Author’s notes: Oooh! Non-consensual sex ahead. I know, I know. You guys are all so surprised. My first Orlando as victim fic. Be kind, it kindof sucks. Oh...please be sure to read the Author’s Notes at the end of the fic.

The Price of Fame

“Anything else, Viv?”

There was a pause, and even across thousands of miles of distance and telephone line, Orlando could feel her hesitation to speak.

Finally, the voice on the other end of the line said, “Well Orlando, I know you don’t like to hear this...but I really think you should consider getting a bodyguard.”

Orlando rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me Viv. This again?” he asked. Orlando loved his manager to death and highly respected her. He normally did everything she suggested, but on this issue, he disagreed with her. It was the only bone of contention between them.

“Yes, this again. You need some protection, Orli.”

He smiled at her use of the name Orli - she was one of the few people that actually called him that, despite what most of his fans seemed to think. “Bodyguards are for really famous people, luv. Rock stars, big, big actors. Not me. I’d feel silly.”

“Yeah, I know but...Orlando...you can’t deny that you’ve been getting some strange mail lately. It’s starting to scare me. It’s got to be starting to scare you. I mean, that one guy...the guy that signs the letters ‘your dark love’...that’s just plain creepy.”

Orlando shuddered slightly at her reference. He had been getting some strange letters lately, but none so disturbing as the ones Vivienne had just mentioned. Those never contained outright threats, apparently their author was too smart for that, but they always held in them such an aura of menace that Orlando hated to even think about them.

“Yeah, I know...that one is a queer one...” he conceded. “All right Viv, I promise to think about it. That’s really the best I can do right now. It’s just not something I feel comfortable with but...” he hesitated before finally admitting, “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Orli. When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

 Orlando laughed heartily and so did she. “Maybe one day, luv,” he said as his laughter died down to a chuckle.

“Promises, promises,” she said. Then, “All right Orli, I have to get going. I’ll talk to you soon, yes?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Bye, Orli.”

“Bye luv.”

Orlando hung up the phone and set it down on the table beside him. His earlier good spirits had definitely been dampened by the conversation, but then again, this always seemed to happen when he was forced to contemplate the negative aspects of his newfound success. And there seemed to be more and more of those negatives lately - the lack of privacy, the people who pretended to be your friends just to get something out of you, and the worst part...admirers like this ‘dark love’.

He thought back to the first time he had gotten one of the letters. It had been about 5 months ago. At the time he had found it humorous, but by the time he received the third or fourth letter, things weren’t quite so funny anymore. And the worst part of it was that the letters followed him everywhere he went - it didn’t matter what country he was in - he could expect a new letter every two to three weeks.

The shrill sound of the phone ringing shocked Orlando out of his morbid thoughts and caused him to jump. He laughed shakily when he realized that it was only the phone. He picked it up and said, “Hello?”

“Orlando, it’s Viggo.”

“Viggo!” he exclaimed. “Oh my God, how are you?”

Viggo laughed. “I’m good. Did I get you at a bad time?” he asked.

“No...I was just sitting here actually. How’d you know I was in LA?”

“I have my ways,” Viggo said with a hint of mystery in his voice.

“God, it’s so good to hear from you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing really. I heard you were in town. I thought you might like to get together.”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Great! How about tonight?” Viggo asked. Then as an afterthought asked, “Or are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, Viggo,” Orlando answered with a laugh.

“Ok then, why don’t you come to my house around seven? I’m cooking.”

“Sounds great. Can’t tell you the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”

“You remember where I live?” Viggo asked.

“Course I do!”

“All right then. I’ll see you at seven,” Viggo said.

“See you at seven,” Orlando confirmed.

They said their goodbyes and Orlando hung up the phone. He leaned back and smiled. His mood was much improved. Viggo was a great cook and an even better conversationalist. He was now so looking forward to tonight that he had all but forgotten his earlier conversation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal had been excellent - herb encrusted salmon and a spinach salad - and the Chardonnay wine suited it perfectly. After they had eaten, they each took a fresh glass of wine and sat down in the living room; Viggo in a huge overstuffed chair while Orlando on the leather couch across from it. They sipped at their wine, content to be in each other’s quiet company. Orlando felt sated and lazy and very much at peace.

