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rsadelleTitle: Travail
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Liv Tyler
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Never happened, not making any money.
Summary: Liv changes.
Author's Note: Thanks to Molly for the mini-beta.
Warning: Abortion.
His weight pressed into her. His cock was hard and warm inside her. This time was different somehow, she could feel it. It was deep, and not just in the physical way. Mystical almost. She laughed inwardly as he came deep within her. Her, the daughter of a rockstar and a groupie, contemplating the spirituality of sex. But it really was more than just its usual good.
He rolled to her side and rested his hand on her stomach, just below her navel, fingers almost on her cunt. She knew that if she pushed up into it, he'd use his fingers the way he'd just used his cock. She'd probably do it too, but not yet. She wanted to concentrate on the strangeness of it first.
Orli seemed oblivious to it. He was the way he always was, touching her like he didn't want it to stop, his fingers feathering across her skin. Maybe this different, strange thing had only happened to her.
She closed her eyes and concentrated deep within herself. Different. Strange. She was different. She pushed up into Orli's hand, and he did just what she knew he would. This was good too. No words, no acting, just his skin pressing into her.
She kept feeling strange, even after they'd gone back to the set and she'd wrapped Arwen around her for protection. She hid it well, she thought. Even Orli didn't notice. Different, she thought, the word repeating itself in her mind. She knew the word in Elvish, and she thought that too.
Then she didn't bleed, and she knew. She went to a doctor for confirmation, and he congratulated her. She tried to smile at him.
She stopped thinking about it for two weeks. She was no more or less careful than before, but she almost hoped that some accident on the set would take care of everything. It didn't, and she had to make her own decisions.
"I'm pregnant," she told Orli in the living room, in the middle of the day.
He gaped like a fish, then, laughing and happy, he swooped down on her and swung her around and around until she was dizzy.
She stepped back when he put her down. "I'm not keeping it."
His face fell into something ugly she'd never seen before. "What do you mean you're not keeping it?" His voice low and dangerous.
"Arwen can't be pregnant."
"I don't care about Arwen," he growled. "I don't care about the damn movie."
"I do." She raised her chin. "It's my body. I thought you should know, but I'll do what I decide." She thought for a moment that he might slap her, but he held it in.
In bed that night, they lay beside each other in the darkness without speaking. She could almost feel his anger reaching out to strangle her. Her life, she reminded herself. Her choice, her consequences.
She went home to have it done. She told Peter she needed a break, needed to see her mother and Royston. She told Royston she needed to see her mother, her mother that she needed to see Royston. They weren't lies, exactly, just misdirections. She did go stay with her mother for a few days, and Royston for a few more. Only Orli knew the unvarnished truth.
The doctor was kind, discreet, Hollywood. He didn't bat an eye when she asked to be sedated. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to carry this with her. It was unfair and weak, and unfairer still to Orli who didn't even have the choice, but she didn't think she'd survive the bone deep knowledge of the experience.
She woke up afterwards in a comfortingly blank room. The very nice doctor came to tell her it had been successful and routine, and that she could go home now and was anyone here to take her?
She took a cab back to her hotel and slept until she had to pack. She was on a plane the next morning and back in Orli's bed the night after that. He fucked her hard enough to bruise. Royston never made her feel like this.
No one noticed she'd changed, inside and out. They were too caught up in the grand adventure of the epic movie. She was beginning to hate it. Even Orli didn't have time for her. He'd fuck her when he wanted, and expect her to be in his bed when he came home, but he went bungee jumping and surfing and away from her.
He didn't forgive and she didn't forget and they didn't talk. They went on together for another seven months, eight, nine. Orli took her out for dinner. Good food and expensive wine.
She made the mistake of asking, "What are we celebrating?"
That ugliness came over Orli's face again. "Our child," he said. "Our child would have been born by now, but you killed it."
The wine turned to vinegar in her mouth and she set down her glass with a deliberateness meant to keep her from throwing up, or throwing it at him. "It was my choice."
"It was my child," he shot back. She didn't answer, and he paid the bill.
The last night was their last night. Her apartment was packed and shipped. All she had left were the things she needed in the morning, and she brought them with her to Orli's. His apartment was nearly bare too, filled only with the sheets and his scent.
He held her down with his weight and said, "I loved you. We could have been happy." She didn't tell him he was wrong.
