Breathing Room (16/?)
Feb. 7th, 2005 11:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rainweaver13.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliTitle: Breathing Room (16/?)
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde VI: Witches and Fencing
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: Please be warned: My knowledge of Costa Rica is all from reference books and the internet. Please forgive any grievous errors. They aren't intentional. It's fiction. My Spanish remains unreliable. I'm honored and humbled by the generous feedback so far. It's kept me going
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 10
They had breakfast in the sunny corner of the downstairs patio, the one that was almost warm even at this time of day. Viggo studied Orlando thoughtfully as he worked his way through eggs and rice, with the ever-present beans on the side, then tucked into a juicy grapefruit.
Midway through the meal, Orlando caught the half-oxycontin under a forefinger and slid it across the table to rest by Viggo's water glass. Viggo lifted an eyebrow and Orlando smiled and took the one pill that was left. Viggo thought about digging out the pill bottle to put the half back in, but on the spur of the moment, he simply flicked it deep into the greenery surrounding the patio. The sound of Orlando's chuckle told him he'd made a good decision. He could tell by the way Orlando was shifting in his chair that the younger man was getting ready to broach some serious topic. Time to cut him off at the pass.
"So have you come any closer to a decision," Viggo asked, his first real words of the day.
"About what?"
"What you want. To be an actor or a celebrity."
"I love being an actor." Orlando played with the fruit on his plate, making Mondrian designs.
Viggo just waited, savoring the sweet tartness of the grapefruit.
"I thought- at first I thought being a celebrity would be fun." The chocolate gaze stayed on the plate. "It seems like you'd have all this power, that you can do anything you want. But I- it's not like that, not after a while. It's like you're not a person any more, you're a thing. And you can't do anything because there's always fucking always somebody in your face. Or somebody with a camera. Then you look around at who else is a celebrity and Jesus Christ, Viggo, I mean- Paris Hilton is a fucking celebrity and she doesn't do anything. Nicole Ritchie, Kato Kaelin, Ashlee Simpson, Dr. Phil, the fucking Subway guy... those are celebrities. Shit fucking son of a bitch." He slammed a hand down on the tabletop, making all the dishes jump, and blinked up at Viggo suddenly, startled out of his own tirade.
"So I'm guessing the celebrity thing isn't turning out the way you'd hoped," Viggo said mildly.
"No shit."
"Even if you don't go the celebrity route, it's hard to get rid of the paparazzi," Viggo pointed out, attempting to be fair. "I'm pretty much the anti-celebrity, but the bastards stalk me, too. Even took pictures of me taking out the trash, cutting the grass. Dumbasses."
"Enough to make you want to punch 'em."
"Of course, yours were mostly bought and paid for," Viggo said pointedly, laying down his spoon and leaning back into a patch of sunshine.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Robin sics her own paps on you all the time, doesn't she?"
Orlando growled and shoved his own chair back, crossing his arms. "It was worse with Kate."
"How long before she finds you another starlet?"
"She's already started trying." Glumly.
"Remember what I told you back in New Zealand, Lan? You can say no. That's your only power."
"You don't know what it's like trying to argue with her."
"You shouldn't know, either. You're her boss. You tell her what to do."
"It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"It just isn't." Orlando stood abruptly and began pacing his small corner of the patio.
"She have some kind of blackmail on you?"
Orlando snorted. "No, you cunt. It's nothing like that."
Viggo watched him pace for a while, fingering the longish mustache that he privately thought made him look like Snidely Whiplash. "Do you like having Robin for a manager?" he asked finally, as if the idea were just occuring to him.
"Hell, no." Orlando's answer was fast and adamant.
"Ever consider changing?"
"I wouldn't have any idea how to find somebody better," Orlando said honestly. "They all sound good when they're trying to sell themselves to you. We can't all have Lynne, after all."
"No," Viggo responded thoughtfully. "But some of us can. Or if not her, someone she recommends. Would you trust Lynne's judgement?"
"Are you kidding?" The light that bloomed in Orlando's eyes lit up the whole corner of the patio. He slid himself back into the chair and propped his elbows on the table, leaning head on hands, looking eagerly across at Viggo. "You think that's possible?'
"I have it on pretty good authority that she likes me," Viggo said, deadpan. "Come on. Let's go find out." He stood, pausing to sign the bill for breakfast.
"Right now?" Orlando sprang up as well.
"Why not?"
"Oh- Oh man." Orlando laughed, clear and bright as a bell. "If Lynne can help, does that mean I can fire Robin?"
