TITLE: Some Kind of Heaven (20/22)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: R
SUMMARY: A night on the town (Orli's POV)
FEEDBACK: It's the sauce on my steak, it's the cheese in my cake
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
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Anyone who has seen those beautiful pictures of Viggo
and Orli together at the 'Two Towers' premiere will understand why I've
been dying to write this for months
DATE WRITTEN: August 11th, 2003
"Look at you," I say approvingly as Viggo enters the kitchen. "You're *so* handsome."
"Thanks." He blushes a bit from my words.
"Really Vig, you're looking seriously snappy tonight." I rake my eyes over the white linen suit and blue silk shirt that perfectly frames my boyfriend's gorgeous body. His hair is a little shaggy and he has a few day's worth of stubble on his chin. He's a walking wet dream. "I don't know how I'm going to keep the girls off of you tonight -- or keep the boys off of you, for that matter."
"I might have the same problem with you, elf boy," he teases. "The all-black theme makes you look even sexier than usual. And when paired with the pirate hair . . ." He grins and pulls on one of my hair extensions.
"Hey, hey. Mind the hair," I admonish. "So do you like the suit? I know it's a bit fancier than what you normally wear, but I thought it would look perfect on you."
"I love it. And yours is okay? It fits well and everything?"
"It fits perfectly," I assure him. After our friends told us on no uncertain terms that neither paint-splattered jeans nor bright checkered shirts would fly at the premiere for 'The Two Towers', Viggo and I decided to pick each other's clothes. We only had two rules: nothing too flashy or too casual. By the looks of things, we've done pretty well.
"Are you ready to go?" he asks, grabbing his car keys.
"Yeah." I pull him in for a kiss, since I won't be able to do that at the premiere.
"C'mon, Leggy," Viggo laughs. "Let's go face the screaming throngs."
*****
Okay, Viggo wasn't kidding when he said 'screaming throngs'. There are hundreds and hundreds of fans here, and they're almost as excited about this as I am. So many of them are young girls and women who are thrusting photos and papers in my face, begging for an autograph, a kiss, the privilege of bearing my children, and so on. Sorry girls, I'm spoken for.
Hmm, now where's Viggo? Ah, there he is, receiving obscene adulation from his fans. Well, at least he's keeping his sense of humor by snapping pictures of them as they snap pictures of him. But he does look a little overwhelmed, especially when they start shrieking. Okay, I have to go and rescue him.
The shrieks get louder as I walk over to grab my boyfriend, and I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. This is really insane. Viggo looks at me with relief as I walk over, and I give him a reassuring grin. Don't worry, Vig -- I'll save you.
"Sorry everyone, but the filthy human is needed elsewhere," I announce as I drag Viggo away from the teeming fans. He just laughs and allows me to pull him through the crowd until we reach a huge and very creepy poster of Saruman. There are photographers here who are begging for a photo op, so I decide to oblige them.
I place a hand on either side of Viggo's head and draw him in until our foreheads are touching. He grins widely and allows me to semi-embrace him for a few moments. "You're nuts," he whispers as the flashbulbs go crazy.
"You already knew that," I whisper back.
Viggo chuckles and we turn to face the cameras. Deciding to be a bit sneaky, I curl one hand around his neck and place one on his chest with my thumb conveniently positioned over his nipple. One of his hands comes to rest on my back, and I smile. Testing my luck a little, I move my thumb a little and give a tiny flick to his nipple. Nope, nobody noticed. Well, except for Viggo. His hand tightens on my back, and I know that I'll be paying for this later. Good.
We walk away from the photogragraphers, and Viggo is trying very hard not to laugh. "You are one very cheeky elf," he tells me.
I grin at him. "Yup."
*****
"Look at this hair!" Chris Astin laughs as she tugs on one of my extensions. We're standing inside the building now, away from the masses.
"Hey, it's not a toy!" I yelp. "Keep your wife under control, man," I tell Sean.
He laughs also. "Sorry, Orli . . . we're just having difficulty imagining you as a bloodthirsty pirate."
"My character isn't bloodthirsty," I explain. "He's a blacksmith. He only becomes a pirate to save the girl he's in love with."
"Really?" Lij looks disappointed. "So you don't run around shouting, 'Arrr, matey! There be rough waters ahead!'"
"Uh, no. But I get to do a lot of swordfighting."
"But still," Dom says, "we were counting on you saying, 'Arrr, matey!' What kind of pirate doesn't say, 'Arrr'?"
"Um . . . an Orlando Bloom pirate?" I offer.
"Hey, Orli," Lij snickers, "does anyone plunder your booty in this movie?"
