Cherry Bomb (LotR RPS: VM/OB)
Title: Cherry Bomb
Author: Leale
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: LOTR RPS, VM/OB
Summary: He reaches into his mouth and extracts something, holding it up for Viggo's approval. "How's that?"
Feedback: Pretty please? With a cherry on top? :)
Archive: Sure, just let me know.
Author's Note: As usual, none of this would exist without valour. Orlando's tendencies toward girly drinks comes from her, actually. They just snuck into my stuff while she was pimping the RPS. As it turns out, all my fics want to be set in the same universe. I'm calling them "Stupid Bar Tricks" and if you want to read more, the other two are Rust and No Hands. Written in 44 minutes for the contrelamontre grocery store challenge: four men, three red things, two examples of distinctive dressing, and a violin.
Disclaimer: I have never met the men mentioned in this story and I have no knowledge of their sexuality. Everything in this story has come completely from my imagination.
Cherry Bomb
"What do you think? Does it look like me?" Orlando holds up the red box containing Two Towers Legolas With Rohan Armor next to his face and looks expectantly at Viggo.
"Spitting image," Viggo assures him, lips parting in a smile.
"Hm." Orlando frowns and brings the box in front of his face to examine it more closely. "I don't know. I think they got the nose a bit pointy."
"They molded it from a scan of your face," Elijah reminds them, taking the box away from Orlando. "Maybe your nose just got flatter since the scan."
"Oh, that's just what I need," Orlando agrees with a roll of his eyes. "A flatter nose. Give that here."
"Dude. Check it out. You come with Shield Skateboard," Elijah says, waving the box at him but not releasing it.
"Let me see." Viggo steps in, takes the box and examines the face himself. The nose might be pointier, but in truth, the face really doesn't look like Orlando's at all. The features might be similar, even with the blond hair, but the paint eyes on a rubber molding have no chance of catching the sharp intelligence and bright mischief ever-present on Orlando's face. In short it looks exactly like Legolas--and nothing like Orlando.
"What do you think?" Orlando's hand is warm on the small of Viggo's back, his voice low in Viggo's ear.
"I think," Viggo says, his voice low, "that I'd pick the original any day."
Orlando's hand wavers on his back and Viggo wonders if he really wasn't expecting this. The swell of anticipation had been on them both all night and if now wasn't the time, well, it wouldn't be long, at least.
"What are you drinking?" Viggo asks to distract Orlando from his momentary disquiet.
"It's called a Red-Headed Slut," Orlando replies, showing his dimples and swishing the scarlet drink in its glass. "Quite tasty, really. Have a nip?"
Viggo thinks about it and nods. Orlando hands over the glass.
"But not the cherry," he says, glaring at Viggo in mock warning. "That's mine."
Viggo grins and takes a sip. The drink's not bad, tastes more like the cranberry juice than anything, and he admits that he enjoys the brush of Orlando's fingers when he hands the glass back.
Yes, it's going to be soon.
Elijah calls to Orlando across the room and Orlando waves back.
"Gotta go," he says quickly, rubbing his thumb over the corner of his mouth. "Don't go far."
With that cryptic instruction, Orlando disappears into the throng of actors, writers, and crewmembers making up the private party, leaving Viggo to watch the commotion he leaves in his wake. Orlando is nothing if not disruptive, but his natural charm and grace easily smooth the ripples he causes.
Viggo goes to the bar to order his own drink, choosing something Orlando had ordered for him once. The bartender shakes his head at the name, but he's been mixing drinks for Orlando all night, so he just grins and delivers the drink in short order.
"Mind?"
He looks up. Orlando's over his shoulder again, reaching for the cherry topping his drink.
"Go on," he allows, watching Orlando's fingers pluck the cherry from its bed of Irish cream and pop the entire thing in his mouth. "What's with the cherries tonight?" he asks, genuinely curious. Orlando goes through stages of interest in various drinks but bar fruit was something new.
He gets a closed-mouthed grin for his trouble and a wink. Orlando hooks a thumb in his waistband and pulls his pants away from his slim waist. Viggo glances down and notes with amusement the black silk boxers with glittering cherry clusters stamped all over them.
"That's...really nice, Orlando." He glances back up at the younger man's face.
