Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Better Days	By : fitzsns Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2553 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
*~*~*~*~*
CHAPTER NINE: FAYE
New York City

Friday, April 4, 2003
When I was a little girl in Catholic school, I had this image of heaven- puffy white and silver clouds, fat, floaty babies with wings, a big guy with a long beard sitting on a throne… maybe a unicorn or two there in the background. I am not above admitting when I’m wrong. Heaven is, in fact, a big bed with soft pillows and Orlando Bloom wrapped around you. I wonder what the nuns would have to say about that.
So seriously, how fucked am I?
Well… I’m very well fucked, to be perfectly honest if not elegant. I think I’ve lost track of the amount of times Orlando woke me up during the night. Not to mention the one or two when I woke him. I mean, I have aches in places I’ve only read about in Cosmo. Excuse me for a moment while I bask in the afterglow.

Okay. I’m back.
Now, as I was saying… the literal aside, the metaphorical fucking that I’m speaking of should be fairly obvious. We both all but admitted that there were feelings involved here. Well, okay. There was an admission… or two. Albeit, kind of flimsy admissions. Nothing that would hold up in court or anything. So now we have great sex, feelings, and no earthly way of it ever becoming anything more. Am I right or am I right? I’m right, right?
Last night I was convinced that no matter what this morning felt like it would all be worth it. Now, it may still be dark out but the clock on the nightstand tells me it isn’t going to be that way long. I’m really scared that once the sun rises, this is all just going to go “poof!”. The sad thing is that I could probably handle the “poof!” better than I am going to be handling the awkwardness that awaits us once we both have to recognize that this “thing”, whatever it is, has reached it’s end.
But, see… here’s the thing. I don’t know how exactly it happened, but somehow, despite how I think this is going to inevitably end, being with Orlando for the few days we’ve had together has helped me see the one thing that I’ve been lacking in the past few months. I know I am going to be okay.
Quite the trade-off, huh? I finally get my epiphany moment but I had to get a taste of something great that I can’t have in order to get here. There is a sadness in me right now, knowing that this can never be more than just this, but when I stumble into my apartment later today, it will no longer be my “cozy little den of misery”. That’s a great feeling. I’m done with all that. I’m done with wondering what I did wrong. I’m done with crying over losing a guy who could betray me the way he did. I’m done with feeling worthless; feeling like it was somehow my fault for being a woman he could betray.
Lying here, the only thing I’m regretting is the loss of all the time I’ve wasted and all the time I won’t have with this man. If only things were different in some way- if one thing was different from the way it is- we might have had a shot. But that one thing that I did wrong with Danny was to misjudge reality. I believed him to be someone he wasn’t. I made up a world for us that only existed in my fantasies and proceeded to woefully miscast it. I can’t do that again.
I would love it if there were some way for Orlando and I to give this a try; to at least see where it leads. I mean, in all honesty, I never want to move from this spot… ever. But I can’t delude myself anymore. I have to be realistic. I have to live in reality. Realism is the key… it’s hard to think when he’s running his real hand down my real stomach. Look who’s awake.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice is gravely in that way that makes me think that being realistic is so totally overrated.
“You,” I tell him. It’s not a lie.
“Good,” he says and I can feel him grinning against the back of my shoulder. Is it weird that I find his smile so sexy even when I can’t see it? I mean, I know it’s there. I know what it looks like. Just seeing it in my mind is making all those little aches I have ache in his direction. What can I do?
I lean back against him until that he’s flat on his back before squirming around in his arms so that I can do the one thing we never really got around to last night. After nipping at that great muscle where his neck meets his shoulder- love it- I begin my descent.
Taking my time on the muscles of his chest and stomach, I rather leisurely trail a wet path down towards that ultimate destination that I haven’t been able to get enough of in the past 12 hours. His cock really is a feat of biology. I take the head between my lips and swirl my tongue around it. His hands find their way into my hair he begins to move my head in a rhythm that he enjoys, as if I don’t remember. Let me say this: I’m usually not a fan of audience participation in this act, but like with so many other things, Orlando is different. For some reason, his hands in my hair letting me know what he needs is a turn on.
Going down has never been particularly enjoyable for me beyond the knowledge that that is pleases my partner but I have to say that the little bit of control he’s taken and the sounds coming from him have me in a such a state, I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself long enough to finish him this way.
Interesting.
I move my head in cadence with his hands as he begins to move his hips to thrust deeper and deeper into my throat. I keep my muscles relaxed to prevent myself from gagging, and let me tell you, I think it must be a talent I was born with because it’s definitely not a skill. Never really even attempted this before. It’s kind of an odd thing to be proud of but, nonetheless, I’m feeling pretty good about myself.
