Part One ~ Viggo's POV
by Willowwing

Slam. The door closed behind the last non-fellowship cast member as they left the impromptu party. Orlando was roused out of his drunken stupor, squinting in the direction of the front door as he attempted to focus his eyes. "What the fuck? Someone mad?" he slurred.

"Nah, I finally got around to oiling the door. Everybody still thinks they have to slam it to get it to shut. You should sit on the swing out front and watch their reactions when it swings easily and slams. Bloody funny actually," Billy tossed out from his position sprawled on the couch with his head in Dominic's lap. Merry and Pippin were completely inseparable on and off the set. When questioned about it, they simply claimed they were staying in character because it was less effort than switching back and forth. Rumors had abounded, but they had never been caught being anything more than platonic.

"Humph. To much effort," the Elf muttered before letting his head drop back onto his crossed arms on the dining room table.

Viggo strolled into the room from the kitchen, a fresh beer in his hand and Sean right behind him. Looking around he took in the pile of Elf at the table, the mound of hobbit on the couch, Elijah poking at the CD player, and Ian and John on opposite sides of the chess set. "Everybody else leave?" he asked to no one in particular.

"We're not our usual energetic bunch tonight. I think they moved on to a more happening location," Ian threw out without looking away from the board.

"It's been a bloody hard week," John chimed in. Viggo wasn't sure whether he was supporting Ian's statement or defending his lack of energy.

Viggo shrugged and settled into the chair farthest from the speakers. If Elijah was in charge of the stereo, it paid to be safe. Sean moved a chair from the table over to the chess set to kibitz. He didn't play chess, but he loved to give advice.

The American actor's eyes settled on Orlando. The younger man had been acting like a kicked puppy all week and it had culminated in him getting completely blasted as soon as Peter had called filming for the day. Orlando's energy was a big part of what had been missing from tonight's party. Viggo knew that his girl friend had left him and moved back to England but hadn't had a chance to actually talk to him about it. He could offer a friendly ear or a shoulder to cry on.

Getting to his feet, Viggo placed his beer on a nearby coaster and walked towards their miserable Elf. Placing his hands on Orli's shoulders, he leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Come on, mellonen. Let's get you home."

Orlando looked over his shoulder, his eyes immediately softening as he recognized Viggo. "Party over?" he asked.

"For us it is. Where's your coat?"

Orlando's brow furrowed as he pondered. "Didn't bring one. It was warm this afternoon when I came over."

"Well it's downright chilly now, so here take this to keep you warm," Viggo pulled his flannel shirt off and draped it around Orlando's narrow shoulders. "You don't have enough fat on you to keep a flea warm."

"Hey," Orlando protested, stopping immediately as the warmth and scent of Viggo's body enveloped him.

Viggo pulled the young Brit to his feet and guided him towards the door. He had stayed sober, knowing that as least one person would need a ride home. Looking over to where Sean and John had started a lively argument about the general merits of stage vs. film, he thought he might need to swing back around after dropping Orli off to make sure Sean got home okay.

The Elf immediately curled up against the door of Viggo's car and fell back to sleep. Viggo reached across the seat and belted him in. They only had a couple of blocks to go and he was more afraid of Orlando falling out when he opened the door than any danger of crash.

Orlando snuffled sleepily and shifted in the seat. "Mmmm… where'r we goin, Vigs?" he mumbled.

"I'm taking you home," Viggo informed his wasted co-star indulgently.

"Home with you?"

Viggo looked over, but Orlando's eyes were still closed, lending the illusion that he was sleeping even though he was carrying on a conversation. "Well, I'd planned on taking you to your home, but I guess we can go to mine."

"Mmmm… good." Orlando yawned. "Don't much like my place anymore. Too empty and she took all the bloody movies and most of my CDs."

"That sucks," Viggo commiserated.

