Better Than Any High 6

Better Than Any High

Parts 6 -10

Posted: June 2005
Title: Better than any High
Author: Darknightjess, Linden Jay

*****

Chapter 6

New Zealand - Five years ago

Orlando had pulled off his shirt and, with a cheeky grin tossed it to Marton. He was moving to the music at the edge of the dance floor. The beat and thrum moved him and he spun and swayed. Catching Marton's eyes, he lifted his hand and sucked three fingers into his mouth and winked.

"Cheeky bastard," Marton growled, dropping the shirt on the table and getting up, ignoring the whistling and catcalling from the rest of the table as he stalked across the dance floor to join Orlando, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around him, fingers teasing at his waistband. "You wanton- you don't care that the whole club is watching you, do you?" he snorted, moving with the music, grinding up against Orlando.

Orlando arched back, lifting up on his toes, throwing his head back on Marton's shoulder. "Mmm, don't care if the whole world is watching as long as you are too. He lifted his arms and locked his hands behind Marton's head, letting the music move him as he swayed against Marton.

"And how the fuck am I supposed to not watch you when you're doing this, huh?" Marton purred into his ear, fingers digging in against his hips.

Orlando lifted and rubbed, feeling Marton's hard, denim covered cock slide against the cleft of his arse. "What do you - uh fuck yeah." He said, teeth clenched as Marton pushed against him. "What'd ya want to watch me do, hmmm? Anything."

"God, yeah. Anything you want," Marton breathed, his lips brushing Orlando's ear.

Orlando dropped his hands and grabbed Marton by the front of his jeans; never looking back he tugged and walked them off of the dance floor. Leaning his head back he said, "Do you trust me?"

Realizing that asking 'why' would prove that he didn't, Marton nodded. "Yes."

Orlando raised his eyebrows and grinned, still leading the man. At the back of the club he walked them into the restroom and straight to the last stall. He closed the stall door behind them and wrapped his arms around Marton, crushing their lips together.

Marton moaned softly into the kiss, pressing him back against the door, breaking off to grab a quick breath. "Are you serious," he murmured, running his fingers up and down Orlando's side.

"MmHmm." Orlando said with a grin and reached down and popped the button on Marton's jeans. He sunk one hand in and petted a finger across the curve of warm flesh. Pulling his hand out, he gently pushed at Marton. "You said you want to watch, yeah?"

"Watch, feel, suck, fuck, do you honestly think I can think right now?" Marton groaned, fighting the urge to pout as Orlando pulled his hand away.

"Okay gorgeous, here." He rolled Marton's jeans and boxers down just enough to expose the long hard cock. Repressing a groan, Orlando squeezed the warm flesh once and then placed his hands on Marton's hips and backed him up. "Sit." He said with a leer and quickly unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down, pulling his erect cock out and cupping the head.

Marton stared at Orlando, his cock now conveniently at eye level, so at least he wasn't straining his neck trying to look down at him. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't going to wring Orlando's neck for tormenting him like this.

"Okay, few rules." Orlando said, hand still moving slowly over his cock as he spoke in a normal conversational tone. "You sit, nice and comfy, you don't touch yourself or me - you just watch. And when I'm done, you can fuck my mouth as hard and as fast as you want." He got quiet for a minute as someone entered the restroom, he grinned at Marton and waited through the noises of the man using the urinal and washing his hands. He turned back to Marton as the restroom door swung shut. "Deal?"

"I'm going to kill you," Marton growled hoarsely, desperately wanting to touch his aching cock, pausing a moment before looking up at Orlando. "Deal."

"Oh and shhh, don't want anybody to hear us." Orlando said with a grin and then leaned his shoulder back against the stall door, hips jutting out as he began to stroke his cock in hard fast jerks. With the other hand he twisted and pinched at his nipple, small sounds of pleasure rising out of him as his legs begin to tremble. Sweat shone on his chest. "Oh fuck yeah." He mumbled, chewing on his lip.

