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viggorli_xmasTitle: Special Present
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zee113
Author: To be revealed on 2015-01-01
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Word Count: 6280
Warning: Fluff, fluff, fluff!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Viggo or Orlando, nor is there any harm intended in any of this. Neither do I know or want to suggest anything about their personal life, this is all fantasy. The story’s just for fun, no money is being made. And I’m sure that the people in Bettles, Alaska are all very lovely, no harm intended.
Summary: Orlando is on a flight from Alaska to Hawaii, where his family is waiting for him to celebrate Christmas together. Will he make it in time?
A/N: I could’ve never gotten this story together without the help of my very good friendmia_philine. Your help was invaluable, darling! Thank you so very much!!
Even though the airport in Barrow, Alaska wasn’t all that big, it was very busy on the 24th of December. Everyone who could get a flight out of town had apparently bought a ticket. Orlando was sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting to board his flight. Only one airplane could leave at a time since there’s only one runway. Orlando took another look at his watch and sighed. His plane was leaving in an hour and there was absolutely nothing to do.
He was still trying to decide on whether to get another cup of overpriced coffee when someone went by in a rush and banged his suitcase painfully into Orlando’s shin. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” the man apologized. “Just, I’m in a bit of a rush. Couldn’t finish my writing and had to hurry to the airport,” he mumbled while maneuvering around Orlando’s feet and moving towards the check-in counter.
Orlando frowned and took a look at the man: lighter hair with a few gray streaks, loose pants, a big parka, a knit cap, a scarf, and a pair of gloves in one hand. All the while, the man tried to pull a big suitcase and a smaller carry-on suitcase with him, presumably to check in for the same flight that Orlando had booked. ‘Well, at least I’m rid of him, sitting in first class,’ Orlando thought. Maybe it was a good idea to get that overpriced coffee.
~~~
Finally sitting in his aisle seat on the plane, Orlando leaned back his head and closed his eyes. He’d be back in Hawaii by tomorrow, celebrating Christmas with his family in the warm weather of Honolulu. There couldn’t be anything better, especially after escaping the scathingly cold weather of Alaska. Somehow, he had misjudged the climate so far up in the North. Granted, he had only been here for a day, but in his haste to get to the audition, he had not really thought about bringing anything except the necessary business clothes he had on.
There was a bit of noise coming from the door and Orlando could hear a mumbled “Oh, so sorry”. That voice… he had heard it earlier. Orlando dreaded opening his eyes, not wanting to know what he might see.
“Uhm, excuse me,” someone said to his left. Orlando blinked and almost groaned in misery. That guy from the airport, who had banged his suitcase into Orlando’s shin, was standing right beside him in the aisle. He was trying to heave his carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment. A moment later, a few things spilled out from the suitcase, raining down on Orlando.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the guy apologized again, quickly picking up the sweaters and shirts that had fallen down. Orlando grumbled and then realized in alarm that the window seat beside him was the only one still empty. Damn.
When they were finally seated and the airplane had reached his flying altitude, Orlando turned on his cellphone and decided to call his sister. It took a while but she finally answered his call.
“Hey, little brother, how was the audition?” she asked.
“It went well, I was asked to come back a second time for a two-day screen testing in two months.”
“That sounds great!” Sam exclaimed, while Orlando could hear his cousin yelling in the background.
“Are you on your way back?” she wanted to know.
“Yeah, I’ve just boarded the plane in Barrow. I’m going to be back by tomorrow for the festivities, though I cannot wait to get there. You know, the guy in the seat beside me is really chaotic. He’s…”
Orlando paused. The guy had unpacked an old portable CD player, listening to some kind of Indian music and apparently using some very old, barely noise isolated headphones. The music was quiet enough not to disturb the other first class passengers and loud enough that it grated on Orlando’s nerves instantly.
“Listen, Orli, I’ve got to go, mom is calling for me. I’ll tell her that you’re on your way and someone will pick you up tomorrow. See you!” Orlando didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye before his sister hung up the phone.
‘Well’, Orlando thought, ‘now is as good a time as any to call a few friends and wish them Merry Christmas’. He made a few calls, always trying to concentrate on the actual phone call and not on the weird music his seat neighbor was still listening to at high volume.
His own voice got louder every time Orlando made another call, his concentration waning by the minute. By the fifth call, the guy seemed to surrender, putting away his CD player and instead sticking some pictures to the seat in front of him.
Orlando wondered where the hell this guy even had the adhesive tape from. The pictures were all pretty corny. Some showed a sunset, some came from dime novels written by Cheryl Bolen, some showed noblemen from the 18th century. He just shook his head and ended the phone call.
It was very silent for a few minutes, during which his seat neighbor unpacked and booted his laptop. Orlando gave a sigh of relief: the typing wouldn’t be half as bad as the loud music had been. He himself typed a few text messages and thought on sleeping for a while, when he saw the guy plugging a headset into the laptop.
Hastily finishing his text message, Orlando wanted to prevent him from starting a Skype conversation or anything alike, not being in the mood for further distractions. He decided to try and call Sam again.
The guy had seemingly caught on to what Orlando wanted to do and quickly opened a program, starting a recording of some sort. Orlando had just scrolled to his sister’s number when his seat neighbor started speaking into his microphone.
“Brainstorming part two. Setting: Cornwall.” The guy made some aborted hand gestures and Orlando’s jaw dropped. “Flowers: irises, lilies, roses, tulips, lilacs.” The gestures were as if the guy was painting the flowers himself and Orlando was sure that he had died and gone to hell.
“The sun is shining; there are birds, bees and rabbits everywhere.” Orlando wasn’t sure whether a glass of sparkling wine would be enough, or if the situation called for something stronger like whiskey. The gestures were getting bigger and Orlando hoped that he could get drunk enough to just go to sleep soon.
“Brown hair, flowing in the summer breeze; loose clothes; treading lightly; free-spirited nature; penniless,” the guy continued his list. Orlando was close to pleading for the whole bottle of whiskey when the stewardess came to take his order.
“The lover: an Earl; wealthy and handsome.” His seat neighbor stopped a moment, and Orlando wasn’t able to keep himself from saying: “Maybe he needs some manners as well.”
That elicited a broad grin. “Nope, I don’t think he needs manners. He’s got the money. Looks like you’re not very experienced in this genre.”
Orlando only shook his head and happily took the whiskey the stewardess had brought him. “I’m sure that the men Cheryl Bolen describes, mostly have manners that far surpass your idea of what good manners are.” He wasn’t sure of the reaction he might get and hoped that he hadn’t offended the guy too much. But it had been hard to keep his thoughts to himself.
His seat neighbor only dismissed his objection with a wave of his hand. “I just haven’t figured out the Earl quite yet. There’s no clear picture of him in my mind, so that’s making it difficult to describe him.”
Orlando couldn’t believe that he had actually started a conversation with the guy. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “You know, if you make him a character in contrast to your other one, you may want to put him in a tailored suit, with neat hair and an aristocratic nose.”
A moment later, the man rummaged through his backpack that had been stowed underneath the seat. Finally finding what he had been searching for, he presented a camera, asking to please take a picture of Orlando to use as inspiration for the Earl.
Orlando was baffled but took another sip of his whiskey and nodded his consent. The guy adjusted his camera and wanted to take a picture. Nothing happened. He mumbled something and grimaced. “Damn, I have no film,” he groaned, scrambling for his laptop and trying to hold it up a bit.
Gesturing for another whiskey, Orlando rolled his eyes when the guy tried to take a picture with his laptop camera, while knocking his notes to the floor and just barely missing the glass Orlando was holding.
Giving a dismissive snort, Orlando waited until the picture was taken and said: “Seriously? Man, you have got to be really desperate for some inspiration. A dime novel can’t be that hard to write.”
