Against the Sun

Title: Against the Sun
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Prompt: paper bag, sandals, skateboard
Characters: Billy/Dom
Rating: NSFW
Notes: Written for ‘s monaboyd challenge.
Summary: Forever always ends

Thanks to for saying it would do.

Sunlight glints amber and gold off of Dom’s sunglasses–rock star glasses, Billy thinks. Don’t Look Too Close glasses. Hiding Myself glasses.

L.A., Dom claimed, is perfect for him. Its energy suits him. Its particular madness matches his own. So the work isn’t coming as quickly as he’d hoped: he’s been in this situation before, he can handle it.

Except that somewhere, in the smog and hills and hustlers, Billy has lost his golden boy. He has instead this . . . man, who is slick and tanned, and kisses without meaning it.

You used to steal kisses from me, Billy thinks as they walk. You used to take kisses by stealth, sneaking up on me, kissing me like a bandit and then running away again.

Others, outsiders, may have thought they played at love, but Billy had thought This is how forever feels, and been content.

All over now. All gone.

It has taken all of Billy’s cajoling to convince Dom just to come with him to the beach today. How could he bring Billy all the way out to southern California and never even see the bloody ocean? “You’ve seen the Pacific, Billy,” Dom had said, “you learned to kyack in it,” but finally relented–mostly, Billy suspects, to make up for how little time they have really spent together on this trip.

It is a far cry from their old beach days–to walk down the Santa Monica pier in suits instead of sandals, saying “sorry” if their elbows brush instead of stumbling along, arms around each other’s shoulders, whispering into each other’s necks.

The sun is too bright here. Billy squints against its glare and Dom stops at a sunglasses stand. “Wrinkles, Billy. Which ones do you want?”

“No thanks.” He can live with a few lines. Maybe then he’ll stop looking like an overgrown kid.

Dom shrugs “sorry” to the kid at the cash register and they keep walking. The air smells nothing like the New Zealand coast, nothing like home. The salt tang of the sea is completely buried beneath baby oil and hot dogs and car exhaust. This lack of scent makes Billy even more homesick than before.

“Off tomorrow for real, then, Billy?” Dom says, sidestepping preteens on skateboards as they careen past. “You sure you won’t stay another week? Cara’s friend thought you were cute.”

“Who’s Cara again?”

“The blonde. Works development at Monumental. Business contact, Billy.”

Business contact that I found with your cock in her mouth, Billy thinks, and his lips tighten. And it wasn’t her name you were moaning.

“I need to go home,” he says simply.

They pass an ice cream vendor and Billy stops. “Two, please,” he says, taking out the last of his American money.

“I’ve stopped dairy,” Dom says and the vendor rolls his eyes.

“One ice and one of those,” Billy says instead, pointing to a frozen lemonade. The exchange is made, and for a moment Billy sees his Dom in the way he smiles at this unexpected gift.

They continue walking.”You ought to think about it,” Dom says. “Just a week more. Cara can get us a meeting about the script–“

“I don’t want any more meetings,” Billy says. “I just want home. Things make sense there. Why won’t you come back to Britain?”

“This is the future, Billy,” Dom says patiently. “This is where it all begins. I’ve done everything England has to offer. I want more.” He spreads his arms wide, to encompass the pier, the beach, the ocean, the city–he is Dominic, World Conquerer.

If only the world would agree.

“I don’t want it all, Dommie,” Billy says. The words hang unspoken: I just want you.

A paper bag skitters across the boardwalk and Billy steps on it, picks it up and drops it in a litter bin. Dominic waits but Billy just keeps walking, his back to the sun.


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