"Bossy little fuck," Marton murmured, his fingers digging into his thighs as he watched Orlando, cock throbbing hot and hard against his stomach. His eyes closed for a moment, moving his hand long enough to run it through his hair, then returning it to his leg, wishing like hell he could get away with a quick stroke of his cock, his breathing getting faster. "Quiet yourself," he murmured, his voice low and strained.

Orlando huffed out a giggle, hand moving faster, tightening. "Mmhmm, yeah." He whispered. Moving the hand from his chest, he reached and cupped his balls, tugging and squeezing a bit. He felt the sparks start to build as the sensations swirled in him. In a low dark voice he said, "wish I was inside you, fucking you hard, sweaty and hot and - oh fuck yeah - deep, fuck!" He bit off the cry and leaned forward, cupping his cock as he pulsed out from between his fingers, shoulders quaking as he came.

Marton started cursing under his breath about the time Orlando started to speak, switching over to Hungarian as he came, shaking almost as hard as Orlando. Unclenching his fingers from his legs, he drew Orlando's hand towards him, cleaning it completely, then stood and kissed him hard, pressing him back against the stall door. "I am going to pay you back in ways you can't even dream of for this," he purred, his lips against Orlando's ear.

"Fuck I hope so mate." Orlando said with a soft laugh. "So how do you want me? Hmm, knees? Sitting? Hmm? Tell me how you want me to suck you, hmmm Marts."

"You're not kneeling on the floor of the toilet- god knows what disgusting things people have done in here," Marton grinned, shifting so their positions were reversed, his back against the stall. "Should make you do the same thing- you have any idea how hard that was to watch?" he growled, lips still against his ear.

Orlando wrapped his fingers around Marton's cock and tugged once. "Hard?" He chuckled. "I'd kneel for you, Marton." He slid down the man, sitting on the toilet and gripping the firm lean hips. "I'll watch if you want, but wouldn't you rather come in my mouth?"

"Hard? I'm fucking granite!" Marton protested, gritting his teeth as Orlando's hand moved over his cock, shivering at Orlando's words. "Yes, your mouth- Orlando, please?"

Orlando leaned forward and took just the head of Marton's cock into his mouth. Tightening his lips around the head, he flicked his tongue back and forth, sucking gently.

Marton bit down hard on his lip, his head leaning back and thudding against the door to the stall, hands curling into fists at his sides. "So. Much. Payback." he gritted out, his voice a moan.

Smiling as best he could, Orlando squeezed his fingers hard into Marton's hips and swallowed him deep, as he pulled back slightly he heard the restroom door open. He laughed through his nose as he recognized Dom's voice yelling. "Fuck off cunt, I've gotta take a piss, I'll be right back."

Orlando glanced upwards at Marton, eyes shining with amusement.

Christ! Marton mouthed, managing not to voice the curse through a supreme effort, glaring down at Orlando. Don't you dare, you bastard he thought, his fingernails digging into his palms, trying to slow his breathing.

Orlando's whole body shook with silent laughter and he sunk his mouth onto Marton, letting the head nudge at the back of his throat. He lifted his eyebrows and sucked.

"Bunch of fuc - what's this now." Dom's voice said from outside the stall. "Two pairs of feet, is it? Hmmm, what's that? They're facing each other and since tha's damn near an impossible position standing, then it's either a bit of a hand job, or one of Orlando's world famous blowjobs. Either way, I'll just leave ya to it then. Oh, nice boots Marton."

Orlando pulled his mouth off of Marton as the door closed and leaned his head on the man's thigh as he laughed.

"Oh my god," Marton breathed, his face flaring crimson as Dom's words sank in, sagging against the door to the stall. "Oh my god. Oh my fucking god! He's going to tell every one of them!"

"Yeah he is, he'll probably get Elijah to have the DJ make an announcement." Orlando said, pressing his face against the crease of Marton's thigh still laughing. "Sorry, sorry, hey, do you want to just go? Would that be better?"

"Are you kidding?" Marton's jaw dropped open, staring down at Orlando. "He's up there, telling everyone you were sucking me off in the bathroom, I'm going to get teased for weeks, and you think there's a chance I'm going to walk out of this room without it being a reality? No bloody way!"

Orlando snorted out a laugh. "Fuck, I love you man!" He said and then sunk his mouth on Marton's erection as deep as he could go.

