From the January 2003 article in Premier magazine about Viggo, and Orlando's talking: ... Some decided to wade into the stream, but Mortensen suggested the more perilous task of crossing the river. "I'm like, 'Fuck off,' and he says, 'Come on.' So we're barefoot, waist-high in water, walking on these little rocks to get to the other site and I'm doing it because I'm an idiot and I'm following his lead. Because he's an idiot. And because he's amazing," Bloom laughs. "I can't believe how much his is going to make me sound like I'm in love with the guy."
The quote that cemented VigOrli in my mind. I bet it did for quite a few others as well!

Title: Even When We're Alone
Author:

ranmaru
Rating PG-13
Summary: Sometimes you're just too damned tired.
Discalimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.
Beta'd by the lovely

lenalove!
EDIT NOTE: All of you have turned me into a feedback whore. I love it! And I'm writing new VigOrli! Whoohoo!!!!

Even When We Are Alone

It wasn’t often that Viggo was able to be alone with Orlando lately and the lack of privacy was wearing on the Dane’s nerves. He couldn’t blame their accommodations because they’d shared a trailer with Bean for four months at the beginning and had gotten through it okay. Bean had had his share of complaints but that’s life. This was different.

The lovers shared a trailer, by themselves, and yet it seemed they were the visitor’s in the small camper. If it wasn’t Karl Urban popping in for a chat, it was Miranda Otto or Bernard Hill. Extras, some to talk to Viggo about horses, others to simply bask in the warmth of Orli’s smile, didn’t think twice about coming in unannounced and Viggo wondered exactly how famous a man had to be before receiving at least a courtesy knock. The only one who didn’t show up for whatever reason was John Rhys-Davies, and that was because he was unwilling to inflict his ‘miserable self’ upon those he considered friends. Of everyone, Viggo would have preferred John’s company, if for no other reason than to have someone new to talk to.

Despite repeated hints and a few outright demands for everyone to ‘get the bloody hell out!’ the door remained a revolving one, and the uninvited guests had a tendency of leaving when Viggo was already snoring or Orli was ‘too bloody knackered’ to do anything more than crawl under the covers, curl into his lover and fall asleep.

Viggo suspected it was some kind of conspiracy in retaliation for all of the publicity he and Orlando had been the center of, for their roles in the movie. Well, not just their roles but their physical appeal to members of both sexes. It was flattering but annoying. Viggo had never considered himself sexy, nor had he ever put stock in such a fleeting attribute. Looks were not permanent and not all men attained that label of ‘distinguished’ once they began to grey. He had a feeling he’d be lumped under the ‘needs work done’ category in a few years but Orlando in all his youthful glory, assured him that at least he’d still want to fuck him. Somehow it wasn’t as reassuring as the older man knew it was supposed to be.

He knew something had to change when he began thinking of sex as something to dread as his tired body relayed messages to his brain that he wasn’t a kid anymore and needed sleep more than an orgasm. And if that wasn’t enough to send him into a panic attack, hearing Orlando tell him he was too tired to get it up definitely was.

The couple stared at each other in shock, the glow of the moon shining through the camper window reflecting off of Orlando’s wide-open eyes. Viggo swallowed hard and clutched at the sheet at his waist. Beside him, Orli flopped to his back and whimpered.

“This has to be the most humiliating moment of my life,” he remarked in his clipped, honey-accented voice.

“It’s okay,” Viggo reassured him, horrified that he was relieved that he didn’t have to perform tonight. It was an awful realization considering they hadn’t had sex in almost two weeks.

“I’m 22, Viggo,” Orlando replied evenly. “It is not okay.”

Viggo shifted closer to his frustrated lover and rubbed the Brit’s flat belly. He could feel muscle there where only a few months ago it had been soft and almost concave. He moved his hand in a wide circle, wiry public hairs tickling his pinky finger. “We’re due for a break soon,” he said quietly. “We’ll go away, maybe take the ferry to-“

“And risk getting chased by the bloody paparazzi?” Orlando caught Viggo’s hand, pushing it towards his limp penis. “I’d rather not.”

It was deflating (no pun intended) to cup Orli’s sex in his hand and not even feel a twitch of reaction. Not that Viggo’s dick was up to the task, though it was valiantly trying; the soft skin under his fingertips and the scent of a newly showered Orlando sending signals to his groin, despite the frantic alarms his brain was sending out that he was just too tired for sex.

The older man dipped his head down and breathed in, his lips brushing Orli’s cheek when the Brit turned his head for a kiss. It wasn’t even a sexual kiss, it was more like an apology and it broke Viggo’s heart that they’d reached this point through no fault of their own.

“I’m getting a lock for the door,” he murmured, settling down to sleep, his arm over Orli’s waist, his cheek pressed into the smooth skin of the Brit’s shoulder. It wasn’t very comfortable, and he’d be regretting it come morning, but Viggo just didn’t give a shit. He felt Orlando press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Let’s just drive back to my house, you know, when we get time off,” Orli suggested, one hand coming up to run his fingers through Viggo’s hair. The older man smiled and closed his eyes.

“Hm,” Viggo agreed, the faint, rhythmic thump of Orli’s heartbeat echoing inside of his head.

“I miss showering with you.” It was said on a sigh and Viggo pressed his fingertips into Orli’s skin to show that he understood. It wasn’t something they were able to indulge in often, especially on the set and living in trailers, but at Orli’s house the shower was a glassed-in stall, made for two, with conveniently placed bars on the walls to hold on to while making love under the warm cascade of water. Viggo sighed himself at the memory, and pursed his lips to kiss Orli’s shoulder blade.

At some point, they fell asleep.

The End

FIC: Even When We're Alone

Even When We Are Alone

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