The untitled birthday entry

January 13, 2005 Dear Diary,
My birthday sucks and I’m sad.
Never was much of an affair, really. When I was younger Sam’d take me to the grocery store, where I would pick out my cake and we’d drive home, me clutching my cake with bright orange frills of icing. Always simple affairs, and even after Lord of the Rings came out there was only a party with the cast. But now, I didn’t have time.
I’m finishing filming and on Saturday, I’ll be back and with a whole roll of film to develop and a sculpture show (my first) to open in a nice gallery.
I don’t mind that my job takes me away from Viggo and my family. I like to be alone when I’m working. I don’t know; it makes sense. I’ve never been able to read lines with a lover, or show a parent a monologue- it’s too personal. Lately, I’ve been trying to figure out why I decided to become Will Turner, I mean, apart from me wanting to work with Johnny Depp and Gore etc. It took me ages to figure out why I liked Legolas so much. I liked the fact that he was an epic character; that he was remembered for something great and bold. I’m just an actor. Sometimes I wish I did better for the world.
I guess I do mind, about being alone, but. I’ll see everyone on Sunday. But shit- I could really use someone right now.

It’s because we fought that I’m sad. We rarely fight- I shouldn’t complain- fuck, I started the stupid thing! Wow… what a birthday this is. I’m sitting here, ranting on a beach, trying to write in my little diary while I’m sad and complaining when I haven’t the right! I really want someone to hold me right now, preferably Viggo. I want him to make it right like he always does- it doesn’t matter who fucked up, he usually apologizes first. But not this time, I know. It was all me. It’s almost cliché. I could barf sometimes over the melodrama I make up. I laugh at myself as the tide surges in, and then my cell rings. Fuck.

It’s him.

“Hey Vig, how’re you?”

“Okay.” His voice is clipped, “How’s filming going?” I am so going to get squashed in a couple minutes.

“Fine, it’s just…”

“What?” He wants me to bring it up. I’m a coward, I can’t.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” My voice is clipped, “it’s just that I’m wondering if we’ll make this one good. You know the curse of sequels,”

“Yeah,” The phone goes silent for a minute, and I watch the ocean overlap itself. The sun’s setting and it’s getting cold but all I want to do is go for a swim. In my clothes. And I’m thinking that stupid fight and then I think of Will…

That’s when it hits me.

“I know why I picked him”

“Who? Who’d you pick?” He’s confused.

“Why I took the part of Will,”

“Why?” He’s still confused and getting annoyed. Shit.

“I miss… how like Will, lived, I guess. I miss my innocence…I wish I acted like him in my love life...” I choke on my words.

“You mean, like save me from ghost pirates?” He quips. He’s deliberately ignoring the metaphor, just to piss me off.

“No! God, For three weeks I’ve not slept because of that stupid fight and today, It’s my birthday and I’m on an island where I spent half the day inside or on the phone or watching TV- I hate TV!, and now that I’m outside I wish the light would stay longer and I wish…!” I’m sobbing, I’m actually sobbing! “I wish you were here. I know I said I was fine before, but I’m not! I’m not! Shit, I’m sorry about the fight, I should’nt’ve said that! I lied, I lied okay. You were right; I am tired of parties and nice clothes… I’ve been ignoring you, and yelling at you, but it’s me! And it was you who called me today-”

He says nothing

“I know. I should’ve called you. I’m such a coward” I laugh ruefully, “I never, you know, meant it.”

He’s quiet.

“You never abandoned me,” I whisper, “If anything, I abandoned you, and myself. You were trying to help me and I shoved it back in your face. I’m sorry,”

“Why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

“Because I didn’t… I didn’t want to think that fame and work had come before you,”

“But they did.”

“I know! It won’t happen again,”

“You don’t know that. Look at yourself! You’ve forsaken your own birthday for a fucking movie! You didn’t have to stay the extra day. No one else did,”

“I don’t know…I don’t know why I said any of it,”

“Orli, you said there was no point in us being together …”

“I know, don’t shove it in my face,” I’m crying harder.

“That’ll be true if you don’t sort this out now!”

“I know! I know!” I sob hysterically. I’m this close from losing Viggo and there’s nothing I can say to keep him or defend myself.

“Think about it,” he says.

“Viggo, why did you call?” I have to know, I have to know if we still have a chance.

“To say ‘Happy Birthday’,” And click. He’s gone. I have never loved a man more, than that moment. I’m sitting there, in the middle of my melodramatic movie, sobbing on a beach in paradise.

I know what I need. I need a break. And I need Viggo. I need him like I’ve never needed him before.

I call him back.

“I’m coming home,” I say, trying to sound strong.

“You didn’t think long enough, try again,”

“Please Viggo, don’t turn me away. I need you. I need a break. I need to stop looking at myself in the mirror. I need you to know how much I love you.”

“Good. Come home,”

And I did.

When I got home, the first thing I did (after setting down my luggage) was to hug Viggo. He pulled me up softly to him, and I absolutely buried myself in his shoulder and neck. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, me the same but with a sweater and cap. After we parted, he went back to the kitchen. I followed him.
“Will you listen, while I talk?” I ask gently. He nods, as he retrieves a veggie-dog from the microwave.