That's a mistake.
Orlando's still chewing the cherry--at least he's still got something in his mouth. His brow furrows in concentration and Viggo can see his cheek swell as he moves his tongue.
"Orlando," he breathes unconsciously.
"Mm." Orlando holds up one finger and if he thinks Viggo can wait, he's wrong--he's so wrong. "Mm, here." He reaches into his mouth and extracts something, holding it up for Viggo's approval. "How's that?"
Viggo stares at the perfectly knotted cherry stem and feels a rush of heat through his body.
"I--"
"You," Orlando agrees, turning over his shoulder. "Lij!"
Something comes flying through the air and Orlando catches it neatly in one hand.
"You never close your eyes, anymore when I kiss..." Orlando's eyes twinkle at Viggo, his voice intensifying on the second word as he flicks on the microphone Elijah threw at him. "...your lips. There's no tenderness like before in your fingertips...."
Viggo's conscious of the sudden silence in the room and wonders if he's accidentally been dropped into a remake of Top Gun.
"You're trying hard not to show it...."
"But, baby! Baby, I know it!" Without warning, all four hobbits burst through the crowd behind Orlando, all wearing white togas with running shoes.
Viggo winces involuntarily and breaks into helpless laughter.
Orlando and his backup singers make it most of the way through the refrain before they start laughing too, and finally Viggo has to lift his hands to get the clapping crowd to hush long enough for him to speak.
"You guys can't carry a tune in a bucket," he announces to the clustered hobbit quartet.
"You know what this is?" Elijah asks, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. "This is the world's smallest violin, playing a sad song for you. Go enjoy your present, already!"
"My present?" Viggo asks Orlando as the hobbits melt back into the crowd. He thinks he can hear Dom offer to take requests and hopes no one has a karaoke machine sitting around.
Orlando hands him the Legolas doll, still in the box.
"Unless of course," he says, eyes deep with unspoken promise, "you'd prefer the original."
~~~
Four Hobbits singing.
Two Towers Legolas' red box, Orlando's red-headed slut, Orlando's cherry.
Orlando's shorts, the hobbits' togas.
Elijah's metaphorical violin, as mentioned in the challenge.
Author: Leale
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: LOTR RPS, VM/OB
Summary: He reaches into his mouth and extracts something, holding it up for Viggo's approval. "How's that?"
Feedback: Pretty please? With a cherry on top? :)
Archive: Sure, just let me know.
Author's Note: As usual, none of this would exist without valour. Orlando's tendencies toward girly drinks comes from her, actually. They just snuck into my stuff while she was pimping the RPS. As it turns out, all my fics want to be set in the same universe. I'm calling them "Stupid Bar Tricks" and if you want to read more, the other two are Rust and No Hands. Written in 44 minutes for the contrelamontre grocery store challenge: four men, three red things, two examples of distinctive dressing, and a violin.
Disclaimer: I have never met the men mentioned in this story and I have no knowledge of their sexuality. Everything in this story has come completely from my imagination.
Cherry Bomb
"What do you think? Does it look like me?" Orlando holds up the red box containing Two Towers Legolas With Rohan Armor next to his face and looks expectantly at Viggo.
"Spitting image," Viggo assures him, lips parting in a smile.
"Hm." Orlando frowns and brings the box in front of his face to examine it more closely. "I don't know. I think they got the nose a bit pointy."
"They molded it from a scan of your face," Elijah reminds them, taking the box away from Orlando. "Maybe your nose just got flatter since the scan."
"Oh, that's just what I need," Orlando agrees with a roll of his eyes. "A flatter nose. Give that here."
"Dude. Check it out. You come with Shield Skateboard," Elijah says, waving the box at him but not releasing it.
"Let me see." Viggo steps in, takes the box and examines the face himself. The nose might be pointier, but in truth, the face really doesn't look like Orlando's at all. The features might be similar, even with the blond hair, but the paint eyes on a rubber molding have no chance of catching the sharp intelligence and bright mischief ever-present on Orlando's face. In short it looks exactly like Legolas--and nothing like Orlando.
"What do you think?" Orlando's hand is warm on the small of Viggo's back, his voice low in Viggo's ear.
"I think," Viggo says, his voice low, "that I'd pick the original any day."
