching for our travel wet-naps. "I bet the woman at the hotel gift shop was curious as to why we bought two boxes of these."
"Actually, she winked at me, so I think she had a pretty good idea." Viggo's grinning as he cleans our bodies up a bit, then throws the dirty wet-nap across the room, frowning as it misses the rubbish bin.
"Don't quit your day job," I tease as I snuggle up to him again. "So did I give your arse a night it'll never forget?"
"Oh, be quiet."
"Is that a yes? Ooh, can I brag to everyone that I conquered the king?"
"Can I tell everyone that you didn't know what to do?"
"Shut up." I pout, which makes him just laugh and kiss me.
"Seriously, Orli, you were wonderful."
"So can this be a regular thing?"
"I'm counting on it. I can't do all the work, you know."
"Oh, stop bitching."
"So we're going to that club this weekend, huh?"
"Yup. You have to."
"Your tactics were entirely unfair."
"You didn't complain about the result, old man."
"No. Tonight you induced some particularly nice Orligasms."
I snort with glee. "Orligasms?"
"Yeah. They're just like normal orgasms, only cheekier."
I smack his chest playfully. "I hate you."
"I love you, too."
"You know what, Vig?"
"Hmm?"
"I really hope it rains again tomorrow."
He just laughs and kisses me again.