"I think that'd pretty much be a requirement," Viggo said, feeling his mouth twitch around a grin he was trying to hide.
After a rapidfire conversation with Hilario at the concierge desk, they found themselves in an office with a multi-line phone and a fax machine. First order of business, Viggo called his agent Lynne. After the niceties he got down to business...
"Lynne, I know you know my friend Orlando Bloom... Right... umhhmmm... Well, he's unhappy with his current representation and is planning on getting out of it..." Viggo looked up to lock gazes with Orlando. "Today. Right. ... Right now he's going into a second Pirates of the Caribbean movie and he's obligated to a third one of those. Anything else?" Orlando shook his head. "Not yet. The problem? He didn't really know what he wanted when he started working with her... right, young, just starting... he changed, but she's not letting his direction change... He wants to focus on acting, not being a star... Right." A loud laugh. "No, not quite that much. He's a little saner." A fond look across at Orlando. "Anyway, if you can't take him on, could you recommend someone? ..... You're a sweetheart. I'll send you some chocolate. What do you need?"
Viggo searched around for a pen and a piece of scratch paper and wrote a few things down. "Okay, give us a little while. We're working overseas here. And he'll be in to see you in LA next week." Glancing over at Orlando, he raised an eyebrow. Orlando nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Lynnie."
Hanging up, he gave Orlando a grin. "She'll take you on herself for the time being. She just needs you to fax her this info." He handed Orlando the piece of paper with a list of basic information, including various guild numbers and contacts. Orlando shouted, "Yes!" and pumped both fists into the air, giving Viggo a laugh almost as light-hearted as the ones that used to rocket around the New Zealand shoots.
"And now, to slay the dragon."
"How do we do that?" Orlando asked, calming immediately and turning a bit nervous. Man, Robin really had him pussy-whipped.
"You write out a brief note saying she's fired, we get a couple of people to witness it, then we fax it to her."
"But... I don't want her to know where we are. She'd come here, I swear she would."
"Okaaaay.... You write the note... legible, mind you... be sure to date it... and let me think for a sec."
Keeping an absent eye on Orlando as he went to ask for paper from Hilario and came back to carefully word the letter, Viggo considered options. He was tugging for about the sixth time on his right ear when the solution presented itself, and he grinned. Brilliant.
---
"Yeah?"
"Sean?"
"Viggo! Aren't you still in Guatemala? Is something wrong?"
Viggo laughed. "Yes, but it's Costa Rica, and no. And I still hate you."
"Why the fuck are you calling me then, y'idiot?"
"I need a favor."
"Oh right. And you hate me." There was a suspicious pause. "This isn't going to involve me standing out in the rain in me knickers, is it?"
"You've really got to let that go, Sean."
"It was unnatural. And you locked the door, you wanker. I've still not forgiven ya."
Viggo snickered. "Let it go, man. We hate each other, remember? Is your fax on?"
"How the hell do I know? Do I keep the bloody fax in the living room?"
"How about hauling your ass to your office and turning it on?"
"Give me one good reason why I should leave my pint and crisps for you."
"It's for Orlando."
A sudden silence on the other end, then a rustling thump followed by footsteps and a door opening. "Is he all right?"
"Judge for yourself. Ready for a fax?"
"Let'er rip."
Viggo nodded to Orlando, who keyed in the proper numbers and sent the dismissal note, witnessed by Viggo, Hilario and Victoria, the front desk clerk, across the Atlantic. Having suspicions, Viggo held the phone away from his ear.
It turned out to be a fortunate move, because the ear-splitting shout that erupted from the phone would probably have done permanent damage to his hearing. Viggo offered the phone to Orlando, who looked vaguely stunned at the strength of Sean's reaction, then he stepped away to look out the window and let the two of them talk.
"Yes, I really am," Orlando said excitedly into the phone. "I had no idea anybody would care."
"..."
"No, Vig's set me up with Lynne, at least temporarily. I'm to meet with her next week. Oh, in LA."
"..."
"Oh, right... well, we need you to strip off anything from the fax that identifies where it came from and then fax it to Robin's number. I don't want her finding me here."
Viggo smiled out at a couple of kids playing in the pool, and took the opportunity while Orlando was chattering away to Sean to slip out of the room. Let the two of them enjoy this end of the deal; he'd gotten his pleasure from the looks on Orlando's face. He could find some other way to occupy his time for a while.