To my infinite surprise, his impatience gets the better of him before mine does. He leans up, pulling me away and back up to meet his lips. The kiss is crushing, needy in all the right ways and before I know what’s happening, he’s got me pinned beneath him. His narrow waist fits perfectly between my thighs, something I’ve marveled at every time he’s been there. He enters me slowly but with an intensity that still catches me off guard; I’m completely ready for him nonetheless. He fills me completely, stroking upward until he’s a deep as he can get. He pauses, unmoving, letting my body feel him, letting him feel me.
I have never felt this way except when I’m with him. He has learned to play my body like a violin. No matter if it’s fast or slow, he manages to pull all my strings so taut that every touch makes my nerves sing with excitement. No one has ever taken the time to discover these things that I never even knew about myself. Where did he come from? How did this man come into my life? How am I going to let him walk out of it again?
He begins to thrust slowly, tantalizingly. He continues this agonizing pace until I arch my back, thrusting myself up towards him, urging- no willing - him to go faster. His mouth, previously hanging open, draws into a small smile as he grants my wish. Quickly now he strokes deep and hard, my fingernails digging into his back- somewhere in the fog of lust that is consuming me I hope I haven’t permanently scarred him. My body is humming with anticipation; the sensations he is eliciting from my body are indescribable.
He continues, steady, his eyes shining with… determination? I’m dying to feel his lips on mine. I don’t know if I said that aloud but he gets the idea regardless, bringing his mouth to mine. But no… He’s teasing my tongue with his, letting them meet one moment; drawing away the next. I hear myself whine pitifully before he finally allows our mouths to meet in an electric kiss.
The kiss seems never-ending as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer; tilting my hips to take him in deeper. He’s pounding into me, our breathing is erratic, our hearts are going a mile a minute. I clamp my muscles around him as he enters me and relax them as he withdraws. His pace is frantic now and my need for him to stay deep within me is staggering. I can feel my orgasm building but I’m not ready- not yet. I fight hold back as long as I can but his mouth leaves mine, and I can feel his tongue flick at my earlobe before he speaks.
"Come for me, Faye. Come with me."
His voice does things to me that every other man I’ve been with couldn’t accomplish with their entire bodies. His words are all the encouragement I need. My body reels into the sheer ecstasy of orgasm; his release set off by my own. His body shakes in spasms even as his body settles atop my own, his arms wrapping tightly around me as we both ride out the waves.
Where he finds the energy to pick his head up, I don’t know, but there he is with his big brown eyes and sleepy smile. I smooth a few stray curls away from his damp forehead and he leans down dropping the sweetest kiss I think I’ve ever had on my lips. When he pulls out, I feel the loss in my bones. A moment later, we lay spooned together, exactly as we were before he woke. We don’t speak and I feel his breathing slow on my skin.
The sun will be up soon. Then it’ll be over. Who’d have thought that heaven would suck so badly.
<><><><><><><>
When I wake again, the sun is just coming up, a warm glow starting to fill the room. I feel a little sad but resigned to the fact that another trip to the happy land of make-believe is swiftly drawing to an end. Orlando has rolled to the opposite side of the bed, which is large enough for him to be completely spread out the way he is and still not be touching me. I wonder if this is supposed to be some kind of cosmic metaphor. Every other time I’ve woken up in this bed, he’s been wrapped around me in one delicious way or another. Now that the sun’s coming up, there’s not even a hand stretching in my direction.
I’m reading too much into that, aren’t I? Do I know how to complicate simple things or what? I guess if you’ve been paying attention that really goes without saying.
Since I’m pretty sure this bed is like the ones in that commercial- you know, where that chick in the ridiculous satin nightie jumps up and down on the mattress with a glass of red wine set on the opposite side- I have no fear of waking him when I slip out of bed. I find my panties and then pull the t-shirt on that I found on the floor next to them, not really caring if it’s dirty or not. It doesn’t smell bad. It smells like Orlando.
After throwing some water on my face- and avoiding looking in the mirror… god knows how many hickies I’ll find when get around to that- I set myself down on the window seat in the bedroom, drawing the blanket that had been so carelessly abandoned to the floor last night around me.
I’m trying to wrap my mind around the happenings of the past two weeks. I feel like I’m a different person than I was when Sid and Kat dragged me to Texas. The odd thing is that I don’t feel like a new person… I feel like the person I used to be. A lot of things are becoming clear to me now and I know that the antidote was part time (the great equalizer) and part meeting Orlando Bloom. And it wasn’t because he was a new guy- a rebound guy. It was because with him, I was myself. I never felt the need to be anything else. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t setting myself up for a future with him. I don’t know if I’ll ever now why I felt I had to do that for Danny.
