“11:11”- LOTR RPS- NC-17- Orlando/Viggo
Title: 11:11
Author: Peach
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Genre: Smut
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Fetishes, non con sex, no beta, and yeah, I got nothing.
Disclaimer: Don’t know these people and if I don’t know them, I can’t own them. It’s all fiction.
Feedback: If you want to give it, I’ll take it.
Archive: Um, yeah…
Summary: Orlando has a fetish and he can’t function unless he gives into what his body wants.
Author’s Notes: For the contrelamontre “Sleep” Challenge. This was started at 11pm, finished at 11:50pm. I’m not too happy with the way it turned out but here you go. Read at your own risk.
Um, this is my first post in this community and I hope that I did everything correctly- if not let me know.
Everyone has a fetish. Some people like feet or golden showers. Others like blood play or zoophilia but Orlando’s fetish is somnophilia. When he was a child he’d watch people sleep, move and manipulate their bodies in to positions of his choosing and even undress those who were heavy sleepers. For him it was about being in control. He wanted someone who was so submissive that they would lay still and let him do whatever he wanted. He liked the idea of surprise. Knowing that you were not only watching someone at their most vulnerable but you were touching them, taking what you wanted and if you were careful enough they wouldn’t even know.
As he got older it became harder and harder to control his desires. These desires were more like insane urges. When he became aroused it was difficult not to do whatever he could to just get off. Orlando was a frequent visitor of the local park, where he could observe the homeless sleeping. He’d even go to homeless shelters or hostels where he could find people sleeping in the open. There he would watch people sleep, undress them and masturbate but still he wanted more. He made sure to separate his normal everyday life from his fetish, afraid that it would hold him back. He didn’t want to be labeled.
As time went on Orlando moved away from home, joined a youth theater group and finally was accepted to Guildhall but his fetish was always hanging over his head. He even went as far as climbing in windows of his neighbors, watching them sleep, touching them in the heat of the moment. But above everything he was a club kid through and through, going to clubs alone, always leaving with someone new. He’d take that someone home, some one who would spend the rest of the night sleeping, while Orlando played with their bodies like they were part of his own personal playground.
He was twenty one when that ended. One night that urge came back with a vengeance and he was too far gone to be mindful of what he was doing. Climbing three floors up to his neighbor’s balcony, in the rain to look for a way in was too much and he fell. Lying in the rain, smushed between the wall and an old washer he thought about giving it all up. It wasn’t normal and he needed counseling. But after having been told he was never going to walk again, living though the agony and distress of several surgeries to fix his broken back, dealing with questions from police then being let out of the hospital twelve days later, Orlando decided to hold off on the therapist.
He went back to school, stayed away from clubs and everything that had anything to do with sex. It was two days before graduation when he got the call from Peter Jackson, congratulating him on receiving the role of Legolas Greenleaf in Lord of the Rings and found out that he would be spending the next few years in New Zealand filming the movies. He was excited, to him excited wasn’t even the right word to explain what he was feeling in that moment. It was what he had been working for and was his chance to show the world what he could do. For once his fetish didn’t rule him.
Orlando, busy acting, learning his lines and stunts for the movies had no time for sex or a relationship, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t tempted. Having to sleep with the other actors in the same house as him began grate on his nerves. He rarely slept and when he did his dreams were filled with images of his sleeping costars silently begging to be taken advantage of. Viggo was the worst for Orlando. He was stuck training with the man, hours upon hours out of the day he spent knowing that their sweat covered bodies pressed up against each other would send electricity directly to *that* part of his brain. By the fourth week in NZ Orlando was a lost cause.
Some people can control their fetishes, that or they find a partner who also enjoys said fetish. Orlando couldn’t do either, not with the constant temptation or the publicity that comes with being in a movie and he was afraid that if he didn’t find someone to share it with, or get it out of his system he would go insane. Peter was ready to fire Orlando six months into filming and he told the elf to fix whatever problem he had or hand in his resignation before it was too late. So, Orlando did the only thing he could do.