-------------------------------
Nearly an hour had passed by the time Orlando got free of Sean and saw Operation Ditch the Bitch well underway. He shook hands with Hilario, thanking him again for all his help, then bounded up the stairs two at a time to the suite only to find it empty. Feeling particularly cheerful, he changed into one of the bright mola shirts - this one yellow - and with a grin dug his necklaces from their pocket in his big travel bag. Draping them around his neck, he turned to consider himself in the mirror.
Damn, if he didn't almost look like himself again. Hair on the long and unruly side, little scruff of facial hair getting started for the Pirates movie, eye-damaging shirt, charms... that was Orlando Bloom in the mirror, or something perilously close to him. It was so good to see himself again that he wrapped his arms around himself and fell down to bounce on the bed, just for the sheer fun of it.
No more Robin. No more Kate. He was basically a free man again, for the first time since... since Rings. Since before Rings. It was an incredibly liberating feeling. He had to go find Viggo.
----
Once again, some detective work was required to locate the older Senor Bush. The pool lifeguard finally pointed Orlando in the direction of a little-used overflow parking lot tucked in behind the hotel kitchen. Following the side of the building, Orlando made his way around until the sound of steadily crunching gravel slowed him. Not wanting to disturb whatever Viggo was up to, he moved quietly around the last corner and stood leaned against the wooden wall in the shadow of the building, watching in fascination.
Viggo was fencing. In faded jeans and sneakers, with a stick for a sword, he moved through what must be proscribed forms in fencing. Orlando, who knew next to nothing about fencing, could only guess, but it all looked very much like a cross between dancing, martial arts and the sword practice they'd done for Rings. The small, light swords were very different from the large, two-handed swords of Middle Earth.
He'd apparently been at it for quite a while. His T-shirt was flung onto the gravel at one side and his torso was sheened with sweat, even in this cool air. Orlando watched him move, and remembered so many things that worked between them. Sure they'd had problems. Who didn't? The age difference was sometimes a problem, although less often than either of them had expected. Orlando's party nature had clashed with Viggo's solitary ways, but they'd found compromises that worked.
Orlando watched that familiar body, with the tacky VEH tattoo he loved and the elven nine and the tiny H on the wrist and the crescent moon, with the scars he'd traced a hundred times and the light coat of chest hair he'd found so comforting. And he knew that letting this man out of his life - no, that letting himself drift out of Viggo's life was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
Shoving off from the wall, he crunched out across the gravel. "Ding, dong, the witch is dead," he sang, smiling, as he walked up behind Viggo.
"Congratulations." Viggo turned with a sweaty face, a dopey mustache and a wide grin.
Orlando reached up to rest his hand on Viggo's sweaty shoulder.
"Lan..." Viggo said, the grin replaced by a wary warning look. "I asked-"
"Not unless I mean it, I know," Orlando said, soft but firm, holding wary blue eyes with his. "I mean it."
"Please don't play with me."
"No playing, my king."
Viggo sucked in a deep breath and laid his hand lightly atop Orlando's. He held it there for a long moment, eyes closed, steadying himself. "I need a shower," he said finally and squeezed Orlando's hand gently before moving away from the connection. "You up for a late lunch after?"
"Absolutely," Orlando said, smiling, glad to give him the space he needed. He'd made the first move. Now it was time to see what would come next.
-----------------
Viggo loves to touch. He's the kind of person who walks through stores and national parks and people's houses just touching things, feeling the textures. There's passion in the rough grab of a tree's bark, in the feathery tickle of moss in bloom, in the sensual slide of heavy silk. He likes to make bread, when he has the time, although very few people know this. But there's something some primal, so sensual, so soothing in the action of kneading bread that he can lose himself in it entirely.
When he's with a person, any person, he'll be fighting an urge to touch that person. What does their skin feel like? How light or heavy is the brush of hair on an arm? Are the heels rough, well-worn, capable? Does their hair slide like silk or does it curl around his fingers like tiny springs?
Being cut off from touch diminishes him. It also weakens him, he knows. He understands that when he's been too long without touch, the simplest of touches can ricochet far too hard against his psyche.
He hungers to touch Orlando, so much it hurts.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Monteverde VI: Witches and Fencing
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. All made up. Fiction. There's not a lick of truth in it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; don't know anything about them - they are their own. I mean no disrespect and I'm certainly not profiting from this.
