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Beautiful Moment	By : puremalevolence Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2299 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Shit.”
Viggo sighed and gently returned the phone back to its cradle. He’d been afraid of this.
While Orlando’s actions usually proved pretty unpredictable and spontaneous, his thoughts and feelings came off him in waves, and Viggo was particularly perceptive to those waves. Usually this keen sense needn’t even be put to use, for Orlando rarely hesitated to tell everyone exactly what was up, whether they wanted to hear it, or not. Viggo supposed that for reasons as plain to him as the nose upon his face that these circumstances were slightly different, and he wouldn’t get another word from his young friend on the subject unless he squeezed it out of him, and Viggo didn’t want to do that. He knew that if any of the other guys found out about these deep feelings, they’d poke and prod and torture the poor guy till he could take it no longer, and cave in, against his will. Viggo didn’t want to be like the other guys. He wasn’t supposed to be. He wanted to grant Orlando the privacy and dignity he deserved. He knew in his heart of hearts that the right thing to do would be to just let it go, let time take its toll, and let it all just blow over…and yet, he couldn’t help asking himself, What if it doesn’t? What if this continues and he’s never able to look at me the same, ever again?
And then there was that question. That annoying little inquiry stabbing him relentlessly in the back of his brain. Why wouldn’t he answer me?
“Hey, no problem, Orli. They’re just dreams, right?” His words echoed in his mind. That’s what had done it. That question that couldn’t be suppressed and the awkward silence afterward, confirming what words could not have, any better.
And then, with a nervous chuckle and a well-I’ll-be-damned shake of his head came the final realisation:
“The little bugger actually wants me.”

***
Orlando was dreaming. He couldn’t see anything in his dream, and the only thing to be heard was the murmur of running water ringing in his ears. He was lying down against something hard and cold, a rock, maybe. It was too dark to see anything. No, it wasn’t that it was too dark, but that his eyes were closed and would not open.
Somewhere in the distance he heard someone calling his name, softly at first, then getting nearer and nearer. He wanted to open his eyes to see who was calling him but they wouldn’t allow it. It was as if they were glued shut.
Orlando…
The voice was drawing nearer. He could more feel than hear it; it reverberated in the small cold space in which he lay, reaching him like warm fingers and laying lightly over his limp body.
Orli, wake up…
He stirred, slightly, at the nearness of the voice, yet his limbs remained immobile and only his eyelashes fluttered. The stone on which his head rested was so cold and hard, and he wondered who had laid him there and chosen it to be his pillow. Whomever it was seemed to not want him to wake up.
“ORLANDO!!!” The screaming and rustle of the shower curtain jerked him from his uneasy sleep.
“Holy shit, this water is fucking cold,” he mumbled, weakly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and squinting into the light.
“What’s so wrong with your bed that you feel you gotta sleep in the shower?” Orli could tell the figure hulking over him was Elijah before he’d cleared his eyes enough to see its face.
“I don’t fucking know…” Orlando sat up slowly and shivered. “Turn the water off, will you?” Orli merely sat trembling in the centre of the tub as Elijah fulfilled his request and the cold spray of water was put to an end. He didn’t bother looking up to thank his saviour.
“So, me and the boys wanted to know--” Orlando silenced him with a shakily raised hand.
“Just gimme a sec to collect myself,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. Elijah raised his eyebrow at the naked man in the tub. Since when does Orlando Bloom need time to “collect himself?” Nevertheless, he granted him a few moments to do as he would.
Way to fall asleep in the shower, mate, he silently congratulated himself. It seemed he was now competing with Elijah on who could fall asleep in the strangest place, as well.
Orlando recounted his hazy dream, which hadn’t really been much of a dream, but a blurred rendition of what was actually going on. The edges had been blended with reality in such a way that he couldn’t really find the line that separated the two. He both hated and loved when things like that happened. It’s slightly frightening, knowing you’re asleep and not being able to wake up of your own accord, and yet it was strange and not a common occurrence. Things like that usually only happened when he was sick or intoxicated, but he was neither. It was like his brain was over-heated, but he didn’t think he had a fever. Why would he? Just how long had he been lying in the cold water?
At least _this_ dream had been blissfully Viggo-less.
Slowly but surely, he took in the elements of his surroundings: the cold air, his naked skin, a pair of eyes on his naked skin… Like what you see, ya pervy Hobbit?
a hand reaching out to him and handing him a fluffy white towel. Elijah wasn’t a total pervert, after all.
After Orlando had stood and dried up, the towel wrapped tightly about his narrow hips, he called his friend (who had ducked out to give Orli some quality time with his towel) back into the room.
“So what did you want?”
“Well me and Dom and Billy and Sean—” and he was interrupted for the second time.
“Hold up a second,” Orlando said, in the midst of an epiphany. “How’d you get in?” He didn’t remember ever giving ‘Lij a spare key…
“Door was open.”
“Open? Like, wide open?” Elijah shook his head.
“Unlocked, I mean.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted…” Orlando scowled but didn’t say anything “…is that we all want to know if you’re up to going out with us, tonight.”
What a silly question. Was Orli ever _not_ up to going out with the guys? He couldn’t recall a single instance in which he’d turned them down.
“Yeah, where?”
“That pub we went to, last week.” That was a rather vague statement. They’d been to at least three.
“Oh, the one—”
“Yeah, that one.” He didn’t care what pub they went to so long as the drinks were good and the company was tolerable.
Orlando reached back and rubbed his stiff neck. Muscles had annoyingly tightened as he’d lain dreaming in the tub and he cursed himself for ever having sat down. It’ll only be for a minute, he’d said to himself. Just long enough to clear my head.
“Ok…what time is it, anyway?”
“Just after seven.”
Man…had he really been lying there, that long??
“Wow, ok…what time are we leaving?”
“Soon as you’re decent.”
“Right, just gimme a couple minutes. I’ll meet you in the hall.”
“That’s fine.”
***

