3 comments/ 29115 views/ 1 favorites She Believed By: helena_snow_renn Warnings: If you're just here for sex, it'll be a while till you get there. Hope you like dialogue. M/F sex. Bi-sexuality mentioned. Language. Mild angst. A bit of sap at the end. Timeframe: TTT Filming; Edoras Notes: I stole a couple references from the DVDs...special features and extended version. As always, this is fiction. It never happened. The beliefs, preferences, and actions of those mentioned here are all figments of my imagination. Today they were interviewing for the upcoming TTT "making of" preview. John, Ian, and Viggo were done. Liv's bits had been filmed already from another location. The stunt people wouldn't be started on till tomorrow. All that were left were Orlando and Miranda. Miranda was late. She'd been slotted first of the two. Orlando, they'd wanted more from, being he was who he was. But, time being of the essence, they had to get started anyway. Six minutes and thirty-seven seconds into Orli's interview, Miranda blew in. The door banged back against the wall, pushed by the strong winds, and for a second, Miranda's long blond hair stood straight up. Everyone in the vast pole-barn-like building jumped at the noise including the cameraman, which ruined the angle of his shot. It would have to be set to rights. It had been a long day full of interruptions. Since the sun set the temperature had dropped steadily. The propane heaters weren't cutting the chill. It was damn cold. Up since 6am, Orli had drunk a lot of soda to stay awake. All of this added up to Orli squirming around in his seat in obvious need of a piss. Might as well be now, since Miranda's disturbance had thrown off the flow of his interview. He excused himself while the small outside crew worked on their equipment. Five minutes later, and, he was sure, five pounds lighter, Orli arrived back at the little corner they had roped off to find Miranda's spot in full swing. He ducked back out for a smoke, wondering about getting cut off midway through like that. Oh, well. She was supposed to have gone first anyway. Maybe the camera angle when they bumped it was better for her. Stubbing his cig out after he'd smoked half, Orlando went back inside. It was just too cold to stand around doing nothing. His fingers were half frozen. Slowly he focused on what Miranda was saying. The journalist had done his homework. The man had brought a couple of keys to unlock his normally quiet and near-reclusive costar's hidden gift of gab. "...what do you like best about playing Eowyn?" the journalist was asking. "She's a tough woman," Miranda responded. "She rides horses, fights with swords and knives... she gets to kick butt!" Even Orli had to laugh at the way she said it. Her enthusiasm was infectious. "And what about her misplaced love for Aragorn? Did you have any problems living up to that role?" "Oh, yeah." Miranda's clear blue eyes sparkled. Her voice was all husky. "She wants him." The book spelled it out plainly. Even the usually laconic Tolkien conveyed the heat between Eowyn and Aragorn most convincingly. You've have to be dead or asexual not to pick it up. Miranda convinced herself she was only speaking as Eowyn, but no one else was laboring under any such delusion. She wanted him, alright. "Poor Miranda," thought Orlando. "That's never going to happen." Meanwhile, Miranda was at the end of her time allotment, and now she was flustered. She'd essentially clued the world in on some very personal information; with the concept of it going onto worldwide television and eventually millions of peoples' media libraries, a severe case of hoof-in-mouth disease set in. Orli understood how she felt, and how she got to that point. He was hardly immune to Viggo's feral poise. The man could pull any emotion he wanted out of his arse, portray it, and you believed. After nine months of shooting, Orli thought he had figured it out. Viggo had spent so much time observing people, he carried a full-service human-psychology thesis in his head. His own complicated and intense psyche led him to work it outward in various ways; acting was only one of them. Viggo was a mirror to the human race. Miranda had been around full-scale shooting for a couple months. She hadn't been exposed to the man long enough to realize one rarely, if ever, met the real Viggo. Because he was so convincingly genuine, most people didn't understand they were talking to a façade. It was nothing Vig did out of spite or malice, simply his method of self-preservation. Orli had watched the subtleties of Viggo's facial expression when he and Miranda shot the scene in which she feeds him slop and inquires about his age. Orli would consider himself talented indeed if he could ever achieve half that, twenty years from now. Miranda's open face said it all, just as Eowyn's did. She believed. Then, a few days later, when Viggo rides off with the Rohirrim to battle wargs, Peter, that sly fox, used what Orli hadn't known for all that long to his advantage. He deliberately captured Aragorn's turn-and-bolt first. Viggo threw all manner of longing looks in the correct direction, giving Pete just the right amount of what he needed, like he always did. Miranda was watching. To compound it, PJ replayed the dailies for her. And she believed. Nor was she acting when it came around to her turn. Miranda properly thanked and was thanked by the representative shooting the preview show, and then she bolted. Orli went after her. He caught up in the room reserved for make-up. She was beside herself. A track was practically being worn into the floor by her pacing. