Better Than Any High 11

Better Than Any High

Parts 11 - 15

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

*****

Chapter 11

Spain - During KoH Filming

Orlando was in bed, covers over his head, the same head that was currently pounding with a hangover. His phone rang and he grunted, reaching for it and mumbling into the receiver.

"Now, come on_ you went to a good British acting school_ lets hear that proper diction you were trained with," A loud voice came from the phone.

"Oh fuck you, bloody bastard." Orlando said through dry lips. "What d'ya want?"

"Hung over, are we? Go get yourself a glass of water and a Tylenol_ you're impossible to talk to when you're like this. Or I could sing to you until you decide to play ball...."

"Play with your own balls. What d'ya want Viggo?" Orlando said and curled tighter under the sheet. "Man, I smell. I need a shower."

"That's an interesting order from a man who couldn't get laid last night," Viggo snorted.

"What? I have no problem getting laid, thank you."

"If you say so, diva."

Orlando pulled the sheet off of his head slowly and sat up. "Oh fuck. I called you."

"You called me. Rambled on for a good long time too. So_ when do you shoot next with Jeremy, puppy?"
"Oh fuck off. I made my move and he wasn't interested. It's not like there aren't a ton others. Hell I fucked you and Marton."

"I was just glad it wasn't Brendon Gleeson," Viggo said wryly. "And according to you he wasn't just not interested. I could hear the pout through the phone. I knew I should never have let the rules lapse," Viggo sighed dramatically. "Really not used to being turned down, are you?" Viggo grinned.

"Brendon's got a tiny dick. Saw it in costume check." Orlando chewed on his lip. "I've never been turned down by someone that did blokes. I mean Bean turned me down and Billy did too, but that's different, you know. Jeremy was ugly about it."

Viggo shuddered at the mention of Brendon_ something he really hadn't ever wanted to know_ then furrowed his brow. "He was ugly to you... are you sure he fucks men? He wasn't just insulted or offended or something that you hit on him because he doesn't swing that way?"

"No, he does. He said I wasn't man enough to take it. He said on my best day I wouldn't have a shot. Viggo? That was just fuckin' ugly, you know mate?"

"Well, you don't really take hints all that well, Orlando. What exactly happened?"

"I told you what happened! Fuck it all Viggo. I went to his room, he was all wet and then he threw me out! Fuck, rude bastard. There was nobody here to just have fun and fuck with. Marton just got here, but he told me he wasn't interested and I wasn't as cute as I was at twenty_two. What the fuck, Viggo? But he'll come around, he loved when we were fucking, it was great. He's a lot of fun."

Viggo's head swirled, trying to take in Orlando's line of babble. "Marton said what? I mean, you're not as cute as you were when you were twenty_two_ you're different. Whatever happened to you and Marton anyway_ besides Karl, I mean. Hell_ you two were practically a normal couple for a while there... it was like he fucked the slut out of you for a few weeks."

"I don't know. Things were great and then he all of a sudden just stopped. And what do you mean Karl happened?"

"Oh c'mon, Orlando_ I was with you in the catering tent when you saw Karl. Before that, we couldn't pry you off of Marton."

"I really like Marton, but man, you saw Karl. Great lips. But why would that cause Marton to stop coming around?"

"Well," Viggo squirmed, not really sure what to say, wandering through the house and back to his bedroom, lying out on the bed. "I don't know, Orlando_ did you usually go to him, or did he come to you? Didn't you ever ask Marton?" he asked, curling up against Craig.

"Ask him what? It just _ he _ well, I was over at Karl's a lot and he just. Huh."

"Besides, it was probably pretty awkward for Marton, seeing as it was Karl and all," Viggo added, giving Craig a kiss on the shoulder.

"C'mon Viggo. I got a hangover that would kill Dom, I'm feeling like shite and I'm still horny. What are you talking about? Why would Marton feel awkward and why would he give a shit who I was shagging?"

"Because you threw him over for his ex, you stupid bastard!" Viggo said, making very certain to speak loudly and distinctly_ accenting all his consonants.

Orlando blinked and pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it for a second before speaking. "His what? Beg your pardon? Whose? I threw who over?"

Craig's eyes flew wide at Viggo's words. Well this had the potential to be ugly. He thought, and then on the heels of that, and I hope if it explodes that little slutty fucker gets it all over him. He put his arms around Viggo and smiled.

"Orlando_ you can't tell me you didn't know that. Everybody knew that," he snorted, ignoring the fact that he hadn't known it before Craig pointed it out to him.

"I wouldn't have hurt Marton. Why would I do that? It was just fun, yeah? You knew that. And Dom, and - everybody knew that." Orlando stood up and paced around the room. "I didn't know about Karl. Why would I do that on purpose? I liked Marton."

"How long did you and Marton fuck about for, Orlando? A month? Or was it more than that?" Viggo asked, keeping the phone to his ear as he rolled Craig on top of him, leaning up for a hard kiss.

"A couple of months I guess." Orlando said and shrugged. "Why?"

"And you weren't fucking anyone else at the same time, right? I mean, I sure as hell remember that you weren't fucking me," Viggo almost pouted, and then turned the look on Craig, batting his eyelashes.

