"I can't believe how much this is going to make me sound like I'm in love with the guy."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Orlando knew they were a mistake. Not because he didn't love Viggo but because he did.  The interview for Premiere magazine's feature on Viggo was the perfect opportunity for Orlando to declaim on his favorite of all topics, the love of his life.  It was also the perfect opportunity for his mouth to get him in trouble.

If it had been up to him, Orlando wouldn't have beat around the bush.

He would have told the interviewer in no uncertain terms what Viggo's role was in his life. But it wasn't up to Orlando.  At least not completely.  Viggo didn't want him to tell the public because Viggo didn't want the attention. Orlando could understand that so he tried to respect Viggo's wishes.

The movie execs wouldn't have wanted Orlando to tell the public, if they had known, because it would be bad press for the world to know that their two heartthrobs were, in fact, shagging each other. Orlando didn't particularly care about the execs, but he understood that if he wanted to keep working in Hollywood, he couldn't afford to get a rep as difficult to work with.

Robin didn't want him to tell anyone because she was afraid that his fans would desert him, and that would make it impossible for him to work. He wasn't sure what the reaction of the fans would be, but he hated hiding the way he felt, pretending to be something and someone he was not. And so, his mouth had run away with him.  He laughed, trying to turn the words into a joke, but he knew they would end up in the article. Something that juicy would be big news.

He sighed and finished the interview, keeping a tight watch on what he was saying, trying to sound like a good friend and amicable colleague rather than like a besotted lover.  He left the interview, resigned to the explosion that would inevitably come.  And it did.

After he attended the Los Angeles premiere of The Two Towers, he was pulled into a meeting and informed that he would not be attending any of the other premieres for the film until the publicity over his little stunt died down.  Orlando accepted without protest – he didn't have any real choice anyway – and went back to filming Pirates.

Inside, though, he was screaming. The premieres were one of the few occasions when he and Viggo could appear together in public without it causing rumors, and he had been looking forward to the press junket.

Instead, it would be Karl who would travel with Viggo.  That didn't bother Orlando. He trusted Viggo completely, but he wanted to be the one at Viggo's side.  He didn't even get to go to the airport to see Viggo off.

Orlando was on the set, filming with Keira, when the first package arrived.  There was no name on the return address, but Orlando didn't need a name to recognize the handwriting. Viggo had sent the gift, which meant it could be anything: something as harmless as a book of poetry or as risqué as the bright pink dildo Viggo had sent him on the Black Hawk Down set.  Regardless of where on the spectrum the gift fell, it would be the kind of thoughtful, personal gift that Viggo always sent, and so he refused to open it in front of the others.

He spent the day in a warm haze of anticipation, feeling less lonely already, just knowing that Viggo was thinking of him.  When he got home that night, he opened the package and found a small, delicately wrapped box. He examined the paper and found that it was a poem, one he had not read before.  He had tears in his eyes by the time he was done reading Viggo's words of love and longing. This wasn't a poem for publication. This was only for him. Then, he opened the box and found a small, polished stone and a note.  "I picked this up when we were in New Zealand last summer. It's from the hillside where we watched the fireworks. Do you remember, angel?"

The note was not signed, either, but it didn't need a signature.  Only one person called Orlando angel, and only one person had shared the fireworks with him. Only one person wrote him love poems. Only one person made him feel like the center of the universe. Love and loneliness washed over Orlando.  It comforted him to know that Viggo was thinking of him, even while they were apart, but the thoughtful gift reminded him again that they could have been together if Orlando had not thoughtlessly run his mouth.  He put the stone with the other charms that he always had with him and prepared for bed. He would get a hole drilled in the stone so he could wear it with the others. Until then, he could carry it in his pocket. With that thought, and a soft smile on his face, he fell asleep.

The second package arrived two days later, while he and Johnny were filming the scenes of Captain Jack's hanging.  Unlike Keira, Johnny didn't want to let Orlando wait to open the package. He insisted that Orlando open it right there.  Praying that Viggo had sent something equally sentimental and equally safe, Orlando gave in to Johnny's demands and opened the gift.  There was no poem this time. Simply a lot of the Styrofoam popcorn used in packing. When Orlando dug into the box, his hand closed around something cold and hard. Afraid of what he might be about to reveal to Johnny, he wrapped his fingers around the object and pulled it out to find an empty wine bottle.

"Why would anyone send you an empty wine bottle?" Johnny asked, confused.

Orlando didn't have to ask, though. He knew exactly why Viggo had sent that bottle.  They had drunk it on the hillside watching the fireworks.  "Because it makes me remember," Orlando answered cryptically.