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck... goddammit all! Fucking stupid bird... "Who are you talking to?" Orli inquired to her back. She whirled around, eyes blazing conflicting hot-and-cold. "Who do you think, fuckwit! For being so fucking pretty, you're not very bright, are you?" Orlando hated it when people called him stupid but kept his cool. "Hey, calm down. Go on. What's eating you?" "Fuck off, Orli." She was off in some alternate plane of rage and self-hatred. "You saw, before you walked off to go snicker behind your hand. The whole fucking world is going to see that, but do I care? No. All I care about is..." She cut herself off. And they were calling for him. "... Mr. Bloom? We're ready for you now...." He spoke in a low voice, and quickly. "Look, maybe I'm not the right man for the job, but wait for me, ok? You really shouldn't be alone right now. Can I try to talk you down?" To the outside world, he might have asked a weird question; here it was more of a courtesy. The whole crew used the expression 'talk you down' for any matter of upset that one couldn't deal with on his or her own, be it a blown line, a problem with one's character, or getting blown off in real life by last night's conquest. To Orli's thinking, the blond actress had rolled all three into one pretty well. "We'll see," she said slowly, staring at him wide-eyed. "Now, get out of here. Go! They're waiting." Orlando's question-and-answer session went on for nearly half an hour. He hadn't caught sight of Miranda once. She must have sneaked out a side door, he decided. Wishing he had brought a heavier jacket, he made ready to head back to his trailer. At least in his small, portable house, the space heaters took care of most of the chill. Orli found Miranda waiting for him just outside the door, bundled in a puffy light blue coat, dragging heavily on what looked like one of Elijah's cloves. His eyebrows shot up. "You smoke?" Miranda exhaled a cloud of blue smoke to the sky. It disappeared immediately in the whipping wind. "Today I do. Well then, let's go. 'Talk me down,' will you? Good luck. I'm warning you now. I am so... you could get your head bitten off." He looked her up and down. She was not a small woman, but he still had a few inches and months worth of crash-course martial arts and weapons training on her. Her temper on the other hand: acid. "Do your worst," Orlando told her. "I'm not scared." They walked. Now that Miranda had free rein, she couldn't think of anything to say. "So, have you calmed down at all yet?" Orlando opened, after they'd taken about a hundred steps. "Superficially, maybe. I'm still shaking, though," Miranda bit out. "Can you tell me what made you say that?" Orlando decided to cut to the chase. No use dancing around the subject. "Just fell out of my mouth," she said defensively. "One of those classic wrong moves. I'm not going to be able to look anyone in the face ever again." Anyone, as in, one particular person. "Christ, Miranda, we're only human. You're overreacting. You wouldn't believe the ridiculous amount of stupid things I say every day of my life. And people just laugh." Miranda was not impressed. She didn't want to be taught the fine art of making a fool of yourself by this mouthy little git. "Fine for you to say. You can get away with it." "Oh? care to ask Pete about that? Anyway, we're actors. Of course we're gonna be quirky." "Did they teach you that at the Royal Academy, rent-boy?" Orli ignored that particular comment. It had been made all too many times before. "...And romance on the set is nothing new. It's not like you're screwing him..." Miranda's face went ruddy. "It's not a 'romance.' Fucking one-sided if it is." "Yeah, I know. Me, too." Miranda turned her huge blue-grey eyes up into Orli's brown ones. The truth was there. "I never knew," she said. "I'm sorry." This was unexpected. But why should it be? In fact, she should have known. 'Poor thing,' she was thinking. 'Surely not him...?' "Whatever for?" "Possession being nine-tenths and all that... your nine beats my two, or something. You've had a 'case' of him longer than I have, I take it." "Ah, yes. Being in a position to know, let me tell you: No one gets Vig. Not because I say so, but because that's just the way it is. Or if they do, I've not heard one bloody word of it." They had reached Orlando's door. "Come in for a drink?" he asked politely. Miranda wasn't sure if he really wanted her to, or if he was just being kind. She hesitated. "I've got some beer. Or some scotch or something. Feel like it?" "Yeah, sure, what the hell." With that, the pair stepped up into Orlando's home-away-from-home. Inside was a mess, which Miranda didn't find surprising. Orli rummaged around in his cupboards for cups, poured Miranda a healthy shot and got himself a beer. He remembered to crank up the heat before he sat down. There was one space heater on each end of the trailer. Miranda watched him. What a strange turn of events. In all honesty, she'd always thought he was too self-centered to ever do anyone else a favor. Well, they could commiserate. "So, then, Viggo?" Orli reminded her. She choked on her scotch. Coughing, she managed, "Jesus sakes, you're blunt." "Uh, huh. So spit it out already." "What's there to say?" She sighed. "It's plain enough to you. I can't believe he'd turn you down, of all people. I'm just a woman and I know how it is around here, but you know, I could love the guy. Isn't that stupid, Orlando? I mean, I don't even know him, not even a little. People