LotR RPS Ficlet: Orlando is... 1/1 (ViggOrli) R
Title: Orlando Is...
Pairing: ViggOrli
Rating: R
Complete: Yes
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Orlando is everything and more, more than a name, more than a man. Especially in Viggo's eyes.
Warnings: Schmoop. Adult content. Par for the course where I'm concerned.
Orlando.
It was more than a name to him, more than just a Shakespearean character. More than anything he could think to describe him.
Orlando was a him, an angel, a lover.
He was sunshine, and bright yellow shirts, ruffles and yet sleek lines with not much curves but every plane of his body was beautiful. A dip here, and a shadow there.
Orlando with his high cheekbones and eyes so deep Viggo was certain he could drown in them.
An easy smile, a nonchalant shrug.
He was the moon, sorrowful and missing home on nights they’d spent too long shooting and his shoulders normally held so high slouched until it was like he was trying to turn in on himself, hoping no one would notice.
The homesickness came and went, yet Viggo knew he could count on this young man, so filled with life and vitality to show up on his door every Tuesday like clockwork.
A whisper on the air, nearly lost in the night, and a words almost unspoken.
‘What if it all goes?’ Insecurity, hidden beneath unbridled confidence.
Orlando.
Scarred Orlando, the only marked skin were patches filled with memories of injuries gone past. There were a few white lines here or there, and one line, thicker than the rest, raggedly edged in pain traveling down his back, left behind from a moment of foolishness.
Cheater, but not that way. The creator of games meant to fool but cause laughter, and always one step ahead of everyone who is willing to play with him.
Viggo wanted to play once.
It was the fire in Orlando, the way his eyes would grow intense when he was preparing for a scene and he sometimes thought that brown could overtake the blue of the contact lenses in the same way the young man’s gaze seemed to be able to peer right into him down to the core.
He played. For hours he played.
Orlando sang when he was pleasured, or he seemed to, his back bowing until his muscles would stiffen and his eyes would slide shut. His lips would part and a gasp would leave him and then he would sing.
Moans would fall from those lips and even in times where he should have Viggo didn’t try to silence them.
Orlando was a light. He was a warm blanket, sprawling across Viggo, wrapping around him and burying his face in Viggo’s neck.
Orlando was love.
Orlando is love.
Pairing: ViggOrli
Rating: R
Complete: Yes
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Orlando is everything and more, more than a name, more than a man. Especially in Viggo's eyes.
Warnings: Schmoop. Adult content. Par for the course where I'm concerned.
Orlando.
It was more than a name to him, more than just a Shakespearean character. More than anything he could think to describe him.
Orlando was a him, an angel, a lover.
He was sunshine, and bright yellow shirts, ruffles and yet sleek lines with not much curves but every plane of his body was beautiful. A dip here, and a shadow there.
Orlando with his high cheekbones and eyes so deep Viggo was certain he could drown in them.
An easy smile, a nonchalant shrug.
He was the moon, sorrowful and missing home on nights they’d spent too long shooting and his shoulders normally held so high slouched until it was like he was trying to turn in on himself, hoping no one would notice.
The homesickness came and went, yet Viggo knew he could count on this young man, so filled with life and vitality to show up on his door every Tuesday like clockwork.
A whisper on the air, nearly lost in the night, and a words almost unspoken.
‘What if it all goes?’ Insecurity, hidden beneath unbridled confidence.
Orlando.
Scarred Orlando, the only marked skin were patches filled with memories of injuries gone past. There were a few white lines here or there, and one line, thicker than the rest, raggedly edged in pain traveling down his back, left behind from a moment of foolishness.
Cheater, but not that way. The creator of games meant to fool but cause laughter, and always one step ahead of everyone who is willing to play with him.
Viggo wanted to play once.
It was the fire in Orlando, the way his eyes would grow intense when he was preparing for a scene and he sometimes thought that brown could overtake the blue of the contact lenses in the same way the young man’s gaze seemed to be able to peer right into him down to the core.
He played. For hours he played.
Orlando sang when he was pleasured, or he seemed to, his back bowing until his muscles would stiffen and his eyes would slide shut. His lips would part and a gasp would leave him and then he would sing.
Moans would fall from those lips and even in times where he should have Viggo didn’t try to silence them.
Orlando was a light. He was a warm blanket, sprawling across Viggo, wrapping around him and burying his face in Viggo’s neck.
Orlando was love.
Orlando is love.