Appealing to Andy

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no harm intended, no profit made.

A/N: Probably one of the best fics I’ve ever written, and definitely one of my favorites, so I just had to share. I hope you enjoy!

This and all my stories can be found on my group:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Dimensions_of_Dhvana/



Appealing to Andy


It is more glorious and more intimidating than I’d ever imagined. Sure, I’d expected it for those like Elijah or Orlando, for Dom and Viggo--you know, the pretty ones, the ones with some sort of sexual or visual appeal--but not for me. You don’t even see me. Well, you do, but not really. I’m the voice behind the creature, the actions, the insanity, but not the real thing.

Yet there they are--yelling for me, cheering for me, wanting me to touch them, kiss them, bed them.

I don’t know what to do.

The others, they take it all in stride, but they’re used to it by now.

Me, what I can only think is that they must all be making a mistake, that they’ve got the wrong guy. Why would they want me? Especially with men like Craig and Sean and Marton around.

But they do want me. Men. Women. They’re all screaming for me, reaching for me, and I’m so flattered, all I can do is grin and reach back.

Now, though, I need a break. Much more of this and I’ll disappear into their adoration and forget who I am.

Slipping out onto the balcony, I breathe in deep the murky night air. Below me, Los Angeles is quiet, almost peaceful compared to the drama and the excitement of the past few weeks. This is nice. This is good. This I can handle. Everything else, it’s some sort of dream, though whether or not it’s a nightmare, I have yet to decide.

I take another deep breath and realize it’s not just the usual dank pollution filling my lungs, but the acrid tang of tobacco. Turning, I see the orange glow of the tip of a cigarette lighting up a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” he shrugs, inhaling deeply, and I nod.

“Just a bit. I don’t know how you handle it all.”

“I don’t. I have people who handle it for me.”

He’s joking, but he’s not, and it’s clear he’s not exactly himself. I can see it in the way he stands, hear it in his voice, but I don’t know what to do or if I should even do anything. We’ve never really been that close. I mean, sure, we’ve hung out, we share friends, we can carry a conversation, but we don’t really know who the other one is and I don’t know if I should feel comfortable enough to ask what’s wrong. Maybe I should get one of the others, Viggo perhaps, or one of the Hobbits.

But I don’t. I don’t want to go back in, and some small part of me wants to cherish this moment with him. It makes me feel almost like his equal somehow, knowing that in some ways, I have more control than he does.

“I thought you quit smoking,” I say, watching as he grinds the first cigarette into the marble floor of the balcony and lights another one.

“I didn’t. Orlando Bloom did.”

I blink in confusion. “Oh.”

How else am I supposed to respond to that? Especially since, clearly, I’m not the only confused one here.

“It looks better,” he explains, and I nod. I guess that makes sense.

“Think you’ll be enjoying any of their company tonight?” he asks, nodding towards the doors and the room full of people beyond. “I’ve seen them wanting you. You must be pleased.”

And suddenly the conversation just jumped up several levels for us on the personal scale. Sex, beyond the usual joking involved in male bonding, has never been an actual subject in any of our discussions. Perhaps it isn’t a subject now. Maybe he’s truly being as abstract as he sounds.

I can’t tell, so I answer honestly. “It’s a bit frightening. I don’t know how to react.”

“Don’t bother with them. They don’t really want you. They just want to be a part of all this. Wait for someone who wants just you.”

“But is that even possible anymore?” I can’t help asking. “I’m now a part of this, and this is now a part of me. I don’t think any of us are separate anymore.”

He nods. “That’s more true than you’ll ever realize. But hopefully you’ll still be able to tell those who want you versus those who want this.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” I say, hoping this will be the end of this rather bizarre subject, but he just arches an eyebrow, giving me a searching look.

“Will you?”

“Sure,” I shrug, wishing he’d drop it already, “why not?”

This conversation is merging into the realm of the surreal. He’s gone from friend to guide to phantom advocate in just a few minutes, and I’m starting to wonder who he is.

And that, I realize, could be what he’s wondering as well.

“What are your plans for the evening?” I ask, and he gives me a surprised crooked smile.

“Ever changing.”

“Seeking company?”

