Title: Why Won't You Love Me?
Pairing: RPS: EW/OB
Summary: This has no plot. It is pure, silly fluff.
Rating: PG 13
AN: Bree Sharp, I luffs you.
The television flickered in the dark room, emitting a soft blue glow that reflected off the pale face sat across from it. A soft gasp cut the silence as the programme began, the eerie music filling the room. A man’s face flashed across the screen and another quick intake of breath was heard. As the programme continued, only a soft panting was heard above the tinny drone. Finally, unable to cope any longer, a lean hand wrapped around the remote control and pressed the pause button, freezing the chiselled face on screen. The panting increased and the sounds of flesh sliding in slick flesh filled the room.
“Eaugh!” a high-pitched scream rent the air as the lithe figure of his boyfriend jumped from behind the kitchen partition. Orlando Bloom’s face drained of colour except for two bright splotches of red dotted across his cheekbones.
“What the fuck, ‘Lij?!” he yelled at his boyfriend, half out of the shock of his voyeuristic boyfriend scaring him; half out of sheer embarrassment at getting caught.
“I knew it, you pervy bastard!” Elijah crowed, dancing across the room to where the other man was sitting. Orlando glared at the other man; he pursed his lips as Elijah danced his celebratory dance of “ha-ha-I-caught-my-boyfriend-wanking”.
His hand clenched around his rapidly deflating erection as Elijah started doing a little hip shimmy that pulled his t-shirt up and advertised pale, lickable skin. He licked his suddenly dry lips and focused on that patch of teasing skin.
Elijah’s giggles and dancing stopped as he noticed that his boyfriend was no longer looking murderous but rather looking like he was a cat ready to pounce on his prey. He smirked and then resumed his dance, albeit at a slower pace. He hummed a light tune under his breath as he slowly toed off his trainers and began to hike up his t-shirt.
Orlando watched as his boyfriend began his striptease, the television long forgotten. He eased himself up on the sofa and shimmied his boxers off, throwing them carelessly to the side. Elijah was now standing in front of him, humming softly and swaying his hips teasingly in front of his face. He placed his hands on the narrow hips and mouthed the soft skin there, marking the pale skin. Elijah gasped and then continued to hum, this time louder.
“’Lij, do you have to hum?”
Elijah grinned cheekily, “what, I’m just giving you some more inspiration.” He resumed his song, this time singing softly, “David Duchovny, why don’t you love me…”
© CKN, 2006