"Remember what?" Johnny demanded, but Orlando merely smiled and refused to say more.  The smile didn't leave his face for the rest of the day.  When he got back to his room that night, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Viggo's number. There was no answer, but Orlando hadn't expected one.

"I love you," he said to the recorder. "Thanks."

He didn't know when Viggo would get the message, but he hoped his lover would understand. Viggo's little gifts were just what Orlando needed.

The third and fourth gifts both arrived the day after that.  Orlando managed to intercept those packages before Johnny saw them. He didn't relish having to explain to Johnny why he was getting so many presents.  When he got home, he tore into them immediately.  One box contained a pinecone, painted bright yellow and dipped in lacquer.

"From the ranch in Idaho, for the light of my life," the note said.

Grinning wildly, Orlando opened the second box. It contained a button.

The empty bottle had needed no explanation. Nor had the pinecone. Even the stone was pretty understandable, but Orlando could not figure out why Viggo was sending him a button.  He dug in the box for a note.  "I found this on the floor," Viggo had written, "the morning after you first made love to me. I guess it got ripped off in our enthusiasm."

Orlando remembered that night like it was yesterday.  He and Viggo had been lovers for almost six months. Principal filming for Lord of the Rings was almost over and the cast would be going their separate ways at the end of the week, most in time to reach home for Christmas.

Viggo and Orlando had debated endlessly what they were going to do.

Viggo had to stay until the beginning of January to finish some scenes, and Orlando's mother wanted to see him before he left to start filming Black Hawk Down in Morocco.  As much as they had wanted to spend the holidays together, they just couldn't figure out a way to make it possible without drawing more attention to themselves than they wanted.  And so, three days before Christmas, they had tried to figure out how to say good-bye, knowing it would be weeks, if not months before they saw each other again.  They had celebrated the end of filming with the entire cast, talking and dancing, reminiscing and drinking, long into the night. Viggo and Orlando had been careful, though, to watch how much they had to drink That night would be their last night together, and neither wanted to be too sick to enjoy or too drunk to remember the very private celebration they had planned.

Orlando, for one, was quite sure that the memories of that night were all that would get him through the intervening months.

In all the time that they had been lovers, Viggo had always been the one to top, even when Orlando was the one in charge, an arrangement that suited Orlando just fine. He loved the feeling of Viggo coming inside him, moving within him, filling and completing him as nothing else had ever done.  As far as Orlando was concerned, their arrangement needed never to change.  Viggo, though, had asked Orlando to consider adjusting their dynamic, even if only for one night. He had suggested their last night in New Zealand. Orlando couldn't deny Viggo anything, and he had agreed.

Orlando had been vibrating all day, with anticipation and anxiety.  It would never have occurred to him to suggest the change, but once Viggo brought it up, he realized how much he wanted it. Certainly not always, maybe not even often, but definitely that night.  He spent the wrap party caught between the desire that it never end so he wouldn't have to say good-bye, and the desire for it to end immediately so he could take Viggo home and to bed.

Finally, the party ended, and they drove home, Orlando all but bouncing in his seat.  By the time they made it to the house, such things as finesse had long since fled his mind. He had one thought, and one only: to get Viggo naked and in bed as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, Viggo had been of the same mind, and they had torn at each other's clothes frantically, desperate for skin-to-skin contact.

'That must have been when the button came off,' Orlando mused as he went deeper into memory.

The rush had continued right up until the moment came for Orlando to stretch Viggo. He'd never done that before, for one thing, which slowed him down. More importantly, though, he wanted the experience to be as perfect for Viggo as every moment in Viggo's arms had ever been for him. And that meant taking the time and care to prepare him properly.

Orlando's fingers had trembled as he squeezed lube onto them, rubbing them together to make sure they were coated. His arm was trembling when he applied that first finger to Viggo's entrance, trying to go slowly, afraid that his perception of slowly wouldn't be slow enough.

By the time he had Viggo ready for his penetration, his whole body was trembling. And then he slid home, buried in Viggo's heat, surrounded by his body and his love, and he had trembled for an entirely different reason. He had trembled because the force of his love for the man in his arms was threatening to overwhelm him. Viggo hadn't let him fall, though. He had wrapped himself around Orlando, arms and legs, and encouraged him to give them what they both wanted. The evening, which had started out in such heat and frenzy, ended in tenderness the likes of which Orlando had only rarely known.

He looked down at the button in his hand.  Viggo loved him, runaway mouth and all. Orlando picked up the phone and dialed Viggo's number.

Once again, he got his lover's voice mail.  This time, though, he was going to leave a longer message.