Craig rolled his eyes and then arched downward, rubbing against his lover. Teach you to even think about that wanker.

"Well, no, but it was just so fucking intense with Marton and I just didn't seem _ to _ why?" Orlando insisted.

Viggo hissed, trying to cut the sound off before talking to Orlando again, speaking a little quicker than normal. "It was fucking intense... you didn't fuck anyone else... went on for a couple months. You were in a relationship, you dipshit. And you started fucking his ex, and knowing you, never even told him what the score was. And you wonder why he stopped coming around." Viggo moved the phone away, covering it. "Too many clothes," he mouthed.

Craig smirked and scooted down Viggo's body, letting the shift of skin and clothes drag as he settled between Viggo's thighs. Placing his mouth open against the fabric covered bulge, he blew out a warm breath.

"Is that what he thought? That we were together? And that I fucked around on him?" Orlando stopped pacing and leaned against the dresser. "Viggo, I wouldn't have hurt him like that. I - I really like Marton _ liked Marton. Fuck me." He said in a near whisper.

" Orlando, I'm in LA and you're in Spain, and I've got Craig breathing through my jeans against my cock_ I'm not going to fuck you," Viggo groaned, arching his back a little. "And you're on your own for this one, Sunshine. Best of luck," he said, hanging up the phone and letting it drop to the ground.

"What?" Orlando squeaked out and then threw his phone. "Fuck!"

*****

Chapter 12

LA - While KoH was filming - After Viggo hangs up from talking to a hungover Orlando

Craig smiled, lifting his head. "So, is that the very first time you've ever said no to the little bastard?"

"Be nice," Viggo sighed, wriggling and getting more comfortable. "And no_ I tell him no all the time. I wasn't about to fly to fucking Spain for him_ that's for sure."

Craig scratched blunt nails along the seam of Viggo's jeans, rasping across the denim. "So, the distance is the only reason you said no? Hmm?" He pushed at Viggo's legs, drawing the worn, soft denim tight over his cock.

"No_ I said no because I'm not at his beck and call for whenever he feels like getting laid," Viggo groaned. "Doesn't work like that," he said, spreading his legs a little wider.

Craig shifted up until he could run his tongue around Viggo's naval. He ran his hands up the taut thighs, thumbs digging into the crease at his groin. He licked at Viggo's stomach, and then asked. "Did you fuck him while he and I were together?"

"Jesus Christ," Viggo breathed, writhing under Craig. "Yeah, I did," he said simply, neither bragging nor shying away from the truth.

"Okay." Craig moved one hand and popped the first button on Viggo's jeans. He scrubbed his lightly stubbled chin across the skin exposed in the small space. "I can understand that. He's bloody gorgeous."

"Well that's_ mmm_" Viggo cut off, distracted. "That's obvious. But it really wasn't that. We just ... did. Around whatever else was going on."

"But not when he was with Marton?" Craig popped the second button, mouthing the skin now as he moved his hand and cupped the heavy warmth of Viggo's cock.

Viggo muttered incoherently for a moment, took a deep breath and tried for words. "Craig, we've had some pretty fucking strange conversations during sex_ but you know that discussing the where's and who's and why's of the times I've fucked Orlando is pretty much going to take the prize here_ and that beats the fight we had about what kind of syrup to have on pancakes that time you had me handcuffed."

"I should have poured the syrup on you and forgot the rest." Craig popped the last two buttons, pulling at the fly until he could lick along the dark curve of cock. "So I'm just collecting information. Finding out if you like dark eyed pretty boys." He licked again and then tongued along the base, through the curly hair. "Seeing if maybe _ I should just leave."

"Don't you dare leave," Viggo growled, his hips canting up lightly towards Craig's mouth. "You know Orlando and I have always hit it off. But no_ I didn't fuck him when he was with Marton. Hell_ nobody fucked him when he was with Marton."

Craig gently reached his fingers and freed the thick dark cock, holding it down and licking at the smear of precum on the head. He ran his knuckles over the furried balls and pushed his fingers under them, feeling the heat there. "The little fucker, he broke Marton's heart." Craig said and then dipped his head to sink his mouth around Viggo's length.

"He_ ohhhh," Viggo moaned, trying to thrust up into Craig's mouth at the same time he pushed back against his fingers. "Didn't know_ careless but not... fuck, Craig!"

Craig pulled at Viggo's jeans, dragging them down further. He scooted and lifted until they were past Viggo's knees and then Craig lay on them, trapping Viggo's legs. He settled back and took Viggo into his mouth again, sucking wetly at the head of his erection as he gripped the base with spit slick fingers. "Mmmhmm. Don't make excuses for the cunt." He said, lifting up a second before resuming bobbing his head.

"Not making_ FUCK!" Viggo arched up again. "Not making excuses_ explaining. There's... a difference," he moaned, his cock throbbing, the slick heat of Craig's mouth turning him inside out. "He tends to be selfish, and he can be a brat when he wants something or doesn't get something... but he'd_ God! He'd never do it_ on purpose," he finished, gasping for air, his fingers curling into fists.

"Uh huh." Craig said around Viggo's cock, whether in agreement or tinged with sarcasm was lost as he hollowed his cheeks and opened his throat, releasing his fingers from the thick base and, shoving them under his balls, pushing in with a knuckle, hard.

