FIC: 37 Field

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

For whatever reason, this came to me while watching "Crimson Tide." It's a NZ fic, and takes place in "Rohan." I couldn't remember the real name of the place and I'm feeling too darned lazy to look it up. If you think I need to include it, let me know. I'd really rather be staying home and writing VigOlri than going to work today... ^_^

Title: 37. Field
Author: Ranmaru
Rating: PG-15
Summary: It's all about the wait.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, just playing.

Viggo stared out over the field from his perch on the outcropping of rocks that in Peter’s mind would become Rohan’s capital and King Theodin’s seat of power. There was a camera crew setting up about fifty feet to his right, another on the field itself though they were so far away the actor wasn’t sure if they looked more like a heard of miniature horses as they crossed the plain or if he should just stay with the traditional comparison of ants. He was supposed to be taking it easy, resting his broken toes in preparation for the next week, when there would be no mercy for his bones.

 

“Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

 

Viggo grinned but didn’t turn his head to look at Orlando. “A little.”

 

“Do you want to paint it?” Orli sat down beside him, leaving maybe six inches between them.

 

“There’s nothing to paint.”

 

“There’s grass.”

 

“And not blade that’s smokable.”

 

Orlando snickered. “Well, I’m sure you could smoke it, I just don’t think it would have any side effects other than tasting bad.”

 

“Hm.” Viggo wanted to lean over and kiss his young lover but he kept upright. Instead he slid his hand into the space between them until his fingertips brushed the outer seem of Orlando’s jeans.

 

“We’re going to be riding across that, right? On horses?”

 

“Unless I missed the part where Tolkein included cars in his books, yes, we’ll be on horses.” Viggo quickly blocked the loose fist Orli threw at him then grabbed the Brit’s wrist. “We should have stayed at the trailer.”

 

“Why? So I wouldn’t have a chance to say stupid shit you could make fun of?” Orli didn’t try to escape Viggo’s grip.

 

“Nah.” Viggo did lean closer to drawl softly, “So I would have the chance to fuck you. All. Day. Long.” He let out a shuddery breath when Orli closed his eyes and moaned. “Bean’s back in England, we’re not due for filming until Friday, and everyone else is either off filming their own scenes or taking a mini-vacation.”

 

“Then why are we here?” Orli tugged his hand away then planted it palm down between them. He still had his eyes closed though he looked like he was staring at his hand.

 

“I thought I would feel inspired.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Not in the way I’d wanted.” Viggo covered his Orlando’s hand with his own. “Look at me.”

 

Orli did, his brown eyes soft and utterly beautiful to Viggo. “I want to go back,” the Brit whispered.

 

“And will you lay with me on my uncomfortable bunk and allow me to run my rough hands all over your skin? The smooth parts, the scarred parts.”

 

“Viggo…”

 

“And will you allow me to follow my hands with my mouth? My tongue? So I can taste your neck, your nipples, your knees, your cock?”

 

“Stop…”

 

“You don’t mean that.”

 

“We can’t do anything here.”

 

Viggo hummed low in his throat and moved away, placing both hands in his lap, fingers tightly laced together. “You’re probably right.” Viggo heard Orli suck in a breath even as he himself tried to calm his libido.

 

“You…are an ass.”

 

“Have I taught you nothing about anticipation as foreplay?”

 

“You’ve taught me that you’re a sadistic ass.” Orli scrambled to stand. He aimed a gentle kick at Viggo’s thigh. “I’m so fucking hard right now,” the younger man hissed.

 

“Do you think I’m limp down here?”

 

“Not sadistic then. Masochistic.”

 

“Maybe. But think about how fucking good it’s going to feel when we’re alone.”

 

“I am thinking about that, and I’ll be thinking about it on the heli ride back. The car ride back to the trailer.” Orli smacked Viggo on the back of the head. “And then, when you finally take down my pants, you’ll see my very, very fucking blue balls. And then I’ll die from the back-up.”

 

Viggo began to laugh. “There’s no doubt you are an actor, you drama queen.”

 

“I’m a fucking princess and proud of it.”

 

“I dare you to say that louder than a stage whisper.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“That works too.” Viggo tipped his head back to look at his lover upside down. “You can run your rough hands-“

 

“Shut up!” Orli spun around and stalked away, his gait a little stiff. Viggo could sympathize.

 

The Dane returned his gaze back to the field and the tiny camera crew. He listened to Orlando somewhere behind him talking to a member of the camera crew. He couldn’t hear them clearly enough to follow the conversation so he focused on his lover’s accent, the softly clipped rhythms both making him hard and soothing the throbbing in his foot.

 

He saw the helicopter before he heard it and smiled. The noise of the copter would cover whatever he came up with to tease Orli during the ride back. With any luck, he’d be jumped the minute they got to the trailer. He hadn’t planned on it, but damned if the idea of Orli taking charge didn’t make him hard as nails. It didn’t happen nearly enough but Viggo had figured out that getting Orli fired up and making him wait made the Brit desperate enough to forget he was still shy about having sex with another man. Desperate enough to push Viggo on the floor and fuck with him with their jeans around their knees.

 

Or be convinced to fuck on the Rivendell set. Viggo had been hard pressed not to laugh his ass of when he’d overheard a couple of the set painters talking about the scratches on one of the railings the following day.

 

He slowly got to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain when he put weight on his injured foot. The pain meds were wearing off.

 

“Good thing we have tomorrow off,” Orlando remarked casually as they made their way to the jeep that would take them to the helicopter.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“You won’t be able to walk without a limp.”

 

“I’ve got the good shit for my foot,” Viggo told him.

 

“It won’t be your foot that’s sore.”

 

Viggo smiled.

 

 

The End

Comments

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

As evil as Viggo can get, I think he's got the short strawl here!! Walk with a limp indeed!
Thanks for a perfect start of my evening! Thanks for sharing, hugs and kisses!!

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

As long as that limp comes with a smile! Ha ha!

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

No doubt it will be a goofy grin!