run to him night and day for advice on their acting or their fighting skills and even their, erm, love lives. He's like the big brother for the whole cast. And here stupid me looks into his face once and bang! Forget that. I can just see myself going to him: 'Hey, Viggo, can you help me out? There's this guy I'm way into, and he looks at me a certain way all the time on the set, and then off, not at all. Whaddaya make of that Viggo, huh? You think I should say something to him?' Bloody brilliant!" Orlando looked at her steadily through her outburst. He lit up again and took a long drag before replying, "No, don't do that. You know why? He's expecting it." "What?!?" "Yeah. Nothing gets by him. Seriously. Wanna know what else? Maybe this'll make you feel better. I did that myself. Must've been the second, maybe third week he was here. Was pissing drunk when I did it, can't really even remember much. I pushed him up against his car and tried to molest him... He was oh-so-nice about it. But, no, not interested. Probably just catalogued it away into his mental file of fucked-up human behavior. Still embarrasses me a little, that. I'm not the only one, either. It's kind of an inevitability around here. So don't even go there." A little noise of surprise escaped Miranda. Well, so much for subtlety. And she was only the umpteenth...Christ on a cracker! Down went the rest of whatever poison was in her cup and she poured herself a fresh one, almost to the top. Orlando, seeing she was taking it straight, thought he'd better warn her. "That swill you're drinking is about 120 proof. Watch yourself. It'll put you on your arse." "Maybe that's what I'm aiming for," said Miranda, still sulking. "Well, it's done now." "State the obvious, why don't you?" "You're going to have to deal. Tomorrow, you'll have to get back in front of the camera with him and pretend it never happened. Eowyn dressed up in drag and followed him to war, but you don't have that option. You'll just have to face up to it." "It's really refreshing to see you so philosophical. Never thought you'd be able to string such big words together. Such towering and relevant concepts. Fuck you." "You and whose army? No one gets the pristine elf, either." Orlando laughed at that and stretched, so absolutely fucked was such a statement. Their little space was getting too smoky and warm. "You mean, everyone gets the pristine elf," Miranda said in a leading tone. "How many, Orli? I won't ask who, but..." She was unable to stop herself from looking at the bare skin of his stomach, and that little sun tattoo. 'Oh, no, leave now!' she told herself. And didn't. His eyes glittered. "Oh, you know...I can still count on two hands and two feet." "Huh? Oh!" Miranda wondered rapidly about who, and when, and where, and why she cared. This was getting weird. She was starting to loose focus. "Pig! But you didn't get Viggo either." At least there was that to rub his nose in. If he had, Miranda would be feeling considerably less warm and fuzzy toward him right now. "Nope. Dammit, anyway." "And you're still saying that to yourself, even now. Doesn't give me much to look forward to, does it?" Orlando lowered his eyes. At length, he told her, "Just 'cause I'm a total idiot about it doesn't mean you have to be. And don't. Take it from me. All those people...? Substitutes." Miranda looked over at him and saw the residual pain in dark eyes which turned to her now. One didn't usually scratch his surface enough to be allowed such. Why the fuck had he told her? Throw her a bone. She felt for him, though. In fact, he looked how she felt. Did blue eyes show so much depth, she wondered. A second later she had the answer. Yes. Viggo's did. The thought depressed her all over again. "Dammit, fucking shit!" she swore. "I wonder if he did that to Liv. She never seemed bothered by him." Orli snorted. "Fuck you, Orlando." "Yeah, yeah, you said that before. 'Fuck you, fuck off'...it's getting repetitious, Eowyn. Go practice your Elvish! Don't be so damn touchy. Besides, I wasn't laughing at you. Viggo was never her problem. Hardly. He helped her, in fact. Other than that, though, I'm sorry but I'm sworn to secrecy." "Tell me!" "No way. I don't want to die young. Go make friends and get to know her yourself; maybe she'll let you in on it." "I don't think I could. She's everything I'm not. And for fuck's sake, she spent half of her screen time macking on him. I don't know if I could look at her without wanting to rip her eyes out." "There was nothing between them." "Sho?" The alcohol had just hit Miranda like a train engine. She shook her head. "Sh... Sorry. Guess I'd better quit." Then she threw back her second very large cupful. "Christ! That's gotta be at least five shots! You better not be a puking drunk." "Oh, no, I'm a blond, remember? 'Take me drunk; I'm home!'" Miranda couldn't even imagine why she said that, other than because she was almost there and well, Orlando was starting to look better and better. Ah, he was so nice. Especially when one was a bitch to him. Why hadn't she seen that before? "Do you want to know how many of these fine actors, wanna-be's, and other severely dedicated and insane professionals I've had during my stint here?" she asked. Orli's brows quirked. "If you want to tell me..." "None!" She was spitting with frustration, and all of a sudden her rage was a bright flame again. "Goddamit! I'd have been fine if he hadn't taken it upon himself to... what was it he said... 