Letting out a clearly audible moan before literally covering his mouth to keep the sound back, Marton thrust up into Orlando's mouth, a few moments passing before his lover's words sank in. You what? You...what!? he kept thinking over and over again, his body taking over as he fucked Orlando's mouth, his thoughts distracted, his hand dropping to his side as he came, shivering as Orlando swallowed around him again and again, his eyes closed in release.

Christ. Love you too.

*****

Chapter 7

New Zealand - Five years ago

"...but I thought so, don't you?" Orlando trailed off mouth open, he reached and tugged at Viggo's sleeve. "Oh fuck me, who's that?" He said, nodding his head toward where a man was standing with a PA.

"Orlando, we're in the middle of the catering tent, I'm not going to fuck you," Viggo repeated his stock sentence, modified of course, before looking up and seeing where Orlando was nodding. "Ah- that's Eomer."

"Yeah, and once again Vig, didn't stop you in the costume trailer." Orlando mumbled, chewing at his fingernail. "Bloody fuck, look at those lips. Eomer? You wanker, you just do this, don't you?" He looked back at Viggo and squinted at him. "What's his name, c'mon Vig."

"Duplicating Elijah's bad habits rule," Viggo said, lightly slapping Orlando's hand away from his mouth. "Karl Urban- one of the Kiwi actors on the film. He's a friend of Harry Sinclair's," Viggo said, unable to hold back a smirk. "I know you remember Harry."

"Fucker." Orlando said and tucked his hand in his pocket. "Too many fucking rules." He grumbled. "Karl, huh, great lips. Who?" He glanced at Viggo, frowning and then broke into a smile. "Oh yeah, Harry. Incredible fucking hands. His fingers were huge." He said and turned back to watch the other man.

Viggo watched Orlando out of the corner of his eye, leaning back to give him a better look. "So... Orlando? How's Marton?" he said casually.

"Who?" Orlando muttered and then turned to look at Viggo. "Oh, Marton. He's fine, why?" He asked with a frown.

Uh huh. "Nothing. Just curious. So- you coming out tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. About what, nine? Huh?" Orlando said in a distracted voice, already moving toward the dark haired man across the tent.

Viggo rolled his eyes, pulling a notebook out of his pocket and checking the date. "Astin and Billy. Fuckers," he sighed, flipping through his wallet as he went off in search.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marton cursed lightly under his breath as he came into the club. He was fairly certain he and Orlando had said they were going to meet here when they'd talked about yesterday, but between traffic being a bitch and the fact that he'd stopped by Orlando's place first- he was a lot later then he'd expected to be. "And the litre of water in the car while I was driving probably wasn't the best plan either," he muttered, ducking around people as he headed to the washrooms in the back.

Orlando leaned against Karl and said. "Close your eyes and feel it. That's what I fucking love about dancing, about just coming out here. It's like you can feel it." He placed his hand flat against Karl's chest, fingers spread wide on the thin material of the t-shirt. He smiled, saying. "Here, you can feel it inside, it's like your blood starts to pound with it - it's better than any fucking high in the world." He moved his hand and leaned back a bit, keeping their hips in contact and smiled.

"Well, there's that and getting to watch you moving your arse across a dance floor..." Karl said, his low voice carrying clearly to Marton, who was standing not ten feet away, watching the pair of them together, the sense of not so much deja vu as complete repetition of something that had happened to him hitting him like a punch in the gut.

"You have any good reason why we're still in this hallway and not in the backseat of my car with your mouth wrapped around my cock?" Karl added, moving his hands to Orlando's chest and sliding them down, his hand pressing hard against Orlando's denim covered cock.

"Oh fuck me. No good reason at all. C'mon, I know a great place not far from here." Orlando groaned out and grabbed Karl's hand, pulling him toward the side exit.

Marton sagged against the door frame as he watched them go, all the things he wanted to do running through his head- yell at Orlando, hit Karl 'til he bled, turn and walk out of the club and pretend he hadn't seen what he just had.