A/N: Please be warned: My knowledge of Costa Rica is all from reference books and the internet. Please forgive any grievous errors. They aren't intentional. It's fiction. My Spanish remains unreliable. I'm honored and humbled by the generous feedback so far. It's kept me going
-----------------
Previous Chapters Look under Personal Fics
January 2005, Day 10
They had breakfast in the sunny corner of the downstairs patio, the one that was almost warm even at this time of day. Viggo studied Orlando thoughtfully as he worked his way through eggs and rice, with the ever-present beans on the side, then tucked into a juicy grapefruit.
Midway through the meal, Orlando caught the half-oxycontin under a forefinger and slid it across the table to rest by Viggo's water glass. Viggo lifted an eyebrow and Orlando smiled and took the one pill that was left. Viggo thought about digging out the pill bottle to put the half back in, but on the spur of the moment, he simply flicked it deep into the greenery surrounding the patio. The sound of Orlando's chuckle told him he'd made a good decision. He could tell by the way Orlando was shifting in his chair that the younger man was getting ready to broach some serious topic. Time to cut him off at the pass.
"So have you come any closer to a decision," Viggo asked, his first real words of the day.
"About what?"
"What you want. To be an actor or a celebrity."
"I love being an actor." Orlando played with the fruit on his plate, making Mondrian designs.
Viggo just waited, savoring the sweet tartness of the grapefruit.
"I thought- at first I thought being a celebrity would be fun." The chocolate gaze stayed on the plate. "It seems like you'd have all this power, that you can do anything you want. But I- it's not like that, not after a while. It's like you're not a person any more, you're a thing. And you can't do anything because there's always fucking always somebody in your face. Or somebody with a camera. Then you look around at who else is a celebrity and Jesus Christ, Viggo, I mean- Paris Hilton is a fucking celebrity and she doesn't do anything. Nicole Ritchie, Kato Kaelin, Ashlee Simpson, Dr. Phil, the fucking Subway guy... those are celebrities. Shit fucking son of a bitch." He slammed a hand down on the tabletop, making all the dishes jump, and blinked up at Viggo suddenly, startled out of his own tirade.
"So I'm guessing the celebrity thing isn't turning out the way you'd hoped," Viggo said mildly.
"No shit."
"Even if you don't go the celebrity route, it's hard to get rid of the paparazzi," Viggo pointed out, attempting to be fair. "I'm pretty much the anti-celebrity, but the bastards stalk me, too. Even took pictures of me taking out the trash, cutting the grass. Dumbasses."
"Enough to make you want to punch 'em."
"Of course, yours were mostly bought and paid for," Viggo said pointedly, laying down his spoon and leaning back into a patch of sunshine.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Robin sics her own paps on you all the time, doesn't she?"
Orlando growled and shoved his own chair back, crossing his arms. "It was worse with Kate."
"How long before she finds you another starlet?"
"She's already started trying." Glumly.
"Remember what I told you back in New Zealand, Lan? You can say no. That's your only power."
"You don't know what it's like trying to argue with her."
"You shouldn't know, either. You're her boss. You tell her what to do."
"It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"It just isn't." Orlando stood abruptly and began pacing his small corner of the patio.
"She have some kind of blackmail on you?"
Orlando snorted. "No, you cunt. It's nothing like that."
Viggo watched him pace for a while, fingering the longish mustache that he privately thought made him look like Snidely Whiplash. "Do you like having Robin for a manager?" he asked finally, as if the idea were just occuring to him.
"Hell, no." Orlando's answer was fast and adamant.
"Ever consider changing?"
"I wouldn't have any idea how to find somebody better," Orlando said honestly. "They all sound good when they're trying to sell themselves to you. We can't all have Lynne, after all."
"No," Viggo responded thoughtfully. "But some of us can. Or if not her, someone she recommends. Would you trust Lynne's judgement?"
"Are you kidding?" The light that bloomed in Orlando's eyes lit up the whole corner of the patio. He slid himself back into the chair and propped his elbows on the table, leaning head on hands, looking eagerly across at Viggo. "You think that's possible?'
"I have it on pretty good authority that she likes me," Viggo said, deadpan. "Come on. Let's go find out." He stood, pausing to sign the bill for breakfast.
"Right now?" Orlando sprang up as well.
"Why not?"
"Oh- Oh man." Orlando laughed, clear and bright as a bell. "If Lynne can help, does that mean I can fire Robin?"
"I think that'd pretty much be a requirement," Viggo said, feeling his mouth twitch around a grin he was trying to hide.
After a rapidfire conversation with Hilario at the concierge desk, they found themselves in an office with a multi-line phone and a fax machine. First order of business, Viggo called his agent Lynne. After the niceties he got down to business...