Now, the man did raise an eyebrow about that obvious dig. “And what do you know about writing?” he asked, before he turned back to his laptop and started recording again.
“Slicked back locks” and “snobbish behavior” was all Orlando heard before he picked up his cellphone again to try calling his family.
A few moments later, the seat belt sign went on and the stewardess came with the third whiskey, handing it to Orlando. “You will have to turn your cellphone off, Sir. We’re experiencing some turbulence.”
Orlando turned his phone off and held his whiskey tightly. He might have to give up on distracting himself from his seat neighbor but he would not be giving up the booze. Said seat neighbor finished his recording and turned off the laptop to store it away in his backpack.
The plane apparently hit some air pockets, giving Orlando a feeling as though he was riding on a rollercoaster. His stomach crawled up towards his esophagus and he quickly drank the rest of the whiskey, hoping that it would calm his nerves.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the co-pilot’s voice could be heard through the speakers a moment later. “We are experiencing some turbulence due to a blizzard and will have to make a stopover at Bettles, Alaska. Unfortunately, the weather is so bad that it is too dangerous to stay in the air, and there is no way to bypass the blizzard. You will all be given a room for the night and get a seat on an airplane towards your destination by tomorrow morning, when it’s hopefully cleared up. Please fasten your seat belt and keep seated until we have landed safely. Thank you.”
Orlando groaned. Damn it, there was no way he would be in time for Christmas with his family or the reading of one of his favorite authors.
Five minutes later, he didn’t really care about being anywhere except on solid ground. The blizzard evidently didn’t go together with the whiskey all too well. Orlando was holding the sick bag and hoped that the airplane was landing soon.
His seat neighbor seemed to have his doubts and loudly asked the stewardess for another bag. He was mumbling quite a bit and the stewardess obviously couldn’t hear him, so Orlando cringed when he heard him yell through all of first class: “He needs another barf bag and as fast as you can bring it, maybe two.”
Ten minutes later, Orlando was quite happy about the brashness of his seat neighbor, throwing the three sick bags into the waste bin the stewardess had brought him. The passengers were already leaving the plane and he was quite eager to get back on solid ground.
~~~
The passengers were taken to collect their luggage and then herded towards the exit of the airport. A small airport official in a dress, with high heels, and a no-nonsense attitude was handing out leaflets with instructions for their overnight stay. Viggo took a look and saw that it included directions to the bus stop, questions on insurance, information on payment, and further course of action.
“I will now call out your names and assign you to your rooms,” the young woman shouted out. Dividing passengers into pairs and groups went fast and Viggo was hoping to be the last one and maybe score a single room. Then he would at least have some peace and quiet to finish a bit of his writing.
“The last people on my list are Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom,” the woman called out, looking around for them. Viggo sighed and raised his hand. “I’m Viggo Mortensen,” he said.
“Do you know where Orlando Bloom is?” the woman asked him. He shook his head, but answered: “Maybe he’s the one that went to the bathroom? There was a guy sitting right beside me on the plane. He was sick during the landing and I saw him walk towards the toilets.”
The young woman exhaled, obviously irritated by the delay in her planning. “Well, would you please take the paperwork, Mister Mortensen, wait for Mister Bloom and then take him to the bus stop. The instructions should be clear by now and everything else is right there on the leaflet,” she requested.
Viggo nodded and took the papers she handed him. The woman raised her voice again to be heard over the noise of the group: “Also, if you have not been informed yet, all flights have been delayed until further notice. The blizzard is gaining strength and it is not clear when the airport is open again for airplanes to leave Bettles. We will keep you up-to-date on the events and will make sure that you have everything you need at the motel. If there are any more questions, please call the number provided on the leaflet.”
The majority of the passengers groaned, complaining about the weather and that they had to spend their Christmas in the middle of Alaska instead of with their families. Viggo just couldn’t believe that he had to spend an indefinite amount of time in close vicinity with his seat neighbor. The guy had seemed nice enough at first, but gave a waspish reply as soon as he had had a bit of alcohol in his blood.
Rolling his eyes, Viggo walked over to the bathroom that he had seen the guy walk towards earlier. He maneuvered his luggage through the door and then knocked on the one locked bathroom stall. “Are you Orlando Bloom?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?” came the weak reply.
“We’re rooming together for the time being. I’ve got the papers for the motel and a leaflet with further instructions. My name’s Viggo, by the way.”
“Alright…” was all he heard when the man was sick again and Viggo quickly exited the bathroom to wait outside.
Fifteen minutes later, Orlando came out of the bathroom, looking white as a sheet. “You alright, man?” Viggo asked. He only got a nod and directed Orlando towards the bus stop, passing on the information he had gotten from the airport official.
When they arrived at the bus stop, there was no bus in sight. Only a man bundled in winter gear was working a snow blower to clear up the sidewalk. He came over and asked: “Are you the guys from the group that was headed to the motel?” Viggo answered in the affirmative and the man told them that the busses had already left.
“The motel isn’t far and you can’t get lost. Just follow the sidewalk straight ahead and you’ll see the motel to your left in about a mile.” Viggo thanked the man and they started towards the motel.
Although the motel really wasn’t that far away, they made slow progress with Viggo pulling both of his suitcases and Orlando shivering in only his business suit. After a few minutes, Viggo couldn’t look at the trembling figure walking alongside him any longer. He took off his scarf and gloves, and gave them to Orlando.
“Why the hell do you not even have a coat with you?” he wanted to know.
Orlando shook his head and answered slowly: “I wasn’t planning on being in Alaska longer than a day. The audition I had in Barrow was calling for a suit and I should’ve been back in Hawaii by tomorrow.”
They finally arrived at the motel and Viggo was happy to get into the warmth. Unfortunately, when they stepped through the door, it was almost as cold inside as it had been outside. Taking a look around, he saw a corpulent woman behind the front desk ensconced in a fleece blanket. To the left was a door that had a sign with “Dinner Room” on it, to the right was a door with a sign saying “Rooms 1-30”, and over his head was a shriveled piece of mistletoe.
He decided to make the best of the situation and, with a laugh, pointed out the mistletoe to his shivering roommate. Orlando took a look and said: “That’s not mistletoe, that’s deadly nightshade.”
The woman behind the front desk raised one eyebrow and grumbled something about nitpicking city slickers. “You two have to be the last passengers from that flight that was delayed,” she said, not waiting for an answer. “I’ve got a special room for you then.”
She banged a key onto the counter and plucked the papers out of Viggo’s hands. A moment later, she had turned around to step behind a cabinet. “Since the heating is broken, you’ll have to make due with some blankets,” she called.
Throwing a cashmere blanket towards Viggo, she shooed a fat cat off of another blanket on the floor. “Off you go, Garfield, snuggle onto the oven if you have to.” Grabbing the blanket off the floor, she shook it once and threw it towards Orlando.
“Just through the door to your right and straight ahead until you get to the stairs. Walk up and there’s a small door to the spare room, it’s the only one left and we usually use it for our personal guests.” The woman didn’t even wait for either of them to speak, before she sat down again to click away on her computer.
Viggo grimaced but thought that he might make matters worse if he disturbed the cranky woman again, so he walked towards their room. Orlando followed him, holding his blanket an arm’s length away. ‘That is the exact attitude the Earl might have,’ Viggo thought, trying to mentally take notes for later.
Getting the suitcases up the stairs wasn’t fun and Viggo soon discovered that they also took up most of the space in their tiny room. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Orlando had stopped in the doorway abruptly. Viggo had to keep back his giggles. He wasn’t in the least shocked by the small room they had been given – they were the last people checking in.
The room itself wasn’t any warmer than the corridor had been and the bed bounced every time the broken heater banged. At least there was a big panorama window at one side of the room, with a clear view of the snow-covered landscape outside and the starry night sky.