Craig turned the corner in time to see Orlando and his pretty d'jour - Fuck, Karl of all people, leave pawing each other. Marton was leaning against the door. "Bloody Christ." He walked up and put his arm around his friend. "Marton, c'mon mate."

Taking a moment to register that someone had just put their arm around him, Marton looked up slowly, confused and hurt. "Craig?"

"Yeah, let's get a drink. They've gone - Orlando and Karl, they've gone. Come with me now." He took Marton by the arm and led him toward the bar.

Marton let Craig drag him wherever he wanted, still in a daze, Orlando's words repeating through his brain on a loop. "Karl. That was Karl," he murmured. "And Orlando. Karl and Orlando?" He asked, looking up at Craig, begging him with his eyes to tell him he hadn't seen what he just had.

Okay, I need to get him out of here. The hobbits and that pack are NOT going to see him like this. Craig thought quickly and pushed, tugged Marton toward the door. Guiding him to the parking lot and settling him into the car, Craig got in the driver's seat and started the engine. He was careful to NOT drive down Welain Drive and pass the alley where the curry place parking lot was. "Let's go to mine, I've got plenty of scotch."

Nodding, then absently realizing that Craig wouldn't have seen the gesture, between the dark and the fact that he was driving, Marton murmured a very quiet "Okay," turning his head and staring out the window while they drove.

Craig drove in silence, pulling up in the driveway after a bit. They sat and listened tot he engine tick as it cooled. Finally Craig opened his door, saying, "Marton, hey, we're here. Let's go inside." He walked toward the front door, hoping Marton would follow.

His reaction time still slow, Marton took a moment to realize what Craig had said, opening his door and following Craig into the house, shaking his head at Craig's offer of a drink, then changing his mind and nodding, wandering into the living room, picking things up at random, placing them back exactly where he'd found them.

Craig walked into the room and handed Marton the drink. "Kind of like getting kicked in the balls, isn't it? You want to talk or want me to get you drunk?"

Taking the drink, Marton stared at it for a few moments before tossing it back and handing the glass to Craig. "You want the truth?" he said, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. "I want to call him," he admitted, shaking his head, disgusted with himself.

Craig walked into the dining room and brought the bottle back with him, sitting it on the end table and then nodded at Marton. "To cuss him or - or ask him to come back?" Craig asked swirling the liquid in his own glass.

"Don't know," Marton said, pouring himself another drink. "Keeps changing," he added, starting to feel numb again, his responses coming out wooden.
"Yeah, I cussed him, I think David asked him to come back." He shrugged, frowning at his glass. "I am really sorry Marton. If it's any consolation at all, and I'm not expecting it to be, he was with you longer than anyone. And - from what I hear - he didn't play with any of his fuck buddies while he was with you. That makes you - special?" Craig said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Marton set his drink down on the table, staring at Craig. "You? David?" He leaned back in the chair, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard, unable to keep his eyes focused on Craig's. "Christ when you... what - warned me? I just thought it was about the age difference. About him being a flirt. He... you?"

Craig listened to Marton and recognized the tone of voice, the set of his shoulders; he was incredulous that he had let this happen. And Craig knew that was exactly how Marton felt - that he had let this happen. "Marton, I swear I thought maybe this time, he'd be different. He's just - it's - it's just the way he is, I actually don't think he can help it." Craig leaned and poured another glass full of amber liquid. "I really am sorry."

"I love him, Craig. I fucking love him," Marton all but spat, rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes, then looking up again, pain shining in his eyes. "Did it have to be Karl?" he said, trying to manage a smile and failing.

Craig leaned back, stretching his legs out. "Karl just got here. There's no way he knows about you and Orlando yet, and he probably wouldn't have said anything to Orlando." Craig took a sip. "It was just one fucked up coincidence. He was probably giving Karl his 'feel the music in your blood' spiel. He didn't expect you to walk up on it. Probably."

"Better than any fucking high in the world," Marton murmured, swallowing hard. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're a man - and he's - fuck Marton, he's bloody sex on legs. Let it go. C'mon sit down here and let's get pissed."

"Okay. Craig?" Marton started, biting his lip and trying to figure out how to ask. "Did you...were you..." he paused again and swallowed hard, falling silent.