“So, I keep wondering-“
Good God! He is freakishly light-footed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” Why am I whispering? I clear my throat. “You were wondering?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, maneuvering me so he can slide in behind me on the window seat. He wraps his arms around me tightly before he speaks again. “Tell me, what was it about that guy that makes you so sad to have lost him?”
He thinks I’ve been over here brooding. I guess I can’t blame him. I’m sure there were times in South Padre when he caught me thinking about what it was I was there to get away from. I think for a moment about what I actually want to say… and take one more to think about what needs to be said.
“You know, when it ended, I was destroyed. I had really thought that I would marry Danny. Long before I ever had a ring on my finger, I believed that. I was sure of it and now I can’t even remember what it was that made me so certain. What broke me, then, was that he lied to me. That he went behind my back with my friend. That he did it all even after I had molded myself into this image that he could take home his parents- that he could take home to his money, more like. That he did it even after I…”
“After what, love?”
I turn my head to from where I’ve rested it on his shoulder. Jesus Christ, he’s looking at me like I let Danny talk me into amateur porn or intravenous drugs or something… Rolling my eyes now… not a good idea when you’re attempting not to let tears fall, in case you’re ever in a similar situation and all.
“When I got accepted to Stanford Law, I was so excited. I’d been working toward that for as long as I can remember. He had told me once that, if it happened, he’d go with me. When it came down to it, he told me that his father wouldn’t let him leave the firm and that I could get into any number of law schools closer to New York. I had been thinking about getting off the east coast for a while so- while I didn’t apply only to Stanford- everywhere else I’d applied was nowhere near New York. By that time, the only school that would take my application late was Rutgers Law because I’d be graduating from Rutgers undergrad.
“So, that’s what I did. I’m going to be spending three years in fucking Newark because I was too God damn dumb to see what was right in front of my face. The night I found out about Gina, I asked him when it started but I never really got an answer. All I got was that it was after he had proposed. I’m almost certain that they were together when he convinced me to turn down Stanford.”
I pull away from him and though he tries to hold on to me for a moment, he doesn’t force me to stay put. I just feel like I have to stand; although I do feel kind of silly standing here in nothing but my panties and a t-shirt that declares,
“I Get Enough Exercise Just Pushing My Luck.” Yeah. Tell me about it.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, at first I couldn’t get over him because I was convinced that it must have been my fault in some way, Then later, I was so mad at myself for giving up on my own plans for something that turned out not to be worth changing my brand of toothpaste. I had gotten stuck in this fairy-tale-happily-ever-after bullshit and the part that sucks is that it was entirely of my own making. I changed for him, I sacrificed for him, and worst of all, I made him out to be something that he wasn’t. What he did to me was despicable. But what I did to myself may have been worse.”
Okay, this is it. One of us has to say it and after that lengthy intro, it may as well be me. “And I can’t do it again.”
He seems confused. “Do what?”
Ugh. Well shit. I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I? He had no intention of asking for more. I am an idiot. Of course. Why would he of all people want to start something some random college student he met while appearing on TRL’s Spring Break Edition?
“N-Nothing… I just meant, I don’t think you should be giving me any more booty calls cus if I’m really gonna move on… you know… it’s not really healthy running off to New York to sleep with whatever movie star happens to be in town… not that I’m sleeping with any other movie stars… I’m not a whore or anything… despite evidence to the contrary… but the point… the point is that we should just… ya know… and why don’t they make the entire plane out of the stuff they make the black box out of?” Deflecting humiliation with bad jokes is part of my intricate defense mechanism… shut up.
“Um, while I don’t fell confident addressing that last part,” he begins, the look on his face clearly saying he thinks I’m a lunatic, “I don’t plan on any more ‘booty calls’. No, I guess it wouldn’t be healthy to regularly come into New York to sleep with movie stars. I know you’re not a whore and I don’t know what evidence of that you’re speaking of. And I think the point is that you got burned and you’re reluctant to start something especially with a guy who won’t even be on the same continent as you for next 4 months.”
Uhhhh… well, okay. This just took an unexpected turn. What the hell is he saying? “What the hell are you saying?”
This bastard is grinning at me. It’s not going to work. My many neuroses are more than enough armor against that damn smile right now- they’ve been on high alert since the beginning of this conversation.