Viggo could appreciate the view, but it appeared that it couldn’t be further from his roommate’s current thoughts. Orlando went into the room and pulled open the doors of the small closet. “Where’s the second bed?” he wanted to know.
“Where do you think is space for another bed?” Viggo asked in return. “There is only one bed,” he added.
“Is that a single?” Orlando asked in shock.
“Of course, it’s a single. There’s only one pillow.” The *duh* was implied.
Orlando grimaced and said: “That’s mine, then.”
“No way,” Viggo replied, still trying to keep track of Orlando’s behavior to jot down some notes for the character of the Earl later.
“You’ve got the good blanket,” his roommate accused him.
They squabbled a bit over the pillow, while Viggo unpacked his carry-on suitcase. He searched for some clothes to put on during the night, knowing that it would probably get even colder in their room. After a while, he noticed that Orlando had gone quiet, sitting on the bed with light blue lips and chattering teeth, embracing his knees, and watching him.
“What?” he asked brusquely and not knowing what to make of Orlando’s gaze.
“I was just wondering why you have all of those things in your carry-on. Why not put them into your actual suitcase?” Orlando said.
“Ah, one of my suitcases has been lost before and since then I always took everything important in my carry-on. The presents for family and friends, important as they may be, are in the other suitcase; the rest is here.” Viggo rumbled on a bit and then couldn’t suppress his own curiosity: “What do you have in your backpack, if it’s not a warm jacket?”
Orlando rolled his eyes and answered anyways: “Money, my cellphone, my passport, half a chewing gum, and a book.”
Viggo couldn’t hold back his laugh and said: “Well, half a chewing gum won’t help after vomiting all over the airplane. Wait a sec; I might be able to help you out with that one.” He rummaged around in his carry-on, ignoring the miffed huff from Orlando. A moment later, he had found his spare set of toothbrushes, handing one to his roommate.
“And how can a book be more important than a sweater or a jacket?” Viggo wondered aloud. But when Orlando unpacked his few belongings and put the book on the table, he quickly said: “Never mind. Let me see if I have some clothes that might fit you, can’t have you freezing to death tonight. And, by the way, this is definitely a situation that is bizarre enough to warrant writing about. You know, these kinds of ideas born from real life experiences are always the best. Oh, and I do believe you should take the pillow tonight, seems like you’re in much more need of it than I am.”
He rumbled on and on about one thing or another, all the while shoving clothes towards Orlando and ignoring the confused looks his roommate gave him. He herded him into the bathroom to brush his teeth and finally ceased his endless flow of words when brushing his own teeth.
Afterwards, when Orlando wanted to put the scratchy blanket on the bed, Viggo protested vehemently: “Absolutely not! I’m allergic to cats and I will not risk having an allergic reaction.”
“Well, what do you suggest then?” Orlando asked. He sounded a little pissed off. “I’m not freezing to death, as you so eloquently put it.”
Viggo sighed and slipped to the far end of the bed. “We’ll share this blanket. The clothes and our close proximity will keep us warm enough. I’m not risking an allergic reaction.”
Orlando gave a defeated sigh and hung his head. He had a weary look on his face, his lips still painted the light blue color. “Fine, we’ll share. But I’m keeping the pillow.”
Viggo nodded and they tried to somehow arrange themselves on the bed without getting too close, yet still sharing the cashmere blanket. It took a while, but in the end they settled down, with Viggo’s back turned towards the wall, facing Orlando whose face was turned towards the ceiling.
The bed still bounced a bit when the broken heater banged irregularly. Viggo couldn’t hold back his giggles after a while, taking in the bizarre situation. Orlando grimaced but soon joined him, apparently laughing so hard he had to hold his sides.
They calmed down again and Viggo heard him say: “This is not what I was hoping to be doing over the holidays this year.”
“Well, what did you plan on doing?” Viggo asked, just as quietly.
“I wanted to have a nice Christmas with my family and friends, somewhere warm and tropical. You know, we always wanted to try that at least once. Coming from England, I only knew cold and stormy winters, so this should’ve been a nice change to our routine.”
Orlando sighed and Viggo understood what he meant.
“There’s supposed to be a reading of my favorite author in Honolulu. It’s Aragorn, the one who wrote the “Greenleaf Poems”. You heard of him?”
“Might’ve”, Viggo mumbled.
“I was lucky enough to persuade my family and some of our friends to spend Christmas in Honolulu together, you know, kind of like killing two birds with one stone. Now, I’m missing both.” Orlando gave another sigh but seemed to recover quickly. “What should you be doing instead?” he asked.
Viggo wasn’t sure what to say but finally went with: “I had a job to finish in Barrow, was supposed to do another one in Honolulu over the holidays and go to London for New Year’s Eve. ‘m gonna meet my ex-wife and our son there. She’s on tour with her band and he accompanies her. That’s why I’ve got all the presents in my suitcase.”
Orlando laughed and said: “Well, at least you have a story to tell. What is it exactly that you’re doing?”
“Ah, you know, I’m an artist, doing lots of different things. I’m writing a bit, as you’ve probably gathered by now…” Another loud laugh from Orlando was his answer.
“…I also paint and sculpt, amongst other things”, Viggo finished.
They were silent for a while, the only sound coming from the banging of the heater. After a while, Viggo wished Orlando a good night, not able to keep his eyes open any longer.
~~~
Early the next morning, Orlando opened his eyes to the sight of his temporary roommate hugging the pillow. How the hell had it even gotten out of his hands? Orlando wanted to be grumpy about it but didn’t really have a chance when Viggo snuffled slightly and rolled a little more towards Orlando.
Up close, Orlando was able to really look at Viggo’s face, studying his laugh lines around his eyes, his light eyelashes, and his soft hair with the grey streaks. He couldn’t deny that Viggo was attractive, even though Orlando had thought him to be a bit brash and crude the day before.
But when he had seen how cold Orlando was, Viggo had given him some warm clothes and even a toothbrush to get rid of the foul taste of vomit in his mouth. There were no two ways about it; Orlando knew that Viggo had proven to be quite tolerant of his snappish behavior and thus taking the high road in their little disagreements during their whole acquaintance.
A pity, though, that he wasn’t gay. Orlando knew he might’ve taken his chances if Viggo had given any hint about being attracted to men. Instead he had talked about his ex-wife and son, whom he were to meet back in London. Also, the description of the scene that Viggo had recorded in the plane was quite an indication in Orlando’s opinion.
He sighed and carefully turned around towards the window. It was still dark outside and Orlando could see the snowflakes dancing in front of the window. The storm apparently hadn’t lessened and his chances of making it to Honolulu anytime soon were waning.
“It’s not such a nice sight when you know that it means there are no flights, isn’t it?” he heard a low voice from behind.
Not wanting Viggo to know that he had startled him, Orlando took a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s not so nice then.” He turned back around to face his roommate, only to be greeted by a sleepy grin. “What?” he asked alarmed.
“You snore,” Viggo snickered.
“Do not,” Orlando replied, huffing in mock annoyance.
“Do too,” Viggo insisted and his grin broadened. Orlando rolled his eyes.
A heartbeat later, the heater seemed to die completely, giving a loud bang that startled them and rattled the bed quite a bit, almost like an earthquake. Orlando bumped his forehead on the headboard and Viggo nearly fell off the bed, his butt already hanging precariously over the edge.
When they had resettled, Orlando rubbed a hand over his forehead and grumbled about seedy motels. Viggo chuckled and nudged Orlando’s hand away, before carefully stroking over the tiny bump that had instantly appeared after the impact with the headboard.
A moment later, Orlando could feel soft lips right there and held his breath when Viggo hesitated a few seconds. Then, light kisses were scattered all over his face and Orlando closed his eyes in bliss. Well, he might’ve been wrong about Viggo not being gay. Not that it was a problem, not at all.