Craig looked down at his drink, feeling the slow thump of his heart, after a minute he looked up. Expression neutral, eyes clouded he said, "Yeah Marton I did, I loved him so fucking much." He smiled, a tight sad smile. "It gets better, after a while, it - gets better."

"I'm sorry," Marton said, his voice sincere, looking Craig in the eyes and holding his gaze for a few long moments. "It gets better huh?" he said, giving Craig a sad smile and filling up each of their drinks again, raising his in a mock-toast. "Liar."

*****

Chapter 8

New Zealand - Five years ago

Orlando walked in to the trailer, grinning. He saw Viggo and smacked a kiss on his cheek before grabbing an apple out of the bowl on the counter. "Fuck man, I'm knackered. Running on no sleep." He said laughing.

"Spare me or share, but don't just brag," Viggo muttered, marking his place in his script, knowing he'd not be able to get anywhere on it so long as Orlando was there.

Orlando slung a leg over Viggo's lap and nestled down, grinding against him and smiling. He buried his face in Viggo's neck and sniffed, pulling back with a grin. "Fuck you smell good." He stood up and took a bite of the apple, chewing and talking at the same time. "Oh yeah, the hobbits and Karl and I are going to the club on Queenburg Street tonight, you wanna go?" He asked as he walked to the door.

"Tease. I'll think about it-oh- how is Karl anyway?" Viggo asked, picking up his script again, but not looking at it yet.

"You wouldn't believe his mouth. Fuck. He's got the best tongue. I swear to god Viggo, it's better than yours. No fucking lie." Orlando said, serious expression, eyes wide.

"Well, that was either a compliment, an insult, or a definite case of oversharing," Viggo mused. "Possibly all three at the same time, knowing you."

"Yeah, I'm talented." Orlando opened the door and started out. "See ya later Vigs."
"See you later. You say goodbye to Marton?" he asked, starting to read his script again, lifting his pencil and making a few quick notes in the margin.

"Marton? huh? Orlando stopped, brow furrowed.

"It's his last day on set. Craig's driving him straight to the airport from here- he just came by to say goodbye to a few people. I thought you would have seen him," Viggo shrugged.

"Uh uh. Is he at the sound stage by the tent still?"

"How the hell would I know?" Viggo snorted. "Worth a try anyway."

"Cool" Orlando bounded down the stairs, slamming the trailer behind him.

"Better tongue than me... little bastard. Nobody has a better tongue than me," Viggo muttered, giving his head a shake and immersing himself in the script again.

Orlando jogged through the parking lot, stopping when he saw a tall dark man across the way. Smiling he headed toward him. When he got close Orlando called out, "Marton! Hey Marts!"

Marton cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and gathering himself before turning around and looking at Orlando. He'd been hoping to make it out of Wellington without seeing him again, but it seemed that he was cursed with perpetual bad timing. " Orlando," he said, his voice neutral.

Orlando loped up to Marton and threw his arms around him. "Hey, Viggo told me you were leaving. I wanted to say bye. You hadn't been around much lately. Are you leaving now huh?' He asked, looking around.

I haven't been around much lately? You fucking cunt! Marton had to physically stop himself from snarling at Orlando, forcing a bit of a smile. "Yeah, you've been a difficult guy to track down. I'm going home."

Orlando frowned then smiled again. "Yeah? I've been around. Anyway. Well cool, I didn't want you to leave without saying bye. It was great Marton. Really, you're a great guy and - man - just thanks for everything." Orlando said happily.

Marton violently resisted the impulse to snort when Orlando said he'd been around. Yeah, like the entire fucking set didn't know that. Well, everyone but me, anyway. "It was nothing, Orlando," Marton smiled, managing to keep his tone warm. "Take care of yourself." You're good at that.

"Sure and you too." Orlando hugged Marton again and then turned to leave, calling over his shoulder. "See you Marton."

No, you won't. "Goodbye," Marton called back, watching after him a long time after he'd disappeared from view. "No, you won't."

