Something warm and wet falling on my bare chest is what wakes me. I yelp in surprise and my eyes shoot open, only to meet Viggo's smiling ones. "Vig, what the hell?"
"It's chocolate sauce." He rolls his eyes at my blank, sleepy stare. "Happy birthday, Orlando"
My brain clicks into place, and I smile at him. "So you're turning me into a sundae to celebrate?"
"Mm-hmm." He leans down and licks the sticky sauce off my skin, and I can't help but moan. More of the sauce falls in a trail down my stomach, followed quickly by Viggo's soft tongue eagerly lapping it up. Looking outside for a second, I can see that the sun hasn't quite come up yet. Good, we have some time to play. I want to protest when he pulls away, but I think better of it when he scoops some up in his hand and uses it to finger-paint my cock.
"Shit," I groan as he licks it off in agonizingly slow movements. The warmth of the chocolate and of Viggo's mouth is unbearable as he begins to suck me, and I can only thrust my hips up. He doesn't stop me, doesn't mind me fucking this throat, and my fingers twist in his hair.
What pushes me over the edge is when he starts humming, the vibrations enough to make me come in his mouth. He swallows it all without a complaint, even though I know I pulled his hair a bit hard at the end there. Mercifully, I'm allowed a few minutes to compose myself, and then Viggo pulls me up and drags me to the bathroom.
"Shower," he says.
"With you?"
"Of course."
It's only when we step into the shower that I realize he's hard
as well. My brain apparently has been on cruise control since waking
up, and I mentally slap myself. "I've been kind of selfish, huh?"
I ask, grabbing some soap and slicking up my hand for him.
"It's your birthday," he reminds me as the water rinses away the tiny bits of chocolate Vig didn't consume. But his voice is strained, and I'm not going to let him be a bloody martyr.
"For Chrissakes, Vig, just let me get you off." That didn't exactly sound loving or romantic, but oh well. I wrap my sudsy hand around his cock and stroke him, delicately dragging a fingernail over the head.
"Orli . . ."
"Calm down, old man." He chuckles, but it quickly turns into a moan as I latch my mouth onto a nipple, sucking it into stiffness. His hand roams through what's left of my hair, and I suck harder, my movement on his cock speeding up. I'm wrenched away from his chest and brought into a searing kiss, and a second later, I feel a warm splatter on my belly. Viggo leans against me, panting, pausing only to kiss my cheek gently.
"That was a nice way to wake up," I murmur as we separate to get clean once again.
"We still have a long day ahead of us," he tells me with a wink.
I grin and grab the shampoo, pouring some out and washing it into his hair. He always tells me not to bother on days we film; after all, the wig will ruin my hard work. But I don't care. As long as it's physical contact and it's with Viggo, it's good enough for me.
*****
"Happy birthday!" I have about a split second to prepare for Lij barreling into me, almost knocking me over. Suddenly, I'm mobbed by all four hobbits, and I wince as someone steps on my foot. Luckily, I'm taller than them, and my eyes shoot a silent plea to Viggo and Ian to rescue me.
"Okay, c'mon boys," Viggo says with a laugh, prying Dom and Sean off of me. "Elf boy has to go get ready."
"Aw, spoil all our fun, why don't you?" Lij pouts.
Billy gives me a wet smack on the cheek and puts an arm around Lij. "Don't worry. He's got a party later tonight."
"I told you guys that's not necessary," I protest.
"Look, just put up with us for a few hours, Orli," Dom says. "Then you can shag Viggo 'til the sun comes up."
"Or he can shag you," Sean adds.
"Okay, before you get so bad I'm forced to call the elf humane society, I'm dragging him to makeup," Viggo announces.
"Thanks," I murmur as we walk towards the Cuntebago. "It's just too early to deal with four zealous hobbits."
"That's nothing. Have you ever seen yourself when you're on a sugar rush?"
I glare at Viggo. "You don't seem to mind."
He just laughs and pulls me up the stairs into the trailer. Enough frivolity. Time to start my work day.