Just as Orlando had slipped the last button on his red and white checkered shirt through the hole, his phone rang. He walked toward it, intending on answering it, but something stopped him. What if it was Viggo, again?
The phone rang for what seemed like hours till finally the answering machine switched on and the sound of the ridiculous message he’d recorded filled the room, followed closely by a loud beep!
“Hey, Orli, it’s Liv. I guess you’re not home now…” Orlando grabbed the phone and pressed stop on the answering machine at lightening speed.
“Hey Liv,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Hey you little punk. Why didn’t you pick up the phone?”
“I couldn’t get to it, in time. Just got out of the shower,” he lied.
“I see. Well I just called to tell you I’d be in town this Wednesday. Peter just called and told me I’d be needed on set for Thursday.”
“Yeah? That’s great. We miss you around here.”
“Aw, shut up.”
“No, seriously. We should have a welcome back party for you.”
“That’d be cool. I hope not like the last ‘welcome back’ party you threw me…” Orlando chuckled as he remembered the hazy event.
“Nah, we can leave ‘Lij home, this time.” Orli could hear Liv laugh on the other end.
“Oh, how is the little guy?”
“A cock-eyed drunk, as usual.” They both laughed at that one, though they both knew Orlando wasn’t much of one to talk.
The conversation continued for the better part of an hour till Orli realised what time it was and had the sneaking suspicion that at any minute the Hobbits would come breaking his door down and dragging him out by the shirt collar…that is, if they hadn’t already left without him.
“So, I take it you want me to pick you up at the airport, then?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Bring the Hobbits along, I’d love to see them.”
“They’d love to see you too, luv, but actually…” This was going to sound wrong and Orlando knew it.
“What?”
“Well, there’s something I’d like to talk to you, about. Something I need to get off my chest.” Orlando could just picture her raising one of those perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “Would you mind if I picked you up, alone?”
“Um, no, that’d be fine, Orli.”
“Sweet. Call me as soon as your flight gets in, yeah?”
“Will do.”
“’Kay. Love you.”
“You too, hun.”
“Cheers.”
“Bye.”
He felt better about this whole Viggo thing as soon as he’d hung up the phone. Liv would listen. Liv would understand. Liv wouldn’t pick on him like the guys would if they found out.
Orli pocketed his hotel key, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and opened the door. Three impatient Hobbits were there to greet him.
“’Bout time,” said Dom, a hackey sack whizzing through the air and hitting him in the knee. He’d evidently missed his turn.
“Get caught in your zipper or something?” Elijah asked, picking his toy up and shoving it in his jacket pocket.
“You wish,” retorted Orlando, locking his door, behind him. “Liv called to tell me to tell you she’d be in by Wednesday to do a shoot on Thursday.”
“Cool,” said all three guys, at once.
“Let’s rock n’ roll!” Billy cried, bounding down the stairs, followed by three equally enthusiastic young men. Watch out, New Zealand. Weekend’s not over yet.

