Author: Ariel Tachna
Author's e-mail: arieltachna@y...
Author's website: www.geocities.com/arieltachna
Type: RPHet and Slash
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando/OFC (female)
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warning: Threesome, Het sex, Slash sex
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I make no claims about them. I just want to have fun.
Feedback: Don't be gentle. Just be honest.
Beta: The incomparable Jean
Archive: VOLA Slash, Innate Desires, everyone else, just ask I'll surely say yes.
Summary: While preparing for their roles in a new film, Viggo and Orlando meet someone interesting. To both of them.


Chapter 1 - Carolyn's POV

"T'es sûre?" Carolyn Fischer asked Joan, her boss, yet again.

"Oui, Carolyn," Joan responded laughingly in French. It was not every day that her most poised employee was at a loss for words. "I am sure. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"More than you have, obviously," Carolyn answered, still speaking French. "I just can't believe it."

"Believe it," Joan said. "They're upstairs waiting for you."

"Already, but…" Carolyn hated being late. Hated even the appearance of being late. For anything. And now her two new students had arrived before her for their first class. She wasn't actually late. They were just even earlier than she was, but this was important.
She had lived in L.A. for ten years, ever since graduating from college, and she finally had a job doing what she loved: sharing her languages with others. She spoke four of them: English because she lived in the States, Italian because that was her mother's native
language, Spanish because it was practically a requirement in California these days, and French because that was the language she loved. Working for Joan, she taught the languages to people who wanted to learn, for personal or professional reasons, did some
translating for companies and for scriptwriters, and worked as a language coach on plays and films that used any of her specialties. A week ago, Joan had gotten a call from one of the major studios saying they had two actors who wanted, not just a language coach to
get them through a film, but to actually learn French. Joan had assured the studio execs that she had the perfect person for the job and had called Carolyn right away.

Carolyn had accepted without even thinking about it. She'd had a client move out of town and so was short on hours. Joan paid well, but Carolyn still had to work the hours to earn her paycheck. As the conversation ended, she'd thought to ask Joan the names of the
actors. It hadn't mattered. She was just curious. Until Joan answered. Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom. Since then, Carolyn had asked Joan at least twice a day if she was sure, if she was making it up. After all, Joan knew that Carolyn had been a huge Lord
of the Rings fan when the movies had come out five, six, and seven years ago. And Joan knew that Carolyn had seen every film the two actors had been in since then, even the ones that were not usually her type of movie. Carolyn had heard that they were teaming up again for a new film, but she hadn't heard anything else. Now, the two men
were sitting in her classroom upstairs, waiting for her to teach them French.

It was too unreal.

"Earth to Carolyn," Joan said, bringing Carolyn out of her daydream. "You are the best French tutor we have. You're also the most professional of my employees. You can handle this, but you've got to pull yourself together. They're just two guys who want
something you can offer. If you can't handle this, you need to tell me now so I can go explain that their instructor was caught in traffic and grovel until I can reschedule."

Carolyn sent Joan an appreciative smile. If she said the word, Joan would do just what she'd offered. Carolyn, however, was not about to pass up the chance to meet her two idols. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of the purple "power suit" she was wearing. She always dressed to kill when meeting a new client for the first time. Later, when she knew her students better, she would often relax, joking with them, but the first class was all about business. She had no choice, really. At only 5'2 and looking about eighteen if she wore her hair down and jeans and a t-shirt, she needed every edge that professionalism could give her. "Don't worry, Joan. I can handle it," she said, leaving the office and climbing the stairs to her classroom. And she knew that she could. Once she got over the shock of meeting them, she would settle into her routine of teaching,
getting to know them so she could decide just what techniques would work best. She had learned, over ten years, that some students didn't appreciate the more creative methods she sometimes employed while teaching. Even though those were the most effective. She had watched all the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings films, so she had seen the actors out of character, talking about themselves and each other. Those commentaries certainly seemed to suggest that her new students would enjoy having fun while they learned, but they also dated from five years ago and more. There was no way to know if
they had changed since then.

She walked into a scene that could have come straight from the commentaries. There, in her classroom, were indeed Orlando and Viggo, looking a little older than in their last films, but just as delectable. And the younger man had the older one caught in a
headlock, making some comment about elves and men that she only caught the end of.

She cleared her throat, alerting them to her presence. They looked up and smiled without the least bit of embarrassment. Orlando ran his knuckles roughly across Viggo's head before releasing him. Viggo stepped forward, holding out his hand as he introduced himself. "I'm Viggo, and the immature boy over there is Orli."


Chapter 2 - Viggo's POV

When Viggo had envisioned this new undertaking, he had pictured many things. His agent had assured him that this agency was well known for its language teachers and coaches. That was what he wanted: a real professional to teach them the language. He always made an effort to learn at least the basics of any language that he had to
speak in a film, but with all his travels in Europe, it seemed worth putting a little extra effort into learning French. It would be useful long after their current project was finished. He was really getting excited about the new film. When the script had crossed his desk, he had been so amused by the story that he had immediately contacted his agent to set up a reading. And he had urged Orlando to do the same. The idea of them playing two expatriates living in Paris who end up in an illicit relationship was so close to their
reality that it seemed meant to be. When they had both gotten the parts, they had shared a laugh over finally revealing their relationship to the world in a way no one would understand.

