Fragile

Title: Fragile (Part 2 of 2)
Author: Achila
Pairing: EW/RatiRating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Isn't true, neveppenppened. Never will, I'm sure! I do not own these characters and make no money from this work.
Summary: Viggo has a crush on Elijah and gets his wish


It was a long, exhausting day, followed by an even longer, more exhausting night. Viggo sometimes wondered how he managed to endure this shit -- how could he smile time after time, answer the same inane questions over and over without losing it totally? But this was all part of the deal, he knew -- it was what happened when you inked your name on the contract and signed your ass away to a studio for the privilege of playing a role in a movie.

Basically, the money and attention were of little concern to him. He enjoyed his life removed from all this rush and swirl, enjoyed his poetry and artwork and making films when he felt like it. Watching his son grow up. It was enough. More than enough. But still, tonight he was restless.

The gang was back together again to attend "The Two Towers" premiere in New York. It was the only one he'd managed to get to since being involved in filming "Hidalgo" now, and he had enjoyed seeing all of them and feeling their excitement to be bringing their movie to the fans. And what a movie! Peter had directed yet another masterpiece, filling him with pride to have been a part of it.

So then -- why wasn't he asleep? He had rolled back and forth for hours, tangling the sheets and covers into a formless muddle, desperate for the escape that sleep would bring, but none would come. Because something...or rather, someone...kept intruding.

It was like this every time, wasn't it? Every time since New Zealand...every time he saw...him.

And tonight had been no different.


Viggo lay on his pillow, hearing the clock tick loudly in the still room, and he looked with unfocused eyes at the dark ceiling...remembering. It had been cold, brain numbingly cold, but it had not kept the crowds away from the theater. He had arrived to a big cheer, and caught Ian in a hug, stood chatting with him fondly until another cheer, really a roar this time, captured their attention.

A slight figure getting out of a limo. Waving to the throng. Smiling that silly gap-toothed Alfred E. Neuman grin that was just a bit unsettling in the rest of tperfperfect face. Elijah.

He felt his heart leap into his mouth. It had been almost a year since he had seen the young man, and fuck if he didn't get better looking every time he did. He had shaved his hair down to damn near nothing, but it only served to make the blue eyes bigger and brighter, focus even more attention on the exquisite features and white skin. He was boldly wearing no coat over his suit, just gloves; Viggo knew he had the metabolism of a gerbil -- he was probably warm enough without one. Just how warm, though, he yearned to find out.

Seeing them on the sidewalk, Elijah bolted from the hired car and came running, hugging him. Flashbulbs popped all around, voices talking, shouting indistinctly. None of it truly registered. Viggo was lost in the enthusiastic young embrace. Then Liv was there, and he gave up the happy bundle in his arms to greet her, watching as Elijah got pulled into an interview with a reporter from Access Hollywood, and then ET next. Lij was such a pro, handled all their stupid questions wiracerace, much better than he did, surely. Yes, we had two hours of makeup at five each morning. Yes, the hobbit feet were comfortable....Viggo wondered what might actually happen if they asked him something different for a change, but knew that Elijah would handle that too, and just as gracefully.


So here he was. Not sleeping, thinking thoughts that were daous ous and hurt like little poison-tipped barbs. Cursing himself for being stupid, chasing a dream.

Resignedly, he sighed and reached around to snap on the light, squinting from the sudden brightness. He would get dressed and go down to the bar for a drink. Of course, he could drink in his room -- the minibar was well stocked, enough to find oblivion -- but he needed to get away from himself for a while, and being alone would only make him more morose.

Viggo got off the elevator and walked the few steps through the quiet lobby into the bar. At first, he didn't think anyone else was there. After all, it was very late. But then his eyes made out someone sitting on a stool at the far end, and he couldn't believe his dumb luck. The very person he was trying to drink off his mind had obviously had a similar idea.

Elijah smiled at him, no teeth this time, just a pink lipped grin as he slid onto the stool beside him. He blew out a mouthful of clove-scented smoke and Viggo could see from the number of butts in the ashtray that he'd been he whi while. Or was chain smoking, which he often did when he was upset or nervous.

