Everyone's here. That's the only thing I can think of as I make my way down the hotel corridor. All nine members of the Fellowship, plus Pete and Fran, have reunited for the celebration that is the Cannes Film Festival. It's been five months since all of us have been together, and I'm giddy at the thought of seeing everyone. And trust me, I'm not usually giddy.
Of course, most of my giddiness is because of a certain elf boy. Okay, so now he's poised to become a 'big star' and has that role in Ridley's new film, but he'll always be my elf boy. It's been three weeks since he came to visit me in L.A., and it'll be so wonderful to have some more time with him. Calling him every day just isn't the same, not to mention that my long distance bill rivals the Gross National Product of a small country. Henry's new (and very effective) strategy of getting me to buy something for him is to say, "come on, Dad, it doesn't cost any more than a call to your boyfriend."
I run a hand through my hair one last time and knock on the door of the huge suite Pete and Fran are staying in. After a minute, the door swings open and I'm greeted by Billy. "Welcome to the Prancing Pony Brothel. The Steward of Gondor costs 500 francs, the dwarf costs 1000 francs, the hobbits cost 5000 each, and the wizard costs 10,000 francs. The elf will take his pants off for free."
"What a shock," I laugh as I give him a hug.
"Come on in, ya stupid git. You're the last one here."
No sooner am I in the room than Lij practically assaults me, jumping into my arms. "Strider!"
"Lij, you're not *really* hobbit-sized," I remind him as I struggle to support his weight.
"Get off of my boyfriend!" Orli runs over and starts pinching Lij until he falls out of my arms. "This man is *mine*," he says, emphasizing his point by kissing me soundly. Yes, I love Orli's way of saying hello.
"Thank you for that reminder, Orlando," Fran tells him with a wry smile.
"Was your flight okay?" he asks, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist.
"It was fine," I say, giving him a kiss on the forehead. "I already put my stuff in our room." We've decided to share a hotel room, hoping nobody notices or cares.
"Isn't it a beautiful room? I'm still annoyed that Pete didn't get us the honeymoon suite."
"Orlando, I'm not going to make the studio pay for you and Viggo to have a bigger bed," Pete informs him with a smile.
"Oh, they'll probably just end up doing it on the floor anyway," Dom laughs.
"No thanks," I say. "Carpet burn in unmentionable places isn't exactly my idea of a good time."
"What about that time in the trailer?" Bean reminds us.
"Can we *please* change the subject?" Orli pleads, blushing furiously. "I really don't feel like discussing my sex life."
"What a pity," Ian comments with a wink. "It makes for a pretty mental picture."
"Well regardless, I refuse to talk about this anymore. And that's final."
"Too bad," Lij sighs. "We were hoping Viggo would enlighten us about how he made you his bitch."
"I'll make you *my* bitch, Elwood," Orli growls as he leaves my side and starts chasing Lij around the room, barely avoiding a collision with John.
"For the Shire!" Billy cries right before he tackles Orli. Two hobbits and an elf wrestle on the floor, and I realize that's my cue; Pete's looking at me expectantly, knowing our antics all too well.
"Gentlemen, that's enough!" Yeah, I still have the I-should-be-king voice down pat. I just wish it would make Henry listen to me. Orli pulls me to the ground and starts kissing me again.
"Told you the elf would do it for free," Billy remarks with a grin.
*****
Okay, so it may not be the honeymoon suite, but the room we're sharing is still incredible. It's elegant and spacious, and the window that lurks beneath the gauzy curtains leads to an unfettered view of the Mediterranean. While Orli unpacks some clothes, I gaze out at the waters and allow myself to be drawn in by the serenity of the seascape.
I smile as Orli comes up behind me and brushes my hair back so he can kiss my neck. "So," he says softly, his breath tickling my skin, "voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
"That is the oldest line in the book," I laugh, turning to face him. My breath catches as I look at him in the light afforded by the lamp he turned on. His olive skin is now bronzed, and the shadows make his lashes seem that much longer and his cheekbones that much more sculpted. "The oldest line in the book," I say again.