“You have already been quite the inspiration for the character of the Earl,” Viggo whispered. “How about we take this a step further and you can give me some inspiration on his sexual side?”
Orlando hummed, blindly grabbing for Viggo’s waist to pull him closer. “But you’re not a woman, Viggo. So I shouldn’t be that much inspiration for the Earl,” he protested in jest.
Still keeping his eyes closed, Orlando heard the soft murmur right at his ear: “Why would you think the Earl is the lover of a woman?”
“Because your other character is a woman,” Orlando replied. He felt the answering laugh all through his body, this time not shivering because of the cold but because of the anticipation.
“No, I guess you haven’t listened very carefully,” Viggo told him. “I never said that my other character is a woman. Maybe the description might’ve fit a woman just as well, but my other character was a man.”
Orlando so didn’t care at that moment and he opened his eyes to bury one of his hands in Viggo’s hair, pulling him into a proper kiss.
Viggo gave as good as he got and had quickly rolled Orlando onto his back, hovering over him, stroking his thumbs over Orlando’s
cheekbones.
“Your lips still have a blue tint,” Viggo said, but Orlando just shook his head.
“I don’t care. And if you really want that to change, I suggest you do something about it.” Orlando grinned, pushing up his hips and rubbing himself against Viggo.
Both men groaned at the contact. Viggo nuzzled the soft skin at Orlando’s neck and said: “Hmm, I’m pretty sure we can make the bed bounce without the broken heater doing it for us. So, how about you unpack your present now, it is Christmas after all.”
Orlando started giggling, grabbing Viggo’s face to give him another kiss. “You’re daft.” he chuckled. Nevertheless, he started peeling Viggo out of his clothes, following that by getting rid of his own, borrowed ones.
When Orlando became impatient with their slow speed, Viggo soothed him with kisses, and finally grabbed his hard cock, stroking him a few times.
“Viggo!” Orlando exclaimed, taking hold of his bed partner’s shoulders, and spreading his legs further for better access.
When Viggo gave him another kiss and took his hand away, Orlando wanted to protest. “Hush, I’ll just have to get supplies,” Viggo told him, quickly scrambling towards his carry-on suitcase and rummaging around in it.
“You even have lube and condoms in there?” Orlando wanted to know, giggling again.
Viggo grinned, slipping back into bed with him, dropping the supplies beside the pillow. “Better safe than sorry,” was his only reply before he started kissing Orlando again, stroking every available part of his skin.
When Orlando felt that he had been teased enough, he spread his legs wider to give Viggo better access and murmured: “Now, Viggo, if you don’t prepare me right this instance, I’m gonna have to do it myself. But I would surely prefer you in me.”
A deep groan was the only reply, and just a moment later Orlando felt a slick finger at his entrance. He welcomed the intrusion, relaxing his muscles as much as possible. It didn’t take Viggo long to add another and then a third finger.
“Please, Viggo!” Orlando begged, arching his back when Viggo pressed his fingers into Orlando’s prostate.
Finally, Orlando heard the condom being opened and saw that Viggo put it on carefully. With his own hands, which were also slick by now, Orlando grabbed Viggo’s cock to pump a few times.
“Stop,” Viggo groaned, stilling Orlando’s hand. “This isn’t going to last long if you keep that up.”
“Then fuck me,” Orlando whispered, biting his lover’s skin slightly. A moment later, he could feel the pressure of Viggo’s cock against his entrance, consciously relaxing to let him in.
They went slow until Viggo was seated in him completely. Orlando took a deep breath and got used to the intrusion. Viggo kissed him again and then searched his eyes for any pain, until Orlando gave him an affirmative nod and smiled. “Go ahead, Viggo, please.”
Viggo rocked into him steadily, still fluttering the occasional kiss on his face. Orlando had grabbed onto his lover’s butt, forcing him to set a faster pace. He groaned: “Fuck me, Viggo! I really need to come, please.”
The groaning merged into high whimpers as soon as Viggo pushed into him harder, hitting his prostate more frequently. And when Viggo wrapped his hand around Orlando’s cock, he couldn’t hold back anymore and came all over his stomach.
A few more thrusts and Viggo moaned into Orlando’s neck, going still above him. Orlando stroked over Viggo’s sweaty back, trying to calm him down.
When they pulled apart, they turned towards each other, still kissing lazily. After a while, Viggo got rid of the condom and brought a wet towel from the bathroom to clean them up.
Orlando beckoned him to slip back into bed and they snuggled underneath the warm cashmere blanket.
“Hmm, looks like I’ve got some more inspiration for my characters, doesn’t it…” Viggo mumbled and Orlando chuckled.
“Hush now, I’m tired. Want to sleep some more,” he replied, pulling Viggo even closer.
They were asleep not two minutes after that.
~~~
When Orlando woke up again, he found himself trapped inside the blanket and Viggo’s arms and legs. He tried getting out of bed without disturbing his lover but Viggo rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly.
“Good morning,” Orlando laughed, untangling himself from the pillow hogging monster on the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom to empty his bladder.
After quickly brushing his teeth, he opened the door to jump right back into bed since it was still freezing cold in the room and Orlando planned to animate Viggo on getting some more action to warm up properly.
Viggo, though, wasn’t in bed anymore. He sat – stark naked and surely freezing his balls off – at the foot of the bed, a book on his knees and a pen in his hand.
The moment Orlando had opened the door, Viggo’s head had whipped around and Orlando could see the panicked expression, as though Viggo were caught red-handed doing something naughty.
A closer look confirmed Orlando’s assumption: the book was his own book, the “Greenleaf Poems” by Aragorn.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m writing you a personal dedication,” Viggo replied.
“Why the hell are you writing a personal dedication into my book?” Orlando folded his arms and tapped his left foot.
Viggo gave a shaky sigh and finished quickly, putting the book onto the window sill. Orlando was glaring daggers at him by then.
“I’m writing you a personal dedication because I’m the author of the book,” Viggo finally said.
Orlando’s jaw dropped and he didn’t really know what to say. How the hell could Viggo be Aragorn? He had heard Viggo’s brainstorming ideas the day before and they were nothing like the poems in that book.
“Come here, please.” Viggo gestured to Orlando, beckoning him to get back under the blanket.
It took a few moments but he slowly went to the bed and slipped underneath the still warm blanket. Viggo carefully pulled him into his arms and looked into his eyes.
“I am the author; I just didn’t want you to know. When I saw the book yesterday, I sort of panicked. There have been a few encounters with fans that didn’t go quite so well, and I’m usually very guarded about it,” Viggo explained.
“I… I really don’t know what to say,” Orlando stuttered.
“Just… promise you won’t treat me any different now that you know?” Viggo asked.
Orlando smirked and rubbed his cock against Viggo’s half-hard length. “In that case, how about we pick up where we left off earlier this morning?”
“Hmm, no problem, seeing as we’re both missing my reading tomorrow,” Viggo mumbled, kissing Orlando again.
~~~
When they finally got out of bed in the late afternoon to go in search for some food, they stumbled upon Garfield again. The cat had hidden behind a curtain in the front hall and shot out towards the front desk when they came in.
Orlando nearly tripped over the cat but Viggo had just enough reflexes left to quickly grab him around his waist. Using the momentum, Viggo had propelled them towards the front door, where they held onto the door frame to catch their breath.
Looking up, Viggo saw the deadly nightshade again, a mischievous grin already on his face. Orlando rolled his eyes and giggled. “Alright, I don’t care if it’s mistletoe or not, just kiss me, Viggo.”
And that his lover did. Quite thoroughly, actually. So thoroughly, that they didn’t even notice the corpulent woman behind the front desk fainting in shock. Well, it was her own fault for not teaching her cat any manners; and for putting up the deadly nightshade that went as mistletoe.