After a while Viggo broke the silence. “So...it seems you’ve become very popular lately. Especially with the ladies,” he said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Orlando blushed a little. “It’s not me they want. It’s Legolas. Besides, so have you, you know. You’ve got women drooling for you all over the world.”

“Yes, but it’s different for me. I’ve been doing this for awhile. You - your first big movie role and bam! Instant sex symbol.”

Orlando looked into the depths of his wine. “I don’t know about sex symbol,” he said. “But yeah, it has been interesting. I keep seeing myself on the cover of magazines. I do a double take every time.”

Viggo laughed and took a sip from his glass while Orlando continued to stare at his. Finally Orlando sighed and took a huge swallow. “It’s not all good, is it?”

Viggo didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed.

“Sometimes I wish I’d never...” Orlando trailed off with a shake of his head.

“Never what? Never gotten into this business? Never gotten famous?”

Orlando merely shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what he meant to say.

“What’s bothering you, Orlando?”

Orlando unconsciously gripped his glass tightly and looked at Viggo. He surprised himself by saying, “There are these...letters. I’ve been getting these letters from someone...”

Viggo looked at him encouragingly and before he knew it, he was telling his friend all about them. He told him about when they had first started coming and how often he received them. He told him about some of the things written in the letters and how they made him feel. Then he told him about Viv and her suggestion about a bodyguard. He laughed at that, but the laugh was uneasy and shaky and it didn’t fool anyone.

Viggo sat and listened quietly to everything his friend had to say. When Orlando was done he sat back in the chair meditating on what he had been told. “I can imagine that it would be very unnerving for you, Orlando. To receive letters like that.”

Orlando nodded. “Yeah, I’m not really sure what to do,” he said with a note of desperation in his voice.

“Have you gone to the police? Showed them what dark love writes?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t...” Orlando’s answer slowly trailed off into silence. As Viggo’s words echoed in his head his brow creased and a look of puzzlement came into his eyes. Without really thinking, he said the first words that popped into his head. “I don’t remember telling you how the letters were signed.”

“Well, you must have,” Viggo said casually. “Otherwise how would I know?”

Of course, how would Viggo know unless he himself had mentioned it? He had probably just forgotten it. Except that he really couldn’t remember having told that small detail.

And now that the little seed of uncertainty was planted in his head, he found himself feeling very uneasy. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out of this house. He had to get out; to think about what he had said and hadn’t said.

He plastered a smile on his face and used all of his acting skills to make himself sound convincing. “Oh my God, I just remembered, Viggo, I have a photo shoot tomorrow. Damn early one too. I’d better be off, otherwise I’ll look like hell tomorrow.”

He set his wineglass down on the floor and stood up quickly. “Thank you so much for everything. Dinner was delicious.”

“Orlando, you may be good at many things, but lying is not one of them.”

That calm voice stopped him dead in his tracks; stopped him more easily than if Viggo had held out his hand and physically restrained him.

He forced himself to sound surprised and insulted. “What do you mean? I’m not lying.”

“Of course you are. You don’t have anything tomorrow. So why are you trying to leave?”

“Viggo I just...” Quicker than he’d ever seen anyone move, Viggo rose from his chair and stood in front of him. A slight push on his shoulder caused him to fall back onto the couch behind him. Orlando looked up to see that Viggo was smiling at him benignly. His eyes, however, were hard and cold. “Sit down,” he said. You’re not leaving.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

Suddenly Orlando’s mounting unease was replaced by anger. Who did Viggo think he was treating him like this? Ordering him around like he was some kind of child? He stood up. “And how are you going to stop me, Viggo? Last time I checked this was a free country.”

“I have lots of ways to do that Orlando. The question is - do you want to test me?”

Orlando was about to say something else, but the look in his friend’s eyes stopped him. His eyes were no longer cold; they were now...hungry. He stepped to the side in order to put some distance between him and Viggo - and to get himself closer to the door.

“What’s the matter?” Viggo asked. “Why do you feel the need to run away?”

