vigorli

Might not be posting Monday, or if I do, it will be late. Traveling over the weekend and coming home Monday so... Hope everyone has a good weekend!!

Title: Little Wounds
Author:

ranmaru
Rating: R
Summary: Orli will just about anything to get Viggo's hands on him.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.

In the wacky world of Orlando Bloom’s life, there were two constants that got him up and awake for the hellish night shoots for Helm’s Deep:

1) Viggo would be there (whether he was due on set or not)

2) If Orli hurt himself (accidentally or accidentally-on-purpose), Viggo would volunteer to take care of it.

Now Orlando was by no means masochistic but after spending so much time with Viggo, seeing him day after day, watching him and wanting him…the Brit was just about ready to pop and not necessarily in a good way.

The fact that he’d become best friends with his right hand was not only frustrating; it was embarrassing. Orli would never have considered himself someone who needed sex all of the time. Certainly he’d done his time on the club circuit and if you hadn’t hooked up at least once for a one night stand, there had to be something wrong with you, but this constant ache, this never-ending need to touch Viggo and be touched in return was driving the young man mad.

That he’d resorted to accidentally-on-purpose hurting himself proved his case for insanity. It had all started with a true tumble down a set of stone stairs, the burn of embarrassment hurting him worse than the scrapes on his hands. He’d made his way over to the medical tent, trying to keep it together because dammit it was just a scratch but god he was so tired, and was looking at the ground so he didn’t see Viggo before he walked right into him.

Strong hands steadied him by the shoulders and Orli had looked up into those concerned blue eyes, heard the low murmur of Viggo’s voice and could do nothing but follow where his friend led.

***

Viggo pushed him gently into a folding chair and disappeared for a moment, leaving Orlando to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. Then he came back, kneeling in front of the Brit, setting a tin bowl of water down beside him and holding out his hand, palm up.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, when Orli hesitated. Hands roughened by sword training and handling horses gently cupped one of his injured hands and Orli looked away, thinking that it had to be wrong on so many levels to be aroused by something so innocent.

“This may sting a bit.”

“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” Orli reminded him, amazed he could still form words.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you. I can’t vouch for the water and cloth when I clean the cuts.” Viggo gave him one of those half-smiles, the skin at the side of his eyes crinkling.

Orlando squeezed his eyes shut. If he looked too long he’d end up leaning forward and tracing each of those laugh lines with his tongue.

“Does it hurt that much?”

Orli opened his eyes and glanced down. Viggo had already finished with one hand and was patiently waiting for the other. Orli swallowed and tried to smile but he wasn’t sure he succeeded from the strange look the older man gave him. The cleansing of his meager wounds didn’t hurt, really, since Orlando was too focused on willing away his erection. He was thankful for the layers of his costume. ‘Layers’ was his new favorite word.

“No, just tired.”

“No napping on the job, elf.” Viggo reached up and tapped Orli on the nose before turning away to grab a dark glass bottle from the table behind him.

Orli touched his nose but quickly dropped his hand before Viggo saw him looking like a lovesick twat. Oh hell, he needed to go back to his trailer for a wank. He looked down at his hands.

Fuck.

He wondered if Viggo gave a good hand-job.

Orli’s eyes crossed and he closed his eyes and bit his lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

“It’s only iodine,” Viggo calmly said, prompting Orli to look up.

“Iodine is evil,” the Brit replied. “It’s red and looks like old blood. It’s disgusting.”

“I’ll blow on your hands when I’m done,” Viggo said, his gaze steady on Orli.

The younger man quickly held out his hands and attempted to look innocent. Viggo’s slow grin let him know he’d failed.

He didn’t think it really mattered.

Orlando was inordinately pleased with himself for not making a peep when the vile liquid was dabbed with care over his scrapes. He stared down at Viggo’s bent head and wondered what Viggo’s hair would smell like.

Then Viggo began to blow.

Long, warm/cool breathes of air that made the young man tremble. He felt his heart rate increasing until all he could hear was the pounding of his pulse in his head and the rasping of his own uneven breath. He stared, wide-eyed at Viggo unable to look away when the older man looked up, lips pursed, eyes hooded and heated.

It wasn’t the fact that he’d gasped then sucked in his breath like a fainting virgin that shocked Orli but the predatory smile that spread over Viggo’s face. It was unlike anything Orli had ever seen and it turned him on like nothing else.

So to say he was disappointed when Viggo let go of his hands and stood up was perhaps the biggest understatement of the Brit’s life to date.

“All better. Think you can stay on your feet for the rest of the night?”

