The easel he stood before had taken shape and he was pleased with it. He had chosen to work in monochromatic colors thinking that it might snap him out of his obsession for Legolas, but he was wrong. Viggo stood there before the easel, dressed in low cut stone-washed jeans and black tank-top. There were bright splotches of paint on his jeans where he had wiped excess paint, along with a smudges of it on his cheeks. He gazed upon his latest work, that of the luminous elf that Orlando had been portraying for so long. Picking up his pant brush one last time, he began to put the last touches on the canvas and never heard the front door open.

Orlando stumbled through the front door, his mind whirling with the myriad of thoughts he had been relentlessly pondering for the last few weeks. There was something seriously wrong with this relationship, if you could even call it that anymore. It had begun to enrage Orlando when Viggo called him Legolas and Elf-Boy. A fury, unlike any he had never known before, began to worm its way into his very heart. Heading into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of beer. Popping the top, he took a sip and then went searching for Viggo. He poked his curly brown head into most of the rooms, leaving Viggo’s studio for last.  Then he realized that was the place he should have looked first. Viggo was standing there in skin tight jeans that accentuated his muscular buttocks and the top showed off his broad shoulders, but beyond him was another canvas.

Brown eyes the color of chocolate opened wide as he stared at his character staring back at him, seeing a gaze filled with dreamy desire and lust burning in their dark pools. This wasn’t one of Viggo’s normal paintings, for the subject was Legolas, but this time he was portrayed naked, though all his assets were discretely covered by one elegantly bent knee. For Orlando this was the last straw and he threw the door to the studio open with a loud bang. Viggo looked up in surprise, hearing the banging of the door and saw Orlando standing there with a horrible scowl on his face. He was staring at both Viggo and the canvas behind him with obvious loathing. Viggo searched his mind in vain for something to say, something brilliant, but failed miserably, “Uh, hi, Elf-Boy, have a good time with the Hobbits?” he asked lamely.

A snarl that looked quite out of place on that handsome face appeared on his lips as he growled out, “Yes, Aragorn… I did indeed, and what I discovered is that YOU are obsessed with someone that I am not. I am not your Elf-Boy, I have a name and I bloody demand that you use it!” he finished, throwing the open bottle against the canvas. It bounced, but not before spraying the painting with foam as it slid to the floor with a crash. “You’re obsessed with my character and don’t’ love me at all!” he said, his hands balling into aching fists at his sides.

Viggo had never seen him so angry. But watching the bottle sail in a perfect arc and in almost slow motion across the room and ruin the face that was upon the canvas, one that he had put a lot of time and love into, made him ignore Orlando's ire. There was a roaring in his ears and he could barely comprehend the words that Legolas… no, Orlando was throwing in his direction. Legolas would never have ruined something that was so special to him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you crazy?!” he shouted back, hurrying to the canvas and started to blot the beer that was no more than a dripping mess. Orlando walked over and yanked Viggo’s hands away from his attempts to blot the canvas, and Viggo could only look at his lover in confusion. “Let me go to try and fix what you’ve ruined.”

“Ruined?! Ruined?!” he shouted, “And nothing is bloody well wrong with me, it's you! You crazy, bloody obsessed wanker!” He didn’t care that Viggo had been trying to blot the beer for he was angry and hurt. He needed to say what he had come here to say, for this was no longer home to him; he wasn’t sure where it was, but it sure as hell wasn’t here. “You love that part of me, don’t you? My character! But he isn't me, you never cared about me and that’s why you were always calling me Elf-Boy. That's why you started calling me Legolas in bed, isn’t it?! ISN’T IT?!” he snarled right in Viggo’s face.

Viggo growled in response, tearing his wrists out of Orlando’s strong grip and shouted back, “I’m not the one who started this, and I’m not a bloody wanker! I’m not the fucking self absorbed little brat who ruined my painting! Elf-Boy is a nickname; you ignorant son of a bitch. You used to like it!” Viggo’s voice was rising in volume until it cracked with the strain, as he rubbed his bruised wrists.

