For artemisallen: Summer Sun
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. The author has no knowledge of and is making no claims about the real-life activities of anyone depicted herein. This is for entertainment purposes only and no profit has been made.
Rating: The overall rating for this challenge is NC-17. Not all fics are, but some will be.
Note: All headings that could reveal the author's identity have been stripped. Authors, please do not reveal yourself yet. Readers, feel free to guess who wrote which fic. A list of authors is here.
For: artemisallen, who requested maybe a bit of angst with a happy ending or just some humour with a bit of fluff, with the prompt words: waterfall, summer, artist(s).
Warning: AU, summer camp
Summary: “If Orlando had known he would have to work with Viggo Mortensen, he would've said no in a heartbeat.”
Summer Sun
~*~
This was going to be the best summer, Orlando could feel it.
It didn't look like that for a while, though. When he was contacted by the foundation, he wasn't sure what to think of it. They asked him to do the sculpting workshops, a part of the arts and crafts camp; but he wasn't sure he was ready for the hordes of screaming kids and hormonal teenagers. But, as his mother had told him, it was a new challenge, and a wonderful opportunity to try out new techniques.
If he had known he would have to work with Viggo Mortensen, he would've said no in a heartbeat. Mortensen was too talented, too famous; and also, too gorgeous. Orlando was aware that he worshiped him too much, and didn't want to face the reality of what the famous artist would be like.
It turned out that it was better and worse than he thought. Better, because Mortensen was simple and down-to-earth, most often lost in his artistic endeavors when he wasn't with the kids. And he was good with the kids. He had a keen eye for talent, and an encouraging way about him that urged the talented ones to greater performance without diminishing the efforts of those with lesser abilities.
But it was worse too, because hero-worship turned into infatuation within the first few days, which grew to be a strong and deep love by the end of the second week. He didn’t act upon it though, because… well, he just didn’t, okay?
But suffering from unrequited love was good for art. Orlando already had several sketches and plenty of ideas in his mind. The camp would last almost three months; it promised tormented dreams and inspiration for a long time.
~*~
'What do you think, Orlando?' Hopeful eyes looked up at him from something the boy couldn't figure out. The thought that went into the piece was obvious, but the seemingly incomprehensible mess of clay looked like nothing he had ever seen.
'Dunno, Hank...' he muttered, deep in thought. 'Tell me what you're trying to do...'
'There is this waterfall my dad showed me...' Of course. It was the rippling water among the rocks that was too advanced for Hank, but how do you tell that to a teenager? And how could he improve without trying something new always?
'I wouldn't know how to do it, to be honest,' Orlando admitted.
'I'm stuck, too,' Hank sighed. 'And dad knows shit about sculpting.'
Orlando couldn't imagine anything Viggo Mortensen knew "shit" about, but he kept the thought to himself.
'Is that so?' The well known voice sounded amused behind him.
'You know it is,' Hank almost giggled but bit it back at the last moment; Orlando could see it.
'Okay, show me anyways.'
Orlando watched them; and the familiarity and love between father and son was so palpable it made his heart ache with unjust jealousy. He turned around and fled, not knowing whether he was more afraid of being right when feeling excluded or being found out.
~*~
Orlando was calmed by a long walk and a harsh telling from his sensible self. He now sat at his favorite spot, on a huge rock by the stream, deep in thought, and he almost fell into the water when he heard someone speak next to him suddenly.
‘Sorry, I didn’t think… whoa! Watch out!’
Orlando would’ve fallen into the water were it not for Mortensen who grabbed him by the hand and waist. The touch lit him up with flares of desire, and he was so embarrassed about it that he didn’t know what to do.
He could feel heat radiating from Mortensen’s body too, and despite his fears, he knew he had to see Mortensen’s eyes.
His eyes! They could be grey like the storms over London, or blue-green like the depths of the English Channel; but mostly they were blue like… well, like forget-me-nots, however sappy that sounded even to Orlando’s own ears.
But when he looked up, he saw the a deep blue in Mortensen’s eyes like never before. They reminded him of the colours on his mother’s special china that she only used on Sundays, and only when they had guests; and the feeling of happy expectations and homeliness was so strong, Orlando had to close his eyes and swallow hard.
Then, to his dread, he realized that they were still in each other’s arms, so to speak. He tried to free himself with a sudden move, but the only thing he managed was to slip off his rock and pull Mortensen with him.
He seemed to be coping well. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to Orlando, when he could sit up in the water, sweep his hair out of his face and the water from his eyes. Mortensen sat in front of him with laughing sparks in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.