I hadn’t been offering myself, I don’t think, but who knows? Deep down inside, that just might have been my goal from the beginning, because I’m growing excited by the way he looks me over from head to toe. I can feel his eyes searching every inch of my skin, my cells tingling in his path. Even though I’m fully clothed, I feel completely naked, and while it’s a good naked, it’s also an uncomfortable naked. I want to move my hands to cover myself up from his gaze, but I’m already covered. I also want to strip off all my clothes and throw him onto the nearest flat surface, but that, too, is impossible.

Does he look at everyone like this? Has there always been hidden behind the frank welcome of his eyes this X-ray vision that leaves a person naked and searching for a place to hide? How could I have not seen it before?

“I hadn’t considered it before. Would you like me to reconsider, Andy?”

I start to stammer incoherently, again thrown completely off course by the turn of events. “Well. . . that is, I. . . do you. . .”

He begins to chuckle as he inhales deeply from his cigarette. “Relax, Andy. I’m not asking for your soul. You don’t have to sign a contract or anything. A simple yes or no will suffice.”

I’d heard the rumors, of course, just like everyone else, suggesting exactly how deep the friendship of the Fellowship went. I’d even gone so far as to ask Elijah and Dominic about it once. They never answered my question. They just gave a perfectly timed, perfectly ambiguous laugh into which I could read whatever I wanted.

And if I were to receive an offer to join in their assumed relationships, I never would have expected an invitation to come from him. Now that the movies are over and he’s a tangible presence in the world, I’ve come to think of him as being beyond my grasp. Even before the movies, I knew I would never be as close to him as the others, but that was all right with me. I hadn’t ever felt any particular need to be close to him.

Though, at the time, I’d only thought in the terms of friendship, never anything else. But now there is the hint of something more, of something I’d never thought possible before, and when I should have been making a decision, all rational functions refused to work, and I could only stare at him, hoping I wouldn’t die of embarrassment.

Shaking his head, he grins and grinds out the sparks of his latest cigarette. Removing one of the ever-present pens from his pocket, he takes my hand and turns it so the back is facing up, his forefinger rubbing lightly against my palm.

“If you decide to wake from your stupor and join me,” he says, still very much amused as the pen leaves a black trail on my skin, numbers appearing between my knuckles, “here’s the room where you can find me.”

Keeping my hand in one of his, he lifts his other to press it against my face. “You have such beautiful eyelashes,” he says, running his thumb over the tips of what I’d always thought to be rather unremarkable eyelashes. “Lovely blue eyes also, but definitely beautiful eyelashes.” The brown irises focus on mine and I almost shudder at the intensity of his gaze. “I can’t wait to see how they feel brushing against the inside of my thighs.”

All living functions cease. My heart stops. I cannot breathe. I am nearly suffocating as I realize my hand has been lowered to between his legs and is being held against the hardness there.

“I hope to see you soon,” he says softly, then releases me and leaves.

Finally, I remember to breathe and begin gasping for air. Of everything I had thought to happen as a result of my newfound fame, this was never on the list.

But I’d be damned if I was going to waste an opportunity.

I’m out the balcony and weaving through the party with a speed and agility Spider-Man would have envied. Pounding on the button to call the lift, I’m practically bouncing with impatience. I’m sure the others are giving me odd looks, but maybe their looks are knowing as well. How many of them have had this opportunity? Am I the last? Or am I the first?

The door opens and I slam on the button for his floor. As I’m waiting for the lift to rise, I turn and see my reflection in the mirror surrounding the walls. I stare at myself and my enthusiasm is quickly dampened.

Why me? I wonder as I study my face. He mentioned my eyes, and they’re nice eyes, I suppose, but nothing spectacular.

Running my hands over my jacket, I smooth the creases and am baffled. Certainly there are men out there who are better built, whose bodies have a definition mine somewhat lacks, so it is not likely he wants me as a symbol of male beauty. I mean, I don’t have a terrible body, but isn’t one to inspire drooling.

Maybe he’s drunk.

Or high.

Or desperate.

No, definitely not desperate, not him. He can have anyone.

Maybe that’s it. He can have anyone, so why not have me?

But if I could have anyone, would I have me?

I’m a nice guy. Good sense of humor. Willing to put up with a lot of humiliation and suffering for my career. I’m not a bad person--I try to do what I can to contribute to society, but in a cast as brilliant and multi-faceted as a Tiffany-cut diamond, I’m just sort of average. So what’s the appeal?