Orlando threw a party at the house he shared with the hobbits, making sure that his friends got good and drunk. He got them so drunk that soon enough he was the only one left standing. He was alone in a room full with a room full of semi-conscious men and women, though for Orlando it would’ve been better if they were actually sleeping naturally.
Orlando drank nothing but orange soda the whole night and when it was all said and done he had fun positioning people all over the room, simulating various sex acts and undressing then redressing the fellowship, but he saved Viggo for last. It took almost twenty minutes to get the ranger into his bed room and undressed. Once that was taken care of Orlando just sat and watched. Anyone who ever met Orlando would be able to tell you that sitting in one place for a large amount of time was not his strong point but it didn’t take much to make him sit across the room from the bed and watch the moon light cover Viggo’s naked skin like a blanket.
Orlando matched the rhythm of his breaths to Viggo’s deep ones, his eyes getting wider with every pass they made over the other man’s body. He wanted to take it all, sooth that urge, feed his craving but he didn’t want to do it so fast. He needed this to be what helped make his time in New Zealand run smoothly. He wanted, no he needed to remember this. Orlando undressed, never once taking his eyes off of Viggo’s face, willing the man to stay asleep long enough for him to get his fill.
Crawling on the bed next to his sleeping friend Orlando took his time moving Viggo on to his stomach, spreading his feet apart and lifting his hands above his head. He marveled at how smooth Viggo’s skin was under his sword calloused fingers. Orlando leaned over; blowing his hot breath over Viggo’s body, then rubbed the goose bumps away as soon as they appeared. It was hard to keep himself in check with a willing body exposed to him, but he managed, just. He laid next to the unconscious man, wrapping his arms around Viggo’s middle, and pressing his leaking cock against his thigh.
It started slowly, that burning urge deep in his belly, that feeling that nothing would be enough. He wanted to be inside Viggo, feel what he was feeling; he wanted to wake up from a deep sleep with someone pressed tightly up against him, their lips just a sliver away from connecting. He rolled on to him then, careful not to crush him with all his weight but still solid enough so that there was skin against skin, skin covered muscles touching. Orlando kissed him then, just the nape of his neck, his lips in the shape of in o. He moaned when his tongue darted out and caught Viggo’s taste. That was the point of no return.
His kissed him over and over, moving quickly down Viggo’s relaxed body, making sure to rub himself against any part of the other man’s body he could. The kisses and touches weren’t helping anymore. Usually he could just watch, touch, undress and masturbate but it wasn’t enough. Orlando gathered the pillows from the bed, pushed them under Viggo’s stomach and with his hands on the backs of the slumbering man’s thighs he lowered his mouth to Viggo’s entrance.
Orlando didn’t hold back his moans as he tongue fucked the older man, his hand stroking his own cock as fast as he dared to go. He had planed on just teasing Viggo, while the other man pretended to be asleep, but since it didn’t look as if he would wake soon, Orlando decided to fuck him. Without moving too far from the other man Orlando grabbed a half empty tube of lube and opened it with one hand, squirting it on throbbing penis. It would take too long for more prep work, far too long and Orlando couldn’t wait anymore.
Once on his knees behind his costar, with his hands holding the sleeping man’s hips still, he slammed into the waiting body as hard as he could. He had to finish it before Viggo woke up. Inside that tightness- the heat of another body Orlando lost himself, thrusting harder, faster, pushing himself to get to the edge. He was so lost, so outside himself he didn’t notice when Viggo started to come around. He didn’t hear the other man’s moans, moans that at first vocalized his pain, and then longer, louder ones that expressed the mounting pleasure of having someone repeatedly graze his prostate.
For Viggo the sensations were too much. He went from nothing to bliss in a second flat, his heart beating out of his chest and sweat running off his body in steady streams. More than once he tried to get the attention of the man behind him, tried to tell him that he needed him to help him out, slow down, touch him, or some thing but his stuttered words were lost- drowned out by Orlando’s cries.