“I’m not a self absorbed brat, you bloody twit. I’m Orlando fucking Bloom and I don’t like it when the man I fucking love trounces all over my bloody heart, leaving me to pick up the pieces.” Orlando hissed viciously as he peered at the canvas and ripped the face off, the face that haunted him, because it was all Viggo could think about. He threw it at Viggo, glorying as the piece of cloth hit him square in his chest.  He said, “You fell in love with those golden locks and mine aren’t… they’re just brown. The blue eyes that seemed to stare into your soul, instead of the plain old brown ones that I have, RIGHT?!” he hissed, watching as the piece of canvas slid down Viggo's chest to flutter to the floor. Viggo paced around the room like a caged animal longing for its freedom, even as Orlando yelled at him with uncontrolled fury. “There, now you have what you desire the most, HIS face! But know this; you will not have THIS body again, not until you decide what the fuck it is that you want.” He finished turning sharply on his heel and headed for the door of the studio.

Viggo let out a scream of anguish as he slammed his fist through the nearest window. The pain in his hand took the edge of the ire he felt and he was starting to see that he was being pretty self absorbed himself. “Orlando, wait!” he cried out, “Orli, please, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please, don’t leave this way.” Viggo didn’t want things to end this way, for Orlando had been his friend long before he became his lover. And he would rather die than have things end this way between them. He watched as Orlando paused in the doorway, hope flaring in his heart, Did I get through to him? Is he going to stay? he thought to himself as he watched Orlando stand there.

Hearing the apologies that spilled from Viggo’s lips, Orlando wanted nothing more than to turn around and collapse into the older man’s embrace, feel him stroke his hair and tell him that he was loved, but it wasn’t going to happen. Orlando had to do this now, or he would be trapped forever in a place he no longer wanted to be. “It is too late for your apologies, too late to undo the damage you’ve done… you fancy a shag, find a rent boy… you want me, you can bloody well sod off, I’m not available for you anymore. Goodbye Viggo.” His voice was cold as he spoke, flat with no emotion.  He went through the door and closed it behind him with a click.

Viggo stood in shock as Orlando walked out, and heard the engine of Orlando’s car as it roared to life, the squeal of tires as the young man walked out of his life. “Oh god, what have I done?” he asked aloud, hoping that the heavens would give him an answer. Realizing that his hand was dripping crimson fluid, he headed towards the bathroom to wrap it in a bandage.

“Bloody wanker, trounce on my fucking heart will you,” he snarled, as he drove through the dark streets of New Zealand like a maniac. He was taking turns way too quickly, and being slightly inebriated didn’t help much, but at this point he really didn't care. He pulled up before the house where Elijah, Dominic and Billy were staying, jumped out and slammed the car door. He went up to the front door and began pounding on it with his fist, “Open the bloody door, mates.”

Elijah Wood had returned home not long before and was alone. Dom and Billy were still flirting with some of the New Zealand ladies or rather attempting to do so in their clumsy, boisterous fashion. Elijah was leaving the kitchen, where he had been brewing a pot of coffee, and was wiping his hands on his pants when he heard the commotion. “Man, they must have lost their keys… again,” he grumbled. He chuckled as he walked over, ready to tease the duo when he opened it, but what he found on the front door was nothing he wanted to laugh at. For Orlando stood there, hands and face covered in paint; along with unshed tears glistening in his eyes. Pulling him inside and looking around at the deserted dark streets he spoke, “What’s wrong, Orli, God, what have you been doing?”

As Elijah pulled him inside, Orlando wiped at his eyes, smearing paint and tears all over his face. “Bloody Viggo…” he mumbled, as he tugged his arm from Elijah’s grip and headed straight for the kitchen, “any Oban lying about, mate?” he queried poking through cupboards. Elijah followed him with a sad look in his eyes.

“Orli, are you sure you need anymore to drink, man?” he asked, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Orlando was almost comically poking his head into cupboards and growling softly. “I brewed some coffee, come on and have some with me.” He remembered something then, and it brought a smile of recollection to his lips…

…Dominic, Billy, Orlando, Viggo and Elijah were all at Viggo’s having a barbecue on a Saturday afternoon; the wind was light as it blew across the deck where the 'hobbits' were sitting around in chairs. Orlando was sitting on the railing with Viggo standing between his legs, wrapped in his embrace. Elijah had to smile at the love he saw radiating off both of them, for Orlando looked happy, completely at peace with himself. Viggo’s head was resting over Orlando’s cloth covered heart, and Orlando’s cheek was against the older man’s head. Orlando’s arms and legs were wrapped loosely around the older man’s form, fingers delicately stroking the flesh beneath the shirt. “Mmm, this is nice.”