"Lynne, I know you know my friend Orlando Bloom... Right... umhhmmm... Well, he's unhappy with his current representation and is planning on getting out of it..." Viggo looked up to lock gazes with Orlando. "Today. Right. ... Right now he's going into a second Pirates of the Caribbean movie and he's obligated to a third one of those. Anything else?" Orlando shook his head. "Not yet. The problem? He didn't really know what he wanted when he started working with her... right, young, just starting... he changed, but she's not letting his direction change... He wants to focus on acting, not being a star... Right." A loud laugh. "No, not quite that much. He's a little saner." A fond look across at Orlando. "Anyway, if you can't take him on, could you recommend someone? ..... You're a sweetheart. I'll send you some chocolate. What do you need?"
Viggo searched around for a pen and a piece of scratch paper and wrote a few things down. "Okay, give us a little while. We're working overseas here. And he'll be in to see you in LA next week." Glancing over at Orlando, he raised an eyebrow. Orlando nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Lynnie."
Hanging up, he gave Orlando a grin. "She'll take you on herself for the time being. She just needs you to fax her this info." He handed Orlando the piece of paper with a list of basic information, including various guild numbers and contacts. Orlando shouted, "Yes!" and pumped both fists into the air, giving Viggo a laugh almost as light-hearted as the ones that used to rocket around the New Zealand shoots.
"And now, to slay the dragon."
"How do we do that?" Orlando asked, calming immediately and turning a bit nervous. Man, Robin really had him pussy-whipped.
"You write out a brief note saying she's fired, we get a couple of people to witness it, then we fax it to her."
"But... I don't want her to know where we are. She'd come here, I swear she would."
"Okaaaay.... You write the note... legible, mind you... be sure to date it... and let me think for a sec."
Keeping an absent eye on Orlando as he went to ask for paper from Hilario and came back to carefully word the letter, Viggo considered options. He was tugging for about the sixth time on his right ear when the solution presented itself, and he grinned. Brilliant.
---
"Yeah?"
"Sean?"
"Viggo! Aren't you still in Guatemala? Is something wrong?"
Viggo laughed. "Yes, but it's Costa Rica, and no. And I still hate you."
"Why the fuck are you calling me then, y'idiot?"
"I need a favor."
"Oh right. And you hate me." There was a suspicious pause. "This isn't going to involve me standing out in the rain in me knickers, is it?"
"You've really got to let that go, Sean."
"It was unnatural. And you locked the door, you wanker. I've still not forgiven ya."
Viggo snickered. "Let it go, man. We hate each other, remember? Is your fax on?"
"How the hell do I know? Do I keep the bloody fax in the living room?"
"How about hauling your ass to your office and turning it on?"
"Give me one good reason why I should leave my pint and crisps for you."
"It's for Orlando."
A sudden silence on the other end, then a rustling thump followed by footsteps and a door opening. "Is he all right?"
"Judge for yourself. Ready for a fax?"
"Let'er rip."
Viggo nodded to Orlando, who keyed in the proper numbers and sent the dismissal note, witnessed by Viggo, Hilario and Victoria, the front desk clerk, across the Atlantic. Having suspicions, Viggo held the phone away from his ear.
It turned out to be a fortunate move, because the ear-splitting shout that erupted from the phone would probably have done permanent damage to his hearing. Viggo offered the phone to Orlando, who looked vaguely stunned at the strength of Sean's reaction, then he stepped away to look out the window and let the two of them talk.
"Yes, I really am," Orlando said excitedly into the phone. "I had no idea anybody would care."
"..."
"No, Vig's set me up with Lynne, at least temporarily. I'm to meet with her next week. Oh, in LA."
"..."
"Oh, right... well, we need you to strip off anything from the fax that identifies where it came from and then fax it to Robin's number. I don't want her finding me here."
Viggo smiled out at a couple of kids playing in the pool, and took the opportunity while Orlando was chattering away to Sean to slip out of the room. Let the two of them enjoy this end of the deal; he'd gotten his pleasure from the looks on Orlando's face. He could find some other way to occupy his time for a while.
-------------------------------
Nearly an hour had passed by the time Orlando got free of Sean and saw Operation Ditch the Bitch well underway. He shook hands with Hilario, thanking him again for all his help, then bounded up the stairs two at a time to the suite only to find it empty. Feeling particularly cheerful, he changed into one of the bright mola shirts - this one yellow - and with a grin dug his necklaces from their pocket in his big travel bag. Draping them around his neck, he turned to consider himself in the mirror.
