Fan Fiction ❯ Make Me Yours ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Make Me Yours 1/2
Author: Makiko Igami (makikoigami@yahoo.de)
Archive: http://www.yaoi.rulestheweb.com
http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/src.ph p?auth=58906
http://www.efanfiction.net/viewuser.php?uid=188
Catego ry: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Orlando/Legolas... hints of Viggo/Orlando
Warnings: RPS, lemon... and of course as usual: great possibility of OOC-ness.
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: Somebody has a problem with Orlando's display of Legolas.
Disclaimer: Gods! Do I WISH I owned Orlando Bloom! But I do not... neither him, nor Legolas, nor Viggo or anybody else from the LotR-cast... *sigh* that would be such a nice harem...
Notes&Comments: Inspired by Elisa's manips "Narcissist" and "Making you mine"... and plotbunny provided by My-chan, who said that, if Aragorn and Legolas were yummy together, and Viggo and Orlando were yummy too... and if Orlando was yummy alone and Legolas, too... what about Legolas and Orlando?
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Never underestimate the power of fan fiction.

It hauls you in and makes the impossible possible. It creates situations that may never or could never occur. It being much like writing with your own characters as they have a mind of their own it is different because everybody knows them and the reader only has to judge whether it is possible what you lay out before him or her, or not. Independent from the reader's judgment, it is your own opinion when you write, preparing schemes to make the impossible possible.

How else could I be writing this if it wasn't for the very vivid image before my eyes?

***

Orlando Bloom stood in front of a body-sized mirror and tried to tame the black mass on top of his head, knowing well that it would be a very futile attempt. The tiny curls refused to stay in the places he wanted them to be, no matter what he used or how hard he glared at them. He was preparing to go out with the Hobbits to celebrate Half Time Break of shooting Lord of the Rings and had put on rather comfortable clothes, a little extraordinary maybe, but he liked them.

'Let's see if the others like them just as much.'

As he watched his reflection, a tiny crease showing between his brows, he was absolutely oblivious to the fact there would be people out there who would soon die or kill to get the chance to get near those rebellious locks, but would faint even before they crossed the final inches to put their hands on the dark mop.

Running his hands through the now rather long wisps, he remembered the time not-so-long-ago, when he had this mohawk, the very top of it dyed blond. Even though it were just a few weeks, maybe months, it seemed like ages ago and although he had liked the usefulness of it back then, he admitted, that he looked better with this unruly mass of curls framing his face.

'Maybe I'll let them grow out a little longer...' he thought, yet again completely rearing what he had just created so carefully.

While he massaged his scalp, he turned his head from one side to the other, somehow missing the feeling of long wisps and small braids whipping against his shoulders. He also missed the blue expression he had gotten used to finding in the mirror whenever he looked up after he put his contact lenses in.

Right now though, a chocolate gaze stared back at him, eyeing the dark piece of art on top of his head with a frown. Long blond straight hair was far easier to take care of than this little mop of his.

He didn't think that the wig made him look girly - no - in fact he thought it made him look older, wiser maybe, more respected like the Elf he personified. He pretended being Legolas, more than ten hours a day sometimes even, but he knew he could never be like him.

Legolas was perfect, Orlando wasn't.

He was just another filthy human in this world. In his opinion a few months of training couldn't bring out the grace and matter of course of using his weapons and moving his body just like the millennia of practice the elf had experienced, even though he tried his best, getting a little arrogant about being Legolas. He pretended to know what the elf knew and what not, pretended to hold the wisdom that Legolas held and all the things he thought about the elf that he didn't really know if they were true indeed.

One thing he knew for sure though: They were as different as night and day.

Where he was a loud-mouth, outgoing and good-natured, Legolas was silent, reserved and a little cold, like every elf seemed to be. But he was a skilled warrior and knew a lot of things that Orlando didn't know. He was proud to carry the spirit of this magnificent elf outside in the world, his face being Orlando's. They were one... combined in the body of the one and only Orlando Bloom.

Smiling slightly, the young man kept on massaging his scalp, not really caring anymore where his curls went as he knew that people would like him anyways for him being him. But as his upper lids met their lower counter-parts he caught the glimpse of something strange in the mirror, something - or rather somebody - that he knew couldn't be there, at no chance at all, so he simply sighed and relaxed again.

'Me and Legolas... I wonder what it would be like if we ever met...'

Slowly he started moving, humming his favorite tune as he was getting in the mood of dancing for tonight. One of the Hobbits - he thought it was Lij or Dom - had found this club and everybody was coming, even the elders. Beanie, Viggo and even Ian, Hugo and John said that they wanted to check out the location with the younger ones. Their only female companion would be Liv and he liked to dance with her.

So as curious as he was, testing new moves in front of the mirror with his eyes closed, he didn't notice how somebody slowly approached him from behind, not making the least sound as the only way to detect the intruder would be to look into the mirror, but that was rather impossible with one's eyes closed.

If Orlando had opened them again, he might have been prepared for the slender arms that wrapped themselves around his waist and shoulders, pulling him back to the other one's body, but thusly he was completely unprepared and jumped in shock and surprise.

"Have no fear..." he heard a strangely familiar voice say... a voice as soft as cotton.

Orlando's chocolate brown eyes snapped open and he gasped as his gaze met a lilac-ish one in the mirror, right behind him. Like in trance he felt how his jaw dropped and how his already wide eyes started to bulge. He tried to say something when he saw how a small smile formed on the lips that he thought were his, but definitely weren't as he could tell right now. But no sound wanted to escape his suddenly very dry throat as fingers that were marked by the long constant use of a bow started little, idle movements over his body. Everywhere those lithe fingers touched he felt like he was burned through the thin fabric of his shirt that he just put on, but there was no burn to be seen in the mirror.

