Title: I Love London
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Disclaimer: Dom and Elijah belong to themselves.
Author’s Notes: Written for an icon drabble game, at the request of kimonthejourney.
Prompt: Sex and tea.
Summary:Maybe you’re the one who’s ordinary.
If you turn your head to the left, leaning outside the hotel room window, you can see the spires of Westminster Abbey. There are other buildings to the right, of course, and to the front and to the back, but you don’t know their names. In the distance is the shiny towering clock of Big Ben, but in the noise of modern times you’re too far away to hear the bells.
It’s early yet but already the city is alive. Mostly men, some women, in dark suits walking from tube stations into office buildings—ordinary lives, you think, people who’ve never surfed the Pacific or helicoptered to the top of a mountain or been embraced by weeping-from-happiness fans.
Or maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’re the one who’s ordinary.
You pull your head in and shut the window, turning back to what makes this morning extraordinary—Dom, drinking tea and not wearing pants.
“Can’t believe you’re fucking up this early,” he mutters.
“Jet lag.” You bounce to the table. “Come play with me! There’s a whole city we need to see!”
You throw his pants at him. “You’ve got tea. Play with me! I didn’t fly all this way to just have sex in a hotel.”
He grabs the pants and sips his tea. “Yes, you did. Oh, sure, we’ll do interviews tomorrow and that photo shoot this afternoon, and we’ll all be cuddly and hobbity and everything will be like it normally is, but the real reason you’re here, ‘Lij, my sweet? Is me.”
Smug git. Sipping tea and lounging in the upholstered chair.
You get on you knees in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs. He raises an eyebrow. Still not lowering the teacup, damn that British composure. “Okay. If I admit that I flew all the way from Los Angeles just so you can fuck me again, will you stop drinking tea and come play with me already?”
He smiles. Leans forward and kisses you. “I will play with you any time you wish,” he murmurs. “But first, tea.”
You flop down onto your back and start laughing. You laugh and laugh. “God, I love you, London,” you say, and pour yourself some tea.