"I got another present today," he told the recorder as if Viggo were the one listening. "I didn't know why you'd sent it at first, but then I read your note.  Do you have any idea how much I love you?  I probably don't tell you enough, and I know I don't show it the way you do. I wouldn't even know where to begin. The little thoughtful gestures, the mementoes of our life together, even if we're apart more than we're together these days… They mean so much to me. Knowing you love me means so much to me. I miss you so much. I was so excited about getting to be together at all the premieres and appearances. I'm so sorry I fucked up. I…"

He couldn't say any more. The tears running down his cheeks had clogged his throat.  He hung up and buried his face in his pillow, suddenly feeling incredibly alone. He knew they wouldn't be filming on Christmas day, but the short break wasn't enough time to fly wherever Viggo was for promotionals, and they didn't dare risk being seen together after what the movie execs had said.   Johnny had his family, and Keira had friends nearby. Orlando would be alone.

The next day, no package came. Orlando told himself it was because he'd gotten two the day before. He kept his smile firmly in place and refused to feel sorry for himself.

When another day went by with no package, he had to call on his skills as an actor to hide his disappointment.

On the third day, his acting skills failed him. Johnny noticed almost immediately. "What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," Orlando replied.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Johnny observed. "It might help to talk about it."

Orlando shook his head.

"Well, at least say you'll spend Christmas with Vanessa, the kids and me. You don't want to be alone on Christmas day."

"I couldn't impose like that," Orlando declined.

"Nonsense," Johnny retorted. "It isn't an imposition if we invite you."

Orlando shook his head again. "Thanks, Johnny. I really appreciate the thought, but I'd just ruin the mood, and I don't want to do that to your kids. It's not their fault I'm alone for the holidays."

"Whose fault is it?" Johnny asked.

"Mine," Orlando said, walking away. He made it through that day of filming, the last before Christmas, and, resisting Johnny's repeated invitation, and Keira's as well when she realized, he went back to his place to wallow in loneliness.  Viggo hadn't called, hadn't sent any more presents, didn't seem to care that Orlando was alone. Did Viggo not love him anymore? He opened the door and walked inside, wondering what would be left in his life without Viggo. Fame and fortune were all well and good, but he needed more than that if he was going to stay sane.

The first thing he noticed was that his mail was not scattered on the floor like it usually was when he came in. He frowned. "Did the mail not come today?" he muttered to himself. "It isn't a holiday or a Sunday."

He walked further inside and that's when he saw it.  Propped up on an easel in the middle of his living room was a painting. That had definitely not been there when he left that morning.  He walked closer to it, examining it carefully. At first, it was just shapes, but as he looked at it more closely, he made out the shape of a tree, and then a bird in that tree. A glance in the corner where Viggo always signed his paintings revealed not Viggo's name but the words, "Your True Love."  It took Orlando a minute to understand, but then he laughed.

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree,' he sang, slightly off key.

"Along with a rock and a bottle, a pinecone and a button," Viggo's voice came from the doorway. "I know they're not part of the song, but I thought they'd mean more than seven swans a-swimming or twelve drummers drumming."

Orlando threw himself across the room into Viggo's arms, pulling the other man's head down for a kiss. "What are you doing here?" he asked when he had to come up for breath.

"Spending Christmas with the most wonderful man in the world," Viggo replied.

"Oh?" Orlando asked. "Where is he? I'd like to meet him."

He yelped when Viggo swatted him playfully on the ass. "You," Viggo said in mock exasperation. "I'm spending Christmas with you. My one true love. Remember?"

"Oh, that," Orlando said, still teasing. "I'll have to check my calendar, see if I'm available."  He didn't know why he was teasing Viggo. He was so glad to see his lover that he could have cried from the sheer joy of it.

"Available, my ass," Viggo said, picking Orlando up and carrying him into the bedroom.  "I traveled all this way to be here with you, and you talk about being available."

Orlando laughed as Viggo dumped him on the bed. He opened his arms to Viggo.  "I'm always available for you, love," Orlando promised.

"That's better," Viggo said, moving onto the bed and into Orlando's arms.  He brought their lips together for a proper kiss. The simple touching of their lips was electric, but Viggo wanted more. His lips moved across Orlando's, sucking on his pouty lower lip before running his tongue over the soft skin.  Orlando moaned into his mouth, lips parting to let Viggo inside.  Viggo took quick advantage of Orlando's reaction, plunging his tongue into his lover's mouth, tasting the coffee he had drunk on set and reveling in the feel of Orlando's tongue against his.

He wanted to make love to Orlando gently, slowly, tenderly, showing him in gestures what he had been trying to show him with the gifts, but Orlando was clearly too much on edge to appreciate the thought.

Viggo was pretty sure he understood. The second message Orlando had left him on his voicemail was quite revealing. It was the desperation and the need in that message that had driven Viggo into action.