A bell rings and the door opens, preventing me from thinking of an answer.

My stomach is starting to twitch with nerves as I step into the hall and glance down at my hand for the room number. Forcing one foot in front of the other, I make my way to his door and knock.

After a few seconds, the door opens. Wearing only a white bathrobe, he greets me with a welcoming smile. I step inside and try not to flinch as he closes and locks the door behind us.

“I’m glad you came,” he says in his soft, melodic voice as he walks by me. His hands untie the belt at his waist and, heading towards the bed, he lets the bathrobe fall to the floor.

“Coming?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder, and smiles to see that my eyes are fixed on the perfectly rounded buttocks, on the tanned body with only the barest hint of tan lines. “Andy.”

My eyes rise to meet his and I move towards him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I feel the smooth slide of his skin against my fingers as I hold him to me. I claim his lips with mine, kissing him so fiercely our teeth clash. The iron tang of blood passes between our mouths, though whether it’s his or mine, I do not know.

He thrusts his tongue between my lips and I gladly take it, allowing him no time to explore but simply trying to swallow him whole.

I push him back onto the bed and we crawl up the mattress towards the pillows, our bodies grinding together. Once there, I grant his previously voiced desire and move down towards the proud cock rising gloriously from the silky brown curls.

“Beautiful,” I whisper, then lick the salty tip, relishing the taste of him.

“Andy,” he moans as my tongue sweeps circles around him.

I move my lips to his thighs and trace my tongue along the skin there. Nipping gently, I lower my head and my eyelashes brush against his thighs. His entire body shivers, his swollen cock twitching with appreciation.

He sighs deliciously. “Everything I imagined. You can make me come by just teasing me with those beautiful eyelashes of yours.”

“I have other plans to make you come.”

Taking his shaft into my mouth, I devour all of him, forcing as much of him down my throat as I can until my nose is buried in his curls, my forehead touching his stomach.

“Fuck, Andy!” he gasps, his hips trembling with the effort to stay still. “Where the fuck did you learn that?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” I grin and return to sucking on his cock. There’s no patience in my actions. I want him coming in my mouth, shooting down my throat, now, so I can ease the aching between my own legs. As much as I love the feel of him in my mouth and the sweetly mewling sounds that reach my ears, I want him. All of him. I want to know what it’s like to fuck Orlando Bloom.

“Andy!” he warns me, finally, and I draw even harder on him until the hot liquid hits the back of my throat.

As my tongue cleans the last of the bitter fluid from his sensitive skin, his body gives a final shudder and he lies on the mattress, panting, as weak as a child. Just the way I want him.

Standing up, I slowly remove my clothes, his curious brown eyes watching as each piece hits the floor.

“What is it you think you’re doing?” he asks, and I smile.

“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?”

“I’m pretty sure I am.”

“You might be, but my evening is not yet over,” I say, letting my boxers fall to the floor.

His eyes widen ever so slightly, but then his expression smoothes and he watches me passively as I disappear into the bathroom. Seeing as how he is male and active, I figure he’ll have some sort of supplies readily available, and I am not wrong.

Returning to the bedroom, his eyebrow arches as he eyes the condom in one hand, the tube of lubricant in the other.

“I don’t remember this being on the agenda for the night.”

“It may not have been on your agenda, but it is most definitely on mine.”

“Perhaps you didn’t understand me. . .”

“Oh, I did, and my answer remains the same,” I say as I crawl back onto the bed, kneeling between his thighs. “Did you think I was going to waste an opportunity like this?”

“Like what?”

“To have you spread out before me, naked, stealing my breath away. If I wasn’t so hard I could scream, I might settle for spending the rest of the night simply worshipping you.”

He is silent for a moment, giving me a calculating stare. “What if I say no?”

“I would never force you.”

The edges of his lips curl slightly. “What if I say yes?”

Instead of answering him with words, I answer him with a kiss preventing him from seeing the bewildered joy in my eyes. He’s going to do it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to get the chance to fuck the sinfully stunning Orlando Bloom.

“Roll over,” I say, my voice gravelly with need. His eyes twinkling with amusement, he nods and obeys. I slowly run my fingers down his back, my thumbs tracing over the scar that mars his smooth skin. Reaching those flawless buttocks, I cup them in my palms, squeezing gently. I spread them, then bring them together, repeating the process as I watch his puckered entrance disappear, and then reappear.