*****

Chapter 9

Spain - During KoH Filming

Orlando walked into the hotel bar and looked around. Man, this had been a boring set so far. He thought. Not that any of them would ever be like Rings, but Troy had been fun. Bean didn't fuck guys, but he drank like a hog and that Bana. Orlando grinned and fidgeted just thinking about him. Orlando had been looking for Marton since he had seen him on set the week before, but the man must be busy as fuck. Orlando looked to the left and bounced on his toes as he saw Jeremy. He was an old guy, but fuck he was sexy. Orlando headed over to him, standing close at his elbow and smiling at him.

Jeremy took a long sip of his scotch, savoring the drink, not turning to look at the man beside him. " Orlando," he nodded, his voice a low growl, as always. "A drink for you?"

"Mmm, yes please." Orlando said. "A beer would be great."

Jeremy snorted, getting the waiter's attention. "Glenfiddich - the fifteen year, and put the lad's on the rocks," he ordered. "Neat for myself."

Orlando blinked and sat down in the chair next to Jeremy, leaning in a bit to smell the man. He smiled and brushed his knee against Jeremy's. "That sounds brilliant." Orlando said.

"Mmm," Jeremy murmured, pushing Orlando's drink closer to him as the bartender placed it in front of him, taking another measured sip of his drink.

Orlando took a sip of the drink, wrinkling his nose a bit and thinking a splash of cola and a squeeze of lime would make it taste real good. "So what've you been doing? There's not much around to do. Um, so Jer - do you dance?"

Jeremy turned slowly, looking at Orlando for a long moment, before turning back to his drink, finishing it in one steady pull, and placing his glass back on the coaster, pulling his wallet out and dropping a few bills to pay for the drinks. "I'll see you on set, lad," he said, standing and clapping him on the shoulder, then turning and walking out of the bar.

Orlando's mouth opened and closed and he blinked. Well fuck me - or not. He thought and frowned at the drink in front of him. Getting the bartender's attention, he ordered a beer.

After a few hours and more than a few beers, Orlando found himself standing at Jeremy's hotel door, tugging on his t-shirt and grinning. Lifting his hand he knocked quickly on the door.

Muttering under his breath, Jeremy knotted the towel around his waist, dripping wet from the bath. He jerked the door open, already glowering at whoever was on the other side. "What?" he growled.

Hey Jer!" Orlando said, gaze sweeping up and down the man. He blinked happily and licked his lips. "Can I talk to you a second?"

"Jeremy," he stressed the last syllables, his glower not dimming in the slightest. "Must you?"

Orlando walked past him, into the room. "You left and it's still early." Orlando sat in the chair, crossing his legs and brushing at his jeans. "You want to get some dinner?"

Jeremy shut the door loudly behind him, fairly incredulous. "No, actually I was fairly content with my evening as it was progressing before you showed up at my door. You said you wanted to speak to me- go ahead." Jeremy folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Fortified by beer and a more than heavy dose of self-appreciation, Orlando stood fluidly and walked to stand in front of Jeremy. Lightly running his finger through the glistening hairs on the man's chest, Orlando said in a low voice, " Well, I thought we could get to know each other better. You're a good looking guy, and this is a boring town." Orlando cocked his head and shrugged.

"What in the bloody FUCK are you doing, you arrogant child!" Jeremy snarled, grabbing Orlando's wrist and pulling it away from him, getting inches from his face.

"What?" Orlando sputtered. "What? C'mon mate, I'm not talking about getting married, but we could just have some fun."

Jeremy gave Orlando a shove, tossing him away from him. "Sit down," he ordered, pointing at the chair. "Don't you bloody move."

Orlando sat, frowning and confused. "What the fuck Jer? It's not like I'm some bloody virgin!"

Crossing back over to Orlando in a few long strides, Jeremy placed both hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in close again, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are a spoiled, indulged, arrogant pup, with a sense of entitlement that rivals many that I have seen in my career- and I've worked British theatre. I was any less of a professional, I would give you the thrashing you soundly deserve, and clearly never got as a child, but since we are both due on set tomorrow and we have not yet started shooting anything where you can afford to look like you've just gotten your arse kicked, I will stake you to some valuable advice."