Not sure if he was being punished for his honesty or rewarded for it, Viggo cried out, tossing his head against the pillows as Craig took him deep, thrusting back against his fingers, feeling his release building, trying to force it back down, wanting to last as long as possible.

Craig ran the edge of his teeth along the ridge cock head. He raised his mouth and lapped his tongue at the slit. "You don't get to fuck him again Viggo, ever. Not him." Craig murmured softly against the damp hot flesh at his lips before sucking it into his mouth deep.

"Hmm?" Viggo murmured, distracted, just missing whatever it was that Craig had said, then suddenly not caring in the slightest. He let out a yell, bucking his hips up hard at the tight suction around his cock, gasping for breath then shouting again as he came, pouring down Craig's throat, his hips thrusting gently one last time before he went limp against the bed, letting out a satisfied groan.

Craig released the spent flesh, placing gentle kisses along Viggo's thigh and laying his head on his hip with a smile and sighed happily.

*****

Chapter 13

Spain - During filming of KoH

Orlando lay on his bed, hands folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Fuck Viggo, telling me that shite. He clenched his teeth and went over details of things that he hadn't thought about in over five years. Marton had thought they were in a relationship. Fuck, maybe they had been. Orlando chewed at his lip. He really hadn't meant to hurt _ well _ anybody. Fuck. Sudden decision made, he sat up and pulled on his jeans.

He headed down hall, brow furrowed as he thought what to say.

Marton opened the door, laughing as he walked out the door. "You really are a crazy bastard, Jeremy," he said, turning back and leaning against the doorframe. "We're still on to watch the match tomorrow, right?"

"Only if I provide the scotch. Your taste in alcohol is not quite as bad as young Mister Bloom's, but it's close," Jeremy's rumbling voice came from beyond the door.

Orlando stopped, staring. Marton was standing bare_chested, his shirt held loosely in his hand. Orlando stood in a doorway, peering down the hall and looking at Marton. His dark hair was tufted up and sticking out all over. Orlando almost smiled, remembering how he would run his fingers through it when he was horny and laughing and.. Orlando fidgeted. What the hell was going on. Marton and Jeremy?

"Fine_ you bring the scotch," Marton rolled his eyes, his thumbs caught loosely in his belt loops as he pushed up off the wall and started down the hall. "But there's nothing wrong with my taste in alcohol," he called back, snorting as Jeremy closed his door extra loud. "Snob," he said, grinning and muttering under his breath.

Orlando pressed back against the doorway as he heard Marton move off down the hall toward his room. He waited until he heard the door close and then slowly made his way back to his room.

Pacing around the room he finally grabbed up his phone and punched in a number. When he heard the familiar voice answer he barked out. "Fuck you!"

The line stayed silent for a few moments. "Well_ that's a switch. Usually it's 'Fuck me!'. And the answer is still no, because I'm in LA, you're in Spain, and besides which, you sound like you're in a mood." Viggo said in an amused voice.

"No I'm not in a mood, I'm _ I'm _ I really hate you Viggo. I had actually started to believe that shite you were spouting about Marton caring about me. I sat here and worried that I might owe him an explanation, or an apology."

"You do owe him an apology," Viggo said, flopping down in a chair and settling in to listen to Orlando, completely ignoring the whole 'hating him' thing. "So what changed that?"

"He's shagging Jeremy bloody Irons."

"Good for him! And so what?"

Orlando sputtered and held the phone out and stared at it for a minute before shoving it against his ear again. "So _ so _ he told me he wasn't interested and then he ignores me and now he's coming out of Jeremy's room freshly fucked." Orlando was quiet for a second. "So it's obvious that he's over me. So yeah, good for him."

"What the fuck, Orlando_ he was last with you over five years ago! You thought he was still carrying a torch? I love you, but seriously_ get over yourself." Viggo couldn't help but laugh.

"No! But it just seemed _ well _ why the hell is he ignoring me then?" Orlando insisted.

"Maybe it's still hard for him to be around you because of it, but do you honestly think he shut down his life to worship at the alter of your magnificence? People move on," Viggo said, his voice still casual.

"I know people move on Viggo. I'm not a child. And no I did not expect him to stop everything, but _" He stopped and paced. "I don't know what I expected. All I know is that since I talked to you he's all I think about. What I did to him."

"So... is it bothering you more right now that he bagged Jeremy, who you didn't, or that Jeremy bagged him?" Viggo murmured, mostly thinking aloud.

"Neither." Orlando growled. "I can't be arsed to care who he shags." Orlando said and sat down heavily on the bed. "It just seems _ no _ that has nothing to do with it. I just need to talk to Marton, explain that I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Obviously he took the whole thing to mean more than I knew. If I knew how he felt I wouldn't have _ well _ I would have _ handled things differently. Yeah, that's it."

"How?"

"How what?" Orlando said impatiently.

"You would have handled things differently. How? And you say you don't care who he shags, but that was nearly the first thing you said to me. So think about it_ Marton getting fucked by Jeremy... I bet Jeremy does a lot of growling and ordering... very sexy voice_ I imagine that would be pretty intense. So how does that make you feel? And how would you have handled things differently?" Viggo explained patiently.

