SUNRISE, VIGGO'S POV:
The first lavender light is making its way into our bedroom and it bathes Orli in a soft, angelic glow. He shifts a little in his sleep but stays deep within the cocoon of slumber. It always amazes me how young he looks when he sleeps, almost like he's still a boy. All of that excess energy he possesses slips away in slumber and those beautiful features relax. He's gorgeous. No wonder I've been watching him for twenty minutes, just observing the in-and-out patterns of breath and the way his hair dusts his forehead. So simple and so lovely.
As the sun creeps up the broad canvas of the sky, I push up the hem of his faded tee-shirt just enough so that I can see his own sun, inked onto the flat surface of his stomach. I lean down and use my tongue to become a sun-worshiper, tracing each nuance of the tattoo until he squirms and a hand falls to my hair.
"That's a nice way to wake up," he murmurs, his voice throaty from sleep.
Instead of answering, I move my mouth lower, dragging my tongue along the ridge of his stiffening cock through the soft material of his boxers. Orli gasps, and after three years of doing this I know that his eyes are closed tightly right now. It takes so little to get him wound up. He groans with relief when I pull off his boxers, then makes a strangled little noise when I begin to stroke him to full hardness.
"More," he pleads.
My tongue laps up the moisture leaking from his erection and I'm rewarded with mews of pleasure. Hands tangle almost painfully in my hair as I take him completely into my mouth, disregarding the buck of his hips. He's always like this in the mornings -- eager and impatient. I say it's because of his youth, he says it's because of my skills. We'll call it a draw.
He's moaning now, little incoherent sounds that always turn me on beyond belief. But this isn't about me. I set a languorous rhythm of pulling back and then going all the way down, managing to move my tongue as I go, driving him just a little bit more insane. My eyes flicker up to his face, and I'm greeted with the sight of dark eyes hooded with need and a pink tongue licking glistening lips.
"Viggo," he breathes. "Please . . ."
Deciding to give him what he wants, I slide back until only the tip is in my mouth, and then swirl my tongue around the sensitive head. Immediately, he cries out and his taste fills my mouth. His cock slips from my lips as the orgasm ends, and he lies there with a blissful smile on his face.
"Good morning, love," I say softly as I kiss his shoulder. It's one of his countless erogenous zones, ones that he says he didn't know existed until I brought them out in him.
"A very good morning." He rolls over and kisses me deeply as a hand slides down my body to find my own morning erection, very much in need of relief at this point. His hand works quickly but the kiss is slow and lazy, tongues sliding around intimately as if for the first time. Nimble fingers do talented work, and it doesn't take long for me to find release, moaning into his mouth.
Orli cleans the stickiness from his palm and settles down next to me again, long limbs wrapping around my body possessively. We don't need words, just stillness. There are only three times when Orlando Bloom is able to stop his constant movement -- when he acts, when he sleeps, and right after making love.
Our hands come together, tan and olive, rough and smooth. Contrasting and yet so utterly perfect together. Just like we are.
SUNSET, ORLI'S POV
He's sitting on the porch swing with his back towards me, looking out onto the horizon. This house is wonderful because the bedroom faces the sunrise and the porch faces the sunset. It's the best of both worlds.
The summer sky is a riot of reds and oranges as the sun hangs low and heavy, and even though I can't see his face, I know that Viggo is the picture of serenity. His hands are still, his feet are bare. A slight breeze picks up and ruffles the blonde hair that's beginning to get long again. Broad shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath and sighs.
"Are you going to stand there all evening?" he asks without turning around. I can hear him smiling.
"Is my elven stealth wearing off?"
"Don't answer a question with a question," he admonishes teasingly. When I come around to face him, he's grinning that wonderful grin that makes his laugh lines stand out.
The swing rocks violently when I sit down, stretching my legs out over his lap and laying my head at the crook of his neck. For many long moments we sit and watch the sky slowly change colors, and I wonder if Viggo will stow away the memory of this view and translate it into a poem or painting one day, remembering this moment by creating something lovely and brilliant that only he could conceive of.
My breath falling on his neck is making him shiver, and I tilt my head up so I can nip an earlobe. When his breathing hitches, I shift over and straddle him, rocking my hips against his. His hands cup my arse and draw me closer; I gasp as I feel the rock-hard proof of his arousal pressing against me.
"You're insatiable," Viggo tells me as I grind against him shamelessly. I just shrug.
When it becomes apparent that the swing won't tolerate this kind of behavior much longer, he picks me up and carries me over to the small couch at the other end of the porch. I wondered why he wanted a couch when we bought this place, but now I see the wisdom of his decorating methods.
"Neanderthal," I tease as he dumps me on the couch.
"Yeah, and you love it."
Extremely grateful that we have no neighbors, we quickly shed our clothing and resume kissing. The warmth of his sunbaked body feels wonderful against my own flesh, and the soft hairs on his chest whisper against my smooth skin. Moans are exchanged as our erections press up against one another, and I'm tired of waiting. He can call me impatient all he wants, but I know he needs this too.
Viggo grins as I buck against him, and gives me three fingers to make wet. There's no lube out here unfortunately, and neither one of us wants to break contact, shameless hedonists that we are. I swirl my tongue around his fingers while giving him what I hope is a seductive look. It seems to have the desired effect as he swallows hard and bites his lip.
He takes his time stretching me, then groans as I push him back and briefly take him into my mouth so he'll be slick enough. I pull away and lie on my back with my legs spread wide in invitation. "Well, get on with it," I say with a grin.
"Impatient boy," he chuckles.
Before I can think of a retort, he slides into me. The same word comes to mind every time he enters me -- alignment. Perhaps it's an odd word to think of during sex, but the way we come together always makes me think of that word. We fit together, we're aligned perfectly. Complete opposites in so many ways, but our bodies and souls match up just right.
Viggo's rhythm is slow and steady, just like the sunset that's falling down the horizon behind his body. The blonde of his hair seems to be streaked with the reds of the sky, and his skin shines in the fading sunlight. He smiles brilliantly as I reach up to pull him closer. Our mouths meet and I whimper into the kiss as he begins to run his hand over the erection pressed up against my stomach.
Alignment. That word comes to the front of my mind again. We know exactly what to do to and for each other when we make love, and yet it never becomes routine. Our bodies move in concert, my slightly smaller frame working with his more muscled one. The pace remains unhurried and gentle, even as we begin to shake with the anticipation of climax.
When he gently drags a fingernail over the head of my cock, I lose myself and come, spilling into his hand. His own orgasm follows seconds later when I reach for his palm and clean it with my tongue; he groans my name as his breath falls heavily against my neck. Our bodies curl around each other as the soothingly cool air tickles our overly warm flesh.
We lie together in sated silence for a while as we watch the onset of
the night sky. The only sound is our breathing patterns. They
match. They're perfectly aligned. Just like we are.
