vigorli

Title: Hope--- Romantic

Author: Sel

selene_vidae

Pairing: Viggo/Orlando

Summary: Aren't we all romantics? Don't we all believe in true love?

Rating: R.

Disclaimer: Viggo and Orlando do not belong to me. They belong to themselves, but what would happen if I did own them... *chuckles evilly*

Feedback: Help a fellow author out and pretty please comment on this fic...

A/N: Wow, my subject title is right. This was meant to be a drabble and just expanded into something with a semi-coherent plot, with yummy bed scenes. Once again, my muses ran away with me. I hope you guys like it because I wrote it for you guys. *smiles*

Dedication: For all those who loved the You companion pieces and just wanted more. For

helethmiel, especially. Surprise, hun! When you commented in my personal lj, I just had to make you happy. I'm shallow - little stuff like that makes me very happy and very inpired. *giggles*

You're a hopeless romantic.

You've always known it.

When your friends were out sowing their wild oats at such a rapid speed you got cross-eyed too many times to count, you were cautious enough to wait and see if attraction blossomed into intimacy.

You've realized that true intimacy stems from a connection between two people, not their desires or their wants. Caring for someone is always more important than physical attraction. And you're sure that one day, you will find the right one for you – and you'll know who it is because your heart will know.

***

“I believe that the right one is out there,” you say blearily as you look at the undoubtedly blurry images of your mates.

“Come off it, Bloom! You're just plastered. There is no 'right one'! That's girl rubbish!” one of your guy friends comments – you can't tell who it is at the moment.

“No, it's not. She or he or whoever it is out there and I'm going to meet them,” you stubbornly insist.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “Yup, just the drinks talking.”

You shake your head firmly. “No. Not the drinks, my heart.”

You ignore the gagging noises they make along with the disbelieving snorts.

***

You've lived your life as passionately as you were able to, never wanting to look back and regret anything. You've dared to follow your dreams and give everything without holding back. You've shot for the moon, never intending to land among the stars, because you can do anything you set your mind to.

And when you meet that special someone of yours, you're going to do the same – love with all that you have, no regrets, no doubts, no holding back.

***

“Aren't you afraid?” your sister asks you on one of those melancholy winter days.

You look at her from your perch on the window seat. “Afraid of what?”

“Getting hurt?”

You gesture to the latest bandages around your torso. “Um... Sam?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Injuries heal over time, but when someone hurts your heart, that's harder to get over.”

“I know, but living wouldn't be living if you weren't ready to get hurt – in both love and life. I am afraid at times, but I know that I'll survive whatever the world has to throw at me,” you say softly, looking away from her to watch the raindrops slide down the windowpane.

“Why be brave at all?”

“Because he's waiting for me, somewhere, and the least I can do is be brave enough to look for him – to find him.”

***

You're not shy about your sexuality. You've made peace with yourself a long time ago, so you know that the one you are waiting for is a guy. You're not going to change who you are just to follow society's norms or everyone else's way of thinking.

Your loved ones want to know if you're willing to go against everyone else to be happy, but looking at you, they already know the answer.

***

“Orli?” Sam says softly from where she is lying down on the living room carpet. “What are you going to do if the rest of the world can't accept who you are and who you love? I mean, you want to be an actor and Hollywood doesn't seem too accepting of same-sex relationships.”

You think it over. Sam has got some really good points, but so do you.

“The world can go sod itself,” you reasonably reply.

“Orli!”

“Honestly, I love who I want to love and if they can't accept it... Who needs them? Following ambition will make me feel like I've triumphed, but following my heart will make me happy like nothing else will.”

***

You amaze people.

They're amazed by your boundless energy and open affection, your striking looks and daredevil nature. You amaze them that you can be so childish and immature at times, but so grown-up and mature the next.

When they ask you about your stance on finding true love, you think you've amazed them even more.

***

“So, Orli, do you believe in true love?” Elijah asks from his seat across you.