Realizing that Orlando would not be able to relax and enjoy any kind of tender lovemaking until he had some release from the tension that currently had him in its grip, Viggo abandoned the kiss and started stripping Orlando's clothes from his body. When his lover lay naked before him, Viggo dipped his head and swallowed Orlando in one gulp.

Orlando couldn't stop the shout of pleasure that escaped him when he felt Viggo's mouth close around his cock.  How Viggo had known what he needed was beyond Orlando's comprehension, but it was not a surprise.

Viggo always knew.  He tried to keep himself from thrusting forcefully into Viggo's mouth, but it was a losing battle, made worse when Viggo raised his head for a moment and whispered, "Don't hold back."

Viggo's mouth closed around Orlando's erection again and Orlando did as Viggo instructed. He let his passion dictate his movements, thrusting erratically into Viggo's throat in response to his lover's sucking.  He wanted to hold off his orgasm, to revel in Viggo's attentions for as long as possible, but Viggo's mouth and tongue were far too talented for Orlando's control. He gave up and spilled his seed down Viggo's welcoming throat.  Viggo simply swallowed around him, milking his cock of every drop.

When Orlando's tremors eased, Viggo released his now-flaccid cock.

"Better?" he asked.

Orlando hummed a little in reply.

"Good," Viggo said, taking that as assent. He stood for a moment to strip off his own clothes before coming back to lie next to Orlando, capturing the younger man's lips in a soft kiss. Orlando stirred slightly, but could not muster the energy to do more than lie back and enjoy Viggo's caress.  Viggo didn't seem to mind, brushing Orlando's curls off his forehead and running gentle fingers over his face.

Orlando felt his worries and fears evaporate as Viggo worshipped his face and then his body. No one could touch another with such care, such tenderness while angry or annoyed. Viggo didn't blame him for what had happened, even if Orlando could have controlled his words better.  That was in the past and slipping further and further away with each glide of Viggo's fingers across his skin, each pass of Viggo's lips against his or against his body.  Viggo loved him still, as totally and completely as he had before. Orlando felt surrounded by Viggo's love as his partner licked and stroked his skin.  "You've been working out," Viggo commented appreciatively as he discovered new muscles on Orlando's arms and shoulders.

"Sword play," Orlando gasped, trying to answer. "Different from archery."

Viggo certainly could sympathize, having trained to do both for Lord of the Rings, but his mind was not on such practical matters. All he cared about was rediscovering the delights of Orlando's body.  He lingered at the places only a long-time lover would know: the curve of Orlando's shoulder, the inside of his wrist, the sun tattoo that shouldn't have been more sensitive but was, the tattoo that all the Fellowship shared, the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. Only when he had paid homage to those places did Viggo slick his fingers with lube and begin to stretch Orlando for his penetration.

Orlando gave himself over completely to Viggo's care. His lover was so generous, so thoughtful. Orlando trusted Viggo to lead them toward ecstasy with a deft hand.  He pulled Viggo's mouth to his for a hot, wet kiss when he felt a finger slide into him gently. He ran his hands over every inch of Viggo's skin within his reach, wanting to return some of the pleasure that Viggo had given him.

Orlando cried out sharply as Viggo's fingers found his prostate. He moaned Viggo's name, all but incoherent with renewed desire.  "Need you," he gasped, fumbling for the lube that Viggo had dropped on the bed. "Now."

He coated Viggo's erection and guided him into place, lifting his knees to his chest, opening himself as completely as he knew how. He didn't worry about being vulnerable. Viggo would take care of him, would make this encounter as wonderful as every encounter since the first time.

When he felt Viggo's cock work its way past his sphincter, surging and withdrawing, rocking little by little deeper inside, Orlando felt everything click back into focus.  The hours, days, even weeks and months apart didn't matter. He and Viggo fit together, like each had been made to fill the empty places in the other, body, heart, and mind. Then Viggo's shaft nudged Orlando's gland and he stopped thinking. His fingers clenched on his thighs as he held his legs against his chest, out of Viggo's way. Soon, though, Viggo's hands were on his, releasing his grip, encouraging Orlando's legs to encircle Viggo's hips and his arms to settle on Viggo's shoulders. "My true love," Viggo murmured, leaning over to kiss Orlando, bringing them into contact from lips to groin, the gentle rocking of his hips never varying, never speeding up. Slowly, slowly, he rocked them both to completion.

All the stress and tension of the past weeks ebbed away as Orlando came down from the sensual high.

"I love you," Orlando whispered when he could talk again. He reached down and fingered the ring Viggo had given him before they left New Zealand. "Wherever it may lead."

THE END