"Shut up." Orlando snapped and then stood and paced the room. "I would have _ well _ I _" He trailed off. "I don't have a clue what I would have done differently. Maybe I would have paid a little more attention to what I had, how we were." He stopped the circuit of the room. "I don't know."

"How does it make you feel to think about Jeremy and Marton fucking?" Viggo pressed. "Indifferent, aroused, annoyed... you want me to get out a thesaurus? I might have one around here somewhere..." Viggo got up and started looking.

"Fuck off." Orlando said in a distracted tone. "It makes me want to take a bat to Jeremy."

"To Jeremy. Not Marton. That's pretty interesting considering that, essentially, Jeremy picked Marton over you, and yet it's not Marton that you're pissed at," Viggo mused.

In a voice that came out immeasurably smaller than he intended, Orlando said, "I hate that Jeremy saw Marton like that, that he got to _ that Marton went to him. What the hell do I do now, Vig?"

"I already told you, Sunshine_ I can't figure this one out for you," Viggo said, his voice softened. "What do you think you need to do?"

"I need to talk to Marton. I need to apologize. That's first. And then after that _ well after that _ I figure it out." Orlando said with a sigh. "Thanks Viggo."

"No problem, Orlando. Good luck with Marton_ try not to fuck things up, okay?" Viggo suggested, hanging up the phone.

" Orlando, good luck with Marton? Viggo, what was that? Orlando and Marton?" Craig said from the doorway to the kitchen, a perplexed look on his face.
"Hey_ didn't see you there?" Viggo turned around and grinned, shaking his head. "It's unbelievable_ as it turns out, Orlando_ Orlando has levels."

"No Orlando doesn't." Craig said and walked across the room. "So, what was that about?"

"Actually, I think he kind of does," Viggo contradicted, placing the phone on the counter. "I told you about what happened with Jeremy_ well, you heard the answering machine message, right?"

"Viggo, I was there for the conversation afterwards. I heard you explaining to the little bastard what a fool he had made of Marton. In small words so that he could understand it no less."

"Right. Well, considering what you did to me afterwards, can you blame me for forgetting?" Viggo grinned. "Anyway_ he's been agonizing about it ever since, and now he's jealous of Marton being with someone else_ that same Jeremy Irons, by the way, and he's going to apologize to Marton_ see what happens. About time, don't you think?" Viggo finished.

Craig stared at Viggo and then laughed. "Oh for the love of _ Viggo, he's just upset that he didn't get Jeremy. It's a loss and Orlando doesn't tolerate losses. Poor Marton. I can't believe the bloody conceit of Orlando." Craig mumbled and moved back toward the kitchen.

"I don't think so_ if he was pissed at Marton getting Jeremy, he wouldn't have been jealous of Jeremy_ he would have been jealous of Marton... okay, this made a lot more sense a few minutes ago the first time I said it," Viggo frowned. "I think he actually has feelings for Marton_ why shouldn't he talk to him? See what happens?"

From the kitchen Craig snorted and grumbled. "Because he is selfish, " He stopped and then said, "Never mind, it's not important. Do you want a beer?"

Viggo looked at him a moment, then shrugged, dismissing it. "Your opinion. And yes. Oh _ wait, no. Raincheck? I have a meeting with my agent... half an hour ago," he added, checking his watch and grinning. "See you later?"

"Sure, I'll see you then. Be careful." Craig said as he picked his phone up from the counter. Dialing the number Craig leaned against the counter tapping his finger as the phone rang.

"Hello," Marton said, answering the phone without looking at the number and resting the book he was reading against his chest.

"Hi Marton. How are you?" Craig said, a smile lighting his face.

"Craig? Is that you?" Marton whipped the phone away, checking the number. "It is you_ how are you anyway? Christ_ I haven't heard from you in forever!"

"I'm great. How are you doing? How's Spain?"

" Spain's all right_ wait until you see some of the costumes. Am I being a complete and utter diva if I complain that the white robes make me look fat? Nah, not after all your whining about the Haldir wig making your face... I can't even remember how you described it," Marton grinned.

"Small animal storing nuts." Craig said and laughed. "I can't wait. And white robes huh? So, how is it working with Orlando again?"

"Wow. That was an incredibly unsubtle topic shift," Marton said dryly. "It's fine. I leave him alone, he leaves me alone. It's better that way. We really don't have that much screen time together, so it's not like it's difficult. Although, I have to say, playing the cuckolded husband with him involved is a little too close to memory for me, thanks so much."

"Ahh Marton," Craig said and rubbed his hand against his forehead. He had already decided that Orlando was not going to get the opportunity to hurt this beautiful man again. "Sorry that you're having to even be around the little bastard." Craig said and then paused a second. "And the subject change was because he is the subject I called about. He called Viggo earlier, whining."

"Hey_ I took the part, didn't I? It isn't like I didn't know he'd be here," Marton sighed, and then frowned. "He called Viggo? Viggo called you? Okay, I'm sorry, but you've lost me."

