vigorli

Title: Simply Holding

Category: LotR RPS

Pairings: VM/OB

Rating: R, to be on the safe side

Summary: Admissions, acceptance, comforting, and comfort. Finding out how they fit after all these years. Very short.

Previous chapters: Six Years

The duffle bag there on the floor beside the door, left on purpose, not forgotten or abandoned by its owner, but purposefully it remained. I wanted to go after him, I wanted to chase after him, grab him by the arm, spin him about and show him that I was far from disgusted, that this was no game, that I too had desires that had long been suppressed. I can’t recall a time seeing Orlando quite that distressed. His words were unexpected, though even more so his reaction to mine. I hadn’t thought he would just leave, closing the door behind him, walking away from me without so much an acknowledgement of all the emotions that I had just laid bare to him. What did I expect? For him to throw himself into my arms, for us to kiss passionately and be overjoyed that we finally realized that we shared the same love of each other after all these years. That we’d let all that pent up desire finally be free and that we’d fuck until night fell, gentle and slow, hard and fast until we were spent even though we wanted so much more of each other.

I actually hadn’t imagined anything; I had never imagined telling him, not ever, not really. It had been nothing more than a passing thought, a flitting idea that was dismissed along with the notion of ‘maybe I’ll fly today’ or ‘maybe I’ll walk on water’.

Breakfast was unredeemable at this point, not that it mattered—I no longer had an appetite. I thought I could wait for him to return on his own accord, calmed down a bit, after perhaps processing some of what we had just admitted to each other. At first I just sat at the kitchen table thinking this through myself, attempting to regard this logically. Perhaps Orlando had been right to walk away, perhaps it should be simply left at that—both our feelings admitted, but what truly was there to be done about it? Could we really expect to have a relationship? I was tired of being logical, tired of thinking things through, tired of being without him, tired of never hugging him quite as long as I wanted to, touching him the way that I longed to, and so much more.

I suppose I could have retreated to my studio, to scribble away about the torrent of emotions that were swirling within me or paint until the canvas finally displayed all that I felt, until I finally had some physical demonstration of the frustration that had taken up residence within me. Normally, that’d be good enough, but not today, not with Orlando. So I went after him, finding him up in the hay loft of my barn, pressed back into a corner, looking up to me with such vulnerability as I climbed up the ladder and approached him with my thumbs hooked into the belt loops of my jeans.

I stood looking down at him for sometime, just staring into the depths of his eyes while he looked up at me, his gazing never straying. He spoke first, his smooth voice breaking the silence between us, no vulnerability or uncertainty in his voice as he spoke, his voice soft as we were barely a foot from each other. “I love you.”

I could feel the words; the sentiments attached to those words as if they surrounded my heart and held it. I knew I couldn’t speak, not immediately, not after Orli said those words so freely, no reservations or hesitancy attached to it, expecting no response in return, just wanting me to know that he loved me. I reached out, caressing the side of his face—as ever my hands feel rough against his smooth skin. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his face against my palm. “I love you,” I admitted, my voice rough with all the emotions those three words could evoke.

He took my hand in both of his, running the pads of his thumbs over my knuckles, just staring at my hands for a moment. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” was all I could say.

He pressed his lips against the tips of my fingers and then released my hand, looking away from me now, distantly to the open barn door below. I moved to sit next to him, slipping my arm around him to rest my hand on his lower back, running my thumb up and down the ridges of his spine as he sat there next to me with his knees drawn up to his chest, his elbows rested upon his knees, staring at nothing. I can feel the strength of the muscles that run along side his spine; I can feel the scar beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He hangs his head and I rub my hand up and down his back perhaps to comfort him, maybe just to assure him of my presence. When the edge of his shirt rides up to reveal the tanned flesh and distinctly contoured muscles along with the pale scar tissue, I slip my hand beneath his shirt and continue to rub, flesh against flesh, no longer anything in between.

At once he turns, resting his head against my chest, his ear directly over my heart, his body pressed against my side, one leg over mine, one arm resting on my side while the other is just held between our chests. I don’t remove my hand, but I bring the other one across to rest at the curve of his hip. And we just sit there, Orlando in my arms and it’s comfortable. All warmth and security and a love that seems as if it has been between us for years nurtured and growing everyday. I kiss the back of his neck and rest my cheek against the base of his skull, taking in a deep breath, inhaling his scent. No cologne just a faint scent of shampoo, soap, and Orlando. He sighs contentedly and his body relaxes a bit more against me, tension that I didn’t know was in him melting away.

“What about Henry?” he asks after a long moment. How long I don’t know, such a thing doesn’t matter in the slightest right now.

“Don’t worry about that,” I assure him. Being raised by Christine and I, I doubt Henry will even bat an eyelash if I told him of today’s occurrences.

He moved now, sitting up, though not moving away from me, just so he could look into my eyes, all worry and concern written there. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to be the reason for problems between you. I can’t be the reason.”

“You won’t be, Orlando. Henry will understand, I know my son, he won’t care.”

That seemed to mollify Orli’s concerns for he smiled faintly even as his eyes drifted away again. “You’re a good father . . . he loves you so much.”

“Did something happen between you and Colin?” Those brown eyes returned to mine and he just shook his head, not saying anything. “Orli?”

“No, Vig, we’re fine. Colin’s a good man—it was good to see him again, Mum too.”

“Then what?”

He says nothing for a moment, then raises his hand to brush his fingers across my lips. “Can I kiss you?” Not bothering to answer, I captured his lips in mine immediately, pulling him against me, kissing deeply, then showering his face and neck with all the adoration that I had wanted to bestow upon him for years. He returned the kisses with equal fervor, his breathing heavy against me, his eyes closed, the most profound look of tranquility on his face as I kissed the hollow of his throat, my hands running up and down his back. He felt too far away, halfway sitting next to me, halfway kneeling with his body turned awkwardly. I slipped one hand down over his thigh, cupping the back of his knee, tugging his leg slightly until he got the idea and straddled my hips, taking my face in his hands and parting my lips with his, his tongue soon in my mouth.

I wondered which one of us was the twenty-something as I sucked on his tongue, sliding my hands up his shirt to touch all the bare skin that I could manage. “I love you,” I breathed again between hungered kisses. “I love you so much.”

He smiled against my lips, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugged me tightly, kissing my neck and then just resting his head against my shoulders, simply holding. I breathed heavily against him, Orlando’s strong body crushed against mine as if we wanted to mold into each other, not content with even being this close. His breaths slowed faster than mine and though it took me a while to realize it, Orli was slightly hard against me—I can say that I’ve never had an aroused man pressed tightly against my body, it was so different to have all muscles and strength in my arms, a bearded man sat upon my lap, nothing feminine in the least about him. I didn’t expect this from him, the calmness, the stillness, happy simply to hold and be held.