*****
Pete calls an end to shooting relatively early so we can all go back to Viggo's house and relax with cake and presents. We spent all day running up and down a sound stage, pretending we're fleeing orcs in Moria, and I'm really fucking exhausted. But it's been a nice day. Pete and Fran gave me a beautiful Maori good luck charm, as well as a promise from Pete not to get frustrated the next time I blow a take. Kiran and B.K. gave me a box of teas from India for when my back starts hurting. Atti mailed me subscriptions to gay porn magazines (being a stupid arse as usual). And my mom sent me a hand-knit blanket, with a note saying it's big enough for myself *and* Viggo.
The only people at the little party Lij and Dom have insisted on throwing are the Fellowship, Hugo, and Craig. It may be January, but it's a balmy summer night here in New Zealand, and I smile as I step out of the car. "I can't believe you got lost," I laugh as Viggo grabs the bag from the liquor store. "We've driven that route a thousand times."
"My mind was somewhere else, okay?" He tries to act annoyed, but fails miserably.
"Yeah, but now we're late for my own party. Everyone's already here."
"I'll make it up to you," he promises with a wicked grin.
"Sorry we're late," I apologize as we walk through the door. "Vig got lost."
"Your ranger skills failed you, eh?" Bean asks.
"Fuck off," Viggo laughs.
We settle in with strawberry shortcake and chocolates, and I'm sitting so close to Viggo that I'm practically on his lap (not that he's complaining). "Say it, Sean!" Lij is whining. "C'mon, don't wimp out on us!"
"Yeah, we dare you," Craig adds.
Bean rolls his eyes, takes a bite of the cake, and with that wicked smile says, "tastes like strawberries," which provokes a round of hooting and applause. "You are all evil men," Sean grumbles half-heartedly. "Let's just open the gifts."
The gifts range from Beach Boys CDs to accompany my newfound surfing addiction (from Lij), to a beautifully restored copy of The Canterbury Tales (from John). There's also a vegetarian cookbook (from Hugo), a Far Side desk calender (from Craig), a gorgeous silk shirt (from Ian, of course), and a Monty Python encyclopedia as well as a Flying Circus video collection (from Sean A.).
Bean has bought me two shirts – one pink with bright blue paisley, and one orange with green hounds-tooth. "Why are you encouraging him?" Viggo moans.
"Hey, the worse he looks, the better I look," Sean tells him with a wink.
"Oh, yeah, and you need a lot of help in that department," I say sarcastically. "But thank you. I think I'll wear these when I go out for a fancy dinner."
"Viggo, please burn them!" Lij begs. "They'll make me go blind."
"Wait, one more shirt," Sean tells me. "And don't worry," he says before Viggo can object. "There's no hideous pattern."
He's right. Instead, it's a plain white tee-shirt with a message printed in big block letters: "I want to be a rider on that Strider." Everyone cracks up, especially Viggo. "Where on earth did you get this?" he asks.
"I had wardrobe make it."
I quickly strip off the shirt I'm wearing and throw my new gift on. "Like it?" I ask Viggo.
He responds by kissing my neck. "Mm-hmm."
"No PDA's!" Lij yelps.
"Oh, grow up," Dom reprimands him.
"But it reminds me that I'm not getting any."
"Want me to change that?" Craig asks with a facetious waggle of his eyebrows.
"Sod off," Lij says in a ridiculous British accent.
Billy thrusts a wrapped box in my arms. "It's from me and Sblomie. We collaborated on your gift."
I laugh as I survey the box's contents. "Let's see, here's a thong, here's a pair of handcuffs, edible body paint, massage oils, what looks like a lifetime's supply of lube –"
"This way you'll think of us whenever you have sex," Dom interrupts.
Viggo arches an eyebrow. "That's almost enough incentive to join a monastery, Dom."
I continue with the contents. "Erotic magnetic poetry, the Kama Sutra, and . . . wait, why are you giving me Recent Forgeries?" I turn to Viggo. "Not that I don't love your work," I reassure him.
"Well, you once told me that Viggo's voice is sometimes enough to make you hard, so I thought if he's ever away, you can just listen to the CD enclosed and wank yourself," Billy explains, as I turn bright red and everyone laughs.
"Is that true?" Viggo asks in his huskiest voice.
I respond by elbowing him in the stomach. "Sean's right. You are all evil men."
"And here's my gift," Viggo says softly, handing me a gift that I can tell is a thin book. Opening up the paper, I see that it's handmade, and he's painted the cover. Inside is a series of photographs of me, all of which I've never seen before; about thirty in all. Beneath each picture is a short poem.