Craig chuckled. "Guess I'm not making much sense. Okay, I'm in Los Angeles, visiting Viggo. He _ uh _ we are together, somewhat. When we're both in the same hemisphere we get together. Anyway, so Orlando called Viggo. He does that quite a bit, when he's feeling down and his esteem needs a boost. The last time he called he had made an arse of himself by hitting on Jeremy Irons and had been told to go away _ not so politely though and then he called a bit ago."

Marton rubbed his forehead, trying to take in the barrage of information Craig had just thrown at him. "Okay, you're going to need to hang on a moment while I think that all through. Orlando hit on Jeremy?" he asked, surprised, and yet, at the same time, really not.

"Apparently so. I'm sorry Marton, I just thought you needed to know. I seems that Orlando, being true to form, made a rather messy pass at Jeremy. Who had better sense than the rest of us and put him out on his arse." Craig got quiet for a minute. "And then he saw you leaving Jeremy's room."

"Jesus Christ." Marton closed his eyes, sagging back against the couch again. "It's not like it's any huge secret, or there's anything really there other'n sex, watching football and him making fun of what I drink, but still_ he's calling and telling Viggo? And what is he doing spying on me anyway?" Marton said, his voice hot with indignation.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he was spying on Jeremy because it upset him that you two were together. It, amusingly enough, has caused a bit of jealousy in Orlando that you got Jeremy when he couldn't. I can only imagine that he's trying to figure out how to remedy that." Craig said. "I just had to tell you Marton, I can't stand the thought of him trying to hurt you _ again."

"I didn't get Jeremy. No one "gets" Jeremy_ Christ," Marton opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Why won't he just let it go? It was five years ago and god knows I've moved past it." Tried to move past it.

"Maybe that's his problem, not only is he so selfish that he thinks he can sleep with whomever he pleases, but that they owe him something. I don't know Marton, I just think that where Orlando is concerned forewarned is forearmed. So, take care of yourself and don't let him upset you. And let me hear from you, yeah?"

"Yeah," Marton said distractedly, still overwhelmed by all of this_ unnerved at the idea of Orlando following him around and spying on him, hating being put in this situation. Once again feeling the way that he had after things broke down in New Zealand. A feeling he hated. Used.

"Yeah," he repeated, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Craig. I do appreciate you calling me. I'm just a little thrown by this. I've missed you, you know?"

"I missed you too Marton. We don't see enough of each other. When you come back home let me know, we'll get together. Have dinner and a lot to drink, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect. Take care, Craig. Say hi to Viggo for me, all right?"

"Sure Marton. Bye."

Marton hung up the phone, tossing it angrily onto the coffee table, followed by his book, getting up and pacing across the room. Who the fuck did Orlando think he was? he thought, clenching his fists in frustration. Ignoring him wasn't working. Telling him to stay away wasn't working. Maybe it was time to show him.

*****

Chapter 14

Orlando stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pull and tug of muscles. He looked to where Ridley and the tech stood and then stepped forward when Ridley nodded at him.

"Alright Orlando, let's get this one, right?" Ridley said and patted him on the shoulder.

Smiling and offering a tight nod Orlando waited for the marker and then began moving through the scene.

Every man of arms, or capable of bearing them_ kneel. ON YOUR KNEES!

He waited, muscles tensing with the passion of the moment.

Be without fear in the face of your enemies
Be brave and upright that God may love thee
Speak the truth_ always_ even if it leads to your death
That is your oath.

He drew back and backhanded the air in front of Kevin's face, then finished.

...and that is so you will remember it
Rise a knight _ rise, a knight!

Ridley called cut and Orlando sagged, the adrenalin pulsing through his lean, muscled frame causing him to quiver. He looked around and saw that a crowd of crew and cast members had formed; ducking his head he moved to the edge of the set, looking up he saw Marton. As his eyes locked with the deep beautiful dark gaze, Orlando made a decision and started toward him.

Marton cursed at himself for watching for so long. He hadn't meant to, but like everyone else, the scene had drawn him in. Well, we all know he's one hell of an actor, don't we? he thought sourly, turning to go.

"Marton." Orlando called, his voice carrying. "Marton, please." He walked within a few feet of the man and stopped.

"What do you want, Orlando?" Marton sighed, pausing but not turning around.

Orlando took a breath and lifted his chin marginally. "I'd like to talk to you a minute, please."

"Honestly, Orlando? I'd really rather not," Marton said crisply, turning to go again.

"I understand. I'm asking, Marton, I'm begging. Give me five minutes." Orlando said and took a step forward. "This has gone on long enough."

"You, begging?" Marton snorted. "I'm not talking about anything here, Orlando. We're in the middle of a movie set, just in case you hadn't noticed that."

Orlando looked around and then pointed. "There. It's quiet, there's even a door. Please. Five minutes?" Orlando stepped toward a room built into the set.

Marton held out a few more moments, his eyes stubborn, then sighed, following Orlando. "This is a waste of time," he grumbled under his breath.

Entering the room, Orlando turned and closed the door behind Marton. A soft light entered from the high windows cut into the walls along the ceiling line. He fidgeted with his tunic. "Marton." He started and then paused, swallowing. "Okay, I owe you an apology. I acted like a bastard back during Rings. You deserved better _ you deserve better."