"Well, you know what they say -- 'when in France . . .'"
"I think that's 'when in Rome.'" I slide my arms around him and pull him against my body.
"I don't really care," he sighs as I roll my hips against his, happily rewarded when I feel him beginning to harden under his jeans.
"Neither do I." My hands push his tee-shirt up and slide it over his head. He gasps as I bend my head to run my tongue over a peaked nipple.
"Vig?"
"Hmm?" I look up and then take his mouth with mine in a kiss. "What?" I ask when we separate.
Orli unconsciously licks his swollen lips, making me strain painfully against the zipper of my pants. "Do you remember what Ian said earlier?"
"About what?"
"That our sex life must make a pretty picture." His fingers deftly unbutton my shirt as he says this, and once my upper half is bared he presses his body tightly against mine.
"He's right," I murmur. "We have the photos to prove it, and we're not showing them to Ian."
"No, that's not what I meant," Orli laughs as he continues to undress me, pushing my pants and boxers down so he can take my cock in his hands.
"What . . . did you . . . mean?" I struggle for coherency as Orli gathers my precum with a finger and then paints my nipples with the fluid before leaning down to suck it off. *That's* a new trick.
"I meant that there's a full-length mirror in this room," he says with glistening lips and half-lidded eyes, looking like the embodiment of sex appeal. "And I think we should put it to good use." Wow. I like that idea.
"You little minx," I say with a grin.
"Once a rentboy, always a rentboy," he tells me. "I want you to make love to me in front of that mirror, Viggo. I want to be able to watch us together. So why don't you take off the rest of your clothes and join me over there?"
Orli winks and saunters across the floor, leaving me standing there to wonder if my brain will implode from anticipation. I somehow manage to get all of my clothes off and walk over to stand behind Orli. He's standing facing the mirror, wearing just his low-slung jeans and the boxers I can see peeking out over the waistband. "Do you have any idea how sinful you look right now?" I ask him.
"You know," he says conversationally as one of his fingers traces the sun tattoo on his stomach, "Louis XIV was called the Sun King. He enjoyed sleeping with as many innocent chambermaids as possible."
"*You* are not innocent," I remind him as I undo the fly of his jeans and drag the zipper down. He leans back into my chest in response.
"Then what am I? A decadent courtesan from Versailles? A handsome young nobleman displaced by the Revolution?" Orli is apparently intent on incorporating French history into our sex life. "A royal mistress like Madame Pompadour? After all, you already play the King; would you like to enjoy some fun with your consort?"
"Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"It's not my fault that I have a very vivid imagination," he pouts. "And I never hear you complain about it."
I laugh and slide my hand into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around his erection. "Usually I'm willing to play along, but tonight I'd like it to be just *us*. I want to make love to Orlando, not to one of his harebrained characters."
"You're harebrained," he retorts weakly as I stroke him. He makes a sound of protest as my hand leaves his cock, but sighs in relief as I push the jeans down to his knees. With great ease, he kicks off his socks and shoes and then pulls his jeans the rest of the way off. However, to do this he bends at the waist and gives me a perfect view of his ass. Tease.
"See how beautiful you are?" I murmur as he stands back up and looks into the mirror. He really looks incredible, even more so than usual; his entire body is flushed with arousal and his cock is pressed against his stomach, leaking moisture. "You're a work of art, Orli." I kiss his shoulder gently, enjoying the shiver that runs through him, and then step away.
"Where are you going?"
"To get ready," I say with a smile. I find the lube in my suitcase and slick up my fingers and cock before walking back over to him. "Look at yourself," I urge when I put a palm on his hip from behind and then tilt him forward just a tiny bit so I can get the right angle for what we're about to do. One of my arms wraps securely around his waist so he won't fall. "God, you're so gorgeous like this."