Recipient:
zee113Author: To be revealed on 2015-01-01
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Word Count: 6280
Warning: Fluff, fluff, fluff!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Viggo or Orlando, nor is there any harm intended in any of this. Neither do I know or want to suggest anything about their personal life, this is all fantasy. The story’s just for fun, no money is being made. And I’m sure that the people in Bettles, Alaska are all very lovely, no harm intended.
Summary: Orlando is on a flight from Alaska to Hawaii, where his family is waiting for him to celebrate Christmas together. Will he make it in time?
A/N: I could’ve never gotten this story together without the help of my very good friend
mia_philine. Your help was invaluable, darling! Thank you so very much!!Even though the airport in Barrow, Alaska wasn’t all that big, it was very busy on the 24th of December. Everyone who could get a flight out of town had apparently bought a ticket. Orlando was sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting to board his flight. Only one airplane could leave at a time since there’s only one runway. Orlando took another look at his watch and sighed. His plane was leaving in an hour and there was absolutely nothing to do.
He was still trying to decide on whether to get another cup of overpriced coffee when someone went by in a rush and banged his suitcase painfully into Orlando’s shin. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” the man apologized. “Just, I’m in a bit of a rush. Couldn’t finish my writing and had to hurry to the airport,” he mumbled while maneuvering around Orlando’s feet and moving towards the check-in counter.
Orlando frowned and took a look at the man: lighter hair with a few gray streaks, loose pants, a big parka, a knit cap, a scarf, and a pair of gloves in one hand. All the while, the man tried to pull a big suitcase and a smaller carry-on suitcase with him, presumably to check in for the same flight that Orlando had booked. ‘Well, at least I’m rid of him, sitting in first class,’ Orlando thought. Maybe it was a good idea to get that overpriced coffee.
~~~
Finally sitting in his aisle seat on the plane, Orlando leaned back his head and closed his eyes. He’d be back in Hawaii by tomorrow, celebrating Christmas with his family in the warm weather of Honolulu. There couldn’t be anything better, especially after escaping the scathingly cold weather of Alaska. Somehow, he had misjudged the climate so far up in the North. Granted, he had only been here for a day, but in his haste to get to the audition, he had not really thought about bringing anything except the necessary business clothes he had on.
There was a bit of noise coming from the door and Orlando could hear a mumbled “Oh, so sorry”. That voice… he had heard it earlier. Orlando dreaded opening his eyes, not wanting to know what he might see.
“Uhm, excuse me,” someone said to his left. Orlando blinked and almost groaned in misery. That guy from the airport, who had banged his suitcase into Orlando’s shin, was standing right beside him in the aisle. He was trying to heave his carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment. A moment later, a few things spilled out from the suitcase, raining down on Orlando.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the guy apologized again, quickly picking up the sweaters and shirts that had fallen down. Orlando grumbled and then realized in alarm that the window seat beside him was the only one still empty. Damn.
When they were finally seated and the airplane had reached his flying altitude, Orlando turned on his cellphone and decided to call his sister. It took a while but she finally answered his call.
“Hey, little brother, how was the audition?” she asked.
“It went well, I was asked to come back a second time for a two-day screen testing in two months.”
“That sounds great!” Sam exclaimed, while Orlando could hear his cousin yelling in the background.
“Are you on your way back?” she wanted to know.
“Yeah, I’ve just boarded the plane in Barrow. I’m going to be back by tomorrow for the festivities, though I cannot wait to get there. You know, the guy in the seat beside me is really chaotic. He’s…”
Orlando paused. The guy had unpacked an old portable CD player, listening to some kind of Indian music and apparently using some very old, barely noise isolated headphones. The music was quiet enough not to disturb the other first class passengers and loud enough that it grated on Orlando’s nerves instantly.
“Listen, Orli, I’ve got to go, mom is calling for me. I’ll tell her that you’re on your way and someone will pick you up tomorrow. See you!” Orlando didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye before his sister hung up the phone.
‘Well’, Orlando thought, ‘now is as good a time as any to call a few friends and wish them Merry Christmas’. He made a few calls, always trying to concentrate on the actual phone call and not on the weird music his seat neighbor was still listening to at high volume.
His own voice got louder every time Orlando made another call, his concentration waning by the minute. By the fifth call, the guy seemed to surrender, putting away his CD player and instead sticking some pictures to the seat in front of him.
Orlando wondered where the hell this guy even had the adhesive tape from. The pictures were all pretty corny. Some showed a sunset, some came from dime novels written by Cheryl Bolen, some showed noblemen from the 18th century. He just shook his head and ended the phone call.
It was very silent for a few minutes, during which his seat neighbor unpacked and booted his laptop. Orlando gave a sigh of relief: the typing wouldn’t be half as bad as the loud music had been. He himself typed a few text messages and thought on sleeping for a while, when he saw the guy plugging a headset into the laptop.
Hastily finishing his text message, Orlando wanted to prevent him from starting a Skype conversation or anything alike, not being in the mood for further distractions. He decided to try and call Sam again.
The guy had seemingly caught on to what Orlando wanted to do and quickly opened a program, starting a recording of some sort. Orlando had just scrolled to his sister’s number when his seat neighbor started speaking into his microphone.
“Brainstorming part two. Setting: Cornwall.” The guy made some aborted hand gestures and Orlando’s jaw dropped. “Flowers: irises, lilies, roses, tulips, lilacs.” The gestures were as if the guy was painting the flowers himself and Orlando was sure that he had died and gone to hell.
“The sun is shining; there are birds, bees and rabbits everywhere.” Orlando wasn’t sure whether a glass of sparkling wine would be enough, or if the situation called for something stronger like whiskey. The gestures were getting bigger and Orlando hoped that he could get drunk enough to just go to sleep soon.
“Brown hair, flowing in the summer breeze; loose clothes; treading lightly; free-spirited nature; penniless,” the guy continued his list. Orlando was close to pleading for the whole bottle of whiskey when the stewardess came to take his order.
“The lover: an Earl; wealthy and handsome.” His seat neighbor stopped a moment, and Orlando wasn’t able to keep himself from saying: “Maybe he needs some manners as well.”
That elicited a broad grin. “Nope, I don’t think he needs manners. He’s got the money. Looks like you’re not very experienced in this genre.”
Orlando only shook his head and happily took the whiskey the stewardess had brought him. “I’m sure that the men Cheryl Bolen describes, mostly have manners that far surpass your idea of what good manners are.” He wasn’t sure of the reaction he might get and hoped that he hadn’t offended the guy too much. But it had been hard to keep his thoughts to himself.
His seat neighbor only dismissed his objection with a wave of his hand. “I just haven’t figured out the Earl quite yet. There’s no clear picture of him in my mind, so that’s making it difficult to describe him.”
Orlando couldn’t believe that he had actually started a conversation with the guy. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “You know, if you make him a character in contrast to your other one, you may want to put him in a tailored suit, with neat hair and an aristocratic nose.”
A moment later, the man rummaged through his backpack that had been stowed underneath the seat. Finally finding what he had been searching for, he presented a camera, asking to please take a picture of Orlando to use as inspiration for the Earl.
Orlando was baffled but took another sip of his whiskey and nodded his consent. The guy adjusted his camera and wanted to take a picture. Nothing happened. He mumbled something and grimaced. “Damn, I have no film,” he groaned, scrambling for his laptop and trying to hold it up a bit.
Gesturing for another whiskey, Orlando rolled his eyes when the guy tried to take a picture with his laptop camera, while knocking his notes to the floor and just barely missing the glass Orlando was holding.
Giving a dismissive snort, Orlando waited until the picture was taken and said: “Seriously? Man, you have got to be really desperate for some inspiration. A dime novel can’t be that hard to write.”