'fine-tune our interaction.' Said he was going to show me what Eowyn was imagining, so I'd have something to go on. Like it was supposed to help with my role!" Orlando, in the middle of pouring another beer for himself, kept pouring. He stared at her dumbly and would have overflowed his glass if Miranda hadn't reached over unsteadily and tipped the bottle up for him. "What are you telling me? You... and him...?" "Not like you think. I'm sorry, now that I know about you, but I thought... well, it was like it was all there at my fingertips, and then it was gone. One day, I think the day of your arrival across the Riddermark, he kind of backed me into a shed and... he delivered that line. Before I could even figure out what he meant, I was in over my head. Now that I think about it, it sounds like a bad pickup line. How fucking condescending, 'help me with my character.'" The wind changed direction suddenly, making the windows whistle, almost scream, under the airflow. They both jumped. Four hands scrabbled for the edge of the table. The little structure rocked, buffeted by gusts. "He doesn't do it like that," Orlando put in. "He means well. And with most people, it works... sometimes I don't think he gets how damaged we 'kids' are. We can't be outside ourselves a long time, like he can." "You're defending him!?" Miranda shrilled. "'S not gonna help you..." "No. I'm not. It's just... never mind. Continue." She stared glassy-eyed down at the table. "Sure, I was attracted to him. You know what I mean. I gave it right back, or at least that's what I thought at the time. We made out with my back to the wall for... I don't know. It seemed like hours. I kept trying to touch him and he wouldn't let me. Drove me fucking insane. I believed, believed in it in some way, like with the other stuff. I could feel him, hard as a rock. My tits were covered in his bite and suck marks but low enough down so they wouldn't be seen and they stung. He had my head cranked around so he could swallow any sounds I made. So there I was, trying not to fall over, dress hiked up, just wanting to get his dick in me and he wouldn't let me have it no matter how much I asked. Then he... how do you say it? If I were a man I guess you'd say he jerked me off. By then he had gotten behind me, holding me up. Oh god, he has talented hands, Orli." She'd gotten carried away, and shifted restlessly in her seat. "Sorry." Orlando continued to stare at her. He put his hand under the table and Miranda had a suspicion he was making a very necessary adjustment. "Fuck me," he said softly, running the other hand through his hair. "Excuse me?" asked Miranda in a prissy tone. "I mean, 'well, I'll be fucked.' Not you personally, love. The world at large." "What, I'm not good enough for you now? I thought the door swung both ways for you, Orlando." She'd never have been brave enough, or dumb enough, to say that without so much booze in her. "You don't think a little bit of woman every now and again will ruin you for the boys, now?" "Oh, you think you're good," Orlando shot back sarcastically. "Well, fuck you too. Yeah, I could give you what you want, but you'll just close your eyes and make me him. That's totally fucked up." She Believed "And you wouldn't?" Orlando snorted again. "You're a little lacking in certain areas." "Is that right?" Miranda tried to stand, bumped her hip on the table, and then tried again, tripping over her own feet. This was insulting. She was leaving. "I'm leaving, y' bastard. Sho much for talking me down. You were doing good, y'know, up till the last twenty sheconds." With that she was on her way to the door, knocking over the half-full bottle of scotch, which Orli righted before too much had spilt. "Miranda?" he said to her back, standing after she had passed him. "What?" Her hand was on the latch. "I like you angry." She turned halfway around. "Well, you got it. Happy? Good night!" Orli took three steps and reached behind her to lock the door. She stood there, limply, looking up at his wide mouth and the dimples that had appeared as he smirked at her. That mouth was coming closer. His lids were down, lashes fanned against the outrageous cheekbones. "What the fuck're y'doing?" Miranda bitched at him blearily. "Yes." He opened up his eyes and leered at her; the irises had gone almost black. 'Yes? What the hell kind of answer...?' Teeth. He was chewing lightly on her earlobe. The shoulder on that side jerked up;he pushed it back down. Now that the side of her neck was exposed so Orlando licked it, from her collarbone all the way up to her jaw. She just stood there, slack-mouthed. He did it again. "You better not be fucking playing with me," she managed. Her vision skewed. First she was looking at him through the wrong side of a telescope. All of sudden he was an inch away. The heat rising from his very skin was palpable. "No, we're both getting what we want." They tore into each other. Clothes went flying every which way. They kissed ferociously, kisses of denial and sympathy and just plain want. Orli ripped her sweater in his haste to get it out of the way. Then he caught his ring in the lace of her bra and ruined it, too. "Fuck! Sorry!" Miranda had unbuttoned his shirt, tracing her fingers up the smooth skin. She pushed jacket and shirt off his shoulders in one motion. While he removed his arms from the inside-out mess of clothes, she unzipped her jeans and slithered out of them, kicking her feet out along with her socks and shoes all at once. Stepping back to Orlando's half-naked body, she tugged with fumbling fingers at his thick, studded belt, too distracted by the bulge below. He had to do it for