Motioning at his glass, the bartender brought the bottle of scotch and refilled it. "For you, sir?" he asked Viggo.
"Uh...I'll have the same...on rocks....Thanks."
"Can't sleep?"
"Nah."
"Yeah -- me neither," Elijah replied, picking up the shot and downing it effortlessly in one gulp.

It always amazed Viggo to see someone do that. He was more of a sipper. He liked to savor the burn as the amber fluid trickled down the back of his throat. Seemed like such a waste of twelve year-old scotch to swallow it without even tasting it.

But obviously, Elijah didn't care that he didn't taste it. It had a different purpose tonight. This was not happy, bubbly Lij -- the guy they all had fun with in New Zealand, the one who had that damned high-pitched giggle that could cut glass sometimes, especially if someone tickled him, and Viggo was quick to realize it. Not wishing to intrude, he just sat there quietly, pushing the ice cubes around in his drink with his index finger, and waited.

"You don't know what it's like," he said finally after several minutes, his voice low, turning to look at Viggo and giving him the full gleam of the blue headlights. They glowed soberly now.
"What what's like?"
"The expectations. The way everyone's always watching to see if and when you're gonna break...and you can't. You never can."

The alcohol was loosening his tongue, fascinating Viggo. He'd always known he was a deep kid. He'd just never imagined he was so full of bottled up angst.

"...And when you let your haiwn, wn, it comes out all wrong, no matter how hard you try."
"Lij, maybe that's the problem -- you're trying too hard. You can't let other people's expectations get in the way of being yourself."
He laughed sardonically. "Oh yeah -- and how far do you think I would've gotten if I pulled some prima donna shit every time I felt like it...or fucking lost my cool....."
"Or weren't so in control all the time?" Viggo offered.
"...yeah."
"You know -- sometimes the res us us do lose our cool and aren't in control...it happens. It's a part of life."
"Well, not my life. Viggo, this' all I know. I didn't go to high school or play football or go to prom...or fuck cheerleaders, for shit's sake...."

He stabbed out his cigarette heatedly and lit another.

"Well, I never fucked any cheerleaders either, if the truth be known," Viggo chuckled, but Elijah was too far down the road to Blue City and ignored it. Or maybe didn't hear.
"So what else can I be except the perfect little child star? Fucking windup toy. 'Oh, isn't he wonderful?' 'Doesn't he have just the prettiest, big eyes?' 'And see how mature he is....'"
Viggo stopped the mocking tone with a gentle hand on his wrist. "Self-pity doesn't suit you, Elijah....Look at me."

Turning slowly, he did, amazing Viggo again with his well-scrubbed freshness, even in the depths of his despair. And so shatteringly, heart-breakingly beautiful, it hurt a little to behold.

"You are one of the most talented actors I've ever met -- maybe even *the* most, but you're also so much more than that....you're a good person, a good friend. When people are in trouble, you come through for them. And look how much the other guys love you. *You* did all that. You. Not Elijah Wood, child star. Elijah Wood. Period."

Elijah's mouth trembled as he looked into Viggo's eyes, and his breathing seemed to visibly quicken. What was he seeing there? What did Viggo want him to see there?
"And you?" he whispered. "Do you love me too?"

Viggo thought his heart would stop. "Haven't you already figured that out?" he answered just as quietly, feeling himself start to shake.

Decisively, Elijah reached for his wallet and threw a handful of bills on the bar. And grasping Viggo's hand, he pulled him roughly off the stool and through the lobby, towards the elevator. Viggo let himself be led.

The elevator doors hissed together quietly behind them and Viggo pushed the button for his floor. He met the gaze of the younger man and something like fear surfaced in the shining blue, as if he was suddenly wondering if this was such a good idea. But Viggo wouldn't let him -- either of them -- back down now.

Grabbing a handful of his shirt, he threw Elijah into the back wall of the elevator, his head hitting the carpeted surface so hard, he bit his tongue; he let out a pained "ungh". And then Viggo moved in, kissing him, devouring those pink lips he'd dreamed of so many times, feeling their softness, everything he ever thought they'd be. He tasted of smoke and scotch and cloves....and something else. Elijah.