Now, the man did raise an eyebrow about that obvious dig. “And what do you know about writing?” he asked, before he turned back to his laptop and started recording again.
“Slicked back locks” and “snobbish behavior” was all Orlando heard before he picked up his cellphone again to try calling his family.
A few moments later, the seat belt sign went on and the stewardess came with the third whiskey, handing it to Orlando. “You will have to turn your cellphone off, Sir. We’re experiencing some turbulence.”
Orlando turned his phone off and held his whiskey tightly. He might have to give up on distracting himself from his seat neighbor but he would not be giving up the booze. Said seat neighbor finished his recording and turned off the laptop to store it away in his backpack.
The plane apparently hit some air pockets, giving Orlando a feeling as though he was riding on a rollercoaster. His stomach crawled up towards his esophagus and he quickly drank the rest of the whiskey, hoping that it would calm his nerves.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the co-pilot’s voice could be heard through the speakers a moment later. “We are experiencing some turbulence due to a blizzard and will have to make a stopover at Bettles, Alaska. Unfortunately, the weather is so bad that it is too dangerous to stay in the air, and there is no way to bypass the blizzard. You will all be given a room for the night and get a seat on an airplane towards your destination by tomorrow morning, when it’s hopefully cleared up. Please fasten your seat belt and keep seated until we have landed safely. Thank you.”
Orlando groaned. Damn it, there was no way he would be in time for Christmas with his family or the reading of one of his favorite authors.
Five minutes later, he didn’t really care about being anywhere except on solid ground. The blizzard evidently didn’t go together with the whiskey all too well. Orlando was holding the sick bag and hoped that the airplane was landing soon.
His seat neighbor seemed to have his doubts and loudly asked the stewardess for another bag. He was mumbling quite a bit and the stewardess obviously couldn’t hear him, so Orlando cringed when he heard him yell through all of first class: “He needs another barf bag and as fast as you can bring it, maybe two.”
Ten minutes later, Orlando was quite happy about the brashness of his seat neighbor, throwing the three sick bags into the waste bin the stewardess had brought him. The passengers were already leaving the plane and he was quite eager to get back on solid ground.
~~~
The passengers were taken to collect their luggage and then herded towards the exit of the airport. A small airport official in a dress, with high heels, and a no-nonsense attitude was handing out leaflets with instructions for their overnight stay. Viggo took a look and saw that it included directions to the bus stop, questions on insurance, information on payment, and further course of action.
“I will now call out your names and assign you to your rooms,” the young woman shouted out. Dividing passengers into pairs and groups went fast and Viggo was hoping to be the last one and maybe score a single room. Then he would at least have some peace and quiet to finish a bit of his writing.
“The last people on my list are Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom,” the woman called out, looking around for them. Viggo sighed and raised his hand. “I’m Viggo Mortensen,” he said.
“Do you know where Orlando Bloom is?” the woman asked him. He shook his head, but answered: “Maybe he’s the one that went to the bathroom? There was a guy sitting right beside me on the plane. He was sick during the landing and I saw him walk towards the toilets.”
The young woman exhaled, obviously irritated by the delay in her planning. “Well, would you please take the paperwork, Mister Mortensen, wait for Mister Bloom and then take him to the bus stop. The instructions should be clear by now and everything else is right there on the leaflet,” she requested.
Viggo nodded and took the papers she handed him. The woman raised her voice again to be heard over the noise of the group: “Also, if you have not been informed yet, all flights have been delayed until further notice. The blizzard is gaining strength and it is not clear when the airport is open again for airplanes to leave Bettles. We will keep you up-to-date on the events and will make sure that you have everything you need at the motel. If there are any more questions, please call the number provided on the leaflet.”
The majority of the passengers groaned, complaining about the weather and that they had to spend their Christmas in the middle of Alaska instead of with their families. Viggo just couldn’t believe that he had to spend an indefinite amount of time in close vicinity with his seat neighbor. The guy had seemed nice enough at first, but gave a waspish reply as soon as he had had a bit of alcohol in his blood.
Rolling his eyes, Viggo walked over to the bathroom that he had seen the guy walk towards earlier. He maneuvered his luggage through the door and then knocked on the one locked bathroom stall. “Are you Orlando Bloom?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?” came the weak reply.
“We’re rooming together for the time being. I’ve got the papers for the motel and a leaflet with further instructions. My name’s Viggo, by the way.”
“Alright…” was all he heard when the man was sick again and Viggo quickly exited the bathroom to wait outside.
Fifteen minutes later, Orlando came out of the bathroom, looking white as a sheet. “You alright, man?” Viggo asked. He only got a nod and directed Orlando towards the bus stop, passing on the information he had gotten from the airport official.
When they arrived at the bus stop, there was no bus in sight. Only a man bundled in winter gear was working a snow blower to clear up the sidewalk. He came over and asked: “Are you the guys from the group that was headed to the motel?” Viggo answered in the affirmative and the man told them that the busses had already left.
“The motel isn’t far and you can’t get lost. Just follow the sidewalk straight ahead and you’ll see the motel to your left in about a mile.” Viggo thanked the man and they started towards the motel.
Although the motel really wasn’t that far away, they made slow progress with Viggo pulling both of his suitcases and Orlando shivering in only his business suit. After a few minutes, Viggo couldn’t look at the trembling figure walking alongside him any longer. He took off his scarf and gloves, and gave them to Orlando.
“Why the hell do you not even have a coat with you?” he wanted to know.
Orlando shook his head and answered slowly: “I wasn’t planning on being in Alaska longer than a day. The audition I had in Barrow was calling for a suit and I should’ve been back in Hawaii by tomorrow.”
They finally arrived at the motel and Viggo was happy to get into the warmth. Unfortunately, when they stepped through the door, it was almost as cold inside as it had been outside. Taking a look around, he saw a corpulent woman behind the front desk ensconced in a fleece blanket. To the left was a door that had a sign with “Dinner Room” on it, to the right was a door with a sign saying “Rooms 1-30”, and over his head was a shriveled piece of mistletoe.
He decided to make the best of the situation and, with a laugh, pointed out the mistletoe to his shivering roommate. Orlando took a look and said: “That’s not mistletoe, that’s deadly nightshade.”
The woman behind the front desk raised one eyebrow and grumbled something about nitpicking city slickers. “You two have to be the last passengers from that flight that was delayed,” she said, not waiting for an answer. “I’ve got a special room for you then.”
She banged a key onto the counter and plucked the papers out of Viggo’s hands. A moment later, she had turned around to step behind a cabinet. “Since the heating is broken, you’ll have to make due with some blankets,” she called.
Throwing a cashmere blanket towards Viggo, she shooed a fat cat off of another blanket on the floor. “Off you go, Garfield, snuggle onto the oven if you have to.” Grabbing the blanket off the floor, she shook it once and threw it towards Orlando.
“Just through the door to your right and straight ahead until you get to the stairs. Walk up and there’s a small door to the spare room, it’s the only one left and we usually use it for our personal guests.” The woman didn’t even wait for either of them to speak, before she sat down again to click away on her computer.
Viggo grimaced but thought that he might make matters worse if he disturbed the cranky woman again, so he walked towards their room. Orlando followed him, holding his blanket an arm’s length away. ‘That is the exact attitude the Earl might have,’ Viggo thought, trying to mentally take notes for later.
Getting the suitcases up the stairs wasn’t fun and Viggo soon discovered that they also took up most of the space in their tiny room. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Orlando had stopped in the doorway abruptly. Viggo had to keep back his giggles. He wasn’t in the least shocked by the small room they had been given – they were the last people checking in.
The room itself wasn’t any warmer than the corridor had been and the bed bounced every time the broken heater banged. At least there was a big panorama window at one side of the room, with a clear view of the snow-covered landscape outside and the starry night sky.