“Yeah, Orli, it really is.” Viggo responded with a dreamy smile as he traced the skin over Orlando’s kneecap, the arms around him were warm and comforting, the beat of the younger man’s heart soothing in its lazy beat. Dominic was manning the grill and expertly turning over the lone salmon steak, Billy was debating on poking his friend with some tongs that he was loosely holding in his hand and Elijah was sipping a beer and simply enjoying the afternoon sun. Unwinding himself from Orlando, Viggo walked over and sat down close to Elijah, “Hey, you okay? You’re pretty quiet.”

“Hey Vig, yeah, I’m okay, simply enjoying the day off. Hey, they better not muck up Orli’s salmon or he’s going to be mad.” But no sooner did those words pass Elijah’s lips then Billy pinched Dominic with the tongs, making him yelp as he dropped the salmon steak that he had been in the process of flipping over. Orlando watched the piece of salmon hit the deck with a splat and anger glittered in Orlando’s gaze.

“Run,” Billy squeaked as he took off into the house attempting to hide from the wrath of Orli, but strangely enough it never came. Orlando hopped off the railing and in bare feet and calmly walked over, picking up the ruined piece of seafood and tossed it into the bin.

“What’s with Orli?” Elijah asked of Viggo, who glanced up at his lover and sighed deeply, “You guys aren’t fighting are you?”

“No, we’re not fighting.” He replied, “Orlando is just a bit... off today is all, he’ll be fine.” He replied as they watched the usually energetic young man head listlessly down the stairs of the deck onto the beach. Elijah made a motion to get up and follow him but a hand on his arm held him motionless, “Just let him go.”

“Are you sure?” Viggo nodded in reply, “Okay.”

Billy stuck his head through the window then, “Is it safe?” he asked, looking around for Orli.

“Yeah, I’ll go check on him.” Viggo said as he rose from his seat and headed across the sand to where Orlando was sitting. The other three watched him go, as Dom playfully smacked Billy upside his head.

“Oiy! What was that for?” he asked, rubbing the spot lightly with his fingers.

“Making me drop Orli’s salmon.” He replied.

Viggo approached Orlando quietly, not wanting to startle the young man who was sitting there, the sunlight playing off his features like an admirer’s hand; eyes the color of warm cocoa stared into the horizon and the salty breeze ruffled the hair of his Mohawk. “Hey, spare some sand?” he asked, trying to make Orlando smile. The sadness in the young man’s eyes made him pause, “Orli? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replied, turning his gaze back to the waves that rolled towards shore and watching the foam which lapped sweetly at his toes. Viggo sat next to Orlando, taking the younger man’s hand in his own.

“You don’t look fine, you look tired,” he commented worriedly.

“I am tired.” He said, the urge to pull his hand from Viggo’s nearly overpowering. “Why do you keep painting nothing but Legolas?”

Viggo was stunned into silence for a moment, “It doesn’t matter, Elf-Boy. It’s you that I love.” Elijah was watching from the deck, and though he couldn’t hear the conversation he had seen the sadness in Orlando’s gaze when he walked off towards the beach.

“Viggo…” silenced by the finger that was placed over his lips, he gazed at Viggo, the question plain in his eyes.

“Le amo solamente, porque usted tiene mi corazón.” He whispered in Spanish, leaning in and kissing Orlando’s sweet mouth. Orlando secretly loved it when Viggo spoke in whatever language he chose for it ignited his blood. Falling backwards into the sand, Orlando pulled the older man atop his body, caring not for the waves that rolled over his calves. Laying half atop Orlando, Viggo deepened the kiss, his tongue twirling and dancing around Orlando’s with a passion. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, as their mouths fused together in ecstasy. The water rushed over the two of them with a roar that matched the fever in their hearts. Even drenched with sea water their passion was not abated, but flared out of complete control.

Elijah smiled softly as he turned towards Billy and Dominic, “Let’s go guys.” They turned towards him as though he had lost his mind, “Let’s go… now.”

“But, we haven’t eaten.”

“Come on you bloody wanker, let’s go!” Dom said when he caught sight of the couple in the sand. He hit Billy again and the three of them trooped out of the house, taking the steaks off the grill and putting them on a plate before they left. Elijah thought that things would only get better from here on out…

Elijah watched Orlando, for he like all the other cast members had noticed that things weren’t right between them and had worried that something or someone was going to blow soon, but he never would have Elijah thought it to be Orlando. “He fucking doesn’t love me.”