Orli nodded, wanting to say something but having no idea what.

***

And so it had begun. Blade nicks, cuts and scrapes of every sort brought Orlando to the medical tent where Viggo would always be waiting if he wasn’t the one leading him there in the first place. Small cuts that barely deserved a band-aid were fussed over accordingly though usually didn’t get the iodine-blow treatment that reduced the young man into a shaking mass of nerves. Still, it got Viggo’s hands on Orli’s skin and that was the goal.

At the end of two weeks Peter took Orlando aside and asked if the Brit was on something. Orli looked at the stocky director in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Orli, I’ve never worked with someone so accident prone in my life. But I don’t remember this being a problem before now. Look, its okay. I understand the pressure you’re under, but if you need help-“

Orlando held up his hands and laughed a little hysterically. What the hell was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry man but the pain brings the pleasure of Viggo?’ “Peter, look, uh, I’m just, you know, off my game a bit. Night shoot and all, right? Lack of sleep, too much fake rain… I’ll pay more attention. Okay?”

Peter gave him a look that clearly said he knew a lie when he heard one but shrugged and clapped Orli on the shoulder. “I’m here if you need to talk,” was all her said before walking away.

Orlando groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Orli resisted the urge to groan again and looked up into Viggo’s smiling face. “Naw, just…stuff.”

“Stuff.” Viggo slung his arm around Orli’s shoulders and they began to walk towards the make-up trailers. “I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with ‘stuff’ you know.”

“I should think so at your age,” Orli teased, pretending the friendly gesture that had his hip bumping Viggo’s with every step meant something more than it did.

“You wound me. Speaking of wounds…”

“Uh, just that cut from earlier,” Orli said, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Hm.”

They continued in silence. Orlando was about to move away as they neared the trailer but Viggo stopped, looking thoughtfully at the dark space between the make-up trailer and its neighbor. Without warning, he pulled Orli with him into the space and pushed the Brit against cold metal.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Orli opened his mouth but a very unmanly squeak came out so he shut it again.

“In everything else you’re straight forward, almost to a fault. I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been dancing around, or stumbling around as the case may be, the issue but I’m coming up with nothing except…” Viggo leaned close enough for Orli to smell orange juice on his breath. “You’re afraid.”

“Uh…”

“That can’t be right. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Well…”

“So what I’m going to do is kiss you and feel you up and then you can tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

The kiss was everything Orli had imagined it would be. Rough and controlled, wet and hot, and Viggo sucked on his tongue so hard it hurt.

Knowing hands easily slipped under Orli’s tunic, flattening against trembling stomach muscles and sliding up, fingernails flicking over pebbled nipples making the younger man whimper and squirm closer. Orli was gasping when Viggo released his mouth but all thoughts of breathing stopped when the older man dipped down to bite the tendon in Orli’s neck. The strangled cry that produced had Viggo’s mouth back on his, a warm, firm thigh wedged between his legs and the Brit was helpless to stop rocking against it.

It wasn’t how Orlando had imagined their first time together. There were supposed to be candles and maybe some jazz playing in the background and there had definitely been a bed in there somewhere but now it seemed staged and phony because this was passion and need and the ache…the ache…

A hand that wasn’t his own, because Orli knew his fingers were gripping Viggo’s hips, covered his mouth as he climaxed, his body feeling like a bow pulled tight before the arrow was released. Shuddering, moaning, hoping someone could see this, witness this perfect fucking moment because Orli’s eyes were closed, squeezed tight so the burning behind his lids couldn’t be turned into tears.

“This is just the beginning,” was whispered into Orli’s ear, his body jerking in reaction to the hot breath and the mental images of what else Viggo had planned.

Orlando wasn’t sure how much time had passed between Viggo lowering his hand from the younger man’s mouth and Orli’s boneless slump into Viggo’s arms before he finally found the energy to stand on his own. He couldn’t quite open his eyes all of the way but just enough to see the satisfied smirk on the older man’s face.

“So, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Orli tried to make a sound that could be construed as an actual word.

“That good?”

It was possible to nod so Orli did so, feeling like a puppet on loose strings.

“We should change.”

Later Orlando would wonder about how to explain why he felt the need to wash his own breeches, but at that moment he just nodded and let Viggo slide his arm around his waist as they walked to the front of the trailers.

“Come see me after. I have an ache I think needs attending. Your turn to play nurse, elf.”

Orli stood gaping at the bottom of the stairs as he watched Viggo disappear into the make-up trailer.

Then he grinned.

END