Viggo could appreciate the view, but it appeared that it couldn’t be further from his roommate’s current thoughts. Orlando went into the room and pulled open the doors of the small closet. “Where’s the second bed?” he wanted to know.
“Where do you think is space for another bed?” Viggo asked in return. “There is only one bed,” he added.
“Is that a single?” Orlando asked in shock.
“Of course, it’s a single. There’s only one pillow.” The *duh* was implied.
Orlando grimaced and said: “That’s mine, then.”
“No way,” Viggo replied, still trying to keep track of Orlando’s behavior to jot down some notes for the character of the Earl later.
“You’ve got the good blanket,” his roommate accused him.
They squabbled a bit over the pillow, while Viggo unpacked his carry-on suitcase. He searched for some clothes to put on during the night, knowing that it would probably get even colder in their room. After a while, he noticed that Orlando had gone quiet, sitting on the bed with light blue lips and chattering teeth, embracing his knees, and watching him.
“What?” he asked brusquely and not knowing what to make of Orlando’s gaze.
“I was just wondering why you have all of those things in your carry-on. Why not put them into your actual suitcase?” Orlando said.
“Ah, one of my suitcases has been lost before and since then I always took everything important in my carry-on. The presents for family and friends, important as they may be, are in the other suitcase; the rest is here.” Viggo rumbled on a bit and then couldn’t suppress his own curiosity: “What do you have in your backpack, if it’s not a warm jacket?”
Orlando rolled his eyes and answered anyways: “Money, my cellphone, my passport, half a chewing gum, and a book.”
Viggo couldn’t hold back his laugh and said: “Well, half a chewing gum won’t help after vomiting all over the airplane. Wait a sec; I might be able to help you out with that one.” He rummaged around in his carry-on, ignoring the miffed huff from Orlando. A moment later, he had found his spare set of toothbrushes, handing one to his roommate.
“And how can a book be more important than a sweater or a jacket?” Viggo wondered aloud. But when Orlando unpacked his few belongings and put the book on the table, he quickly said: “Never mind. Let me see if I have some clothes that might fit you, can’t have you freezing to death tonight. And, by the way, this is definitely a situation that is bizarre enough to warrant writing about. You know, these kinds of ideas born from real life experiences are always the best. Oh, and I do believe you should take the pillow tonight, seems like you’re in much more need of it than I am.”
He rumbled on and on about one thing or another, all the while shoving clothes towards Orlando and ignoring the confused looks his roommate gave him. He herded him into the bathroom to brush his teeth and finally ceased his endless flow of words when brushing his own teeth.
Afterwards, when Orlando wanted to put the scratchy blanket on the bed, Viggo protested vehemently: “Absolutely not! I’m allergic to cats and I will not risk having an allergic reaction.”
“Well, what do you suggest then?” Orlando asked. He sounded a little pissed off. “I’m not freezing to death, as you so eloquently put it.”
Viggo sighed and slipped to the far end of the bed. “We’ll share this blanket. The clothes and our close proximity will keep us warm enough. I’m not risking an allergic reaction.”
Orlando gave a defeated sigh and hung his head. He had a weary look on his face, his lips still painted the light blue color. “Fine, we’ll share. But I’m keeping the pillow.”
Viggo nodded and they tried to somehow arrange themselves on the bed without getting too close, yet still sharing the cashmere blanket. It took a while, but in the end they settled down, with Viggo’s back turned towards the wall, facing Orlando whose face was turned towards the ceiling.
The bed still bounced a bit when the broken heater banged irregularly. Viggo couldn’t hold back his giggles after a while, taking in the bizarre situation. Orlando grimaced but soon joined him, apparently laughing so hard he had to hold his sides.
They calmed down again and Viggo heard him say: “This is not what I was hoping to be doing over the holidays this year.”
“Well, what did you plan on doing?” Viggo asked, just as quietly.
“I wanted to have a nice Christmas with my family and friends, somewhere warm and tropical. You know, we always wanted to try that at least once. Coming from England, I only knew cold and stormy winters, so this should’ve been a nice change to our routine.”
Orlando sighed and Viggo understood what he meant.
“There’s supposed to be a reading of my favorite author in Honolulu. It’s Aragorn, the one who wrote the “Greenleaf Poems”. You heard of him?”
“Might’ve”, Viggo mumbled.
“I was lucky enough to persuade my family and some of our friends to spend Christmas in Honolulu together, you know, kind of like killing two birds with one stone. Now, I’m missing both.” Orlando gave another sigh but seemed to recover quickly. “What should you be doing instead?” he asked.
Viggo wasn’t sure what to say but finally went with: “I had a job to finish in Barrow, was supposed to do another one in Honolulu over the holidays and go to London for New Year’s Eve. ‘m gonna meet my ex-wife and our son there. She’s on tour with her band and he accompanies her. That’s why I’ve got all the presents in my suitcase.”
Orlando laughed and said: “Well, at least you have a story to tell. What is it exactly that you’re doing?”
“Ah, you know, I’m an artist, doing lots of different things. I’m writing a bit, as you’ve probably gathered by now…” Another loud laugh from Orlando was his answer.
“…I also paint and sculpt, amongst other things”, Viggo finished.
They were silent for a while, the only sound coming from the banging of the heater. After a while, Viggo wished Orlando a good night, not able to keep his eyes open any longer.
~~~
Early the next morning, Orlando opened his eyes to the sight of his temporary roommate hugging the pillow. How the hell had it even gotten out of his hands? Orlando wanted to be grumpy about it but didn’t really have a chance when Viggo snuffled slightly and rolled a little more towards Orlando.
Up close, Orlando was able to really look at Viggo’s face, studying his laugh lines around his eyes, his light eyelashes, and his soft hair with the grey streaks. He couldn’t deny that Viggo was attractive, even though Orlando had thought him to be a bit brash and crude the day before.
But when he had seen how cold Orlando was, Viggo had given him some warm clothes and even a toothbrush to get rid of the foul taste of vomit in his mouth. There were no two ways about it; Orlando knew that Viggo had proven to be quite tolerant of his snappish behavior and thus taking the high road in their little disagreements during their whole acquaintance.
A pity, though, that he wasn’t gay. Orlando knew he might’ve taken his chances if Viggo had given any hint about being attracted to men. Instead he had talked about his ex-wife and son, whom he were to meet back in London. Also, the description of the scene that Viggo had recorded in the plane was quite an indication in Orlando’s opinion.
He sighed and carefully turned around towards the window. It was still dark outside and Orlando could see the snowflakes dancing in front of the window. The storm apparently hadn’t lessened and his chances of making it to Honolulu anytime soon were waning.
“It’s not such a nice sight when you know that it means there are no flights, isn’t it?” he heard a low voice from behind.
Not wanting Viggo to know that he had startled him, Orlando took a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s not so nice then.” He turned back around to face his roommate, only to be greeted by a sleepy grin. “What?” he asked alarmed.
“You snore,” Viggo snickered.
“Do not,” Orlando replied, huffing in mock annoyance.
“Do too,” Viggo insisted and his grin broadened. Orlando rolled his eyes.
A heartbeat later, the heater seemed to die completely, giving a loud bang that startled them and rattled the bed quite a bit, almost like an earthquake. Orlando bumped his forehead on the headboard and Viggo nearly fell off the bed, his butt already hanging precariously over the edge.
When they had resettled, Orlando rubbed a hand over his forehead and grumbled about seedy motels. Viggo chuckled and nudged Orlando’s hand away, before carefully stroking over the tiny bump that had instantly appeared after the impact with the headboard.
A moment later, Orlando could feel soft lips right there and held his breath when Viggo hesitated a few seconds. Then, light kisses were scattered all over his face and Orlando closed his eyes in bliss. Well, he might’ve been wrong about Viggo not being gay. Not that it was a problem, not at all.