“What is going on between you two, last year you were inseparable, now you’re miserable…try to tell me what’s wrong,” Elijah asked, putting his hand on his friend's knee comfortingly.

Orlando sighed, patting his pockets searching for the nicotine his body and mind desperately craved. Finding a half crushed pack of cigarettes, he lit one and puffed desperately on it, “He said he loved me, cherished me, he made me fly… then I found out things I didn’t really need to know. He called me Legolas in bed and Elf-Boy everywhere, I didn’t understand then, but I do now.” He puffed on the lit cigarette and rocked back and forth in the chair nearly falling out of it.

Elijah had no idea that things had gotten this bad between them and his eyes widened slightly in shock. “He calls you Legolas in bed? I’m not quite following you,” he asked, raising his troubled blue eyes to look at his friend.

Brown eyes, both sad and angry glared back at Elijah, as he flicked ashes into a nearby pop can, “Because he doesn’t fucking love me… remember when I told you I thought there was someone else? There is, it’s Legolas. That is who Viggo loves, that is who he wants, and it's Legolas that he fucking paints over and over. Sketches him, writes poetry to him; that's who he sees, he doesn't see me. I’m tired of it Elijah, fucking, bloody tired of that stupid wanker.”

Elijah blinked and sat there a moment, not sure what to say, “That is so strange, has it always been that way, Orli?”

He stubbed the cigarette into the can and shook his head, “No... yes... but how the bloody hell should I know? All I know is that if I see that miserable, sodding wanker again I’m going to bloody well punch him.”

“Didn’t Pete say that you were almost done with your scenes? Come on, Orlando; you can make it a few more days.” Elijah hated to see Orlando this way, but he also knew that if he left the movie that he would get a reputation as being unreliable and that would hurt him more on the long run.

Orlando sighed deeply, “Yeah, I’m going to finish this movie and go on to do others, but I do not need to see that bloody wanker alone ever again.” He growled as he searched for another cigarette.

“I wish I could make it better, but I know that I can’t.”

“Ya can’t make it better fer me, mate… but ‘hanks for being there.”

“Anytime you know that. Hey you can have my room tonight, that way you won’t have to be bothered by Billy or Dom when they plod in,” Elijah offered.

“Nah, mate, I’ll take the couch, if I sleep in a bed I'll never get up.”  He sighed and confessed, “I’ve been sleeping on the couch at Vig’s place for two weeks.”

“Hell, I don’t know how you stayed there feeling the way you did, Orli. Why didn’t you come to us?” He said his eyes tearing in sympathy. “You should have known you’d be welcome here.”

“We’d fall asleep in bed together, then he’d call me Legolas even in his bloody sleep. I couldn't stand listening to it so I would move to the couch. I thought he loved me, thought I could live with it. I forgave him more times then I can count, ‘Lij, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave or it would have been my undoing,” Orlando's voice broke in anguish.

Elijah sat on the edge of the chair and put an arm around his shoulder, "I understand, Orli. It's hard being with someone day in and day out loving them and getting nothing back." He smiled gently, “I know you’re a professional and I know that you’ll finish the movies." Then he grinned mischievously, "I’m glad you came here, Orli, but maybe you should go take a shower. .”

“Okay, thanks mate. I will finish the movies. And whaddya mean take a shower?” he asked his face contorting into a scowl.

“Well, Orli, you look like hell and don’t smell much better.” Elijah said with a wink.

Orlando scowled fiercely, “Nice to know I bloody well look the way I feel.” He rose from the couch and watched Elijah slip into the kitchen.

He came back out with two cups and handed one to Orlando. “Here you go mate, but bath, shower all the same, less stinky Orli,” he said with a grin.

“’Ey!” he said slurring the word slightly as he sipped the coffee. “Alright, I’ll go take a bloody shower, as long as you have that peachy vanilla scented gel.”

Elijah looked at Orlando as though he had grown an extra head with a pair of green horns. “We have a cornucopia of fruit gels in there, you know how Dom gets. I would be very surprised if there weren’t any left,” he said as he watched Orlando pad down the hall to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt on the way.

“Thanks mate.” Orlando replied as he closed the bathroom door and started up the shower, stripping quickly out of the rest of his clothes and piling them on the floor. He stepped into it when it was nice and warm and sighed at the feeling of the water cascading over his body.