"You know that only one man ever plunders my booty," I tell them quietly. "And he's not in the movie." Switching over to my Will Turner voice, I stand up straighter and give the hobbits a disparaging look. "Now, ye be warned that if ye do not cease in your accursed slander, I shall be forced to slit your throats. Remember -- dead men tell no tales."
They all start laughing.
*****
I'm practically bouncing in my seat as the lights dim and the New Line logo flashes across the screen. Viggo's hand is holding mine in the darkened theater, and we're flanked on either side by Billy and Miranda. He squeezes my hand a few minutes later as we make our first appearance onscreen -- the torturous run across Middle Earth.
It's terrific to watch all of the bits I haven't seen before: all of Lij and Sean's stuff with Andy (who's *amazing*), Billy and Dom escaping the Uruk-Hai and running into Fangorn, and the introduction of Rohan. It's also wonderful to see the onscreen cuts of what I filmed. Viggo and I both have to stifle chuckles when Aragorn kicks the orc helmet, as it brings to mind memories of the broken toe incident.
When they show Aragorn floating down the river, I reflexively clasp Viggo's hand tighter, remembering how he nearly drowned while filming that. Then there's the great moment when he reaches Helm's Deep and I get to tell him that he looks terrible. Not that he really does, because Viggo always manages to look perfect onscreen. Need proof? How about the shot that's onscreen now when Aragorn opens the door to the main hall and the camera switches to slow motion to allow people maximum gasping time for his beauty. I can't wait to get home and ravish him.
I grin at the scene in the armory where Aragorn and Legolas patch things up -- that was our first roleplaying scenario. Ah, roleplaying. That's our plan for later this evening, and I already have the new scenario all worked out. Now we're at the battle of Helm's Deep, and I shudder as I think of the nine weeks of evil that Pete inflicted on us while shooting this.
Suddenly, Viggo's hand slips out of my own and I frown. Hey, come back hand! Wait, it's crawling over . . . to my fly?! I nearly rocket out of my seat when he unzips my pants, reaches into my boxers, and pulls out my cock. What the fuck is he doing? We're in a theater full of people who are watching a movie that *we're* in!
Looking around, I see that no one's paying us any mind -- however, Billy does have a suspicious grin on his face as he sits next to me and stares straight ahead. The little bastard knew this was coming! Er, don't think about the word 'coming'. Viggo's hand moves quickly on my cock, and my urge to smack him disappears as I realize that I shouldn't complain about a surprise handjob. Even if getting caught would mean the end of our careers.
I relax back into the seat and allow Viggo to wank me good and proper. Since the movie is still on the battle scenes, there's a *lot* of noise in the theater, and nobody seems to pick up on the soft sound of his hand on my cock. This isn't a slow little stroke job; it's solely about getting me off. My fingernails are digging into the cushion of my seat as he speeds up further, his fingers skillfully bringing me closer and closer to coming in the middle of a crowded theater.
Okay, I'm a screamer, so how can I muffle the moans that I know are about to tumble from my mouth? Sudden inspiration strikes me, and I reach forward just far enough to grab my softie out of the cup holder. I look over briefly at Viggo and see him with an annoying yet utterly sexy smirk on his face. Wanker. Really, that's exactly what he is right now.
Fixing my lips over the straw, I wait for my orgasm to arrive. And there it is. When Viggo's fingers sweep gently over the head and then stroke my length once more, I close my eyes and let out a very muffled moan into the straw as I come on his hand. The moan makes bubbles pop up in my drink from the air traveling into it, and it's a challenge not to start laughing.
Viggo uses his clean hand to pull some toilet paper out from his inner jacket pocket, and he tidies up the little mess he induced. So *that*'s why he went to the bathroom right before the movie started. Well, I was ready for payback for the little nipple flick earlier, but I have to admit that this surpassed my expectations!
The rest of the movie passes, and we all applaud like mad when the credits begin to roll. The lights come up and I turn to look at Viggo. "I can't believe you," I laugh.
"Hey, I had to get you back somehow," he shrugs. I can tell that he's fighting a grin.
Billy taps on my shoulder and I turn to look look at his smirking face. "So, did you enjoy the movie?"
"Very much, thank you. And you speak of this to no one."
"No problem, Orli," he assures me. "Miranda won't say a word, either."
"Miranda?!"
"She was the other lookout," Billy says simply.
I look over at her as she stands up, and she turns to meet my gaze. She winks. Viggo grins. I blush. Shaking my head, I pull Viggo close so I can whisper in his ear. "You are *so* dead when we get home."
His grin gets wider. "I can't wait."