Damn, if he didn't almost look like himself again. Hair on the long and unruly side, little scruff of facial hair getting started for the Pirates movie, eye-damaging shirt, charms... that was Orlando Bloom in the mirror, or something perilously close to him. It was so good to see himself again that he wrapped his arms around himself and fell down to bounce on the bed, just for the sheer fun of it.
No more Robin. No more Kate. He was basically a free man again, for the first time since... since Rings. Since before Rings. It was an incredibly liberating feeling. He had to go find Viggo.
----
Once again, some detective work was required to locate the older Senor Bush. The pool lifeguard finally pointed Orlando in the direction of a little-used overflow parking lot tucked in behind the hotel kitchen. Following the side of the building, Orlando made his way around until the sound of steadily crunching gravel slowed him. Not wanting to disturb whatever Viggo was up to, he moved quietly around the last corner and stood leaned against the wooden wall in the shadow of the building, watching in fascination.
Viggo was fencing. In faded jeans and sneakers, with a stick for a sword, he moved through what must be proscribed forms in fencing. Orlando, who knew next to nothing about fencing, could only guess, but it all looked very much like a cross between dancing, martial arts and the sword practice they'd done for Rings. The small, light swords were very different from the large, two-handed swords of Middle Earth.
He'd apparently been at it for quite a while. His T-shirt was flung onto the gravel at one side and his torso was sheened with sweat, even in this cool air. Orlando watched him move, and remembered so many things that worked between them. Sure they'd had problems. Who didn't? The age difference was sometimes a problem, although less often than either of them had expected. Orlando's party nature had clashed with Viggo's solitary ways, but they'd found compromises that worked.
Orlando watched that familiar body, with the tacky VEH tattoo he loved and the elven nine and the tiny H on the wrist and the crescent moon, with the scars he'd traced a hundred times and the light coat of chest hair he'd found so comforting. And he knew that letting this man out of his life - no, that letting himself drift out of Viggo's life was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
Shoving off from the wall, he crunched out across the gravel. "Ding, dong, the witch is dead," he sang, smiling, as he walked up behind Viggo.
"Congratulations." Viggo turned with a sweaty face, a dopey mustache and a wide grin.
Orlando reached up to rest his hand on Viggo's sweaty shoulder.
"Lan..." Viggo said, the grin replaced by a wary warning look. "I asked-"
"Not unless I mean it, I know," Orlando said, soft but firm, holding wary blue eyes with his. "I mean it."
"Please don't play with me."
"No playing, my king."
Viggo sucked in a deep breath and laid his hand lightly atop Orlando's. He held it there for a long moment, eyes closed, steadying himself. "I need a shower," he said finally and squeezed Orlando's hand gently before moving away from the connection. "You up for a late lunch after?"
"Absolutely," Orlando said, smiling, glad to give him the space he needed. He'd made the first move. Now it was time to see what would come next.
-----------------
Viggo loves to touch. He's the kind of person who walks through stores and national parks and people's houses just touching things, feeling the textures. There's passion in the rough grab of a tree's bark, in the feathery tickle of moss in bloom, in the sensual slide of heavy silk. He likes to make bread, when he has the time, although very few people know this. But there's something some primal, so sensual, so soothing in the action of kneading bread that he can lose himself in it entirely.
When he's with a person, any person, he'll be fighting an urge to touch that person. What does their skin feel like? How light or heavy is the brush of hair on an arm? Are the heels rough, well-worn, capable? Does their hair slide like silk or does it curl around his fingers like tiny springs?
Being cut off from touch diminishes him. It also weakens him, he knows. He understands that when he's been too long without touch, the simplest of touches can ricochet far too hard against his psyche.
He hungers to touch Orlando, so much it hurts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
You've done it again
Date: 2005-02-08 02:06 pm (UTC)I can't even begin to compose a proper feedback right now (after all I've only read this chapter once, I need to
devourread it several times more like usual) :o)I'm so happy that they are working their way back to each other. Orlando has made the first move... he's let Viggo know what he wants. That he wants him so it's only a matter of time.
Thank you again for writing such a beautiful loving story. I just can't get enough of it!
Re: You've done it again
Date: 2005-02-08 02:09 pm (UTC)Interesting theory about the difference between being an Actor and a Celebrity. People often lump the two together, but it's good knowing that Orlando is finally seeing the difference between the two, and now knows he prefers being an actor over being a celeb!
hee hee I just left more feedback when I thought I was through with the first post!