“Want you,” he whispers, pushing back against my hands, and I pause.

“You do?”

“Andy, I don’t think you realize how amazing you are.”

“I think I have a good idea,” I say, squeezing a dollop of lubricant onto my fingers, “and it doesn’t add up to a whole lot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, purring as I slip a finger inside of him. For all the use he’s rumored to have, he’s extremely tight, and for a moment I wonder if I’m making a mistake. What if I hurt him? How many people will line up to have my head if I hurt Orlando Bloom? “More, Andy,” he says, ending my deliberations, and I oblige.

“Tell me why you want me,” I say, stretching him with two fingers.

“I like your eyes. I like your face. I like your sense of humor, your sweet nature, the way your entire body lights up when you see something you want.”

“It does?” I ask, surprised, as I add a third finger.

“Mmm. . .” he smiles, starting to writhe against me. “It does. It’s an extremely sexy thing to watch. In fact, you’re doing it right now. You’re all lit up, and the hunger in you. . . You’ve gotta fuck me, Andy, before I come again. Until I come again. While I come again. It doesn’t matter. I want you inside of me.”

Well, there’s no arguing with that. Sliding the condom onto my cock, I nudge his entrance with the tip, and that alone is enough to send shivers through my body.

“In me,” he growls.

I ease in an inch and pull out again, massaging his hole and the tip of my cock until he’s whimpering with need and I’m practically ready to come.

“Andy!” he commands.

“Right,” I grin and thrust into him with one smooth stroke.

“Much better,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Amazing,” I say and start moving inside of him. I’m slow at first, wanting to relish this feeling, but it’s just too much. He’s too much, and soon, I’m pounding into him as if his body was never anything more than a vessel for my cock. His hands reach up to grasp the poles of the headboard and he’s anchoring himself against me, forcing me deeper into him.

“Gods, Andy! More!”

My hands clutch at his hips, my nails digging into his sides as I push even harder inside his body. The smooth gliding of my dick through his skin is punctuated by the slapping of our flesh, the intermingled grunts and gasps from our lips.

He is surrounding me, so tight and so hot, our bodies growing slick with heat and sweat. I can feel him tensing and holding back, then squeezing harder to give me more. I wonder how much further I would have to go in order to bury myself inside of him forever?

A strangled cry erupts from his lips and his body pulses around me with the force of his orgasm.

“Oh, bloody hell!” I shout as I burst inside him. My body shaking is so hard I’m barely able to remain conscious. I thrust a few more times, then withdraw and collapse next to him.

The dark curls shift and his eyes turn to meet mine, soft laughter falling from his lips.

“‘Bloody hell’?” he asks, brown irises dancing with mirth.

“First thing that came to mind,” I grin, and he starts to laugh even harder, curling his body around me.

“And you wonder why I wanted you,” he says, planting a quick kiss on my lips before resting his head on my shoulder.

And I probably always will, I think as the beautiful creature in my arms drifts off to sleep, my own weary self not long to follow.

When I wake up the next morning, it is to a cold bed and the sound of the shower running. Suddenly, I am at a loss. I just spent the night with Orlando Bloom. What comes next?

Life, I suppose.

Dressing quickly, I scribble a note on a piece of paper and leave it lying on the bed. With one last glance at Orlando’s temporary domain, I return to my own room to shower and change clothes.

Before long, I am heading downstairs to the cast and press breakfast arranged by the PR people. I greet my friends with the usual hugs and laughter, Orli included. It is as if the night has never happened, or so I believe until a hand lingers on my right cheek a little longer than necessary. I glance at him and he gives me a wicked grin and the slightest of winks, then is dragged off by the Hobbits.

Smiling to myself, I join Ian and Karl, the latter giving me a knowing look. I just shrug as if I don’t know what he means, but we all know where I spent last night. It may have been the first and only time I’ll share a bed with Orlando, but as I glance at the young man laughing across the room, at least it seems there are no regrets for either of us.

I know there are none for me.

My smile widening, I focus on answering the question Ian is asking me and am still only a little surprised to find that after sex with Orlando, life does indeed go on.

[Completed 12/29/03]