His heart was beating like a frightened rabbit's, but within a few seconds, he melted into Viggo's arms, kissing him back, slipping his tongue between Viggo's lips, his fire surprising and delighting the older man. Viggo was taller by a head, and leaned down a ways so that their hips were together, grinding together, and he smiled to feel Elijah's arousal becoming every bit as hard and insistent as his own. And when the elevator's bell dinged and the doors opened, it was he who was now leading, leading him by the hand down the hall and to his room.


But the pace had changed. The frenzied passion had bled. It was all smooth and hot now as they fell on the bed together, kissing, and clothes flew. This would be too good to rush, Viggo knew.

His mouth watered as he viewed the translucent white skin of Elijah's chest broken only by the nubs of brown nipples, and he pushed him onto his back to savor them. Suckle. Rewarded by the little moans the young man made, arching his back up against Viggo's face.
"...beautiful," he murmured, letting his hands glide on the sleek limbs. "So beautiful...."

Down and down he went, kissing Elijah's stomach, tracing the black ink mark at his hip, flicking his tongue into his navel and kissing one well-muscled thigh. Viggo drew back to take him all in, the heaving chest, the hands curled, gripping the sheets. The way his cheeks were flushed and those eyes were now obsidian with desire. And the tower of erect flesh just waiting, begging to be loved; the sight made Viggo so hard, he thought he'd explode.

Smiling not unkindly at Elijah's predicament, Viggo leaned forward again and took the straining young cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue unrelentingly around the velvet head and driving a groan from Elijah's lips. Viggo felt fingers find their way into his hair, heard his moans, his hoarse pleas of "oh fuck, don't stop, Vig...." He had no intentions of stopping.

Caressing with his tongue, he whipped the young man into a frenzy, suckling strongly. Now slow. Now fast. Now gentle. Now less so. Elijah's hips came off the bed in an involuntary buck, trying to get closer to the wet warmth, bury himself more deeply inside of it. And Viggo took more, making Elijah growl, opening his eyes to watch the expression on that heart-shaped face as his teeth clenched and his neck arched. It was beautiful beyond belief to see the pleasure writ so clearly on his features.

And on and on Viggo pushed him, then pulled back. Not letting him go, not letting him finish. Elijah's body was twisting and shuddering wildly, obscenities of every sort spilling from his mouth, his head rolling abandonedly on the pillow. And then Viggo did something that Elijah didn'pectpect. He slipped his hand up between his legs and slowly inserted a probing finger. He was so tight. So hot.

He heard his gasping moans intensify. And then...ah...ah...ah............and something like a scream ripped out of him with his releas.

.


With a grin, Viggo got up off the bed and went to the minibar, opening it to snag the little bottles of Chivas Regal he had seen in there. He quickly retrieved two glasses and returned to Elijah, gazing down at him bemusedly. He was lying like a ragdoll, open to the older man's gazetalltally, completely spent, unable to move. Still breathing like a runaway freight train.

And Viggo was so hard, it hurt now. He prepared their drinks and helped Elijah sit up, kissing him as he unsteadily got his hands around the glass to down the liquor.
"Uh uh...sip it," he told him.
"Thanks."

He took one, two mouthfuls, then got another idea. Dipping his finger into the glass, he painted a spot on Viggo's collarbone with the fragrant alcohol, and then proceeded to taste his creation, licking, then sucking it from Viggo's skin.

But Viggo couldn't take too much of this. The feel of Elijah's lips and tongue on him were sending him into orbit, and he snatched the glass away from him and pushed him back down onto the bed, probably more roughly than he'd wanted to. Straddling him, he brought his weeping cock into contact with the warm skin just beginning to come alive again at the touch. Ah, youth! And Elijah was becoming every bit as aroused by the long, gliding strokes as he had been by Viggo's tongue.

Viggo wished he could have held back, could have savored it longer, but it felt far too good, and when Elijah pressed upwards against him, that was it, and he came with a wild groan and a hard bolt, bathing them both in his sticky seed. Elijah was next, totally turned on by the sudden wet sensation and the look of ecstasy contorting Viggo's face.

Feeling strong arms encircle him, helping him to lay down, Viggo cuddled the smaller body against his chest and kissed the top of Elijah's seal dark head affectionately. He knew when he awoke in the morning, his man cub would be gone. And maybe he'd never even been here in the first place - - maybe he had dreamed this altogether. "Then it is a good dream," he heard in his mind, remembering the line from the movie. Either way, it would be enough.