Once they knew they were in the final cut for the film and had been asked to read together, there had been no real doubt in Viggo's mind that they would get the parts. The chemistry between them, on screen and off, was electric. It always had been, even when they first started their work together on Lord of the Rings. Even before they became lovers, Peter had added lines between them just to have some of that chemistry show up in the film. Once their relationship had developed off screen, the magic between them was explosive. One look, one touch, and they could light up a room. Despite that, the
world at large never quite figured out what was happening between them. They never hid it actively, but they never flaunted their relationship either. Every once in a while, rumors would circulate about one of them or both of them, but no one ever asked them to
confirm those rumors. Of course, the fact that they would occasionally go out with a woman helped dispel the rumors. They did not do it for that reason, but because they enjoyed female company from time to time as well. It just happened to serve a dual purpose.

They had agreed long ago that if anyone ever asked them outright if they were lovers, they would answer truthfully, but they did not initiate that conversation.

All this had led them to a classroom in a converted house with the goal of learning French. They had arrived early. Earlier than they had expected to, and so had waited for their instructor to join them. Viggo had been teasing Orlando about the number of languages they each spoke. Orlando couldn't deny that he spoke fewer languages
than Viggo did, and so couldn't win the argument that Viggo would be better at French. As always, when he couldn't win an argument with words, Orlando chose to try other tactics. He had just managed to get Viggo in a headlock when the instructor walked in, ten minutes early.

Viggo couldn't believe they had been caught playing like a pair of teenagers. Not that he minded being silly, especially if Orlando was involved, but he usually confined the silliness to people he knew. The woman in the doorway was someone they would know well before they were done preparing for this film, but they did not know her yet, and
now her first impression of them was of two grown men behaving like children.

It was unfortunate, really, because he would have liked to make a good impression on her. He ran appraising eyes up and down her slender form. She was petite, and very polished. Not in a fake way, but simply put together. Her black hair was twisted into a classic chignon, with every hair in place. Her purple suit was a pleasant contrast to her pale skin. Her oval face was as classic as the rest of her, and her body was pure temptation. He liked languages, so he had been looking forward to these lessons anyway, but they had just taken an unexpected turn for the better. He stepped forward, determined to get the situation back under control. "Hi, I'm Viggo, and the immature boy over there is Orli."

Chapter 3 - Orlando's POV

When Viggo showed me the script for a film he was considering, I read it out of a desire to know what my lover was doing. Once I'd read it, I understood why he was so amused by the idea of both of us working on it. The thought of playing lovers, real lovers, on
screen, after we had been lovers in real life for almost ten years was amusing. We'd never exactly hidden what we were to each other. Our friends all knew, as did many of our professional contacts, but we never made an issue of it to the public. We'd laugh over the
rumors about us when they circulated, and laugh just as hard when other rumors, of the ladies in our lives, circulated as well.

We got the parts in the film, the attraction between us playing well on film. I wasn't surprised. Since the Lord of the Rings, we had been offered pretty much any part we showed interest in. We had just never been interested in the same film before.

Filming didn't start for another three months, giving us a welcome break that we could both spend in L.A., neither of us working. I was looking forward to having a normal life for those months. Living in the same house. Sleeping in the same bed. Eating together. Doing all the things couples do that our jobs kept us from doing so often. Then, Viggo had the idea that we should actually learn French. Not just learn our lines well enough to pass muster, but actually learn the language. The filming would require at least some on-site work, since the Paris skyline was too familiar to use a substitute, so speaking at least some of the language made sense, but I didn't really want to spend my break studying. I knew we would start running lines a few weeks before we went to film, so that we could
start rehearsals right away, but that was weeks away.

Still, I could never refuse Viggo when he turned those blue eyes on me so we asked around and got the name of this agency: Universal Language. They claimed to have tutors in all the world's major languages. They assured us that they would give us their best instructor so that we could learn French. They promised that we would be conversational at the end of three months, and that the same tutor could coach us through our lines when filming began. That made sense, at least. That way, one person would do all the language work with us.

And so, this morning we got up and came to this refitted house for our first lesson. We hoped to eventually have the lessons at home, but the agency insisted on having at least the first lesson here at the school. We had no idea how long it would take us to reach the
school so we left early, arriving almost twenty minutes before the lesson was scheduled to begin.

We were shown to our classroom and assured that our instructor would arrive soon. "How difficult do you suppose this will be?" I asked, now that we were here and faced with the reality of this endeavor.

"More so for you than for me," Viggo replied.

"What?" I sputtered. "Are you implying that you're smarter than I am?"

"Well, let's see," Viggo replied. "I already speak Spanish, Danish, and Elvish, as well as English."

"American," I retorted with typical British disdain for American English. I said it more because it was expected than because I really meant it.

"Whatever you call it, that's still four languages. Remind me how many you speak," he said.

I shot him a nasty look, but didn't rise to the bait. "You know exactly how many languages I speak. Two, with a few words of Danish thrown in."

"Then I'd say that gives me an advantage, wouldn't you?" Viggo asked.

"But everyone knows Elves are smarter than Men," I retorted, grabbing him in a headlock and rubbing my knuckles roughly over his head. It was an adolescent reaction: the insult and the wrestling, but it was the best I could come up with.

A cough at the door interrupted our play, which was probably just as well, since I still can't touch Viggo without getting turned on. I knuckled his head one more time before releasing him. I ran an appraising eye over the woman who stood there, as Viggo stepped
forward to greet her. Nice, was my first thought. Very nice. There was a tight little female body poured into that "take me seriously" suit she was wearing. Viggo and I had been in a committed relationship for almost ten years, but I still appreciated female beauty when I saw it. I was seeing it now. She had Italian blood in her. I could see it in the creamy complexion. Not dark, just not as white as other Europeans. Her black as night hair was another giveaway. I caught Viggo's eye as he stepped forward to introduce himself. This could be fun after all.

"Hi, I'm Viggo," I heard him say, "and the immature boy over there is Orli."