"It's what you do to me, Vig. Now *please* make love to me. I've needed this since you walked into that suite four hours ago." His eyes flutter closed as I slip a finger into his body and I'm mesmerized by the sooty shadow of his eyelashes. "Please," he says again. A second finger slides in easily, and upon adding a third I curl them just enough to hit his prostate.
"Feel good?" I ask as I nuzzle his neck.
"Yes," he gasps. A thin sheen of sweat is breaking out on his body, and he bites his lip to keep a moan at bay.
After a few more passes of my fingers over his prostate, I know he's ready. "Spread your legs a little wider," I urge. Once he's suitably positioned, I push the tip of my cock into him, immediately feeling his muscles trying to suck me all the way in.
"God, don't tease," he pleads.
"Touch yourself, Orli. And open your eyes."
Nodding, he grasps his erection firmly, whimpers at the contact, and then opens his eyes, which widen immediately when he sees our reflection. "We're perfect together," he says softly.
"Yes," I agree and then enter him fully, giving him a moment to adjust. He's still so damned tight after eighteen months of doing this (not that I'm complaining). When he begins to squirm, I know he needs me to move so I begin to thrust slowly.
Watching myself making love to Orli is an unbelievable experience. I'm only an inch or two taller than him and we match up perfectly, as if some cosmic sculptor designed our bodies just so we'd be able to fit together. I've seen the look on Orli's face when I'm inside of him countless times but it still takes my breath away. That inconceivably beautiful face is so full of passion and love that this all seems like some wonderful dream.
I'm using every ounce of restraint I have to keep the rhythm slow, and Orli is matching my pace as he strokes his cock. The little sighing sounds he makes with each thrust are driving me crazy, and I'm sure he knows it; after all, my lover is nothing if not devious in how he goes about getting his way during sex. With each sigh, he might as well be screaming that he wants me to move faster. When it becomes clear to him that I'm not easily susceptible to manipulation tonight, he pushes his hips back in a blatant play for a faster rhythm.
"You're shameless," I tell him as I nip his earlobe.
"You're sadistic," he replies, pushing his hips back again. "You know that I want more, and I know that you do, too."
"And?" This is too much fun.
"And I'll do whatever the fuck you want tomorrow night. Just give me more." I can't exactly resist that promise, and Orli's eyes are pleading with me in the mirror.
"Well, okay then." I tighten my grip on his body and begin to pump in and out of him with a much faster pace. Our eyes are locked in the mirror, and the sight of his body trembling with need is almost enough to undo me. Summoning all the control I can muster, I stave off my climax and keep thrusting. His hand is frantically moving on his cock, and it's a struggle for both of us to keep our eyes open. This just feels so damned good.
One thrust is particularly hard, and he lets out a keening wail that shakes me to my toes. The next thrust induces what sounds suspiciously like a howl, and I know that I'm moaning with every thrust. Oh, well. Hope our neighbors don't mind.
My movements are growing uneven as I feel myself getting closer to the edge; Orli's close as well if the jerkiness of his stroking is any indication. I'm repeating his name as if it's a mantra, still entranced by the beautiful young man whose reflection is looking back at me in the mirror. How can one person be so utterly incredible? How did I get so lucky as to have him with me?
"Close," he gasps. "Jesus . . . Viggo . . ."
I keep chanting his name, saying it even as I feel my orgasm overtake me and I come inside of him. Struggling to stay standing, I slip out of him and move one of my hands from his hip down to his cock, settling on top of his own hand and guiding his strokes. My head rests on his shoulder in a bout of post-coital fatigue, but I manage to still gaze at his reflection.
"Come for me, love."
He does, spilling into our joined hands and screaming my name. I'm glad one of my arms is still around his waist because his knees buckle and I don't want him falling to the floor.
"God," he pants when he manages to stand upright again. "Oh, God."
"No, it's still Viggo," I tease.
Orli turns around and lightly smacks my shoulder with his non-sticky hand. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." I take him into an embrace and we kiss.
