Foregiveness In Your Hands (Théo/Karl)
Sep. 20th, 2005 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlPaekakariki Beach is not very far from Wellie, so after we finally concede that it's too fucking cold to surf anymore, it's only about an hour later that we're pulling up in front of the barn. We leave the boards in the truck for tonight, but unload the wetsuits and cooler. I hang the wetsuits in the laundry room to dry, and now all I want to do is get in the shower.
I show you the guest bath, which has no tub, but you can get a hot shower. You seem intrigued by the futon bed in my office and I guess you didn't realise that the couch converts to a bed. Hopefully, the room is far enough away from mine that if I wake up screaming it won't disturb you. I'm gonna do all I can to avoid that tonight though, because I don't know if I can bear the humiliation of one of my nightmares waking you up. I’ve discovered that beer seems to make things worse, and after the incident with Dave, I’ve quit taking any alcohol, settling instead for water or coffee.
After a quick shower, I'm feeling much warmer and I go to the kitchen, lifting the lid of the slow cooker and smelling the lamb stew. It's been simmering all day and the aroma is tempting me. I resolve to eat like I'm normal and then maybe you won't ask me any more questions. The water from the other shower is still running, and I pull out the ingredients to make a batch of biscuits. They're in the oven and baking before the shower turns off, and I guess you must be pretty clean by now. I think that's the longest shower I've ever witnessed.
I'm putting out plates and bowls on the table when you finally reappear.
Théo: Showers are one of the things I like most about his world, so I take the opportunity to enjoy this one, letting the hot water pound down over my shoulders and neck. It is pleasant contrast to the cold of the sea. The extra time we spent out on the waves this afternoon was fruitful, and I feel as if I have achieved something today. I am also glad that we are going back tomorrow. A night of rest and further opportunity to put these new skills into practice is indeed a good idea.
As I lather up my hair with honey scented soap, it reminds me of the last time I showered in this house. Mer pressed against my back, taking me slowly, my hands braced on the tiles … I drop my head back and let the jets of water rinse my hair as I take my now hard flesh in my hand, fisting it, taking my time, eyes closing and finally coming with a sigh, the image of him writhing beneath me taking me over the edge.
Once my shower is over I dry my hair with a rough towel, running my fingers through it before pulling on the soft grey “sweatpants” as Paris calls them. They do not seem to want to stay on my waist and settle on my hips. Grabbing a t-shirt from my bag, I pull it on as I pad barefoot through the house to find you. It is not hard, I simply follow the delicious smell towards the kitchen and Ire comes to meet me, tail wagging. I greet him with a grin and scratch the sensitive spot behind his ear for him. He follows me into the kitchen, and it appears we have arrived just in time.
“It smells good.” My stomach rumbles loudly in agreement and I grin. “There is something about spending time at the beach that always makes me hungry.”
Karl: I watch Ire being disgusting all over you with a jaundiced eye. Oh, well, you've spent so much time here that I'm certain he's become used to you. The timer dings on the biscuits and I put them on a platter with a crock of butter beside it. I ladle the stew into our bowls, hesitating for a moment because I know Paris is a vegetarian, but then waving that concern off in my mind. There's enough steak that disappears from my fridge when you and Éomer get together, and I don't think he could be eating it all himself.
I get you a beer and refill my ice water. I've discovered I'm actually hungry for once, as I heap the piping hot biscuits with butter. Won't be so hard to convince you to leave things alone, I think.
Your comment about the ocean makes me smile. "Salt water takes it out of you. Plus, it's something that you're not used to, no matter how fit you are."
We eat in silence for a time and Ire slinks around alternately looking hopeful and guilty, and I shoo him away in annoyance.
Théo: The stew is delicious, and the biscuits tasty, especially when covered in butter so I wolf it down to calm the growling in my belly. Your appetite seems to have returned also, which is good, but my concern lingers.