Just when it seemed like the man above him was going to let him suffer Viggo felt the man’s full weight pushing him down into the bed. He could feel the man’s feet next to his, pushing against the foot board, trying to get enough leverage to get just that much deeper. But Viggo wasn’t worried about the weight of the man, or his feet, all that mattered was the blessed friction that came along with being pushed into the pillows holding him up.
When Orlando climaxed it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room, his muscles tensed as tight as the bow he used every day in training and he screamed so loud it was amazing he didn’t wake the dead, let alone the drunken people scattered about his living room. After that it took all of about two seconds for him to realize that not only was Viggo not asleep but that he was whimpering, begging to be touched. The heavy breathing that came after his initial release stopped altogether and he turned his head coming eye to eye with one very sexually frustrated ranger.
Without pulling his cock from inside his friend’s tight body he rolled them onto their sides, immediately reaching for Viggo’s cock and started to jerk him off. They shared messy open mouth kisses, Viggo’s hands clawing at the arm Orlando had around his chest, while Orlando’s hand worked over time to bring him off. Then biting down hard on Orlando’s lip Viggo came, moaning and shaking in the elf’s arms.
Everything was still and soundless as the men dressed, neither of them looking at each other once. Orlando wanted to explain, wanted to tell Viggo what drove him to do what he did, but that was conversation you had before you took action, not after the act was done. After fixing his jeans Orlando turned to face Viggo, worry clouding his otherwise angelic face. He opened his mouth and then closed it. This went on for sometime and though Orlando knew it was foolish he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He watched his friend put on his last shoe, convinced that once he walked out the bed room door he’d one, be fired, two, end up in jail and three, only see Viggo in court but he still couldn’t force anything past his lips.
It turns out he didn’t have to.
“I’m having a party at mine next week, you should stop by.”
And then when Viggo was gone Orlando laid down in the rumpled, sex stained sheets and fell into the best sleep he’d ever had.
{Completed November 15, 2005, by peach}
Author: Peach
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Genre: Smut
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Fetishes, non con sex, no beta, and yeah, I got nothing.
Disclaimer: Don’t know these people and if I don’t know them, I can’t own them. It’s all fiction.
Feedback: If you want to give it, I’ll take it.
Archive: Um, yeah…
Summary: Orlando has a fetish and he can’t function unless he gives into what his body wants.
Author’s Notes: For the contrelamontre “Sleep” Challenge. This was started at 11pm, finished at 11:50pm. I’m not too happy with the way it turned out but here you go. Read at your own risk.
Um, this is my first post in this community and I hope that I did everything correctly- if not let me know.
Everyone has a fetish. Some people like feet or golden showers. Others like blood play or zoophilia but Orlando’s fetish is somnophilia. When he was a child he’d watch people sleep, move and manipulate their bodies in to positions of his choosing and even undress those who were heavy sleepers. For him it was about being in control. He wanted someone who was so submissive that they would lay still and let him do whatever he wanted. He liked the idea of surprise. Knowing that you were not only watching someone at their most vulnerable but you were touching them, taking what you wanted and if you were careful enough they wouldn’t even know.
As he got older it became harder and harder to control his desires. These desires were more like insane urges. When he became aroused it was difficult not to do whatever he could to just get off. Orlando was a frequent visitor of the local park, where he could observe the homeless sleeping. He’d even go to homeless shelters or hostels where he could find people sleeping in the open. There he would watch people sleep, undress them and masturbate but still he wanted more. He made sure to separate his normal everyday life from his fetish, afraid that it would hold him back. He didn’t want to be labeled.
As time went on Orlando moved away from home, joined a youth theater group and finally was accepted to Guildhall but his fetish was always hanging over his head. He even went as far as climbing in windows of his neighbors, watching them sleep, touching them in the heat of the moment. But above everything he was a club kid through and through, going to clubs alone, always leaving with someone new. He’d take that someone home, some one who would spend the rest of the night sleeping, while Orlando played with their bodies like they were part of his own personal playground.