her. His baggy jeans dropped. As he always bragged, commando. None too gently, he took her hand, which was led to his hard penis. The familiar ache in the pit of her belly intensified till she could have sworn it was a cramp. Wetness seeped out of her till the underwear she still wore was sticky and unbearable. Orli pulled her flush against him. His hands went everywhere, into her hair, tracing her ribs, down her back to cup her arse. She reached around to grab half of his behind in a mimic of his pulling-in. The other hand wrapped around his most sensitive part, steel covered in suede, and stroked him quickly. Orlando hissed between clenched teeth. "Ah Christ, that's good. I'm going to fuck you so hard... You think you can take it?" "Bring it on." She felt like she was in an earthquake. Everything moved unreal-ly. Alcohol-laced blood roared in her ears. Miranda felt herself being backed around to Orli's unmade bed. The backs of her knees hit it first and she tripped again; Orlando pushed her backwards. He landed on top of her, hard, forcing the breath out of her. Totally naked now, he ground sleek hips down forcefully, his cock fitting against her slit and abrading her clit through her panties. She wanted to scream out of pleasure and frustration. It only got better. A moist warmth pressed down over one erect, aching nipple and sucked. Then bit. Miranda arched up against Orli and wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted to touch him, but he had taken over. Her hands needed to do something; they loved his skin, the play of muscle and tendon beneath. Still, they soon needed more, so fingers wound into his thick hair and pulled convulsively. "Wha'?" Orli looked up at her, breathing hard. "C'mon. You can't do that to me. Let me touch you." Orli remembered the diatribe from earlier. He rolled off and to the side, pulling her slickened panties down as he did. They left wet streaks on the insides of her legs. "Mm, you smell good. I can't wait to dive into that." Miranda was surprised. "You do that?" she questioned. "'Course. Don't you want me to?" "Later." That said, Miranda leaned over him, taking in his form in the dim lighting. Orlando must have clicked off some lights while she wasn't paying attention. Experimentally kissing his mouth, then his chest, she found his flat nipples to be every bit as sensitive as hers. This was new. She lapped and nipped until Orli was writhing in the bed and pressing his erection up into the palm she'd laid over the top of it. She moved slightly to the side and sucked at his damp skin, not hard. His long, lean body invited her to leave marks on it. "This ok?" she asked permission. "Do it." Miranda applied pressure and sucked a purple bruise onto Orlando's chest, then another. She licked at him, squiggled her tongue, and made a third mark below the first two. "Oh, god... Suck me!" Orli needed her, badly. Women didn't usually get to him like this. The slight pain she'd just inflicted when she marked him enflamed him. He wondered if it was because she'd fought it so hard, hanging on the vestiges of pride. He just hoped she knew what she was doing. She was more than willing now in any case. Orli's belly trembled as she kissed her way down the center. Long strands of strawberry-blond mane brushed against his side, ticklish. Already fine-tuned to respond, he jerked slightly when she poked a pointed tongue into his navel. Before she quite reached his pulsing cock, he moved himself upwards on the bed so she could kneel between tensed legs, but she chose the side. Oh, fuck it. He pulled her into the middle. "Miranda, please!" This was decadent, Miranda decided, this beautiful man spreading his legs for her like that. His cock was weeping and twitching against his stomach. God, she would suck him... His precum tasted sugary. She licked it all up and popped his length into her mouth. Orli moaned. Loudly. She took it as encouragement. Then she made herself familiar with his anatomy, tonguing the thick, firm head, the vein underneath, and the tracery of vessels all over his shaft. Unmerciless, she teased him like this till his hips flailed rhythmically underneath her hands, hitching, undoing himself. Mouth clamped as tight as she could, she blew him till his balls drew up into small, wrinkled things. With a hand on the back of her head, Orlando let his pent-up lust go and simply fucked. She knew it; she just happened to be what was being fucked, but it didn't matter. All of her earlier disgust and despair were consumed in Orli's fire, and her own. She got the sense that he gave as good as he got; besides, she had hurt him earlier in a way and, well, this was a messed up way to apologize but it would have to do. "Oh, ohgodohgodohchrist!" He gasped. Threw his head to the side and growled. She'd never heard anything like that from a man. Miranda's world was spinning; she wanted him to...she had to see... "Make me cum, you little bitch! Make me....Oh, yeah, Ah!" Orli raised him hips up so Miranda slammed her mouth down on him as far as she could go, watching him cum. His whole body moved in little snake-like undulations. The sheets were fisted in both hands; beads of sweat showed at his hairline, giving him an unearthly halo. Hot spurts of seed flooded her oral cavity as he rammed himself in and out. While she tried to swallow, she found her throat too full of cockhead to get it all. When it was over, and Orlando lay gasping for breath, shaky, Miranda cleaned him with her tongue. She looked around for something to wipe her face off with that was not the sheet. "Uh, I got some of you on my face...you got a cloth or something?" Orlando solved the problem. "C'mere," he drawled lazily. "Ai, that was sweet, love." 