Orlando took another step, then another. Suddenly he didn’t want to play games anymore. “I never told you how the letters were signed,” he stated quietly.

Viggo looked at him for a moment and then threw his head back and began to laugh. Orlando stood there confused. Had he misread the situation? Maybe he had said something about how the letters were signed and Viggo had just been playing with him.

But eventually the laughter died down and the next words Viggo uttered caused a shiver of sick dread to run through him.

“I know...Stupid huh? Stupid little mistake. But big enough for you to notice.”

And now Orlando had no choice but to believe. He hadn’t wanted to. All he’d wanted to do was to get out of the house and think things through. But Viggo’s last words had forced him to see. “You sent those letters, Viggo? But why? Is this a joke?” he asked.

“No joke,” Viggo said. He sighed and smiled. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you, Orlando.”

Orlando shook his head. “No,” he said. As if saying that word would stop the madness that was suddenly swirling around him.

“Yes. You’re all I’ve thought about for so long.” He reached up and touched Orlando’s cheek with the back of his hand. Orlando batted it away with disgust.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat out.

But Viggo was already reaching for him again. Orlando put out his hand to push him away, but Viggo, being quicker than he was, merely grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.

“Let go,” Orlando said. Viggo ignored the command and, clasping him against his chest, began to kiss him roughly, greedily. They struggled, with Orlando trying desperately to pull away while Viggo desperately tried to hold on to him.

Finally Orlando kicked up with his leg and connected with Viggo’s shin.

Viggo grunted in pain and involuntarily loosened his tight grip on the other man. Orlando wasted no time; he pushed Viggo away from him, disentangling himself from his unwanted embrace, and began to run.

He was getting the hell out.

Now.

Viggo recovered quickly and saw that the man he had desired for so long was making his way towards the door. He cursed violently. None of this was working out the way he had planned. He had pictured a nice, easy seduction; the night ending with both of them wrapped in each other’s arms. He never imaged that Orlando would be running away from him with that look of fear in his eyes.

He sprinted forward and literally threw himself at the other man. They both fell heavily to the floor, with Orlando landing on his stomach and Viggo on top of him. Viggo reached down and flipped him over to stare into the eyes of a very scared and angry young man.

“Get the fuck off me!” Orlando yelled as he aimed a punch straight at Viggo’s face.

It hit its target, but Viggo seemed completely unfazed by it. He merely shook his head and threw a punch of his own. It connected solidly with Orlando’s cheek and caused his head to swing violently to the side.

Viggo jumped to his feet and, grabbing Orlando by the collar of his shirt, hauled him up to a standing position.

Then he began to drag Orlando towards his bedroom.

Orlando began to panic as he was slowly, but inexorably, pulled across the floor. He experienced full-blown panic when he realized where it was Viggo was taking him. He fought with everything he had, and when that wasn’t enough, when it turned out that Viggo was stronger than he was, he began to beg.

But Viggo either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, because he was now being flung on Viggo’s bed with all the courtesy given to a rag doll.

Viggo looked down at Orlando’s beautiful face and felt disappointment course through him. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Where were all the loving caresses? All the whispered words of love? None of that was here. Instead there was thrashing and cursing and scratching. He was bruised and bloodied and so was Orlando. He couldn’t even get Orlando’s clothes off; the man was struggling so badly. He finally gave up and settled for pulling Orlando’s pants and underwear most of the way down his body. He smiled when he noticed that not only was this giving him access to the man at last, but it was also keeping his legs immobile.

But still he struggled. Still he fought.

With a burst of angry impatience, Viggo flung his head forward and head butted the man beneath him. It stunned him, but only momentarily, for he had been prepared for it.

Orlando, who had not been prepared, held his head in his hands and groaned with the throbbing pain. Dark spots danced on the edge of his vision and he willed them away, knowing that he had to stay conscious if he was to have any hope of stopping what was about to happen. He had just managed clear most of darkness away when he felt Viggo enter him. That pain was blunt and harsh and it took all his breath away. He wanted to scream but all that he could manage to do was gasp. He arched his body in a futile attempt to get away from it. This was too much...he couldn’t possibly handle this...God, it fucking hurt...