‘I didn’t think you would want to cool my passion this way, Orlando.’
Orlando liked his name on Mortensen’s lips so much that it took him a minute or two to register what else he heard.
Mortensen said passion.
Even the thought made him blush to his toes. Well, not the thought, those had given him many wet dreams and morning wanks, but… ‘God, I’m hopeless,’ he thought and blushed some more.
‘That’s a lovely shade on you, Orlando,’ Mortensen almost laughed, Orlando could see it. ‘Is it because of me? Because of what I said?’
Honestly, what should one say to a question like that? Orlando could choose between looking like a blushing virgin or a bumbling idiot; but since the course was set, so to speak, he decided to not stray from it. He kept sitting in the water with his eyes cast down because he had no better idea.
A splash made him look up, and he stared into gorgeous blue eyes. Mortensen came closer, or rather crawled, obviously, and the thought made Orlando even hotter. He started to be thankful for the coolness of the water.
‘Mr. Mortensen…’ he started to say, to break the tension.
‘Viggo… call me Viggo please…’
‘Viggo,’ Orlando almost sighed, and wanted to move closer.
But there was no need for that, because Viggo leaned closer and closer until Orlando had to close his eyes; and then Viggo must have leaned even closer for suddenly his lips were on Orlando’s.
Orlando could but whimper, and he needed to grab Viggo to keep his balance. Not that he met too much resistance, since Viggo’s arms were around his waist once more as he kept kissing him.
When their lips finally and unwillingly separated, both of them were panting, eyes glazed by passion.
‘Viggo?’ Orlando asked dreamily.
‘Don’t for a moment think this is over, Orlando,’ he said, and with a quick kiss he disappeared.
Orlando kept sitting in the water, a slow, happy smile shining on his face and in his heart.
~*~
Unrequited love was good for his art, true. Still, Orlando didn’t miss it a bit. He got all the inspiration he needed in Viggo. They agreed that they wouldn’t speak about what they had between them until the camp was over, but he could see more and more of himself in Viggo’s paintings, not mentioning his photographs whose recurring subjects were him, Hank, and the woods.
He just hoped the kids wouldn’t see too much of their tentative “relationship” - in their art and in their eyes. And he prayed to god that the camp would be over and they could get rid of all the kids already, and start really exploring the possibilities.
Rating: The overall rating for this challenge is NC-17. Not all fics are, but some will be.
Note: All headings that could reveal the author's identity have been stripped. Authors, please do not reveal yourself yet. Readers, feel free to guess who wrote which fic. A list of authors is here.
For: artemisallen, who requested maybe a bit of angst with a happy ending or just some humour with a bit of fluff, with the prompt words: waterfall, summer, artist(s).
Warning: AU, summer camp
Summary: “If Orlando had known he would have to work with Viggo Mortensen, he would've said no in a heartbeat.”
Summer Sun
~*~
This was going to be the best summer, Orlando could feel it.
It didn't look like that for a while, though. When he was contacted by the foundation, he wasn't sure what to think of it. They asked him to do the sculpting workshops, a part of the arts and crafts camp; but he wasn't sure he was ready for the hordes of screaming kids and hormonal teenagers. But, as his mother had told him, it was a new challenge, and a wonderful opportunity to try out new techniques.
If he had known he would have to work with Viggo Mortensen, he would've said no in a heartbeat. Mortensen was too talented, too famous; and also, too gorgeous. Orlando was aware that he worshiped him too much, and didn't want to face the reality of what the famous artist would be like.
It turned out that it was better and worse than he thought. Better, because Mortensen was simple and down-to-earth, most often lost in his artistic endeavors when he wasn't with the kids. And he was good with the kids. He had a keen eye for talent, and an encouraging way about him that urged the talented ones to greater performance without diminishing the efforts of those with lesser abilities.
But it was worse too, because hero-worship turned into infatuation within the first few days, which grew to be a strong and deep love by the end of the second week. He didn’t act upon it though, because… well, he just didn’t, okay?
But suffering from unrequited love was good for art. Orlando already had several sketches and plenty of ideas in his mind. The camp would last almost three months; it promised tormented dreams and inspiration for a long time.
~*~
'What do you think, Orlando?' Hopeful eyes looked up at him from something the boy couldn't figure out. The thought that went into the piece was obvious, but the seemingly incomprehensible mess of clay looked like nothing he had ever seen.
'Dunno, Hank...' he muttered, deep in thought. 'Tell me what you're trying to do...'