“You have already been quite the inspiration for the character of the Earl,” Viggo whispered. “How about we take this a step further and you can give me some inspiration on his sexual side?”
Orlando hummed, blindly grabbing for Viggo’s waist to pull him closer. “But you’re not a woman, Viggo. So I shouldn’t be that much inspiration for the Earl,” he protested in jest.
Still keeping his eyes closed, Orlando heard the soft murmur right at his ear: “Why would you think the Earl is the lover of a woman?”
“Because your other character is a woman,” Orlando replied. He felt the answering laugh all through his body, this time not shivering because of the cold but because of the anticipation.
“No, I guess you haven’t listened very carefully,” Viggo told him. “I never said that my other character is a woman. Maybe the description might’ve fit a woman just as well, but my other character was a man.”
Orlando so didn’t care at that moment and he opened his eyes to bury one of his hands in Viggo’s hair, pulling him into a proper kiss.
Viggo gave as good as he got and had quickly rolled Orlando onto his back, hovering over him, stroking his thumbs over Orlando’s
cheekbones.
“Your lips still have a blue tint,” Viggo said, but Orlando just shook his head.
“I don’t care. And if you really want that to change, I suggest you do something about it.” Orlando grinned, pushing up his hips and rubbing himself against Viggo.
Both men groaned at the contact. Viggo nuzzled the soft skin at Orlando’s neck and said: “Hmm, I’m pretty sure we can make the bed bounce without the broken heater doing it for us. So, how about you unpack your present now, it is Christmas after all.”
Orlando started giggling, grabbing Viggo’s face to give him another kiss. “You’re daft.” he chuckled. Nevertheless, he started peeling Viggo out of his clothes, following that by getting rid of his own, borrowed ones.
When Orlando became impatient with their slow speed, Viggo soothed him with kisses, and finally grabbed his hard cock, stroking him a few times.
“Viggo!” Orlando exclaimed, taking hold of his bed partner’s shoulders, and spreading his legs further for better access.
When Viggo gave him another kiss and took his hand away, Orlando wanted to protest. “Hush, I’ll just have to get supplies,” Viggo told him, quickly scrambling towards his carry-on suitcase and rummaging around in it.
“You even have lube and condoms in there?” Orlando wanted to know, giggling again.
Viggo grinned, slipping back into bed with him, dropping the supplies beside the pillow. “Better safe than sorry,” was his only reply before he started kissing Orlando again, stroking every available part of his skin.
When Orlando felt that he had been teased enough, he spread his legs wider to give Viggo better access and murmured: “Now, Viggo, if you don’t prepare me right this instance, I’m gonna have to do it myself. But I would surely prefer you in me.”
A deep groan was the only reply, and just a moment later Orlando felt a slick finger at his entrance. He welcomed the intrusion, relaxing his muscles as much as possible. It didn’t take Viggo long to add another and then a third finger.
“Please, Viggo!” Orlando begged, arching his back when Viggo pressed his fingers into Orlando’s prostate.
Finally, Orlando heard the condom being opened and saw that Viggo put it on carefully. With his own hands, which were also slick by now, Orlando grabbed Viggo’s cock to pump a few times.
“Stop,” Viggo groaned, stilling Orlando’s hand. “This isn’t going to last long if you keep that up.”
“Then fuck me,” Orlando whispered, biting his lover’s skin slightly. A moment later, he could feel the pressure of Viggo’s cock against his entrance, consciously relaxing to let him in.
They went slow until Viggo was seated in him completely. Orlando took a deep breath and got used to the intrusion. Viggo kissed him again and then searched his eyes for any pain, until Orlando gave him an affirmative nod and smiled. “Go ahead, Viggo, please.”
Viggo rocked into him steadily, still fluttering the occasional kiss on his face. Orlando had grabbed onto his lover’s butt, forcing him to set a faster pace. He groaned: “Fuck me, Viggo! I really need to come, please.”
The groaning merged into high whimpers as soon as Viggo pushed into him harder, hitting his prostate more frequently. And when Viggo wrapped his hand around Orlando’s cock, he couldn’t hold back anymore and came all over his stomach.
A few more thrusts and Viggo moaned into Orlando’s neck, going still above him. Orlando stroked over Viggo’s sweaty back, trying to calm him down.
When they pulled apart, they turned towards each other, still kissing lazily. After a while, Viggo got rid of the condom and brought a wet towel from the bathroom to clean them up.
Orlando beckoned him to slip back into bed and they snuggled underneath the warm cashmere blanket.
“Hmm, looks like I’ve got some more inspiration for my characters, doesn’t it…” Viggo mumbled and Orlando chuckled.
“Hush now, I’m tired. Want to sleep some more,” he replied, pulling Viggo even closer.
They were asleep not two minutes after that.
~~~
When Orlando woke up again, he found himself trapped inside the blanket and Viggo’s arms and legs. He tried getting out of bed without disturbing his lover but Viggo rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly.
“Good morning,” Orlando laughed, untangling himself from the pillow hogging monster on the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom to empty his bladder.
After quickly brushing his teeth, he opened the door to jump right back into bed since it was still freezing cold in the room and Orlando planned to animate Viggo on getting some more action to warm up properly.
Viggo, though, wasn’t in bed anymore. He sat – stark naked and surely freezing his balls off – at the foot of the bed, a book on his knees and a pen in his hand.
The moment Orlando had opened the door, Viggo’s head had whipped around and Orlando could see the panicked expression, as though Viggo were caught red-handed doing something naughty.
A closer look confirmed Orlando’s assumption: the book was his own book, the “Greenleaf Poems” by Aragorn.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m writing you a personal dedication,” Viggo replied.
“Why the hell are you writing a personal dedication into my book?” Orlando folded his arms and tapped his left foot.
Viggo gave a shaky sigh and finished quickly, putting the book onto the window sill. Orlando was glaring daggers at him by then.
“I’m writing you a personal dedication because I’m the author of the book,” Viggo finally said.
Orlando’s jaw dropped and he didn’t really know what to say. How the hell could Viggo be Aragorn? He had heard Viggo’s brainstorming ideas the day before and they were nothing like the poems in that book.
“Come here, please.” Viggo gestured to Orlando, beckoning him to get back under the blanket.
It took a few moments but he slowly went to the bed and slipped underneath the still warm blanket. Viggo carefully pulled him into his arms and looked into his eyes.
“I am the author; I just didn’t want you to know. When I saw the book yesterday, I sort of panicked. There have been a few encounters with fans that didn’t go quite so well, and I’m usually very guarded about it,” Viggo explained.
“I… I really don’t know what to say,” Orlando stuttered.
“Just… promise you won’t treat me any different now that you know?” Viggo asked.
Orlando smirked and rubbed his cock against Viggo’s half-hard length. “In that case, how about we pick up where we left off earlier this morning?”
“Hmm, no problem, seeing as we’re both missing my reading tomorrow,” Viggo mumbled, kissing Orlando again.
~~~
When they finally got out of bed in the late afternoon to go in search for some food, they stumbled upon Garfield again. The cat had hidden behind a curtain in the front hall and shot out towards the front desk when they came in.
Orlando nearly tripped over the cat but Viggo had just enough reflexes left to quickly grab him around his waist. Using the momentum, Viggo had propelled them towards the front door, where they held onto the door frame to catch their breath.
Looking up, Viggo saw the deadly nightshade again, a mischievous grin already on his face. Orlando rolled his eyes and giggled. “Alright, I don’t care if it’s mistletoe or not, just kiss me, Viggo.”
And that his lover did. Quite thoroughly, actually. So thoroughly, that they didn’t even notice the corpulent woman behind the front desk fainting in shock. Well, it was her own fault for not teaching her cat any manners; and for putting up the deadly nightshade that went as mistletoe.