He was twenty one when that ended. One night that urge came back with a vengeance and he was too far gone to be mindful of what he was doing. Climbing three floors up to his neighbor’s balcony, in the rain to look for a way in was too much and he fell. Lying in the rain, smushed between the wall and an old washer he thought about giving it all up. It wasn’t normal and he needed counseling. But after having been told he was never going to walk again, living though the agony and distress of several surgeries to fix his broken back, dealing with questions from police then being let out of the hospital twelve days later, Orlando decided to hold off on the therapist.
He went back to school, stayed away from clubs and everything that had anything to do with sex. It was two days before graduation when he got the call from Peter Jackson, congratulating him on receiving the role of Legolas Greenleaf in Lord of the Rings and found out that he would be spending the next few years in New Zealand filming the movies. He was excited, to him excited wasn’t even the right word to explain what he was feeling in that moment. It was what he had been working for and was his chance to show the world what he could do. For once his fetish didn’t rule him.
Orlando, busy acting, learning his lines and stunts for the movies had no time for sex or a relationship, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t tempted. Having to sleep with the other actors in the same house as him began grate on his nerves. He rarely slept and when he did his dreams were filled with images of his sleeping costars silently begging to be taken advantage of. Viggo was the worst for Orlando. He was stuck training with the man, hours upon hours out of the day he spent knowing that their sweat covered bodies pressed up against each other would send electricity directly to *that* part of his brain. By the fourth week in NZ Orlando was a lost cause.
Some people can control their fetishes, that or they find a partner who also enjoys said fetish. Orlando couldn’t do either, not with the constant temptation or the publicity that comes with being in a movie and he was afraid that if he didn’t find someone to share it with, or get it out of his system he would go insane. Peter was ready to fire Orlando six months into filming and he told the elf to fix whatever problem he had or hand in his resignation before it was too late. So, Orlando did the only thing he could do.
Orlando threw a party at the house he shared with the hobbits, making sure that his friends got good and drunk. He got them so drunk that soon enough he was the only one left standing. He was alone in a room full with a room full of semi-conscious men and women, though for Orlando it would’ve been better if they were actually sleeping naturally.
Orlando drank nothing but orange soda the whole night and when it was all said and done he had fun positioning people all over the room, simulating various sex acts and undressing then redressing the fellowship, but he saved Viggo for last. It took almost twenty minutes to get the ranger into his bed room and undressed. Once that was taken care of Orlando just sat and watched. Anyone who ever met Orlando would be able to tell you that sitting in one place for a large amount of time was not his strong point but it didn’t take much to make him sit across the room from the bed and watch the moon light cover Viggo’s naked skin like a blanket.
Orlando matched the rhythm of his breaths to Viggo’s deep ones, his eyes getting wider with every pass they made over the other man’s body. He wanted to take it all, sooth that urge, feed his craving but he didn’t want to do it so fast. He needed this to be what helped make his time in New Zealand run smoothly. He wanted, no he needed to remember this. Orlando undressed, never once taking his eyes off of Viggo’s face, willing the man to stay asleep long enough for him to get his fill.
Crawling on the bed next to his sleeping friend Orlando took his time moving Viggo on to his stomach, spreading his feet apart and lifting his hands above his head. He marveled at how smooth Viggo’s skin was under his sword calloused fingers. Orlando leaned over; blowing his hot breath over Viggo’s body, then rubbed the goose bumps away as soon as they appeared. It was hard to keep himself in check with a willing body exposed to him, but he managed, just. He laid next to the unconscious man, wrapping his arms around Viggo’s middle, and pressing his leaking cock against his thigh.