Elijah smiled, “You’re welcome Orli,” he said softly as he watched the door close. When he heard the rush of the shower, he grinned even more. He heard the phone ring and rolled over to get it, “This better not be Dom or Billy needing a ride home… hello?”

“Elijah?”

Oh, man, what did I do to deserve this? He thought to himself as Viggo’s voice came over the line, “Hey Vig, its kind of late, what’s up?”

“Dammit, I know it’s late, is Leg…Orlando there?” he asked, cursing himself at the slip up that he made.

Even though he knew that Viggo was doing this, it stung to hear him say it. “Viggo, Legolas is not here, Orlando is, but he’s not available,” he replied, his voice cold, like arctic winter.

Viggo’s voice wavered, “Shit, just tell me he’s alright.”

Elijah thawed a little at the sound of Viggo's broken voice. “He’s fine, physically… emotionally, he’s a wreck,” he said. His heart went out to Viggo at the sincerity in the older actor’s voice, but he knew also that Orlando wasn’t ready to deal with Viggo just yet. “He’s in the shower, and I think you should wait until after the movie wraps up to talk to him.” He continued, “He’s not really in the best shape right now.”

“Fine,” Viggo said sharply, hanging up the phone. Elijah sighed, and hung his head in his hands, nothing made sense anymore. Last year they had all be close friends, and were looking forward to seeing each other to do the extra footage and re-shoots. But now, everything was falling apart and his friends were tearing at each other like ravenous wolves. And Viggo was angry with him as well.

“Hey… I think I’m just going to crash on your couch,” Orlando said as he came out of the bathroom with nothing more than a towel wrapped around his slender hips. The steam billowing out of the bathroom behind him made him seem as though he were a nymph from a mythology story. Water glistened on his bare chest as it trailed in slow rivulets down his muscular chest into the towel that was a bit too small to fit around him. As he moved down the hall, Elijah glimpsed the muscles of his thigh. Elijah gave a small sigh at his beauty.

Viggo’s a bloody wanker for hurting Orlando this way… Elijah thought. He debated on telling Orlando about Viggo’s call, then decided against it, as he replied, “You might want to crash in my room, I don’t snore that loud.” He said with a laugh.

“I’ll crash wherever mate, I just need sleep.”

“Go sleep in my room, Orli, that way the guys won’t bother you when they get home with their antics.” He said as he rose and walked over to Orlando, “I’m glad you came to us, and sleep well, okay?” Elijah finished as he gave Orlando a spontaneous hug. Orlando shuffled slowly down the hallway back towards Elijah’s room and saw the couch, upon which he flopped and was almost instantly asleep. Elijah followed him and smiled at his sleeping friend. He grabbed a blanket off his bed and tucked it tenderly around the slightly older actor, “Good night, Orli.”

          *          *          *

The next few weeks flew by and Orlando had gotten into a comfortable living arrangement with the Hobbits. He completely avoided Viggo except when they had scenes together. Being an professional, Orlando gritted his teeth and did everything that Peter had asked of him and gave all he had to the role. He was looking forward to leaving New Zealand and all his troubles behind, which meant leaving Viggo behind. He was heading immediately to a new project, the filming of Troy in Malta, where he would be working once again with Sean Bean. He sat in the makeup trailer, getting his makeup removed when Viggo walked in; Orlando glanced up and met his eyes in the mirror then lowered them back down to the magazine he was reading. “Hey, Orli,” he said softly. When Orlando didn’t reply, he pressed further, “Can I talk to you, please?”

Orlando looked up and waved the woman away who had just finished removing his ears. “What do you want? I think you said plenty before I left,” Orlando said evenly.

“I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s too late, Vig, I’ve moved on. Anyway I got a call from an old mate, might hang.” Orlando said as he ran a hand over his Mohawk and rose from the chair, “See ya around, maybe.” He stood, finished and headed out the door and left Viggo alone.

Viggo watched the young man go, realized that the bounce was back in his step, and knew that this mysterious someone was the cause of it. Jealously ran through him like a bolt of lightning and it seared his very soul. I lost him, my Elf-boy, and I want him back but it’s already too late. There was something nagging at the back of Viggo’s mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He too rose from the seat and stuck his head out of the trailer’s door to watch him go. He had just been tackled by Dom, Billy and Elijah and the three of them were rolling around on the grass, all of them laughing. He had missed hearing Orlando laugh in such a manner.