"Viggo," I gasp. "This is amazing."
"There's an inscription," he tells me. Turning to the first page, I see what he's written in his compact scrawl: 'The simple words "I love you" can't convey the depth and range of my emotions for you. Hopefully, the pictures and poems herein will have that power. If you ever need a reminder of how truly beautiful a person you are, just pick up this book.'
"You're going to make me cry in front of everyone," I say shakily.
"You like it?" he asks nervously.
"I love it." I kiss him, and this time there's no PDA complaint from Lij.
"So what is the mystery gift?" Ian finally asks. "He wouldn't tell us." I show them the book.
"Christ, this is beautiful," Dom breathes.
"This must have taken you forever," Bean says admiringly.
"It was a labor of love," Viggo says with a little shrug. "It was worth it."
"You're a lucky boy," John tells me with a wink.
"Don't I know it," I laugh.
*****
"Look what I wrote for you boys," Hugo says as he points to the refrigerator.
"It's time for sex," I read, looking at the magnetic poem.
"Which means I must be going," he laughs.
"Really, Hugo, that's the best you could come up with?" Ian asks.
"Hey, Viggo's the poet, not me." Hugo opens the door and gives us a theatrical bow. "I bid you all a good night."
I wave goodbye and continue cleaning up the wrapping paper. Viggo and Billy are loading the dishwasher, while Ian, Dom, and Bean are flipping through my new Monty Python book, and Sean Astin talking to Lij. John and Craig have wisely left already.
"I should get going, too," Ian announces. "An old queen needs his rest."
"Can you give me a ride?" Bean asks.
"Of course. Good night, Orlando," Ian says, giving me a hug. "Happy birthday."
"Good night, crazy boy," Bean adds. "Try not to give Viggo a heart attack tonight."
"Hey!" Viggo protests.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Yeah. Your last few days on set," I say sadly.
"I'll be back for re-shoots and stuff. Don't get all maudlin on
me, southern softie." I stick my tongue out, which only makes Beanie
laugh.
"So just you, me, and four hobbits, huh?" Viggo asks, hugging
me from behind as we look out into the living room.
"Looks like it."
"Want me to get rid of them?" He nips at my earlobe.
"God, yes."
Viggo laughs and walks over to the fearsome foursome. "Vacate the premises, please," he says in an authoritative voice.
Lij actually looks scared, and looks frantically at Sean. "Is he mad at us?" He looks back at Viggo. "I didn't do anything, I swear!"
"Is he drunk?" I ask, laughing.
"I'm not drunk!" Lij says, a little too loudly. "I'm just celebrating!"
"Aren't you supposed to be babysitting him?" Viggo asks Sean, earning him a murderous glare from Lij. At least, it was supposed to be a murderous glare; instead it made him look like a constipated owl.
"You're really mean, you know that! Orli shouldn't be dating such a mean person!"
"Okay, Elijah. Bedtime." Billy picks up one of Lij's arms while Sean takes the other.
"Can I go home now?" Lij asks simperingly.
"Jesus, how much did he drink?" I laugh.
"He can't hold his liquor for shit, Orli," Dom reminds me. "We're off."
"Happy birthday!" Lij hollers as he's dragged to Sean's car.
Viggo shuts the door behind the hobbits and shakes his head. "I think Elijah is the perfect example of why the legal drinking age is 21 in America."
"That's cruel, Vig," I say, my giggle belying my words.
"Mmm." He hugs me and kisses me slowly and deeply. "Have a good birthday?"
"It's not over yet," I remind him. "There's still forty-seven minutes until midnight."
"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" We stumble upstairs, shedding our clothes along the way, until we fall on the bed, Viggo completely nude and me with only my tee-shirt on. He yanks it off with something that sounds suspiciously like a growl, and kisses my collarbone, his teeth dragging down until he latches onto a nipple, bringing out a perfect blend of pain and pleasure.
"Jesus, Vig."
"What do you want?"
"You. Inside me." It's hard to talk as he sucks at the skin on my stomach.
"That's what I thought," he smirks. "Good thing Billy and Dom restocked us," he laughs as he reaches for our near-empty tube of lube.