Orlando's hand wavers on his back and Viggo wonders if he really wasn't expecting this. The swell of anticipation had been on them both all night and if now wasn't the time, well, it wouldn't be long, at least.
"What are you drinking?" Viggo asks to distract Orlando from his momentary disquiet.
"It's called a Red-Headed Slut," Orlando replies, showing his dimples and swishing the scarlet drink in its glass. "Quite tasty, really. Have a nip?"
Viggo thinks about it and nods. Orlando hands over the glass.
"But not the cherry," he says, glaring at Viggo in mock warning. "That's mine."
Viggo grins and takes a sip. The drink's not bad, tastes more like the cranberry juice than anything, and he admits that he enjoys the brush of Orlando's fingers when he hands the glass back.
Yes, it's going to be soon.
Elijah calls to Orlando across the room and Orlando waves back.
"Gotta go," he says quickly, rubbing his thumb over the corner of his mouth. "Don't go far."
With that cryptic instruction, Orlando disappears into the throng of actors, writers, and crewmembers making up the private party, leaving Viggo to watch the commotion he leaves in his wake. Orlando is nothing if not disruptive, but his natural charm and grace easily smooth the ripples he causes.
Viggo goes to the bar to order his own drink, choosing something Orlando had ordered for him once. The bartender shakes his head at the name, but he's been mixing drinks for Orlando all night, so he just grins and delivers the drink in short order.
"Mind?"
He looks up. Orlando's over his shoulder again, reaching for the cherry topping his drink.
"Go on," he allows, watching Orlando's fingers pluck the cherry from its bed of Irish cream and pop the entire thing in his mouth. "What's with the cherries tonight?" he asks, genuinely curious. Orlando goes through stages of interest in various drinks but bar fruit was something new.
He gets a closed-mouthed grin for his trouble and a wink. Orlando hooks a thumb in his waistband and pulls his pants away from his slim waist. Viggo glances down and notes with amusement the black silk boxers with glittering cherry clusters stamped all over them.
"That's...really nice, Orlando." He glances back up at the younger man's face.
That's a mistake.
Orlando's still chewing the cherry--at least he's still got something in his mouth. His brow furrows in concentration and Viggo can see his cheek swell as he moves his tongue.
"Orlando," he breathes unconsciously.
"Mm." Orlando holds up one finger and if he thinks Viggo can wait, he's wrong--he's so wrong. "Mm, here." He reaches into his mouth and extracts something, holding it up for Viggo's approval. "How's that?"
Viggo stares at the perfectly knotted cherry stem and feels a rush of heat through his body.
"I--"
"You," Orlando agrees, turning over his shoulder. "Lij!"
Something comes flying through the air and Orlando catches it neatly in one hand.
"You never close your eyes, anymore when I kiss..." Orlando's eyes twinkle at Viggo, his voice intensifying on the second word as he flicks on the microphone Elijah threw at him. "...your lips. There's no tenderness like before in your fingertips...."
Viggo's conscious of the sudden silence in the room and wonders if he's accidentally been dropped into a remake of Top Gun.
"You're trying hard not to show it...."
"But, baby! Baby, I know it!" Without warning, all four hobbits burst through the crowd behind Orlando, all wearing white togas with running shoes.
Viggo winces involuntarily and breaks into helpless laughter.
Orlando and his backup singers make it most of the way through the refrain before they start laughing too, and finally Viggo has to lift his hands to get the clapping crowd to hush long enough for him to speak.
"You guys can't carry a tune in a bucket," he announces to the clustered hobbit quartet.
"You know what this is?" Elijah asks, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. "This is the world's smallest violin, playing a sad song for you. Go enjoy your present, already!"
"My present?" Viggo asks Orlando as the hobbits melt back into the crowd. He thinks he can hear Dom offer to take requests and hopes no one has a karaoke machine sitting around.
Orlando hands him the Legolas doll, still in the box.
"Unless of course," he says, eyes deep with unspoken promise, "you'd prefer the original."
~~~
Four Hobbits singing.
Two Towers Legolas' red box, Orlando's red-headed slut, Orlando's cherry.
Orlando's shorts, the hobbits' togas.
Elijah's metaphorical violin, as mentioned in the challenge.