***
The pub chosen that night wasn’t Orlando’s favourite, but it wasn’t bad. The drinks were good, the place wasn’t crowded, yet at the same time not entirely desolate, either. It was more of a wind down place, usually only visited on Sunday nights when they knew a hard day’s work lay ahead of them. It was a nice place to kick back, have a few drinks and enjoy friendly conversation. He called it the Old Fart’s Bar, as that’s where many of his older partners in crime liked to go for a drink, and it was so opposite from his beloved nightclubs with the flashing lights and pulsating music. You wouldn’t catch one of the old guys dead in one of his places, not unless they’d been bribed, somehow. Come to think of it, hadn’t they gotten Beanie to go with them to that rave, last month?
The Boys were settled into a booth in the corner, laughing and talking and enjoying their beers when Orlando’s good mood was cut short with a pair of scissors held by none other than Mr. Wet Dream, himself.
“Oi! Viggo! Bean! Come join the merry making!” Sean called across the room. Orlando shrunk down to the size of a Hobbit as the two older men made their way over to his booth. Of all the pubs in New Zealand they just _had_ to pick this one, he thought dejectedly. Why? Because, he answered himself, this is the Old Farts Bar, and that’s what they are. He would be requiring another drink if this was how things were going to go.
“You can’t make me do anything!” laughed Dom, punching Sean in the shoulder. He was well on his way to getting pissed, that was for sure.
“Evening boys,” Bean said, pulling up a chair from the next table and placing it on the other side of their own. Viggo followed suit, pulling a chair around and sitting backwards in it, remaining silent and trying to let Orlando think he wasn’t noticing the deep shade of red the younger man’s cheeks had achieved.
“I’m getting more,” Orlando said, downing the rest of his drink and standing to get another. “Anyone want?”
“Ah, gin and tonic for me,” said Bean.
“You, Viggo?” Orlando asked quietly in a pathetic attempt to act like everything was normal. He didn’t want anyone suspecting anything, and there was no point in acting weird, anyway. They were both mature adults. Orlando would just get drunk and everything would move much more smoothly.
“Just a diet Coke for me, thanks,” he said, looking up at Orli. Up until that moment when brown met blue Orlando had thought he’d be fine but a shadow of doubt was quickly spreading its dark shade over him.
Right, he thought to himself, pulling his eyes from Viggo’s and walking to get the drinks, not hearing Elijah scream that he wanted another Foster’s. Just get drunk off your arse and everything will be peachy keen, jellybean.