"And you just came to this realization all of a sudden, five years after the fact?" Marton rolled his eyes. "Whether you do or not, bit late, don't you think?"

"Marton, listen. Let me ask you a question. Back then, did you _" Orlando stopped and licked his lips. "Marton did you think we were _ what did you think we were, back then?"

Marton folded his arms and looked stubborn. "I thought you wanted to talk. This isn't you talking, this is you asking me questions about things that I've wanted to put behind me for over five years."

Orlando reached and laid his hand on Marton's arm. "I didn't know. I was stupid and I hurt you and I'm sorry."
Stepping back, Orlando's touch sending a jolt through him that he was not comfortable with, Marton tried unsuccessfully to keep the hurt out of his eyes. "I accept your apology_ are we done here?" he said, fidgeting.

Orlando pulled his hand back, curling the fingers under and tucking his fist under his chin. "No, I _ I've missed you. I _ can we _ can we try again?" Orlando asked, his brow furrowed.

You haven't missed me_ you miss having someone to fuck around with, and no one here who you are interested in is giving you the time of day, Marton stopped himself from saying. "Try again? When exactly did we try the first time? You were just playing around until you found something you liked better."

"Well, that isn't completely wrong, but it isn't completely true either." Orlando stepped closer. "Marton, I was a bastard, we have already established that. I did you wrong, but I want to make it up to you." He stepped close enough to feel the heat from Marton's skin where he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Please." He said, voice dropping low.

"You think this is something you can just 'make up' for? What_ bake me a cake, leave a rose on my doorstep?" Marton desperately wanted to move away, but refused to step back, not wanting to admit it. "This is the real world, Orlando, we're not knights swearing fealty or service in exchange for past wrongs."

"No, this is something that I regret and _ hell Marton _ I don't know." Suddenly Orlando's eyes flew wide. "What do you want? What can I do _ I'll swear an oath to you, I'll get on my knees for you. Do you want that Marton? Me, on my knees _ here. Everyone out there, and me here kneeling for you."

Right, fix everything with sex_ typical. And here you're trying to convince me that you've changed, Marton thought, only just keeping his lip from curling in disgust. "That's what you want, huh? To be on your knees for me?" he deadpanned.

"Yes, if it'll make you happy." Orlando ran his hand across Marton's arm. "I want you to know that I'm sorry, that I really want to try this _ us."

There is no us_ you're just pissed because Jeremy turned you down and now you're blueballed and looking for something familiar. Marton thought, getting more and more annoyed all the time. You don't have the vaguest clue what being an 'us' means. "You don't even know what the words you're saying mean," Marton snorted, letting his arms fall, Orlando's hand dropping away.

"Then teach me." Orlando said and folded to his knees, caressing his hands down Marton's thighs. Looking up, dark gaze locked on Marton's beautiful face, Orlando reached long fingers and unfastened Marton's trousers. Opening the fly he ran the tip of his finger over the soft full curve of cloth covered cock. He glanced down, leaning and nuzzling his nose into the V of fabric and inhaling Marton's scent. "I had forgotten how incredible you smelled. I am so sorry." He said softly and rubbed his face against the heavy warmth of Marton's erection.
"Don't_ Orlando, don't," Marton murmured, trying to move back. "I'm not asking you to do this."

"I know you aren't asking, but I am." Orlando looked up at Marton, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. "I want to do this _ for you. I missed you, how you taste."

Always what you want_ what you missed. This isn't about me at all_ this is about you getting to feel better about yourself. Marton thought, not moving away, but not moving closer either.

Orlando tucked his fingers into the waistband of Marton's shorts and lifted them out and over the thickening flesh, a smile forming as he saw that he could still cause Marton to get hard. With long slim fingers, Orlando reached and pulled the man's cock out and licked a wet line across the head, humming in pleasure at the remembered taste.

Marton bit back a moan, his breath hitching. This doesn't mean anything, Marton. You know how this works. First he goes to his knees, and then he brings you to yours. And then he breaks your heart. Don't let it mean anything.

"No one has ever tasted as good as you." Orlando said, tugging at Marton's pants until he could get his fingers under the thick base and gently knead his balls. He kissed the head as it stiffened, red and velvety. "God, I love this."

In danger of smiling for a moment in reaction to the compliment, Marton schooled his face back to neutral. No one, huh? Just how many no one's have you said that particular one to?
"You look good there," he murmured. Like the slut you are. Like I'm one to talk about that, but at least I never hurt anyone. Me, Craig, Dave... how many more, Orlando? I've never hurt anyone. Yet.

Orlando smiled at the words, feeling better that Marton was letting him do this, knowing that he and Marton could make this work. He opened his mouth and lowered it on to the head, swirling his tongue around the ridge and across the slit. He sighed happily and took the length deep, feeling it nudge the back of his throat.

Marton closed his eyes, fisting his hand in Orlando's hair, thrusting gently into his mouth, hissing at the feel of it. "More," he growled, tugging at his hair, remembering vaguely how he'd regretted Orlando not having any hair to tug on back in New Zealand.

Orlando relaxed his throat and let Marton's thrusts control the pace. He ran his tongue against the underside and hollowed his cheeks. With a steady gentle hand he massaged the tight sac underneath.