'What the...?' Miranda couldn't believe it. The man sat up and licked his own cum off her face. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. She'd ignored her own needs temporarily, but now they gushed down the insides of her thighs. As they kissed, tongues twirling, his teasingly, hers more urgently, she tasted him all over again on Orlando's tongue. "Your turn," said Orli. He pushed her down, onto her back. For a time he played with her small breasts, licking pointed, hard nipples. Still, he could see that she needed much more. Just as she had done to him, he drew his tongue and lips southward. Miranda went very still and lay quivering in anticipation. "Open your legs for me, love." Just hearing such a phrase almost undid her right there. Oh, god, the things he said. And so guileless about it. She did as he asked, and he lay prone between her limbs, looking up at her over her dark-blond curls. "Y'ready." "Please, 'Lando." Her voice sounded squeaky. "Just... do it...eat me..." He parted her nether lips with long fingers, and dipped his head. The hotness and friction of his tongue licked over her slick surfaces in a not-fast, not-slow madness. Two of his digits found her hole and pushed in; at that instant Orlando sucked down on her tiny throbbing clit, swirling his tongue around like a tornado. White heat seared outward, frying synapses. She bucked up, a near-collision into his nose that he evaded. "Sorry," she whispered. "No worries." He lowered his head once more. Miranda came apart under his seeking, playful mouth. Orlando, once he found her clit, flicked it a hectic assault until she rode up the red mountain of orgasm and threw herself over. She didn't come down. When her legs wanted to snap shut around his head, the brunette held them open with his elbows and finger-fucked her till she did it again. She'd never experienced female ejaculation before; now she did. Cream exploded out of her; it felt like she was turning inside out. Orli just licked it up. Miranda didn't know what her name was anymore. She didn't remember the name 'Viggo.' She heard herself crying out, "Orli," over and over again. He paused long enough to joke, "Oh, you know m'name?" and then he went back down. Miranda was nearing her third climax when Orlando looked his question up at her. She knew. While nearly outside herself with satiated yet unfinished gratification, she was not unaware of how he'd been grinding his hips into the mattress, his hard, lean buttocks clenching and unclenching. "Yes," she hissed at him, and meant it. Orli crawled up her, dragging his soft skin along hers. Every nerve ending in her body was made to stand at attention as tiny hairs brushed together electrically. Miranda moved her legs wider apart to make room for his body, raised them to wrap around him. Orli settled on top of her, smoothing the tangled hair back from her forehead. She mimicked the gesture. The planes of his face beckoned. She was unable to stop herself from tracing them. Clearly he enjoyed the attention, nearly purring. In the lull, he reached overhead, pulled out a drawer, and retrieved a condom. The wrapper he tore with his teeth. He did everything, went through the whole preparation one-handed. She didn't want to muck it up, and remained as she was. Soon: "Ah have somethin' for ya, love," he slurred. She needn't ask what. The raging circumference of it pulsed against her leg. Miranda reached down to guide, leading the tip of him to her slippery entrance, eased him in just a little, and waited. Orlando looked down into her eyes. His whole body bunched with the force of his thrust. Miranda cried out in surprise. He was big, she already knew that. Maybe it was the shape of him, but she hurt. After the first surge, Orli didn't move. "'S Ok, Miranda. I kinda expected that. 'S been awhile for you, right?" She nodded. She'd said as much earlier. "Give it a minute." And then, "Holy mother of god... You feel so good." She did; hot and tight and so, so slick. Very quickly she opened up to the whole of him. Damn, it was good, it was great, it was fucking wild, being fucked silly by this crazy androgynous guy, so like herself in some respects. She started to giggle; her insides clenched down, enough times in rapid succession it felt like they were set on permanent spasm. It tickled, almost, but the cock inside her was too insistent. He didn't cease pounding into her. After her last release, her body went slack. She just wanted to loll and feel the rush. Orli was far from finished, however. "I'm not done with you, yet." He thrust urgently, pushing her a little at a time up the bed. "Hands and knees, 'kay, Miranda?" He pulled out. Sat back on his heels. Eyed her expectantly, stroking himself restlessly. Wicked. Apparently she wasn't done either because Miranda didn't like the emptiness left by the lack of him. She thought fleetingly about what it meant that she was with someone who was bi; was he asking for this position so he could imagine she was a man? Would he move any differently because of it? She wanted to know. Eagerly, on her knees, she spread tired thighs for his access again, leaned forward. Orli pushed down on her back and roughly grabbed her hips. He was at the end of controlling himself. When his penis filled her, she really did howl, face upon the mattress. The angle did ungodly things to her cunt. She exploded again, another warm rush down her legs. Orli