It started slowly, that burning urge deep in his belly, that feeling that nothing would be enough. He wanted to be inside Viggo, feel what he was feeling; he wanted to wake up from a deep sleep with someone pressed tightly up against him, their lips just a sliver away from connecting. He rolled on to him then, careful not to crush him with all his weight but still solid enough so that there was skin against skin, skin covered muscles touching. Orlando kissed him then, just the nape of his neck, his lips in the shape of in o. He moaned when his tongue darted out and caught Viggo’s taste. That was the point of no return.
His kissed him over and over, moving quickly down Viggo’s relaxed body, making sure to rub himself against any part of the other man’s body he could. The kisses and touches weren’t helping anymore. Usually he could just watch, touch, undress and masturbate but it wasn’t enough. Orlando gathered the pillows from the bed, pushed them under Viggo’s stomach and with his hands on the backs of the slumbering man’s thighs he lowered his mouth to Viggo’s entrance.
Orlando didn’t hold back his moans as he tongue fucked the older man, his hand stroking his own cock as fast as he dared to go. He had planed on just teasing Viggo, while the other man pretended to be asleep, but since it didn’t look as if he would wake soon, Orlando decided to fuck him. Without moving too far from the other man Orlando grabbed a half empty tube of lube and opened it with one hand, squirting it on throbbing penis. It would take too long for more prep work, far too long and Orlando couldn’t wait anymore.
Once on his knees behind his costar, with his hands holding the sleeping man’s hips still, he slammed into the waiting body as hard as he could. He had to finish it before Viggo woke up. Inside that tightness- the heat of another body Orlando lost himself, thrusting harder, faster, pushing himself to get to the edge. He was so lost, so outside himself he didn’t notice when Viggo started to come around. He didn’t hear the other man’s moans, moans that at first vocalized his pain, and then longer, louder ones that expressed the mounting pleasure of having someone repeatedly graze his prostate.
For Viggo the sensations were too much. He went from nothing to bliss in a second flat, his heart beating out of his chest and sweat running off his body in steady streams. More than once he tried to get the attention of the man behind him, tried to tell him that he needed him to help him out, slow down, touch him, or some thing but his stuttered words were lost- drowned out by Orlando’s cries.
Just when it seemed like the man above him was going to let him suffer Viggo felt the man’s full weight pushing him down into the bed. He could feel the man’s feet next to his, pushing against the foot board, trying to get enough leverage to get just that much deeper. But Viggo wasn’t worried about the weight of the man, or his feet, all that mattered was the blessed friction that came along with being pushed into the pillows holding him up.
When Orlando climaxed it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room, his muscles tensed as tight as the bow he used every day in training and he screamed so loud it was amazing he didn’t wake the dead, let alone the drunken people scattered about his living room. After that it took all of about two seconds for him to realize that not only was Viggo not asleep but that he was whimpering, begging to be touched. The heavy breathing that came after his initial release stopped altogether and he turned his head coming eye to eye with one very sexually frustrated ranger.
Without pulling his cock from inside his friend’s tight body he rolled them onto their sides, immediately reaching for Viggo’s cock and started to jerk him off. They shared messy open mouth kisses, Viggo’s hands clawing at the arm Orlando had around his chest, while Orlando’s hand worked over time to bring him off. Then biting down hard on Orlando’s lip Viggo came, moaning and shaking in the elf’s arms.
Everything was still and soundless as the men dressed, neither of them looking at each other once. Orlando wanted to explain, wanted to tell Viggo what drove him to do what he did, but that was conversation you had before you took action, not after the act was done. After fixing his jeans Orlando turned to face Viggo, worry clouding his otherwise angelic face. He opened his mouth and then closed it. This went on for sometime and though Orlando knew it was foolish he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He watched his friend put on his last shoe, convinced that once he walked out the bed room door he’d one, be fired, two, end up in jail and three, only see Viggo in court but he still couldn’t force anything past his lips.
It turns out he didn’t have to.
“I’m having a party at mine next week, you should stop by.”
And then when Viggo was gone Orlando laid down in the rumpled, sex stained sheets and fell into the best sleep he’d ever had.
{Completed November 15, 2005, by peach}