FIC: If You Love Something

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

I think I might have to start posting every other day for a while. We'll see. Not sure if I can get through the day now without some positive feedback from you guys though! *grin* 

Title:  If You Love Something
Author:  ranmaru
Rating:  R
Summary: OB POV. Orlando is feeling pretty good...
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short time on this earth (because really, what is 22 years compared to a tree’s lifespan?) is that when you’ve found something you love, you reach out and grab it with both hands.

 

That’s why I’m sitting on my lovely leather couch, in the middle of my lovely livingroom, having a lovely wank. Makes me want to break out in song. Maybe that one by Monty Python. My willy deserves praise.

 

And, of course, as with all good things, even this must come to an end…no pun intended. For a second I contemplate the ending, the usual moan and sigh or something more dramatic? Since I’m feeling quite good, I go with drama and let out a lusty yell that would have done any skin flick proud, one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other stroking and squeezing until I’m happily limp, cock and body.

 

Clean up is easy since I’d planned ahead and have a nice, white towel draped over my stomach. The balled up towel sits next to me for the next few minutes while I watch a bit of telly. Moving after orgasm has never been something I was interested in unless it was towards the shower with the person I had the orgasm with - to have another orgasm. Yeah, that I can do, but move after a wank when I’m alone? Forget it.

 

Of course, the doorbell would ring.

 

I seriously consider not answering it but the door’s never locked and most people know that. The bell is just a courtesy before they, okay, I’ll be frank, the Hobbits, just barge in. Not that I don’t love it, but friends or not, I’d rather not be caught with my pants down. Or unbuttoned as the case may be.

 

It’s Viggo and my recently spent cock twitches in happiness. Yes, we likes Viggo don’t we Precious? I’m dying to give the man a hug but I think that might be a bit rude, maybe just this side of disgusting since one of my hands has been otherwise occupied, so I settle for an arm, the other arm, around his shoulders as I guide him into the house, and kick the door shut behind us.

 

He’s telling me about the dailies he was able to watch of our sunrise run and I’m thinking about the overnight we’d spent at the lake in order to get that shot. We’d shared a trailer and I’d had the honor, privilege, and mind-blowing experience of catching him coming out of the shower using the towel on his hair rather than for covering up. I hadn’t fallen to my knees to thank any and all gods responsible for the sight, but it was close.

 

It’s very quiet suddenly. I can feel my face heating up. We’re standing beside the couch, and even though Viggo is looking at me it seems like there’s a big red flag proclaiming the true nature of the not-so-innocent towel pushed into the corner. He’s probably wondering what the hell is going on in my head and I’m wondering if I can develop Superman’s speed to grab the towel, run to the bathroom to wash my hands and return before he notices I’m gone.

 

“I missed something, didn’t I?” I ask, flopping down to the couch and stuffing the towel as far down between the cushion and the arm as I can. Subtle, Orli, real subtle.

 

“A compliment and a question.” Viggo’s doing that thing where he’s smiling yet not because his mouth is a straight line but his eyes are crinkled and kind of sparkly. I blink. Sparkly?

 

“Is everything okay, elf?”

 

I laugh bit too loudly and search desperately for my cigs. I really need to wash my hands.

 

“I have to wa…uh, hit the head.” Before he can answer, comment or question my sanity, I bolt from the room. It isn’t until I’m furiously scrubbing my hands, wrists, forearms and elbows with that bloody rose scented soap Liv insisted I needed, that I remember The Towel. Stuffed in the couch. A mere two feet separating it from Viggo. I’ve lost my mind. I know this because I’m having flashes of The Towel slithering out and slapping Viggo with the horrible truth. Or smell. Or whatever. Either way, it equals insanity and I smell like a rose-scented whore.

 

Go me.

 

When I return to the livingroom, Viggo’s on the couch, thankfully on the opposite end from The Towel, looking way too relaxed for my state of mind. He’s not so much sitting as sprawled, arm over the back, right leg bent at a right angle to the floor, left leg almost resting on the middle cushion. I want to get on my hands and knees and crawl up and nuzzle that mound between his legs.