slid in her cum, slid like a piston, hitting against something on the inside of her that made her lose her grip. All she could do was cum, letting loose of her long abstinence and her stupidity over... what's his name?... Orlando's hard strokes got shorter, faster; she didn't even try to keep up. She would be still now, ride it out, wait, let it build. He was talking to himself. Had been for a while, now. "Oh, yeah, that's it. Come on, baby, c'mon... Uh yeah, fuck that beeyach. Bloody fucking hell! Oh, god, oh yeah, yeah, ... gonna cum...fuck!" His voice got lower and quieter, the exact opposite of what Miranda's did in such moments. The intensity of it was nearly her undoing. Then: "Oh fucking god, Orli; oh, oh god! Orleeeee!" Miranda nearly died. He was saying his own name. She would have been less surprised if he spouted off with, "ViggoDommie'LijahSeanandBilly." Before she could analyze it though, powerful twitches of his cock meant he was cumming. No way she was missing that. Seconds later he was roughly buried in her to the hilt and she heard herself join his chorus. Holy fucking shit. His heat hit the inside of the condom, inside her; Orlando ground himself into her with all the restraint of an ADHD kid short of Ritalin. She tensed, pushing into it, let him drag her up, rode the wave one more time. In a haze she barely hear through any more, she became aware of a long, lanky body draped lengthwise over her back, and a pair of soft lips kissing the vertebrae beneath her skull. Their bodies were going to stick together, no doubt. Orli hauled them both to the side, where they flopped to the mattress, still joined. Miranda twined her fingers into his, and lay still. "I think you cured me." This was the first semi-coherent thought in Miranda's head; she just blurted it out. "I've been told that before," was the sleepy reply. Orli reached between them and pulled out of her slowly. Slurp! Miranda was horrified. "I've been told that before, as well," snickered Orli. A long pause. "Eh, Miranda? Don't go getting a 'thing' for me, okay, 'cause I'm not one to stick to one person. I'm telling you now so we don't do to each other like, well, you know." She knew. Was glad he had said, right then and there. It would have been easy... "Yeah, man. Friends with benefits, right?" "Mm, hm... Go to sleep, ok? You're staying, right?" "You sure?" "I still don't think you should be alone, and me neither." "Oh, don't remind me! Thank you, Orli." Caustic all over again, in voice. Soft round arse wiggled against him, in body. He threw his arm over her and pulled her close. "Sorry, love. No way; I'm dead!" "I'll let you off, then, no use beating a dead wiener, I mean..." Miranda broke off when Orli tickled her right under the hip bone. "Let me up! I gotta pee! You better be a morning man, that's all I'm saying." "Go take your piss, wench. And hurry up, before I recover." Miranda stood and had to sit right back down. "What did you do to me? I can't even walk." "Fucked you. Or what do you call it?" A pause. "I call it, revamping my belief structure." "Good. Hurry up, now. I gotta crash. We'll see how this looks in the morning." Miranda staggered off, smiling a little smile of satisfaction. She was going to love this, actually. Her only difficulty was going to be an Eowyn without snottiness, without worldliness. Let the world hear all about the joys of Viggo. She was cured. She Believes Me Now Melody and I have been married for nearly 10 years now. She is still a very beautiful woman, but she was ungodly hot when we met. She is 5' 2" tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, 36d-26-37 and weighs about 130 lbs. Most of her weight is in her chest. Due to the fact that she has put on a few pounds since we first met, she doesn't think she looks good anymore, and doesn't think men still look at her. I am constantly trying to convince her that she is still a knockout. I even point out the men who are looking at her whenever we go out. This does no good. She still doesn't believe that she is desirable to other men. She always says that I have to say she is beautiful because we are married. Modern technology helped me prove that she was wrong. We hadn't gone out for several weeks so we decided to catch an early movie and dinner, and then go to a bookstore. She was wearing tight jeans that really hugged her ass, and a button up blouse. The top two buttons on her blouse were doing all they could to keep her beautiful tits covered, but anytime she moved they would pop open. I finally convinced her to stop fighting them and just let the blouse stay open. She didn't like the idea, but I loved it. She looked so sexy and almost every man we passed had to stare. I mentioned to her that all the guys in the theater lobby were checking her out, but she did not believe me. When I pointed out that the waiter in the restaurant kept standing over her shoulder and leaning down to talk to her while looking down her top, she said that I was crazy. I was determined to show her once and for all that she was desired by other men. When we left the restaurant and headed for the bookstore I got my cell phone ready to record men checking her out. There was no way she could deny it if she saw it on film. The bookstore we like doesn't close until midnight which was good because we were running late. There weren't very many people in the store since there was only about an hour left before they closed. Melody works as a Network Administrator and is always interested in computer books to help with her job. She also decorates cakes on the