What the fuck? Orlando blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh for gods sake," Jeremy rolled his eyes and cuffed Orlando sharply upside the head. "Pay attention. First of all, treat your fellow actors with respect, instead of expecting them to fall on their knees for you- literally or figuratively. None of us are being paid to, or required to pander to you, and we're not remotely interested in doing so. Second, if you ever call me 'Jer' again, or intrude upon my private life or time without invitation, you will regret it. And third," Jeremy said, grabbing Orlando by the scruff of his shirt and hauling him towards the door, opening it and tossing him out into the hallway, "on your best day, you wouldn't have a shot with me." He followed him out of the room, pinning him against the wall and staring directly in his eyes. "You're not man enough to take it," he growled, turning around and heading back into his room. "Any questions?"

"Um - uh - no. Fuck - Jer - uh - Jeremy, I just thought - just something to do." Orlando said in a near panic.

"Oh, Christ- all this just because the little diva is bored?" Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Come back in a few years when you've grown up. Actually, strike that. Don't come back. If I'm ever so inclined, I'll be sure to let you know," he said, the sarcasm thick. "Now run away, little boy. Won't do to have you pissing yourself in the hallway," he added, snorting with laughter at the terrified look on Orlando's face, slamming the door behind him.

*****

Chapter 10

Spain - During KoH Filming

Orlando had the bottle in the air drinking straight from it when the phone picked up on the other end. "Vig, you fucker!"

It took him a second to realize that the voice was his machine. "You fucker! Where are you! It's - I don't know what time it is - you fucker."

Orlando sat down on the edge of the bed, then leaned back. He was wearing only his jeans. The bottle was gripped loosely in his hand the phone tucked against his ear. "You should be here. We'd tell that wanker who was us, who was the best. He don't know and he called me a puppy diva, fucker."

Viggo stared at the answering machine, his head cocked to the side, totally confused. Clearly it was Orlando... but what the hell was he talking about? Who was a puppy?

"Just cause he's been around for fucking bloody ever. Well so have you and you fucked me and he's too good and he said I couldn't handle it! He ain't seen Bana's dick! I can handle anything!"

"And hello too much information," Viggo smacked the heel of his hand across his head and walked across the room to refill his coffee cup. "Please tell me he didn't try to hit on Brendon Gleeson. There are limits."

"I'm just as good as any of them. Aren't I Viggo?" Orlando sat the phone down and took a drink. Picking it back up he said. "It's not like I'm looking for bloody fucking forever. I know how to go away and I know this is all just for fun!" He screamed and then started laughing, a harsh sound. "I mean FUCK! It's all tran -transs - transunt - sheunt! Fuckers."

"Oh Christ- someone let him drink something other than beer."

Orlando scooted up on the bed. "Have you seen Jeremy? Fuck, man, he's like lean and all brown and I just wanted to lick him all over and he told me to grow up or he'd - he'd beat my arse and he was fuckin' ugly about it and threw me out and he HIT me!"

"Oh, he didn't!" Viggo paused. "Oh god- of course he did. This is fucking Orlando."

"'N it's not like I hadn't had my cock in some big names. He dun't know what he's missing, fucker. And some good looking guys too! I mean you aren't ugly and Elijah's cute and Marton - yeah Marton." Orlando took another drink. "You know I fucked Marton? Yeah. He was nice and laughed. He's gonna be here, d'you know that Viggy?"

"Viggy? And I'm not ugly- well, sweep me off my feet, Bloom. Bastard," Viggo rolled his eyes. "And again with Marton- lord, you never bloody shut up about him!"

"What'm I piece of shite?" He said and snorted. "Marton was gonna leave and not even say goodbye, fucker. He just stopped cummin' round. You seen him smile? Huh? And you - you mad bastard. Come to Spain. Please."

"I am not coming to Spain just because Jeremy Irons won't fuck you, you crazy bastard." Viggo leaned up against his desktop, musing about what Orlando had just said about Marton.

"Imma go cause I may go puke now. Fuck off Viggy!" Orlando snorted out a laugh and threw the phone across the room.

"Ow!" Viggo's ears rang from the sharp sound of the phone hitting the wall. "Well wasn't that special."

*****

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