"God, don't mention them. Mood-killer."
"What, you don't want to tie Billy up with Pippin's scarf?" Viggo teases.
I thrust my hips up at him, and he decides to get on with it. He gently rolls me onto my stomach, and I get on my knees. Expecting the coolness of lubricant on his fingers, I'm startled when instead I'm greeted with the heat of his breath at the entrance to my body. "Oh, God," I say in an incredibly unsteady voice.
His tongue skates around my opening before slowly easing inside, and I cry out. He knows what this does to me, how it seems to just pour molten lava into my body. I push my hips back against him, and the chuckle this provokes shoots vibrations through his tongue and into my body. Now his tongue is fucking me in earnest, and I push my hips down, eager to get some friction for my cock out of the soft sheets.
Realizing my impatience, his hands grip my hips, and he brings me back to him. He's sitting against the pillows, and he maneuvers me so I'm on his legs, his cock pushing against my back.
"Is the tee-shirt right, Orli?" he murmurs. It's true. That voice *is* enough to get me hard.
"Huh?" I'm not exactly capable of intelligent conversation right now, especially not since he's drawing patterns on my shoulder with his tongue.
"Do you want to be a rider on this Strider?"
It sounds like a line from a bad porn video, but it works for me. "You have to ask?"
He pushes me forwards a bit and two lubed fingers slide in easily.
I hiss in pleasure, and he twists them a bit. "More?" he asks.
"No. Need you." I hear him spreading the cool gel
onto himself and shiver in anticipation. He pulls me up and then
slides me down slowly onto his erection, and I feel my body being stretched
all over again.
"Jesus," he whispers. All I can do is gasp. His chest is flush against my back, and I can feel his heartbeat quickening under his skin. "Orli, you feel so amazing like this." The only response I give is a mewl of pleasure, and he kisses the back of my neck. A strong hand reaches around to grip my erection, and he thrusts his hips against me a bit.
"Am I too heavy?" I ask breathlessly. We've never tried this position before.
"You're perfect." His breath catches, and I know that statement wasn't just an answer to my question.
"Can I move?"
"Please," he moans.
Willing myself to be slow, I rise up and down on him, and he matches my pace with the strokes on my cock. The feeling of power I get from setting the tempo of our lovemaking is fairly intoxicating. Even though he's the one inside me, I have all the power here. That's made abundantly clear when he grits his teeth and grunts, "faster."
"It's *my* birthday," I remind him. "This is just another present." But in truth, I can't stand this slow and deliberate pace either, not with the sensation of being filled by his cock and his hand on my erection beginning to drive my crazy. My movements begin to speed up, and he paces his strokes on me accordingly. It's not long before I shut my eyes tight. "Vig . . . I-I'm close," I gasp.
He turns my head towards his. "Open your eyes, baby," he pleads. I do and am met with the sight of his eyes electric with passion, his lips still wantonly full from our earlier kisses. Craning his neck a bit, he kisses me again, nipping my bottom lip. I come fast and hard, his mouth crushing my groan. Seconds later he follows, and our kiss muffles his cries as well.
My head drops to his shoulder, and I try to steady my breathing. I can still feel his heartbeat, which is a wonderful sensation, and he's apparently trying to calm down as well. A few minutes later, he grunts and says, "*now* you're too heavy."
I move off of him with a laugh, and he grabs a damp washcloth off the floor. "I brought it in earlier, right before people left" he explains. "Figured I might get lucky tonight."
"Are you saying I'm easy?" I ask, mock-offended.
"No. I'm saying that I'm talented," he says with a smirk.
"Bastard," I laugh as he cleans us up a bit.
Viggo pulls the blankets up around us, and I curl up to him with my head resting on his chest. "Happy birthday, Orlando."
I kiss his warm skin. "The book, Viggo . . . I can't tell you how much it means to me." Looking up at him, I smile. "It's the most amazing birthday gift anyone's ever gotten for me."
"I wanted you to be able to see yourself the way I see you. To understand why I'm in love with you."
"Thank you," I whisper, the words seeming woefully inadequate. He just gives me a soft smile and ruffles my mohawk. "G'night, Vig."
"Good night, Orli."
I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes with a smile. I can
still hear his heartbeat.