“Find yourself a rent boy…” Words echoed in Viggo’s mind from the night that Orlando walked out on him. “He’s emotionally a wreck, Vig…” Viggo took one last look at his beloved Orlando and sighed deeply. He headed back into the trailer and sat, waiting for makeup to take off his wig and clean up the blood. There was a cast party tonight to celebrate the last day of filming, but Viggo wasn’t sure he wanted to go. He wasn’t sure if he could take seeing his Lego…Orlando one last time.

          *          *          *

The cast party seemed dull with Orlando missing, the young man usually added energy and fun to any gathering. Viggo sighed as he looked around for Orlando, but no one he spoke to seemed to know where he was and he was afraid to ask Elijah who might have known. Orlando was, in fact, on his way to Malta to film the movie, Troy. Sean was on a different flight, but Orlando knew that he would see him there in a few days. Leaning back in his seat, Orlando stared out the window at the sea as he flew over it, thinking how much he would miss New Zealand... and Viggo. As swift as they came, he pushed the thoughts of Viggo out of his mind. He reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

Malta was hot and sticky, but thankfully, for the role of Paris he wore very little. There were scenes when he wore nothing more than a pair of silk trousers and a black robe. He felt so comfortable here, but something was missing. He kept sinking… drowning in the memories that haunted his daylight waking hours and his dreams at night.

…Viggo’s kisses were exhilarating to Orlando’s blood, making him quiver and moan in sheer ecstasy. They lay before a large fireplace where a fire was crackling merrily, popping every so often as the couple was entwined in a loving embrace. Velvet tongues melded together, fingers were entangled in locks of wheat and auburn, as the fire was making their bodies glow; bodies that were slick with sweat, though they had barely begun…

Orlando Bloom opened the door to his trailer, where he opened a drawer and pulled out a sketchbook. Opening it up, he saw sketches that Viggo had done along with his scribbled notes in the margins. The pictures were mostly of Orlando, a few scattered here and there of him in character as Legolas. Why can I not stop thinking of him? He thought to himself as there was a knock on the door, “Come in.”

“Hey mate, got a moment?”

“Sure, Sean, come on in,” he said as he turned his head and smiled at his friend indicating a nearby chair, “What can I do for you?”  Sean took the offered chair with a sigh and looked at Orlando. “What is it?” asked Orlando.

“What happened, mate? Why didn’t you go to the cast off party back in New Zealand?” Sean asked softly. He noticed that Orlando picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. He lit it up before he turned towards Sean. “Seriously, Orli. Viggo was looking for you, to say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to say goodbye to Viggo, I had already done so,” Orlando said flatly.

“What happened between the two of you, anyway?”

…Orlando whimpered as Viggo rolled him over, massaging his back with gentle motions, moving steadily down his spinal column while nibbling at the back of his neck coaxing more mewls of pleasure and softer sounds that he couldn’t identify. “Je t'aime, Viggo. Je t’aime,” he whispered as Viggo simply smiled…

“We had a fight, a big one and I left him,” Orlando replied, looking down at the sketchbook in his hands. “I found out that he loved someone else.”

“Orlando, he didn’t love someone else, he loved you, and I think he still does.”

“I do not care,” Orlando's voice ground out.

“I saw him that night; he was upset that you didn’t show up,” Sean said. “He looked miserable,” he finished as Orlando flicked the tip of his cigarette into a glass ashtray. “When did you start smoking again?”

Orlando looked up, “it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine.” He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray and slid the sketchbook back into the drawer. “I don’t really want to talk about it Sean, I just want to finish this movie.”

“Maybe you should go back to New Zealand on the break we have coming up…” Sean said with concern, as Orlando looked up at him with uncertainty in his gaze. “Maybe you’ll find some peace there,” he finished, patting the younger man’s shoulder.

…”Usted es mi ligero...” Viggo whispered, “Mi sol, mi amor.” He finished as he slid a finger into Orlando’s trembling form and stroked his sweet spot, making the younger man cry out in pleasure and push his buttocks further backwards for more of the torture. Sliding behind the young man, Viggo rubbed his erection against the opening he was about to breach…

Je t'aime = I love you (French)

Le amo solamente, porque usted tiene mi corazón =  You are my only master, for      you have my heart (Spanish)

Mi sol, mi amor = my sun, my love (Spanish)