Marton moved faster, feeling himself losing control, trying to be gentle at first, then forgetting _ his hips snapping with every thrust, fucking Orlando's throat.

Humming around the flesh Orlando moaned, encouraging Marton with sounds and touches. He swallowed and whimpered.
Letting out a sound that was almost a sob, disgusted with both himself and Orlando that this had happened, Marton came, fingers tightening in Orlando's hair as he spilled down his throat, his entire body shaking.

Orlando sighed, letting Marton finish, patting at the man's thighs and easing his head back, licking at the flesh before releasing it gently. He pulled back and looked up smiling. "Oh god, I missed the way you taste. I love doing that."

Marton turned away to do up his pants, not wanting to look into Orlando's eyes, unable to process what he was feeling, the scene he'd just watched Orlando shooting running through his head, contrasting with the one from the rushes_ the one with Orlando on his knees. Be without fear, in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that God may love thee. Speak the truth_ even if it leads to your death. Protect the helpless_ "_and do no wrong," he said, suddenly speaking aloud as he turned to face Orlando, his eyes dark and scornful. "That is your oath," he said, raising his hand and backhanding Orlando hard across the cheek. "And that is so you will remember it."

Orlando fell backwards, eyes flying wide and hand going to his face. "Marton! What?" Orlando scrambled to stand, his costume getting in his way as it got under his knees and feet. "Marton, what'd I do? Why?" He said, looking up at the man.

"It's not just what you did, Orlando. It's what you are. The way you use people. And I'm not falling for it a second time." Marton looked around the room and sneered again. "At least this place didn't stink the way that alley did. I wonder if David minded. Or Craig. Or Karl. No_ don't get up," he warned, seeing Orlando about try to struggle to his feet again. "May as well stay down there. Save you the trouble of having to kneel again when the next person comes around the corner."

"Craig? Karl. Oh fuck, Marton, I didn't know. I was _ I fucked up. Please." He got to one knee, trying to stand. "I want to talk _ to try and explain, or just _ Marton, please."

"No!" Marton yelled, angry now. "What does it take, Orlando? Do I have to hit you across the face again? I don't want your explanations, your excuses, your false promises, or your lies. I don't want to hear it, and I don't want to understand. I don't want you. And if I did love you, it was a mistake. Probably the biggest mistake I ever made, after getting involved with you in the first place, even when I was warned about what you are. You don't always get what you want, and it's well past time you learned that. Because you sure as hell aren't ever going to have me."

"You did love me." Orlando finally got to his feet and reached for Marton. "Please! It wasn't a mistake. Goddamnit Marton. I didn't know! I _ didn't know." He was almost yelling by this time.

"I don't care," Marton yelled back, desperate to get out of the room, backing away from Orlando and reaching for the door. "It is a mistake_ was a mistake. And it doesn't matter anyway, because I don't love you now." He raised his head and looked directly into Orlando's eyes. "You disgust me," he spat, jerking the door open and walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Orlando stood and stared at the door before letting out a scream and kicking the stone wall, cursing and limping backwards.

*****

Chapter 15

Orlando paced around the hotel room one more time, stopping to grab the bottle off of the dresser and taking a drink. The beer was warm and flat, and fit his mood perfectly. Fucking Mortensen. He stomped across the room again, the entire afternoon had been spent replaying every word that he and Marton had said to each other over the last five years. He remembered everything he had done, and not done _ and the conclusion that Orlando had finally come to was that he was a spoiled stupid cunt, that and the fact that it was all together possible that he was in love with Marton Csokas. "Fuck me." He snatched up his phone and dialed.

Craig yelled for Viggo to answer his phone before he remembered that Viggo wasn't in the house. Moving a few pieces of paper and a leaf _ painted blue? "Jesus Viggo," Craig muttered and then answered. "Yeah hello?"

"Viggo?" Orlando asked, frowning, knowing he wasn't drunk enough to think Viggo had an accent. "Uh, this isn't Vig?"

"No, it's not. Who is this?" Craig said curtly, biting back a curse as he realized that the paint on the leaf was oil paint, still wet, and that his thumb was now blue.

"This is Orlando Bloom, and who is this?" Orlando said and then deflated some, sitting on the bed. "I want Viggo please." He said in a less stilted tone.

Craig snorted at Orlando's choice of words. "Why am I not surprised," he said dryly. "Viggo's not here, so I can't help you with that."

"Okay, who is this please? Assuming this is his phone, who are you?"

"You don't recognize my voice, do you? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at that either. You probably don't address any of the people you fucked when you can't see them for fear you might use the wrong name." Craig said, gritting his teeth.

"Craig?" Orlando asked. "Yeah. Now I remember. Vig said you were there. How are _" He stopped, Craig's words sinking in and realization of yet another 'mistake' from his past slamming into him. "Oh hell, Craig. I _ I'm sorry man. Damn, first Marton, now this."

"Spare me your worthless excuses_ what about Marton? What did you do to him this time?" Craig snarled.

"I didn't do _ what the fuck Craig? Is someone taking out adverts about me these days? I tried to talk to Marton, Viggo told me _ well the bastard bloody well told me that Marton loved me and I was stupid enough to believe him and I threw myself at him."