The cast of the Lord of the Rings has gone to spend their first weekend together with night on the town. You're at one of Wellington's nicer pubs and you can't help but think that this is an odd conversation to be having at one in the morning.

“Um... Yea, I do,” you say slowly.

“That's sweet,” Liv comments from the other table where she sits with Cate, Hugo, Karl, Miranda, John and Sir Ian, while the Hobbits, Stuart and Sean B. are seated at your table.

“True love? Pfft!” Billy says and everyone laughs. You do, too, but you don't agree with him and you make a point to say so.

“It's out there – for everyone,” you say in answer to his comment.

“You're saying that when we see the right person, we'll know immediately? Like getting hit by lightning?” Stuart asks incredulously.

“No, not exactly. I think that for some of us lucky ones, we will recognize who we've been waiting for all our lives in that very instant we see them. I also think that some of us have the right one right under our noses, but we haven't noticed yet. True love can be instantaneous, but it can creep on us slowly, bit by bit,” you explain, not realizing that you've spoken with enough passion to let everyone know just exactly what you think of this topic.

Some of them are looking at you in surprise, some in understanding, some in disbelief. You just smile and shrug your shoulders.

***

Believing in something is different from having faith. Belief is more of accepting what you've seen as truth. Faith is more of trusting in what you haven't seen, because it's stronger than any of your senses.

You believe in true love, but you have faith that you'll find it one day.

***

“Orlando, I'd like you to meet our new Aragorn,” Peter says from behind you.

You stop fiddling with the braids in your wig and turn to greet the newcomer.

You freeze in your tracks and find the world crawling to a stop at your sight of this man.

You don't know what is so special about him – shaggy blond hair, intense blue-grey eyes, high cheekbones, a cleft in his chin, a rugged air. He is handsome, but not breathtakingly so. He is attractive, but not drop-dead gorgeous.

But when he smiles at you and calls you by name, you know that you've found the reason as to why you've kept holding on to your faith.

***

You're a hopeless romantic. You admitted that once, and your friends said you weren't. Thinking it over, you realize that they are right. You aren't a hopeless romantic.

*

Viggo looks at you and his gaze sears you, and burns you from inside out. He leisurely, carefully slides inside you as your entire world shrinks into just this moment between you both.

When he slides all the way in, you release the breath you've been holding and he leans in to kiss away the breath you're trying to catch.

His tongue slips into your mouth – searchingly, caressingly, sweetly – tasting you just as you are tasting him.

When he begins to move, you wrap your long legs around his waist and fist the covers, his strong, calloused hands firmly holding onto your hips.

He thrusts in and out, deeply and slowly, as you feel the pressure and heat mounting between you two.

You plead for him to go faster and he complies, thrusting faster and more vigorously, angling each push to hit that sweet spot that has you arching off the bed and begging incoherently.

As he moves and you move in tandem, the night air comes in and sweeps over your heated bodies rocking forcefully together in a dance more ancient, more primal, more beautiful than anything else you have ever experienced.

He wraps a rough hand around your neglected erection and tugs at it, hips still pumping powerfully into you.

This is enough to undo you and your hips lift off the bed as you and your world both explodes, your tight channel constricting around his cock.

He groans gutturally and pushes himself into you one more time – deeper and fiercer than before – his cock striking your prostate one more time and his seed filling you.

Your low moan turns into a choked-off scream as you feel yourself coming again, even before the first one is over.

He collapses on top of you, your warm seed cooling in between your sweat-slicked bodies, his warm seed slowly trickling out of your now loose channel.

He raises himself on his elbows and cleans you up, but when he tries to slide his spent cock out of you, you shake your head.

He understands and wraps his strong arms around you, his cock still inside you, shifting so that he only half of his body is on top of you.

You smile contentedly when he kisses you again – gentle, intimate, soft.

*

You are not a hopeless romantic.

You are a hopeful one, and it has gotten you here – to this moment, to this man whose embrace it is that you are lying in, with his spent cock still inside you as you both slip off to sated slumber.

Hope.

Romance.

This.

Who could ask for more?