side so she looks for new ideas on the bookshelves as well. I have no interest in either of these areas. I am more of an outdoors enthusiast, so we split up as soon as we entered the store. She browsed for her books and I browsed for mine. As we walked around looking at different books I noticed a man standing about 10 feet away from Melody. He was obviously looking her up and down. He walked past her while she was reading a book and his eyes were clearly locked on her ass. He turned and went down the aisle behind her and pretended to be interested in a book while he watched her. I opened my cell phone and started to video this man who seemed to be quite taken with my wife. Melody put the book back on the shelf and continued to browse through the store. Each time she would move to another aisle, he was soon to follow. He stayed far enough away that she wouldn't get suspicious, but close enough to be able to have a good view of her body. She soon went to the computer section. The particular books that she was interested in were on the bottom shelf. As I watched her kneel down to look at the books, I moved across the main aisle and one aisle behind her location. I could see her clearly from there and could easily blend in as just another uninterested customer. Within a minute the mystery man entered the aisle she was on from the other end. He moved slowly toward her, pretending to be checking titles. Melody found a book she had been looking for and pulled her feet up under her and sat there on her knees while she read. Before long the man had made his way down the aisle until he was standing directly behind her. I kept filming as he leaned over her to get a good view down her blouse. I saw him look around to see if he was being watched. I was able to move my phone and look away before he saw me. I watched as he quietly moved as closely as he could behind my wife. I zoomed in on the video and saw that he was rubbing his crotch, but I couldn't get the clear view that I wanted. I moved a few feet to the right to help get an unobstructed view and that was when I noticed that he wasn't just rubbing his crotch. I could see that his fly was open and his hand was actually inside his pants. As I continued to film the man looked around again. Having not noticed me, he pulled his cock out and began to slowly stoke himself. I watched in amazement as this guy was jacking off with his dick less than an inch away from Melody's head. At times it looked like he even brushed the head of his cock through her hair. He stopped for a moment and raised his hand to his mouth. He quietly spit into the palm of his hand and then went back to work on his dick. Slowly he moved his well lubricated hand up and down the shaft of his cock which looked to be about 6 or 7 inches long. I kept filming as he began to stroke himself faster and faster. He leaned closer. I could tell he was about to cum. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a napkin. His face contorted as he leaned over my wife's head. He kept stroking his dick and looking down and Melody. Soon I saw his body stiffen and then jerk as he shot his load in the napkin. He relaxed as he was still slowly rubbing his dick. When he finished he wiped the head clean and stuffed his dick back inside his pants. He bent down and put the napkin in her purse that was sitting on the floor behind her. Before he straightened up again, he took a long sniff of her hair. He looked around one last time and then left the store. I stopped recording and put my phone back in my pocket. It was then that I realized that I had become quite aroused while watching this man jack off to my wife. I walked over to her and asked if she was about ready to go. She said that the book she had been reading didn't really tell her what she needed to know, so she wasn't going to buy it. I told her that I didn't find anything either and as we walked out into the parking lot I put my arm around her and hugged her close. When we were back in the car I told her that I had something that I wanted her to see. I told her that I had proof that men found her desirable. I told her that I had proof that she could cause men to do crazy things. I opened my phone and navigated to the videos folder. I selected the video that I had just recorded and pressed play. As she watched the man look at her from one aisle back, she tried to play it off as him looking in her area, not looking at her. As she watched him follow her down the next aisle, she again tried to play it off as something else. By the time the video got to him standing behind her with his hand in his pants she had nothing to say. She watched in amazement as the video played on. She watched a stranger jack off while looking down at her tits. She watched him put his dick so close to her head that he could probably feel her hair. She watched as he shot his load into the paper napkin that was in his pocket. Then she watched him bend down and put it in her purse. She looked up at me in disbelief. I said, "I told you Baby. Men want to fuck you. You are HOT!" She slowly looked inside her purse. She gently picked up the napkin by the corner, only letting her fingernails touch it. Then she opened the door and threw it out. She was silent all the way home. That night we had the best sex we have had in years. Ever since that day she has paid a little more attention to herself. She makes sure that if we go out she has her hair and makeup perfect. She wears close fitting pants and open necked shirts, and she has never tried to keep the buttons fastened again.