"Nobody needed to tell me anything, you're in the same film, and it's not like how you are is any secret to me," Craig snorted again. "Just leave him alone_ haven't you ruined enough of his life?"

"What are you, his mum?" Orlando said with sudden undisguised derision. "Where is Viggo and when will he get back? And I didn't ruin anybody's life. I never promised anybody anything! Dammit! I never fucking promised anything. I was twenty two _ it was all just for fun!" Orlando rubbed his hand across his brow, as he tried to calm down.

"I was there, Orlando_ I was there when I watched him watch you put the moves on Karl, just the same way you did on him. And me. I saw his face, you fucking cunt. You don't get to beg off by saying you were just twenty_two."

"He saw." Orlando stood up and began pacing. "He saw Karl and me and, Christ. No wonder. No wonder he hates me." He stopped and concentrated on breathing. "I've got to fix this. Craig, I've got to fix this. 'Cause I think I love him."

Craig's heart stopped. "You what?"

"I _ I've got no clue how to do this, any of this, but it's entirely possible that I love Marton." Orlando stopped and blinked then he smiled. "Oh my god, I really do love him. Craig, I need to talk to Viggo."

"You leave him alone_ you have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Craig hissed at Orlando, clenching tightly to the phone. "You just can't believe there's someone who doesn't fall to his knees at the sight of you and you can't take it."

"No. Craig, it's not like that." Orlando said, confused at the emotions he was feeling and at anger coming from Craig. "This is right, this is _ yeah _ this is right. Marton loved me once."
"Well, he doesn't love you now," Craig answered back quickly. "Not after Karl, that's for sure. Why am I not surprised that once again, you're only thinking about what you want. Selfish little cunt."

"You know, fuck off Craig." Orlando said with a growl. "You're a bastard and you were a lousy lay."

Craig's fingers turned white as his grip on the phone tightened. "Huh_ that's not what Viggo said earlier today when I fucked him into the mattress... right after we had a good laugh over you and Jeremy. I would have paid good money to see that one, Orlando. I can just imagine you gaping like a fish at the idea that someone didn't want you."

Orlando stuttered, Craig's words cutting through him. He pulled the phone away from his ear and pushed the end button, laying it down on the table. He sat down on the bed and lay back, curling his arms around his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, what was that gate number? Un huh?" Craig held the phone against his shoulder and scribbled the information down as the travel agent rattled it off. "Okay, thanks. I will, goodbye." He tossed the phone on the bed and closed the bag, looking around the room.

Viggo closed the door, shaking his head and laughing to himself, looking forward to the look on Craig's face when he told him about what Dennis had been up to when he'd shown up. "Craig?" he called, tossing his keys on the table and looking around for him.

"Fuck." Craig ran his hand through his hair. "I'm in here Viggo." He called.

Viggo followed Craig's voice to the bedroom, talking as he walked. "Christ, Dennis is a crazy bastard_ be glad you didn't come over with me. He was_" Viggo cut off, frowning as he looked around the room. "Did I forget you were going somewhere?"

"No." Craig stopped and turned to look at Viggo. "I know I was supposed to be here for another week, but," He sighed. "I'm going to Spain."

Viggo stared at Craig, completely confused. "Since when?"

"Since I talked to that little bastard Orlando and he's decided he loves Marton, and Marton loves him." Craig said with a sneer and then mumbled. "Arrogant little prick."

"You talked... all right, hang on. One bit at a time_ you talked to Orlando? When_ I can't remember the last time you spoke to him_ you told me it had been years." Viggo said, and then frowned. "And I know you and Orlando don't have the best history, and I understand you don't like him, but he's a friend of mine, Craig."

"I understand that he's your friend, Viggo. He's a lot of people's friend. He called here to whine to you about Marton not falling all over himself in love the way Orlando thought he should." Craig stopped and looked at Viggo and gave him a soft smile. "I'm sorry Viggo, this _ you and I, has been great, but we knew it wasn't a forever thing. I _ I can't let Orlando tear Marton up again. Marton deserves better than that, better than Orlando."

Viggo put his hands on his hips and looked at Craig. "What you're not saying, but what you're meaning is that Marton deserves you. Or that you've decided he does," he said bluntly.

Craig squinted at Viggo; jaw tight for a minute before he spoke. "Maybe he does. Maybe Marton just needs someone that won't treat him like he's the flavor of the month. I'm sorry Viggo, but I need to do this, and I need to do it now."

"Oh_ so, basically, you don't want Orlando to treat Marton the way... you're treating me right now?" Viggo rolled his eyes. "I don't need your apology. Although I have to admit I am curious about what it is that took you so long if it's been Marton this whole time for you. Do you actually want him_ or are you just scared that Orlando might actually be right?"

Craig looked at Viggo with an incredulous look. "Do you actually think that little bastard is capable of love?"

"Why not? Just because he was selfish and thought with his cock when he was twenty-two? Does that mean he can't ever change? And get right off your high horse, Craig, because I'm telling you right now, you're not that much better."

"I beg your pardon?" Craig said. "This from the man that _ you know _ I don't have time for this. I've a plane to catch." He grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door. "Take it easy Viggo."

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Craig," Viggo said, his tone perfectly polite.

*****

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