"A bloke wouldn't do you wrong like…"

Viggo waited for Orlando to finish his sentence, but as the pause grew longer, he decided that the Elf had truly fallen back to sleep.

~~~~~

Viggo pulled to a stop in front of his rental house and shook Orlando's shoulder gently. "Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to go to bed."

Orlando let out a stuttered snore and Viggo rolled his eyes. Walking around the car, he opened the door, releasing the belt and letting the Orlando fall into his arms. "Ooofff. God, you're heavy for an Elf," Viggo complained, getting his co-star half on his feet and half draped against his body.

They stumbled their way through the door and down the hall. Viggo hesitated outside the spare bedroom, but he'd been painting in there earlier and knew the room would reek of paint fumes. He didn't need Orlando any higher than he already was. He continued down the hall to his bedroom.

Pulling off his guest's shoes, socks and jeans, Viggo rolled him under the covers and went to the kitchen for a double shot of scotch. Now that he was safely home, he needed a drink. Stopping at the door, he stared at the lanky young man snuggling into his bed and sighed.

~~~~~

Viggo lay still in the early morning hours just before dawn and listened to Orlando breathing next to him. It wasn't the first time he and the younger Brit had been forced to share a room or even a bed. Odd filming locations and late night parties had landed them in this situation several times before, but with each occurrence, it got harder and harder to keep his hands to himself. His attraction for his much-too-young co-star was not a secret. In fact, even Orlando knew about it.

Orlando desired him too, or at least, he claimed to. Viggo felt his age and extreme circumstances made his opinions mute. He knew for certain that a relationship between them would be disastrous to his heart and Orlando's future. The younger man's burgeoning career needed time to gestate and grow before he ran the risk of either publicly coming out or being involuntarily outed by loose lips or paparazzi pictures,

A subtle sound stopped Viggo's wandering thoughts. There it was again, a definite hitch in Orlando's breathing. The next change in breath pattern was followed by an almost inaudible moan. "Fuck, Orlando, are you wanking?" Viggo exclaimed before his brain could lasso his mouth and prevent the statement. He didn't really want confirmation of the image now firmly embedded in his mind.

"Oh fuck yeah… and it feels bloody marvelous. Wanna help?" Orlando groaned, his knees pulling up and tenting the blankets on the bed before falling open in a wanton sprawl. Viggo could see the pleasure-seeking pose behind his closed eyelids and he desperately wanted to crawl between those spread legs and really teach the kid them meaning of the word, "pleasure."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you proper wanking etiquette?" Viggo asked, more horrified at his own body's reaction to the idea than the fact that Orlando was actually doing it. "You just don't do this. I'm lying right beside you, talking to you, for fuck's sake."

Orlando groaned again and Viggo couldn't help but open his eyes and take in every nuance of the gorgeous young man's appearance, his head pressing forcefully back into the soft pillows as his back arched in pleasure, the sheen of moisture dampening his skin, the flush of arousal covering his face and torso, and the repeated moistening of pink lips.

"Oh God, Viggo," Orlando sighed. "Why do you think I'm wanking? Fuck, talk to me. I don't care if you recite script changes. I'm so close and your voice…" Orlando's voice trailed off.

Viggo couldn't resist a plea like that. Not from Orlando. Rolling onto his side, he whispered near Orlando's ear. English. Spanish. Danish. All the things he'd been holding back, but desperately wanted to say poured from his lips.

Screaming, Orlando arched off the bed, coming hard over his hand, his body convulsing until every soft brush of his own fingers prompted a soft mewl. Pulling his hand out from under the covers, he wiped it on the boxers he'd shed before Viggo woke, tossing them to the floor.

Fuck, now what, Viggo thought frantically.

"Now we quit ignoring what's between us," Orlando answered, rolling into the curve of Viggo's body and nuzzling into his neck.

Viggo looked down at the comfortably sleeping man in his arms. Guess I said that out loud, he thought, being sure to keep his lips still. I wonder if he's even going to remember this in the morning.

Read Part Two of The Wank written by Ariel Tachna