--END--
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Liv Tyler
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Never happened, not making any money.
Summary: Liv changes.
Author's Note: Thanks to Molly for the mini-beta.
Warning: Abortion.
His weight pressed into her. His cock was hard and warm inside her. This time was different somehow, she could feel it. It was deep, and not just in the physical way. Mystical almost. She laughed inwardly as he came deep within her. Her, the daughter of a rockstar and a groupie, contemplating the spirituality of sex. But it really was more than just its usual good.
He rolled to her side and rested his hand on her stomach, just below her navel, fingers almost on her cunt. She knew that if she pushed up into it, he'd use his fingers the way he'd just used his cock. She'd probably do it too, but not yet. She wanted to concentrate on the strangeness of it first.
Orli seemed oblivious to it. He was the way he always was, touching her like he didn't want it to stop, his fingers feathering across her skin. Maybe this different, strange thing had only happened to her.
She closed her eyes and concentrated deep within herself. Different. Strange. She was different. She pushed up into Orli's hand, and he did just what she knew he would. This was good too. No words, no acting, just his skin pressing into her.
She kept feeling strange, even after they'd gone back to the set and she'd wrapped Arwen around her for protection. She hid it well, she thought. Even Orli didn't notice. Different, she thought, the word repeating itself in her mind. She knew the word in Elvish, and she thought that too.
Then she didn't bleed, and she knew. She went to a doctor for confirmation, and he congratulated her. She tried to smile at him.
She stopped thinking about it for two weeks. She was no more or less careful than before, but she almost hoped that some accident on the set would take care of everything. It didn't, and she had to make her own decisions.
"I'm pregnant," she told Orli in the living room, in the middle of the day.
He gaped like a fish, then, laughing and happy, he swooped down on her and swung her around and around until she was dizzy.
She stepped back when he put her down. "I'm not keeping it."
His face fell into something ugly she'd never seen before. "What do you mean you're not keeping it?" His voice low and dangerous.
"Arwen can't be pregnant."
"I don't care about Arwen," he growled. "I don't care about the damn movie."
"I do." She raised her chin. "It's my body. I thought you should know, but I'll do what I decide." She thought for a moment that he might slap her, but he held it in.
In bed that night, they lay beside each other in the darkness without speaking. She could almost feel his anger reaching out to strangle her. Her life, she reminded herself. Her choice, her consequences.
She went home to have it done. She told Peter she needed a break, needed to see her mother and Royston. She told Royston she needed to see her mother, her mother that she needed to see Royston. They weren't lies, exactly, just misdirections. She did go stay with her mother for a few days, and Royston for a few more. Only Orli knew the unvarnished truth.
The doctor was kind, discreet, Hollywood. He didn't bat an eye when she asked to be sedated. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to carry this with her. It was unfair and weak, and unfairer still to Orli who didn't even have the choice, but she didn't think she'd survive the bone deep knowledge of the experience.
She woke up afterwards in a comfortingly blank room. The very nice doctor came to tell her it had been successful and routine, and that she could go home now and was anyone here to take her?
She took a cab back to her hotel and slept until she had to pack. She was on a plane the next morning and back in Orli's bed the night after that. He fucked her hard enough to bruise. Royston never made her feel like this.
No one noticed she'd changed, inside and out. They were too caught up in the grand adventure of the epic movie. She was beginning to hate it. Even Orli didn't have time for her. He'd fuck her when he wanted, and expect her to be in his bed when he came home, but he went bungee jumping and surfing and away from her.
He didn't forgive and she didn't forget and they didn't talk. They went on together for another seven months, eight, nine. Orli took her out for dinner. Good food and expensive wine.
She made the mistake of asking, "What are we celebrating?"
That ugliness came over Orli's face again. "Our child," he said. "Our child would have been born by now, but you killed it."
The wine turned to vinegar in her mouth and she set down her glass with a deliberateness meant to keep her from throwing up, or throwing it at him. "It was my choice."
"It was my child," he shot back. She didn't answer, and he paid the bill.
The last night was their last night. Her apartment was packed and shipped. All she had left were the things she needed in the morning, and she brought them with her to Orli's. His apartment was nearly bare too, filled only with the sheets and his scent.
He held her down with his weight and said, "I loved you. We could have been happy." She didn't tell him he was wrong.
--END--