title: freefall
author: annie oates
fandom: lotr|rps
pairing: orlando bloom/elijah wood
rating: nc-17
archive: ask.
disclaimers: not real. not mine. deny everything.
warnings: rps, slash
summery: elijah asks, orlando angsts.
feedback: Always welcome.
thanks: go out to kate* for the fantabulous beta, any mistakes are mine.



"Sweet Jesus..."

Elijah's whispered exclamation was abruptly stopped when a hand, none too gently, slapped over his lips.

"Shut up.... just... don't talk. Okay?" the other man responded.

Instead of nodding, the younger of the two slid his tongue out, over the calloused fingers.

"Don't.... no, you can't do... Stop. Be still for me."

Orlando pressed his shoulder against Lij's sternum, keeping the smaller man propped against the wardrobe. Angling his head away, he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself... to stop the familiar rush. It was just too much.

The whole shoot, he was always in character, whether the cameras were rolling or not. He'd thought he'd be able to get away, to separate during one of their infrequent adventures, to lapse back into the role of Orlando, best mate, crazy git. Take off the elf and walk as a man... but even that was denied him. The others insisted on referring to one another as their characters, making it impossible to leave it behind. At night, he'd lie in bed, a hand over himself with that goddamned callous chafing and reminding.

He couldn't be that elf right now.

And Elijah couldn't be that hobbit. The one who suffered so beautifully, whose relationship with the ring made him sneak out of the dailies with his hat strategically placed...the sheer want on his face as he held the ring in front of him. He begged a God he didn't believe in that no one would ever tell this kid to "...make love to the camera." As it was, with every close up of Frodo, they were approaching porn. The audiences would be mad for it, Orlando knew. He certainly was, mad and trapped and fitfully smitten by a soft spoken hero. The one he watched become a little more tortured with each passing day. The one who wore the ring off-set. The one who had said, in that same dulcet tone of the hobbit, "I want to taste you."

He'd slammed the younger man against the wardrobe and simply... growled, provoking the hushed response. Maybe it was more than Lij was asking for, but Orlando couldn't stand for him to move. As long as he stayed there, quiet like that, he would be the geeky man-child who didn't quite fit in his own space and Orlando would be the clumsy thrill-seeker who had stumbled quite accidentally into his mate. As long as he could pretend, could crystallize the moment into something innocent, he was safe. And tomorrow, he could go throw himself off another bridge and, for just a brief moment, fly... before daring the Power that rushed over, through him to take and keep him. Because when all was said and done, he knew he'd walk away from it, He/She/It didn't want him... had proven that. But this...

He dared a look up into the still face... that fucking look.

His rosebud mouth was almost a sneer. Brows knit together in concentration. Head pressed against the dark wood, knob pushing into the small of his back. And he looked... he looked like Frodo. His shirt slightly open, pulse beating in a corded neck. Bare skin, smooth, whisper soft. And.. blank. No chain, no ring. Just flesh.

Orlando swiveled his head up. And. Bit. Soft over hard and tangy and the whimper was... He slid up the immobile body, shoulder smacking chin, making the wardrobe shudder with the impact. Meaning to plead or walk away or anything but lean in and snarl. Thin lips drawn back over teeth, and Elijah, the bastard, couldn't have the decency to look scared. Instead, a half-moan escaping from between slender fingers... olive over ivory.

Orlando squeezed, knowing he'd leave marks, hard with it. Twisting, shouldering Lij's head up another notch, drawing more tender flesh to him. He scraped his teeth across an ear, black eyes flashing a dare into blue. Ran his tongue over the edge, tasting, soothing. Hearing Lij's teeth click at his shudder. Those eyes... still looking at him, watching him.

Orlando dropped his free hand and undid his jeans. Then replaced his shoulder with his elbow and finally his hand, he slid fingers up to cover Elijah's eyes. Keeping both eyes and mouth concealed, he pressed the younger man down the wardrobe, feeling the jolt as the knob connected with Lij's skull. When he finally hit his knees to the floor, Orlando removed the hand from his mouth and pushed forward into open heat.

Branded.

The only word he could grasp. He held to it, not thrusting, just stillness. His face against the polished wood, eyes screwed shut. Holding Elijah between, behind the darkness of his hand.

The rushing was back, muscles tight with it. Not moving, not him, but rather, the world. Up and around and through. Stripped bare, Orlando was sure, if held to the light, Frodo would read the markings upon his skin. The mouth around him didn't bother with delicate licks and nibbles. Instead, sucked with a force that hollowed cheeks and drew him deeper into Elijah's throat. Lij held his arms at his sides, fingers tucked into the creases behind his knees. Pulling Orlando forward with his mouth, alone. The older man let himself be drawn in and down. The heat blinding him, throat constricting as Lij struggled for air. Neither willing to move.

Orlando flattened himself against the wardrobe, not caring about the marks it would leave on his face and felt ...just once, Lij swallow around him. He broke then, his hand gripping Elijah's face, shoving his head harder into the wood. Falling, impossibly fast, waiting for the snap of the safety cord that would never come.

Lij let him slip from his mouth, tensing like he wanted to lean into the fingers wrapped over him. Snatching them away, Orlando anchored them on the side of the wardrobe and ground out between clenched teeth, "Get out."

"Orli..."

He could feel the younger man's confusion and hurt, but didn't dare look down... too much.

"Just... now."

Lij slid out from beneath him and stood, shaky. Took a couple steps toward the door and stopped. Wet mouth opening audibly... Orlando felt bitter stings behind his closed eyes.

"Walk. Away."
                           ...because I can't.

end.