***

Four beers and a Screwdriver later, it was smooth sailing as far as the eye could see…which, granted, wasn’t all that far.
Orlando nearly overturned his chair when he stood up and announced that he needed a piss. They were all pretty far-gone, all except for Beanie and Viggo (of course) and so nobody really minded his less than gentlemanly behaviour. Just so long as he retreated to the men’s room to relieve himself and didn’t do it right there on the table, no necks would get broken.
He wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t walk to the back of the bar where the restroom was located. It took him a few moments, however, to realise that Viggo had decided to follow him. To him, he’d been just a dick at the urinal next to his, till the dick attached itself to a voice and Orlando realised that both belonged to Viggo.
“Had enough, Orli?” he asked. All awkwardness had been washed away with the alcohol and neither of them cared that the unwritten rule of not talking to the guy next to you while you pissing was being broken.
“You kidding, old man? I’m just getting started!” Viggo just smiled and shook his head.
After a brief period of silence, Orlando spoke up.
“I’m sorry about earlier, man…on the phone? I didn’t mean to cut you off, like that…” Viggo decided he’d rather just let it drop than discuss it with a drunken Orlando.
“It’s ok.”
“But I’m also sorry about the other day…when I called you an insensitive prick and all that lot.”
“You never called me an insensitive prick.”
“Well, I meant to. I called you something, I know that…” Viggo responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “You’re just the opposite, Viggo. Really, man. We’re only, like, halfway through Peter’s little pet project and you’ve already taught me so much, just in watching you. You’re just so great…I totally love you, man.” Viggo noted that Orlando’s eyes had been wandering from his face to his nether regions for the length of the conversation but wasn’t offended, only amused and perhaps even slightly flattered.
“I appreciate your complements, Orlando and I’m very fond of you, as well, but apparently I seem to have failed to teach you, one thing.” Orlando had no clue what the other man was talking about.
“Huh?”
“Well,” Viggo began, tucking his member back into his pants and zipping up. “While you’re aim with a bow and arrow is right on target, I’m afraid that your aim concerning the present situation quite frankly sucks.” He was still drawing blanks.
“Huh…?” Best to just give it to him like it was, he thought as he washed his hands.
“You’re pissing on the floor.”
“OH SHIT!!!” Orlando immediately stopped what he was doing and did up his pants. “Oops,” he said with a nervous chuckle as he placed paper toweling over the puddle. “Thanks for telling me…” but Viggo was already walking out the door.

***
“Alright, who wants to take me home?” Orlando stood up and put his hands on his hips. His eyes found Viggo among the other men. “You know you want some o’ this, man. No one can resist the Elf.” Viggo laughed and Orlando winked.
“Fine,” he said. “But the Hobbits are coming with.”
“Actually, Vig,” Elijah said. “I was thinking of sleeping in my trailer, tonight.”
“Still can’t find your key?” Orli asked, an impish sparkle in his eye. Elijah shook his head, slowly and Orlando laughed.
“Why don’t you just get another from the hotel?” asked Viggo, standing and returning his chair to its original position at the next table. Elijah shrugged.
“I will, eventually. I just feel like sleeping in my trailer for tonight, that’s all.”
“Ok, fine. How ‘bout you boys?” he asked the rest of the Hobbits.
“Trailer’s fine,” Sam, Merry and Pippin responded simultaneously.
“Who’s driving?”
“I can take the guys home,” offered Sean.
“Bean came with me,” said Viggo.
“I can go with Sean,” he said. “I’m goin’ back to my trailer, as well.”
“Right then, I guess you’re stuck with me, old man,” said Orlando, putting an arm around Viggo and smiling.
“All right! You’re as fun as a barrel of monkeys when you’re drunk, you know that?” Viggo said with mock enthusiasm. Orlando just smiled.
“And twice the handful,” added Beanie.
“Oh, shut up, you,” said Orli, pushing Bean playfully with the tips of his fingers. “What do you know about drunk monkeys?”
“Enough,” he replied with a smile.
“Right,” Viggo said, leading his drunken companion away from the table. “I’m sure Peter’s gonna love you in the morning.” With any luck filming would be cancelled. It had happened, before.
And so they went out into the parking lot, Viggo practically leading Orli along by the hand, but he didn’t mind. He was cute when he was drunk.