He began to struggle even more violently than before, more out of a basic instinct to stop the pain than anything else, when it suddenly hit him - the realization that Viggo was not going to stop. Viggo not going to stop and he, Orlando, was not going to get him to stop. Because the truth of it was, he no longer existed as a person in Viggo’s eyes. Viggo was only seeing him as a warm body beneath him and nothing more.

After his epiphany (for that’s what he would refer to it as for the rest of his life - his epiphany), he simply stopped fighting. He turned his head to the side, closed his eyes and dropped his arms. Then he simply waited for it to end.

It took a long time for it to end. Or at least it seemed that way to Orlando. Viggo’s stamina made him seem more machine than man. The pain was constant and brutal and eventually it turned his thoughts disjointed and dark. He felt he was drowning in a sea of pain and helplessness and despair. He actually felt that he could not catch his breath; that he was slowly suffocating underneath his friend.

And just when Orlando thought that he would spend eternity drowning...it ended. Viggo gripped his arms roughly and shuddered and then went completely still.

He stayed that way for a while, breathing heavily against Orlando’s neck, until he finally pushed himself up on his elbows and pulled out of the man beneath him. Orlando turned his face towards Viggo, hoping that he would see some indication of remorse or guilt. Something that would show him that his friend had not completely disappeared. But what he saw made him wish that he were blind. He would never forget it - that look of satisfaction, of...bliss...as if Viggo thought he had done nothing wrong.

Then Viggo lay down next to him and manuevered him until they were both on their side, with Viggo spooning him from behind.

“I’m sorry it had to be like that, baby,” Viggo whispered soothingly in his ear.

Orlando cringed, feeling sick at hearing the term of endearment. Had he really just called him baby?

“Next time it will be better, I promise”

Orlando almost laughed at that; at the fucking absurdity of it all. Next time...did he really think there was going to be a next time? Oh God...had he gone completely insane?

Orlando brought his hands up to his face and pressed them hard against his closed eyelids. He didn’t want to cry. He wouldn’t. Wouldn’t give Viggo the satisfaction.

He stayed like that, hands against his face, a living statue, until he heard the sounds of deep breathing that indicated that Viggo had fallen asleep.

And then he moved.

Ever-so-carefully, he lifted Viggo’s arms and slid away from the bed.

In the inky blackness of the room, he fumbled with his underwear and his pants, pulling them up and fastening them quickly. He moved into the living room and grabbed his keys and then he walked quietly out the front door.

He didn’t bother closing it.

It wasn’t until he was back in his car with all the doors locked that he felt he could breathe again. He inhaled deeply, exhaled shakily, and then went to put the keys in the ignition. His hands shook so violently that the keys fell uselessly to the floorboards. He looked down into the darkness and laughed bitterly. Then he dropped his head to the steering wheel and began to cry.

What now? The police? The hospital? God knew he was beat up pretty badly. He hadn’t felt most of it at the time, but now that the adrenaline in his system was no longer kicked into high gear, he could feel every scratch, every bruise.

But no, there was no bloody way he was going to the hospital. Because then people would know. And he was damned if anyone was going to know about this. He lifted his head and wiped the tears away quickly, violently. No, he would go back to his hotel room and try really hard to pretend that none of this happened. He would take a long, hot shower, and down something particularly potent.

And he would never, ever let his path cross with Viggo’s again.

He would have to talk to Viv and beg out of interviews and appearances for the next few days. He could say he wasn’t feeling well. Bit of the flu or something. Another laugh escaped him as he thought about that lie, but the laugh had an edge of hysteria to it and he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to suppress it.

He reached down and picked up the keys with his other hand, this time placing them in the ignition perfectly. Then he started the car and, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, drove away.

He thought about his plan as he drove down dark streets. He would go to his hotel room. He would get completely sauced. He would call Viv in the morning and lie to her.

And then he would ask her for a bodyguard.

Author’s notes: Well, well...I have to come clean here. I feel really, really badly about making Viggo the villain in this story. Because frankly I have a great deal of respect and admiration for the man. But someone had to be the villain and you guys know I have this thing about betrayal, so he got stuck with the job. But I DO feel badly about it.