'There is this waterfall my dad showed me...' Of course. It was the rippling water among the rocks that was too advanced for Hank, but how do you tell that to a teenager? And how could he improve without trying something new always?
'I wouldn't know how to do it, to be honest,' Orlando admitted.
'I'm stuck, too,' Hank sighed. 'And dad knows shit about sculpting.'
Orlando couldn't imagine anything Viggo Mortensen knew "shit" about, but he kept the thought to himself.
'Is that so?' The well known voice sounded amused behind him.
'You know it is,' Hank almost giggled but bit it back at the last moment; Orlando could see it.
'Okay, show me anyways.'
Orlando watched them; and the familiarity and love between father and son was so palpable it made his heart ache with unjust jealousy. He turned around and fled, not knowing whether he was more afraid of being right when feeling excluded or being found out.
~*~
Orlando was calmed by a long walk and a harsh telling from his sensible self. He now sat at his favorite spot, on a huge rock by the stream, deep in thought, and he almost fell into the water when he heard someone speak next to him suddenly.
‘Sorry, I didn’t think… whoa! Watch out!’
Orlando would’ve fallen into the water were it not for Mortensen who grabbed him by the hand and waist. The touch lit him up with flares of desire, and he was so embarrassed about it that he didn’t know what to do.
He could feel heat radiating from Mortensen’s body too, and despite his fears, he knew he had to see Mortensen’s eyes.
His eyes! They could be grey like the storms over London, or blue-green like the depths of the English Channel; but mostly they were blue like… well, like forget-me-nots, however sappy that sounded even to Orlando’s own ears.
But when he looked up, he saw the a deep blue in Mortensen’s eyes like never before. They reminded him of the colours on his mother’s special china that she only used on Sundays, and only when they had guests; and the feeling of happy expectations and homeliness was so strong, Orlando had to close his eyes and swallow hard.
Then, to his dread, he realized that they were still in each other’s arms, so to speak. He tried to free himself with a sudden move, but the only thing he managed was to slip off his rock and pull Mortensen with him.
He seemed to be coping well. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to Orlando, when he could sit up in the water, sweep his hair out of his face and the water from his eyes. Mortensen sat in front of him with laughing sparks in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.
‘I didn’t think you would want to cool my passion this way, Orlando.’
Orlando liked his name on Mortensen’s lips so much that it took him a minute or two to register what else he heard.
Mortensen said passion.
Even the thought made him blush to his toes. Well, not the thought, those had given him many wet dreams and morning wanks, but… ‘God, I’m hopeless,’ he thought and blushed some more.
‘That’s a lovely shade on you, Orlando,’ Mortensen almost laughed, Orlando could see it. ‘Is it because of me? Because of what I said?’
Honestly, what should one say to a question like that? Orlando could choose between looking like a blushing virgin or a bumbling idiot; but since the course was set, so to speak, he decided to not stray from it. He kept sitting in the water with his eyes cast down because he had no better idea.
A splash made him look up, and he stared into gorgeous blue eyes. Mortensen came closer, or rather crawled, obviously, and the thought made Orlando even hotter. He started to be thankful for the coolness of the water.
‘Mr. Mortensen…’ he started to say, to break the tension.
‘Viggo… call me Viggo please…’
‘Viggo,’ Orlando almost sighed, and wanted to move closer.
But there was no need for that, because Viggo leaned closer and closer until Orlando had to close his eyes; and then Viggo must have leaned even closer for suddenly his lips were on Orlando’s.
Orlando could but whimper, and he needed to grab Viggo to keep his balance. Not that he met too much resistance, since Viggo’s arms were around his waist once more as he kept kissing him.
When their lips finally and unwillingly separated, both of them were panting, eyes glazed by passion.
‘Viggo?’ Orlando asked dreamily.
‘Don’t for a moment think this is over, Orlando,’ he said, and with a quick kiss he disappeared.
Orlando kept sitting in the water, a slow, happy smile shining on his face and in his heart.
~*~
Unrequited love was good for his art, true. Still, Orlando didn’t miss it a bit. He got all the inspiration he needed in Viggo. They agreed that they wouldn’t speak about what they had between them until the camp was over, but he could see more and more of himself in Viggo’s paintings, not mentioning his photographs whose recurring subjects were him, Hank, and the woods.
He just hoped the kids wouldn’t see too much of their tentative “relationship” - in their art and in their eyes. And he prayed to god that the camp would be over and they could get rid of all the kids already, and start really exploring the possibilities.