“When you got angry with me for ditching our dinner date to go partying, I didn’t understand because I thought it wasn’t such a big deal. Then you confronted me about the other times I’d left you to mingle with Hollywood and you called me on my smoking, and drinking. You knew I was becoming something I wasn’t, and I didn’t want to believe it. When we were filming Lord of the Rings, and people’d say I was going to be big, I promised myself I wouldn’t put Hollywood before you and myself. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. I had been so pure and somehow, I’d become…rotten. And I lashed out. I told myself that you were condescending and that you were going to abandon me because I couldn’t live up to your snobby, hippy ideals and because of that we’d never work. That was a load of crap. I put words in your mouth, and… I’m sorry. Very, very sorry. You didn’t do anything, I was pissed at myself and I lashed out at you,” I looked him in the eye, all the way up to where I couldn’t take his blank face, so I stared at the floor.

“Please don’t leave me because I’m stupid,” I whispered mournfully, still not looking up.

“I’m not leaving you,” He said matter-of-factly. I blinked up at him in surprise.

“I was pissed as hell at you, but, I’m better now. You’re young and you’ll learn from this. It’s alright, no biggie,”

“No biggie!” I exclaim, “I have been sitting on a plane for the past four hours wondering if I’ve fucked up my life forever,” I’m crying again. I hear his chair scrape against the floor and a second later he’s folding me into his lap and arms.

“No, really. I forgive you. You’re just… adjusting to being famous and I’m adjusting to you being famous,”

“How you have such calm insight on this kind of thing is beyond me,” I mutter, before kissing him soundly on the lips.

Kissing your lover after near-heartbreak is so good. His tongue enters me first and we sooth each other with our tongues. I gently bite his lip and pull away.

“Come on,” I stand up and pull him with me by his belt buckles.

“So soon?” He asks, smirking.

“Not soon enough,” I murmur as I drag him to the bedroom. Gently I shove him onto the bed and crawl onto him, nipping at his lips. We kiss, again and again.

“I want you to fuck me, hard, and then tie me up and make me beg,” I say hoarsely.

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?” He growls and presses his bulge against mine forcefully. Oh yes, he’s getting forceful. He doesn’t even let me respond; instead he lifts me up and switches positions so he’s smothering me into the mattress. I’ve never felt safer than beneath him. He sits up and pulls off me shirt. His lips then find my chest and nipples, which he lathers with attention. I lift his shirt up and he breaks his attention so I can take off his shirt.
His lips on my nipples are driving me crazy, but I don’t have time for this. I need to taste him. He lifts his head, and smiles at me. I push him up again so I can pull his pants off. No underwear, I grin. His erection bobs excitedly and hits my forehead. I slowly run my lips up and down his length. He moans loudly and strokes my head. Tentatively I lap at it, bathing the head with my tongue. Fuck, he’s already got precum. I taste him, for a minute I savor his flavor. Then I swallow him whole, which is not an easy task considering his length and girth, but I’ve practiced. His hips seize up and he’s moaning loudly. I gaze up at him and his eyes are drenched in desire. He grasps my hand and puts three of my fingers in my mouth. Laboriously, he wets them, and with a pop, pulls them from his mouth. I pause, mid-suck, to stare lustily at him.

“Open yourself for me,” His voice rumbled in the back of his throat, and he encourages me to do so by lifting me up to my knees. Nodding, I give him one last mournful lick before attending to myself. I crawl around and position myself so he has front row seats. Slowly I rub my fingers around my hole, and push one finger in. We both moan. Soon the second one enters and a third. I can’t hold myself up as I finger-fuck myself, stroking my prostate every time. Viggo runs his large palms up and down my thighs. I love his big hands, how they grip my ass and hold me up. I scissor my hole, and I squeal when his wet tongue spears me with one thrust.
“Vig! If you do that, I’ll cum too soon,” His tongue laps my gently, before pulling away. My cock is hard as hell now. He spanks me and pulls me round to face him. I grip his shoulder and gingerly lower myself onto his dick. He’s slick from my saliva and cum, and god it feels good. I’ve missed this too long. This is where I belong- on Viggo’s cock. The first thrust is shallow; testing the waters. The second time he hits my prostate head on; my head flies back and I contract my toes into a tiny ball. Then he takes me hard and fast, just like I asked. He hits my sweet spot each time.

“Stroke yourself,” he whispers huskily. If possible, I get harder from his noises. He grunts and moans and best of all… pants, like a dog in heat. Fuck! I touch my dick and it jumps from pleasure. I watch as his eyes switch from my cock, to my asshole to my face. He’s trying to memorize the moment. Fuck, this is the best makeup sex I’d ever had. I too begin to pant, but my moans become wails and reverberate off the ceiling. He’s on the twentieth thrust (I think) and I know I’m about to cum ;My body tenses, and all I can think about is my dick (which by now is coated in pre-cum). And he slows down, the fucker! I open my eyes in surprise as the lowers me to the bed, so that I’m absolutely under him. He knows this is my favorite position because we’re so close. He finishes us both off in three long thrusts. I spill all over our stomachs, and he fills me with his seed. I know later on it’ll slide down my thighs, but that only makes me hornier. We lay there, collapsed and breathing heavily as one. He stays in me for a long while, and then sweetly, pulls out. I curl into him and he wraps the comforter around us both.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked this up,” I sigh, and nuzzle him.

“But you didn’t,”

“And I won’t… just, help me out. I’ll listen,”
“Okay,”

“Sometimes I think I’m too young for you,”

“Shush,”

“I really don’t deserve you,”

“Orli, shut up,” That’s a command. I smile and snuggle into our nest of blankets. I can’t help but one more comment.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Orli!” I shut up, and close my eyes. My head rests on his chest and we both breathe deep.

“Love ya too,” he grumbles, and rolls onto me. Some say that on your birthday you are reborn. It has never been more true.