"Ugh," he groans when he pulls back. "You may be used to being a filthy human, but I'm not."
"Shower?"
"Bath," he says, his eyes lighting up. "There's a big tub. And if you ask *really* nicely, I'll loofah your back." I just laugh and follow him into the bathroom.
Once we're happily ensconced in warm water, we kiss again, Orli managing to lie on top of me so our chests are pressed together. When the kiss ends, he curls his body around mine and lays his head on my shoulder. "Koala boy," I tease.
"Human scum."
"Love pig."
"Old man."
"Elf boy."
"Pervy elf fancier."
"Hey, I only fancy one elf. And I'm not *that* pervy."
"True." He looks up and gives me a dazzling smile. "Have I told you in the last ten minutes that I love you."
"No," I chuckle.
"Well, I do. More than anything."
"And you know I feel the same way about you," I remind him. "Aside from Henry, you're the most important person in my life." He kisses my neck in response and we fall into a comfortable silence.
"You know the last time we were in a tub like this was when you took me to that inn in New Zealand," he says after a few minutes. "You remember that?"
"How could I forget? I seem to remember telling you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you on that trip."
"Yeah." His smile widens and a faint blush creeps across his cheeks.
"And I still feel that way, Orli. Now more than ever. I don't know about fate or kismet or anything like that, but I *do* know that if I had never taken the role of Aragorn, if I had never flown to New Zealand, if I had never met you, I could live the rest of my life and never find one person who could compare to you."
"I feel the same way," he murmurs. "The happiness you've brought to my life is indescribable. You're my everything." He pauses. "We're pretty sappy for a couple of blokes, aren't we?"
"Yes," I admit, kissing him gently. "But we mean everything we say, because *no one* can compare to you."
"And you *are* my everything, Viggo. Never doubt that. Now stop talking and kiss me again."
*****
"Dude, there's gotta be like ten thousand reporters out there!" Lij exclaims as he joins us at breakfast.
"Ten thousand?" Dom asks with a smile.
"Well maybe not ten thousand, but a *lot*. It looks like those nannies waiting in line at the beginning of 'Mary Poppins'." We all look at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"
"'Mary Poppins'?" Orli snickers.
"Oh, leave me alone. I used to have a crush on Julie Andrews." Lij blushes furiously and avoids our eyes as we begin to laugh.
"Lij, that's weird even for *you*," Billy comments.
"Yeah, well enough fun at my expense. I suggest we talk about the noises coming from their room last night," Lij says as he points at me and Orli.
"Were we loud?" Orli asks innocently. Really, he has no concept of what a screamer he can be.
"Viggo wasn't so bad," Billy tells him, "but you were insufferable. I'm thinking of buying you a muzzle for your next birthday. Lij and I were cracking up."
"What were you doing in Elijah's hotel room?" Bean laughs. "Or should I not ask?"
Billy flushes crimson. "Nothing like *that*. He called me when our perpetually horny duo started to go at it. It was actually fun to listen to." Great. This is the second time the hobbits have heard Orli and me having sex. Once more and I'll lose whatever shreds of dignity I still possess.
"Need I remind you about the blackmail material I have on you all?" Everyone pales visibly at my question. "There's a whole pack of reporters outside who would probably get great enjoyment out of watching you squirm."
"Okay, we'll change the subject," Dom says hurriedly.
"Nice move," Orli whispers a few minutes later as we leave the breakfast table. "So am I allowed to make *you* squirm?"
"On camera?"
"Can I call you human scum?"
"Go for it, prissy elf."
*****
"Human scum!" Orli crows as he bats ineffectually at my hair. I turn my attention away from the paparazzi for the onslaught of affection, and we mock-fight for a few seconds. Yeah, it's just what I'm expecting him to do. "This is human scum!" he says again as he wraps an arm around me and kisses me on the corner of my mouth.
Well, I wasn't quite expecting *that*.
THE END