 

I have to sit down, and it’s definitely not a move Leggy would have made. He’d do some kind of floaty, graceful thing while I just drop like a stone. I have to wipe my palms on my jeans. My clean palms, thank you very much. He’s staring at me, a little furrow between his brows. Did he just ask me a question? I didn’t see his lips move, but then again, I was staring at his crotch.

 

“I missed something again, didn’t I?”

 

“I’m feeling a little concerned. You’re not yourself, Orli.”

 

No, generally I’m not a slobbering mental midget around Viggo but how can I explain that this is post-orgasm and my brain synapses are firing wild? I make this sound that’s supposed to be a carefree chuckle and sounds more like a psychotic whimper.

 

Smooth, Orli.

 

“Just uh…sleeping!” Yes! “I was sleeping, and…and, you know, I’m not my best right after waking up.” Fucking brilliant! He watches me for a moment but I’m feeling good and I know this time my smile is real one and he nods and shifts a bit…

 

Instant brain meltdown. And I was doing so well.

 

“Are you in any pain?”

 

“Pain? Oh, the rib. No, no pain.” I should have said yes, it’s the painkillers making me act like a hopped up junkie. Shit.

 

“Good. Like I said, the scene looked great. Peter was very happy.”

 

“Truthfully, if I’d had to run one more step after that last take, I was going to quit. Or cry. Probably cry, then quit.” Viggo laughs and my stomach becomes infested with butterflies. Damned winged menaces.

 

“Do you have plans tonight? I thought we might have dinner.”

 

I want to suggest naked dinner, maybe eating off each other at Chez Orli’s Boudoir but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

 

“Orli?”

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Yes. The meal you eat after lunch.”

 

“Right. Yes, good.” Did I answer his question?

 

“Have you smoked any Longbottom leaf lately?”

 

It takes two blinks for me to figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m not high,” I tell him, rubbing my temples. I’m just kind of losing my mind.

 

“Orli, what’s wrong? You know you can trust me.”

 

He’s looking at me all earnest and concerned, and I wonder if he sees me like a son, someone who needs looking after. I’ve seen him with Henry, all patience and love, and it’s so hard not to give in and play to that scenario, to be his replacement son, as it were. To be cared for and taken care of.

 

I stare at him. God he’s good-looking, and I know that I could never think of him as a father-figure. Unless we’re in some kinky porn movie and suddenly I’m back in the moment, all thoughts of sons, fathers, and dinners are far, far away and his face is suddenly very, very close.

 

“If you’ve found something you love, you reach out and grab it with both hands,” I tell him, cupping his face with my hands and gazing into his startled eyes.

           

“I think you’re confusing ‘If you love something set it free’ and ‘If you want something, you grab it with both hands’,” he tells me, his voice full of laughter, his body leaning towards mine. His hands cover mine then slide down my arms, down my sides until he’s hooked his thumbs in the waist of my jeans.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Can we kiss now?”

 

“I think we can do that.”

 

I smile against his lips but that’s okay because I think he’s smiling too. The butterflies are back. No, wait, those are Viggo’s fingers against my stomach.

 

 

END

Comments

[sitaray.livejournal.com]

awwww....so adorably perfect! I love Vig/Orli!

[queen-mean-jean.livejournal.com]

Lovely story!! I adore destracted post orgasmic Orly!!

[lee-ashburn.livejournal.com]

*happy sighs* just what i needed! loved it and thanks for sharing.

[roomfor2.livejournal.com]

Lovely.
I'm really enjoying these daily postings of yours.
Thank you :)

[invisible-dream.livejournal.com]

*squeeee!*
so cute!!!

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

One of these days you really have to write a sequel to one of these....and explain precisely what happens next....***Gives you very naughty grin!!***

Just kidding I love these littkle fics and they're just great!!

Thanks again for sharing huggles and cuddles!!

[tularia.livejournal.com]

*Reaches out and grabs you, smooching you hard*
I do believe I love you!

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

I have to admit, I do love smooches! ^_^

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

Ah, I'm going every other day this week unfortunately. But one of my very very favorites is going to be posted on Wednesday. Check back then!! Then, hopefully, I'll be back to my daily posting schedule! ^_^

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

"I have to sit down, and it’s definitely not a move Leggy would have made. He’d do some kind of floaty, graceful thing while I just drop like a stone."

We'll forgive him, though, because of what he' just been through and what he's about to go through . . .

:)