Title: Out of Reach
Author: Cherry Vanilla
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Karl Urban
Fandom: LotR RPS
Rating: R
Summary: "You're falling out of reach, defying gravity, I know you're out there, somewhere out there."
Soundtrack: Our Lady Peace - Somewhere Out There.
Props to Our Lady Peace for title and lyrics. The song is still yours tho, Ashton.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: Inspired by the recent Viggo/Karl photos and my curiosity on how they became so close as of late. Here's my wishful thinking. I don't claim that any of this occurred. We should be so lucky.
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I. "Last time I talked to you, you were lonely and out of place."
He's not sure when it all started. Perhaps after a long shoot, toward the end of filming, when Viggo watched Orlando walk to his trailer, a wistful expression gracing his face. He caught himself still staring when Viggo had turned back and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"What do you say we get out of here?"
And he had to fight the urge to turn around because, huh? This wasn't what they did. But all he could do is nod and allow Viggo to lead him to a pub in Wellington.
"So, mate, what are we doing here?"
But he knew. A lot of people knew. They were discreet, but some things are just plain obvious. The way Orlando's eyes shown when he looked a Viggo: Obvious. The way Viggo would duck his head and come as close to a blush as possible for a guy who doesn't blush: Obvious.
The way Orlando looked like a lost puppy nowadays and Viggo's face shown unmistakably of guilt: Incredibly Obvious.
"I needed to get away."
He nodded, draining his bottle and motioning for another. Wouldn't do to let Vig get pissed alone.
"Talk about it?"
"I'm not that drunk yet."
That would change an hour later and he'd be confessing everything. How he ended it, how it was probably a mistake, but so was fooling one another into believing it could work. He listened, feeling pretty pissed himself.
"Hey, Karl."
"Yeah?"
"You ever cheat on your girlfriend?"
He wasn't expecting that one. And down right pissed made him truthful as fuck. "Um. Yeah."
"Want to again?"
His breath caught and suddenly realized how close they were. Vig's thigh pressed against him, warm and solid. His breath fanning his cheek, hot like fire. And even though it was the biggest mistake he knew he'd ever make, bigger than Viggo's breakup, bigger than that waitress in Queenstown, he nodded, dry mouthed, closed his eyes and went for it.
And fuck not knowing. That's exactly when things started.
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II. "Laid underneath the stars, strung out and feeling brave."
Filming ended the next week. He hadn't spoken to Viggo since waking up on the proverbial morning after, hung over and well fucked. Vig had calmly padded into the bathroom, leaving Karl on rumbled, stained sheets to wonder what the fuck now.
They ran into each other in the hallway, and he caught Karl by the arm, caught him in a kiss that felt like possession. But that was silly, and he was the rebound fuck and he has a girlfriend, albeit shaky relationship as of late, and this was all just pathetic hung over internal blather, wasn't it?
Didn't stop him from letting Vig go down on him again.
On the last day, there was big party. Viggo ignored him for the most part, and fine, if that's how it was going to be, that's fine. He watched as Viggo walked off with Orlando at the end of night.
Karl said his goodbyes and went to his favorite spot of 'the set': The Shire hills. He lit a joint, inhaled deeply, and laid back. He loved New Zealand night skies. Most everyone else was going home tomorrow. This was his home.
He heard a rustle of leaves and jumped.
"You're not too sharp for a Rider of Rohan."
That voice flowed over his skin, and he blamed the shivers on the coolness of the night.
"We can't all be blessed with a Rangers sense of perception."
He could feel the smirk.
"Nice night."
"Mmm."
They sat in silence. He wanted to ask inane things like 'shouldn't you be fucking Orlando about now,' or 'how did you find me' but opted for the quiet and continued looking at the stars, growing higher with each drag.
Viggo's hands came up to his hair, stroked idly at the strands. He finished the joint and felt strung out enough to push him into the cool grass, crushing their lips together with a hunger he hadn't felt in forever.
Vig's mouth opened beneath his, a breathless sound of need seeped out and he swallowed it in, craving it. Their tongues glided together, communicating with each hurried entangle. He ran his hands up feverish skin, pressing their bodies closer, wanting to feel every inch; leg slipping between his thigh, cocks rubbing together through layers of denim of cotton, maddening friction, hot mouth on his neck breathing nonsensical words. Their hands grappled at buttons and zippers, fingers finding nipples and, nails scrapping against chest hair, fists encasing cocks, jerking one another in a perfectly timed rhythm; as if they've done this a million times.
Viggo's mouth kissed his chest, his hand pumping steadily. Karl was shaking, breathing harshly against Vig's ear, running his fingers over the head, teasing with feathery touches, making Vig gasp, fuck his hand for more.
Bodies shuddering hard, fingers twisting in hair and mouths molding together as tongues licked and sucked, they came with wordless cries against the quiet of the night.
III. "I miss the way you taste."
He left the next day and Karl didn't see him off, although they did spend the night together. He didn't want to risk running into Orlando at the airport, seeing the same looks, concrete evidence of what he really was.
He headed back home to Auckland. It was weird to call it that. Same country, yet completely foreign. Months passed with no word from Viggo, but it's not like he was expecting it. He didn't bother going to any of the premieres or promotional events for Fellowship, and could always play it off as there not being a need since he wasn't in it.
He throws himself into work and pretends not to think of his taste every night. Before The Two Towers promotion begins, things mutually end with his girlfriend. She'd noticed the change after filming and had been expecting it. Actually wondered why he let it drag on so long.
He doesn't see Viggo at the first few premieres and begins to wonder if he will at all. When the phone rings before the LA premiere, he knows whom it is before picking it up.
IV. "Hope you'll remember me when you're homesick and need a change."
"Hello?"
"Karl."
His stomach jumps. It may not be a shock but still, nothing prepares him for that low rumble of his name.
Opts for casual. "Hey, Viggo."
"How are you?"
"Fine, mate. You?"
"I'm alright. Listen.. sorry that I lost touch."
"No worries."
"Doesn't that motto get tiresome?"
He laughs a genuine laugh. "You have no idea."
"Well fuck 'no worries', then."
"Fuck no worries."
"Good. I -- missed you."
His grip tightens around the phone. "Yeah ... same here."
"You weren't a substitute."
"Okay."
"So, yeah. At the risk of doing this thing backwards, I'd like to get to know you better. If you're available."
His palm is sweaty and his hand hurts like hell. "I'm available."
"Good. Same here. Let's -- how bout I come over, we'll go to this thing together."
"Sounds great."
"I'll be there in a few."
"You will?"
"I'm in the lobby."
He can hear the smirk, and his face hurts from his own smile. "Bastard."
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[end]