"Forget what?" Sean sighed, taking the phone under the blankets and snuggling back under the covers and closer to the chest under his head. Viggo mumbled at the sounds, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep as he started languidly stroking Sean's hip. "Archery today at 7. Or is your memory that bad?" Orlando asked teasingly. "It's not my memory I'm worried about, Orlando. It's my aim. I haven't done this in months. Since New Zealand," Sean mumbled, already letting Viggo's touch slide him under. It was always like this between them -- the slow burn that never went away. "It'll be fun. Come on. You've got an hour before I'll be forced to drag you here." "Why are we doing this again?" Sean's question was somewhat distracted. Viggo had moved his hand from Sean's side to his lower back, tickling very sensitive flesh. "Because they've got a bloody archery range at this hotel, and I'm not letting it go to waste. One hour," Orlando reiterated and hung up. Sean let the phone drop back in its cradle and rolled on his back, pulling Viggo with him. "We've got an hour," he said, arching into the hands that were busy racing over his chest and driving him mad. Sean moaned, closed his fingers over Viggo's erection. "Plenty of time," Viggo replied, nuzzling Sean's neck. * * * They were still the sexiest forearms he'd ever seen, Sean thought, two hours later, as he stood with Orlando on the worn linoleum of the deserted archery range. And the new Elvish tattoo only seemed to emphasize their allure. How odd that a bit of black ink could make tan skin seem more vivid, could bring the lovely veins and dark hairs into sharp focus. "You're doing it again." Sean looked over to Orlando, who was simply standing there, bow on the floor next to him, shaking his head. "Doing what?" Sean asked. "Wandering. Honestly, you need to learn to concentrate." Orlando's eyes flashed with mirth as he spoke. "I am concentrating," Sean stated, as he put down his own bow. "Just not on archery." "Oh?" Had he said that aloud? "Sorry, shouldn't have said that." "Oh no you don't." Orlando flashed that famous smile, and brushed a strand of blond hair from the Sean's face. "What are you thinking about?" "Just..." "Out with it." Orlando pulled Sean to him by the belt loop of his faded jeans. Sean was close enough to see the tan flecks in Orlando's laughing brown eyes, close enough to count every one of those remarkable eyelashes. "Those forearms of yours. I swear, you should not be allowed to wear short-sleeved shirts. It's lethal on the population." "Only to you." But Orlando couldn't stop the blush that stained his cheeks. "Well, it's just me I'm worried about. I like that you put the 'nine' there," Sean said, running a finger along the Elvish script. Orlando just stood there, afraid to move, shuddering on the inside. "I did it for you," he blurted. "What?" Puzzlement in green eyes that still never failed to make Orlando weak. Orlando flushed even harder, but didn't look away. He could get lost in Sean's eyes, he really could. "I put the nine on my forearm for you." "What do you mean?" "Well, here..." And Orlando placed his hand over Sean's and traced the delicate lettering with him "...here is where you first kissed me." "Ah, Christ." Sean was speechless, floored, humbled beyond words at the look in Orlando's dark eyes. He looked back down at the tattoo. A permanent symbol of their one night, a constant reminder of a perfect kiss...suddenly Sean was back on that meadow with the early morning mist around them and soft, dewy grass under their feet. "Christ, Orlando, I..." Sean looked up into shy, smiling eyes. "Ah, hell..." And the kiss was just as potent as it was the first time they'd done it, just as sweet. The taste neither of them had ever truly forgotten was remembered in a long, lazy confirmation of love and gratitude. It was tender, gentle, poignant, and flowed over and through them in soft lips, in coarse stubble, in sliding tongues and wet mouths. Sean's hand was still on Orlando's forearm with Orlando's hand on Sean's and they continued to kiss, not moving, sharing only this oral embrace. Sean just concentrated on soft lips, on the small sigh that escaped as he sank into the kiss, and Sean savored that unique Orlando scent, that unique Orlando flavor, on his mouth, his tongue. Orlando was the first person to pull back, gnawing on his full lower lip with his teeth. Liquid eyes framed by those long, black lashes peered at Sean with a curious expression. "I'm not sorry." "Why should you be?" Sean asked, stroking a soft hand over Orlando's brow, cheeks, that still impossibly beautiful