"What do you think I am?" the majestic being behind him asked, never breaking the lock of their gazes in the mirror.

There was no question between them who he was, as this was pretty clear to Orlando from just one glance in the mirror. But he was startled nevertheless and rather speechless at what was just happening to him.

If it had been anybody else than this one he would have already grinned and teased whoever it was, making his initial surprise. But as things were now, he had to swallow several times, forcing the lump in his throat down, trying to find the saliva that would oil his voice. That the other continued his tiny movements on his chest, brushing against a sensitive nipple now and then, wasn't helping the cause either. But on the other hand the touch was soothing and relaxing him.

'This cannot be,' he thought, 'I must have fainted... too much work... this is not real...'

"A dream," he finally whispered, not even aware that he had said something out loud. He heard - or rather felt - a low chuckle behind him.

"'Tis not a dream, nay, but it comes close to what you humans call a dream," the calm voice said. "And that wasn't what I meant... I've felt you... whenever you slipped into this costume that you humans think I am wearing... You reached out to me and you came close to touch me with your soul, but whenever I became curious and reacted to your call you stopped your approach and vanished... disappeared from the corner of my mind that you touched like elves vanished from the memory of men," the other explained, never loosening the embrace. "So what I've come here to ask you... what did you intend when you slipped into my skin?"

Suddenly Orlando was crucially aware that he was only one movement away from being choked. He gulped and all relaxation that he had felt fell off of him and the embrace he experienced as warm earlier felt as cold as ice now. Also the hot wave of surprise and joy that washed over him as he realized the honor he was given ebbed away and was replaced by a feeling of uncertainty and fear which he tried to quickly as cold sweat run down his spine with a nervous laugh. He should be the one to know how dangerous the fair one holding him could be in this position.

"I intended nothing... but I adore you!" Orlando admitted. "You are a great warrior, master of archery and your have these super-human senses. I wish I could spot an Orc on the other side of the world!"

He could see how those blue-violet eyes narrowed, silently accusing him of lying and the grip on his body tightened.

"I-I mean... maybe not THAT far away, I may have been exaggerating, but... but you are great! Your arrow never misses its target, you're a master of stealth and you know... everyone is in awe of your skills. You're not only a prince... you're an assassin!" Orlando finally cried out, still in awe over what he thought about Legolas, beaming almost like a little child on Christmas.

A chuckle erupted behind him, quickly turning into a giggle and then a bright open laugh. This time the hold onto him tightened because the one holding him sought for support to keep himself upright so that he didn't fall down onto the ground.

Orlando stared open-mouthed into the mirror, barely able to hide his shock, his tension almost forgotten. "What? What is so funny?"

"You! You are amusing!" the other choked out between bubbles of laughter and giggles. On seeing the doubtful and hurt look from the human in the mirror, he composed himself quickly though.

"I've seen though your eyes what you did, wearing my name.... I have never seen such an exaggerated display of my person. Even my father does a better job on that when he's drunk!" the elf laughed out, still amused over the very wide eyes that were watching him in disbelief. He shot him an apologetic glance as he straightened up again. "An ice-block is warmer than your interpretation of me."

That statement hung in the air between them, rather around them, as there wasn't much space left between them. But the weight of the words made the air thick and cold while both men stared at each other searching for any sign of emotion, but despite a little insecurity from both sides there was nothing.

"You're lacking passion," said the one that Orlando almost played his heart out for, spent hours and hours of thinking about and had always hoped that he did him justice with every little gesture that he did and now that person himself was telling him that he was wooden.

"I do not."

"Then do you think I do?"

"No, but I thought you were more... well, mature than I..."

"Being mature means being boring to you then?"

Orlando stayed silent for a moment, taking in the accusing look over his shoulder from the other.

"No, not boring... but at peace... balanced... quiet..."

"Who gave you that impression?" the elf asked. "Sometimes I manage to see you when you are yourself, celebrating with your friends... That is what elves do, singing and laughing, even the eldest of our kind are like that. Yes, we may be a little wiser than most humans, but we are also older and with age comes wisdom, the being at peace you described, but you also find that life would be boring if you didn't have fun."

With that said the fine sculpted hand that had been lying just below his bellybutton on his shirt, traveled lower, passing the waistband of his pants and then cupped lightly what it found between Orlando's legs. The young man let out a strangled gasp and tried to pry those fingers away from his groin but they did not move the slightest bit. They merely stopped the idle caresses.

"Legolas..." he whispered, for the first time really acknowledging who it was that held him quite tightly. The word had slipped so easily onto his lips, but for the first time he wasn't talking about himself in the third person. He knew for sure this whole situation was just too extraordinary and impossible that not even he himself believed it really happened, but here he was, feeling the elf's presence with every fiber of his body. Once more he was convinced that this was a dream and there was nothing that could show him things were otherwise, so why should he not be taking advantage of it?

"Yes?" the novel character that had come to life asked, one golden brow rising in question as Orlando wiggled gently in his embrace, turning around so that they were now face to face, chocolate gaze meeting a blue-violet one directly and not through the mirror anymore.

"I would like to make you mine," Orlando murmured, already sunken too deep into the bottomless pools of blue and violet of the Elf, "...not your façade... you."

For what seemed and eternity to them, the elf looked back, finding each and every unique spot in those chocolate eyes, until he was pleased with what he saw and nodded his consent with a tiny smile.

"Then we shall be one."

To be continued...
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I can't write a fucking PWP without even the lsightes hint of a plot anymore! >_<! *sighs* Alright, who wants the lemon?