“What I’m saying, Faye, is that I’m not done here and I don’t think you are either. I don’t know what the odds were of this ever happening but stranger things have happened…”
“No, they really haven’t.”
“…and I think we owe it to ourselves to see where it goes.”
He is going to bust out laughing any minute… any minute now… he can’t possibly be serious. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s… dumb…” Yeah, I got nothing… I was doing okay against the smile but the voice is tripping me up.
“Congratulations, I think you've found the world's thinnest argument.”
No, no, no… I can’t do this… this is the stupidest situation I could possibly involve myself in after what I just went through. I’m right. I am. I’m in no position to date a movie star. My trust is on the fritz and I’m sure you have to have all kinds of trust in order to date a celebrity especially when you’re not one.
Oh hell… what if I could? What if I could trust him? What if just laying down a blanket ‘no’ right now ends up being the regret of my life- that one big ‘what if’ that’ll follow me around forever?
I suddenly feel totally wiped out and I think it’s only in part to the fact that I got a grand total of 3 hours of sleep last night- if that. I curl up at the head of the bed and we just look at each other for a moment. “Orlando, don’t tell me you want to do this if you don’t mean it. I can’t get caught up in something that… I don’t think I’ve ever felt the way I do when I’m with you. But I just don’t trust myself anymore to tell what’s real and what’s just plain impossible.”
He gives me a pained look, like he knows exactly what I’m talking about. Crossing the room, he kneels down next me, pushing the hair out of my face. “Faye, I know that what’s happened between you and me is improbable. I mean, what were the odds that we’d meet, that we’d be staying in rooms next door to each other, that we’d hit it off so quickly? And I’ll tell you right now that the way I’ve been obsessing about you is to a degree I never thought myself capable of. But impossible? That’s not a word I like to use and it’s definitely one I wish I’d never hear you use when it comes to me. C’mon, Faye! Don’t you think I’m scared of this too?”
“I’m sure you are,” I sigh, rolling onto my back. “But what were you expecting? You yourself admitted last night that this was just supposed to be a one-night thing. What changed between when you called me and now?”
He makes some weird noise that I think means he’s frustrated- with me or the situation, I don’t know. He sits down on the bed, un-curling my legs to lay them across his lap. I let him even though I shouldn’t cus his hands are gently massaging my calves and making my head all fuzzy. “I don’t think anything’s changed. Maybe I was just kidding myself. I called thinking that if I could just get my hands on you one more time maybe the spell would be broken or I would at least be satisfied. But even then I was scared to death that this exact thing would happen. That I wouldn’t want to let you go. I can’t get enough of you… of being around you.”
Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! He’s just maneuvered himself on top of me, between my legs and oh… yeah… he still wants to talk. “It’s not just an amazing physical connection, which believe me is quite amazing.”
He nuzzles my stomach for a moment, picking up the edge of his t-shirt to drop a kiss on my navel before pulling the shirt back down. I think he must know that this is the most effective means of lowering my resistance to… just about anything.
“The truth is I’m not even sure what it is about you. Yeah, you’re smart and funny and beautiful and strong and all the things I’d be lucky to have in my life. But there’s something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. You excite me. You’re complicated. You have so much more going on beneath the surface than any other girl I’ve let close to me.”
I have to laugh at that, “I think you may be the only guy I’ve ever heard list ‘complicated’ as a virtue.”
He laughs with me, dropping a kiss on my lips. “I have had my fill of nice, simple girls.” His face goes serious and can feel his breath on my face. “Listen, I know you’re scared to get hurt again. I don’t think we should jump into anything serious. We’ll take it slow, okay? We’ll talk. You’re finishing up school, I’ll be traveling. We can call each other- get to know each other better. I’ll even get that email thing everyone’s been ragging on me about.
Talk. I can do that. I think. Wait, did he just say, “You don’t have email?”
He eyebrow cocks. “Is that really the point you want to highlight?”
Yeah, I guess that’s not really the important thing right now. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
No email. God, he’s a technophobe. I may have to rethink how I feel about this guy. I gotta giggle, I’m sorry. “Seriously… no email?”
He ducks his head to rest it against my stomach, but I catch a rueful smirk on his face like he’s used to this reaction. “Not going to cruise past that anytime soon are you?”
I drape an arm across my eyes trying to get my laughter under control. Okay, I’m good to go. Mostly. “Sorry, really. I’m done.”
He waits, bemused I’m sure, for the last of my sniggering to die down before pulling my arm away from my face. “So, what do you say? Can I call you?”
Ugh… eyes… smile… voice… One ticket please: Land of Make-Believe. One way. “What the hell.”
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Better Days