face. "I'm the one that started it." Orlando leaned into the contact, the gesture impossibly graceful. "Dunno. I didn't plan this." "I know. But it would have been alright if you had. Lle nukumna amin." You humble me. Orlando's laughter was shaky. "You still remember Elvish?" "I try to speak it as often as possible. It's a beautiful language." "Yes, it is." Orlando pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm, let's see what I remember." He took a deep breath, tanned skin still slightly flushed from their kiss. "Amin harmuva i'rina dome ten'oio." I treasure the memory of our night always. Orlando still spoke the lilting language like he'd spoken it his whole life. And, again, always, Sean was undone by the look in those big, brown eyes. Absolutely no one ever looked at him the way Orlando Bloom did. "As do I." "You were the only one." "What?" "My only man. Just you." Again, Sean was shaken, humbled. What could he possibly say that would encompass all the tidal wave of emotion that swelled inside of him? Orlando's first, his only... "Again, you humble me." "There never seemed to be a need to be with another man after you." At that, Sean laughed as a long forgotten memory returned to him. "Viggo said I'd ruin you for other men." "Smart chap, Vig. You two are still...?" "Together? Yes," Sean nodded. "Still keeping it quiet, though I don't know why anymore. Rest of the Fellowship knows now. We thought it was important they find out from us. I've always meant to thank you for keeping it secret." "It was your tale to tell, not mine," Orlando replied, smiling up at him. "He's a lucky man. But then, so are you. Be sure you deserve him." "I try every day. And I'm the lucky one, really. I have his love and your gift." Orlando's smile this time was impossibly sweet, achingly vulnerable. "I would give you another." It seemed that Sean was destined to be speechless this morning. "Orlando, I..." was as far as he got before he closed his mouth again. He honestly could not think of a thing to say. Orlando continued speaking. "One last time. One more memory for both of us." Sean closed his eyes, let the words and the memories wash over him. He remembered fevered kisses in his kitchen, Orlando melting over him in climax on soft sheets in a darkened bedroom, tentative hands running over his skin. Wonderful memories, each one. Sean would die with the crystalline beauty of that night still clear and bright in his head. He opened his eyes, sought Orlando's gaze. "Why?" "Because I'm ready to be just your friend again, and we both know we won't be unless we have another time. We'll always wonder if it was really that perfect or did we imagine it or if it was being in New Zealand or the timing or a moment of madness or some other nameless thing." When had Orlando gotten so perceptive? Because he was right. And Sean was ready to have his friend back, ready to go back to that easy, teasing relationship they'd always had, ready to rediscover that surprising mind. And they did need this, because Sean had been feeling some doubts as to whether it really had been as good for Orlando as he could have made it. "Call Viggo. I'll be upstairs." And with a soft kiss on Sean's cheek, Orlando left the room, left Sean to make the decision this time, left him with the choice. But, of course, the decision was already made, had been made the second Sean put his lips back on Orlando's and had a sample of that taste again. So, it really only took a few minutes for Sean to leave the range and make his way to the lobby to call his own hotel room. "Hello?" "Vig? It's me." "Hey." Viggo's voice softened. "How's it going with the Elf?" "Good actually. He's still kicking my ass at archery, but that's to be expected." Sean gathered his courage, trying to think of the proper way to put this. "Um, listen, Vig..." "Go ahead." "Pardon?" Viggo sounded amused. "You heard me. Go ahead." "How...um...?" Good Christ, he was an actor, why he hell couldn't he speak? "How did you know?" "Because I know you. And I know him. And you both need it." Sean blinked back the sheen in his eyes. "Orlando was right." "About?" "I really don't deserve you." The other man's laughter was warm, intimate. "Yeah, you do. We deserve each other. See you at dinner?" It was Viggo's subtle way of saying he and Orlando would have all day. "Yeah, sounds good. We'll meet you around eight in the lobby." "Enjoy your day." "Amin mela lle." I love you. "Amin corm naa lle." My heart is yours. Sean hung up the phone and took another deep breath. And then went to the elevator. Onto The Last Time
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