***

When they got back to the hotel, Viggo decided it’d be a good idea to walk Orli up to his room. Just to make sure he didn’t fall and hurt himself, or something. He knew how accident-prone the boy was.
Viggo also thought it best that they take the elevator instead of the stairs, as he didn’t feel like trying to help his friend up all those flights. He was tired, himself and entirely unprepared for having to pull off any heroic acts of any sort, that night. He was even more unprepared for what happened in the elevator.
They’d been looking at each other. Orlando had started it, and Viggo hadn’t felt the obligation to tell him to quit it. In fact, he took advantage of the situation and decided to look at Orlando, as well.
After a few moments of this mutual admiration, Orlando took it a step further.
Before Viggo’s lips could form a word of protest they were assaulted by Orli’s, his hair was entangled in Orli’s fingers, and their bodies were pressed together. A swift tongue pried open his mouth with serpentine agility and he could feel himself getting hot all over.
He would have surely pushed the younger man away except he wanted this. He had for quite awhile but had been sure he’d never get it, especially after Orlando had hung up on him. He thought for certain that the door had been closed and locked, but now it was flung wide open with each dash of Orli’s tongue inside his mouth. Damn, could this boy kiss.
The elevator door opened but that didn’t stop Viggo from returning the passion of the kiss and cupping one of Orlando’s buttocks firmly in his hand. He was tempted to press another button so they could stay inside the elevator longer, but he didn’t. He drove Orlando backwards into the empty hallway against the far wall, never releasing the grip he held on the young man’s firm ass, never pulling away from the moist vacuum clamped firmly upon his tongue.
Suddenly and subtly the scene was reversed as Orlando swung Viggo around to take his place against the wall, kissing him even harder and faster than before. Their tongues were moving against one another with such friction they thought their mouths would burst into flames. Orlando moaned into Viggo’s lips as he ground his hips against the other man’s, adding heated length to his ever-growing erection. Don’t let this stop, he thought. Don’t ever let this stop.
Neither man knew how it had happened but they were now standing directly outside Orlando’s door, and Orlando was the one against the wall, again. Neither of them really cared.
He reached below Viggo’s shirt and caressed his soft stomach and chest, grazing a nipple with his index and middle finger as he explored. Now it was Viggo’s turn to make some noise. He barely recognized the moan escaping from his lips as his own, but when he did he had to bring a stop to it.
“Orli,” he said but his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper against the young man’s lips. “Orlando,” he said, louder this time, pushing away from him, gently. The breaking of contact was torment but it had to be done.
Orlando took a step forward to close the gap, once more. “You’ve gotta come in, man,” he said, kissing Viggo’s neck and wrapping his arms around his waist. Before I come out here, he thought to himself. Viggo pulled away, once more and a confused look appeared on Orlando’s flushed face. He was so beautiful, Viggo thought himself a madman for stopping this inevitable foreplay, but it couldn’t be helped. He simply could not do this.
“Orli…” He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “You need to go to bed. I can’t do this.” Orlando stood stock still against the door, the same questioning look on his face. What the hell does he think he’s doing? Why won’t he come in? “Here,” he said, fishing the key from Orlando’s jacket pocket and handing it to him. “Get to sleep.”
Orlando’s mouth hung open in disbelief as he watched Viggo walk down the hallway and take disappear into the elevator. His key dangled limply from its ring as he held it at his side. Sleep? he thought. With a full on this huge? No fucking way!
He suddenly became alive again as he jammed the key into the lock. He had to take care of himself now, since Viggo had off and abandoned him.
Not even bothering to turn the light on, he slid down to the floor with his back against the door, unzipped his pants and spread his legs. He felt better, already, now that the pressure had been released and he could breathe again.
He thought of Viggo as he grasped his aching erection in a sweaty hand and began to rub. He imagined it was Viggo’s hand working up and down his length and wringing the moisture from its tip. He snaked his free hand up inside his shirt and teased his nipple with his fingers and pretended that it was Viggo who was doing it all. He wanted it so badly that his mind made it so. It was Viggo and not himself who brought him bucking and writhing to orgasm, and rightly, it was Viggo’s name that fell from his lips as he melted into a warm puddle on the floor by the door.

***
Viggo stopped in his tracks as he took his first step into the elevator. What am I _doing_??
He stopped the door just as it was about to close and stepped out. He couldn’t let it go like this. He’d been so cold to Orlando after just having been so warm. The boy, drunk or not, deserved something better than what he’d been given.
Viggo retraced his steps down the hall but was frozen by the sound coming from beneath Orlando’s door.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, he crept close to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear Orlando panting his name on the other side. The door itself shook with vibrations. He thought he’d lose it, right then and there. He wanted to rip the door from its hinges, throw Orlando down and shag him senseless but he wouldn’t do such a thing in a million years. He was too much of a gentleman, and gentleman didn’t just go around breaking and entering and buggering drunken Elves. Instead, as soon as the noise had died down and the door ceased its quaking, he stepped away from the door and tip toed back down the hall to the elevator, promising his own erection that it would be relieved as soon as the doors were closed, surveillance camera be damned. He wasn’t sure if there was even one installed, but if so, they’d given those security guards an award-winning show.
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Beautiful Moment