By Ire’s behaviour, I realise he probably doesn’t get fed from the table that often, but he expects it from me, so when you turn back to the stove to get me more stew, I slip him my last piece of meat under the table, which he takes gratefully from my hand. By the time you turn back, I am reaching for another biscuit, and smile my thanks as you ladle the lamb out and sit back down.
“Did you sort things out with Eric?” I wasn’t happy with how our unexpected meeting had gone with him, for many reasons. When we could not shift for so long, I had wondered if our actions that night had caused you offence. Yet when I got to see Mer, he told me you had been almost keen to shift out, and had given no reason for the delay apart from the bar fight. So I am curious.
Karl: At your question, my appetite deserts me again, and I push the food around on my plate while I debate how to answer you. Finally, I get up and start cleaning up the kitchen.
"You and Éomer aren't in trouble over that, so you can stop worrying about it, mate." I'm to blame for Eric being there that night. The only fault I can find with Éomer is for not calling me when Eric left, but again, Eric would never have been there if it weren't for me, so . . . not starting another fight with my shift over it.
I put the leftover stew, not much of that, in the fridge and the rolls in a jar. The plates are scraped and in the dishwasher and suddenly I realise I've got to entertain you for a while, because it's not near time for bed, no matter how much energy we've spent surfing today.
"Uh, wanna watch a movie?"
Théo: Once again, you evade the question and the minute the words are out of my mouth, your appetite disappears. I get up, and lean against the doorframe, watching as you busy yourself around the kitchen. It may be that things went badly with Eric, but there is something more, something that has put that haunted look in your eyes. I have my suspicions as to what put it there, it reminds me of something I have seen before, but I hope with all my heart that I am wrong. There is only one way to find out.
“We can watch a movie later.” Lifting the bottle in my hand to my lips, I take a long drink. “You did not answer my question. Did you sort things out with Eric?”
Karl: I stare at you in disbelief. You never fucking give up. And I'm a little sick of your relentlessness. Just too much to deal with on top of everything else.
"He thought I was cheating on him, we resolved that issue." I keep my voice as even as possible, trying to keep a grasp on my temper, wondering why the bloody hell you think you have the right to invade my privacy like you do.
"I've done everything you've asked of me, I've given you time to be with your lover, without protest, even though it interferes with my life. I've taken you surfing in the fucking dead of winter. I've helped you out with your little camping trips, let you borrow my horse and fed your apparently insatiable appetite. Now leave me the fuck alone."
I slam out to the deck, conscious that I'm acting like a prat, but not really caring.
Théo: Leaving my beer in the kitchen, I follow you outside, talking as I walk towards you.
“I am beyond grateful for all the things you and Paris do for Mer and I, and perhaps one day I will find a way to repay you, but it is because of what you have given me that I cannot in all good conscience ignore what is happening to you. Something eats away at your soul. Anyone who is around you for any length of time would be able to see you are not yourself, so I have to assume that you are keeping away from those who care about you, those who would want to help you.”
I can feel your anger hanging around you like a cloud as I get nearer.
“I know you do not want to hear this, especially from me, but you do not eat, you are not drinking, the weight has dropped from you and there are dark rings under your eyes. You are listless, the spark has gone from you, it looks as if you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it is almost painful to see the haunted look in your eyes.” Taking a chance, I reach out and run my hand down your arm and take another one to gauge your reaction.
“Do you sleep at all, or do the nightmares keep you awake at night?”
Karl: I stiffen at your touch and pull my arm away, glaring at you, wondering what would happen if I clocked you, whether you'd leave Paris to face the consequences again.
But the secret is weighing me down, I can't argue that and there's no one I can talk to about it, only Jimmy witnessed what I did and I don't know him, not even his last name. And I won't endanger any of my friends with it. I stare at the woods. My mind seems to reach for Éomer in my dreams, and you are another like him, maybe I should talk to you. You may be sneaky and underhanded, but I've never known you to break your word.
"All right, but first I want your word that you won't say a bloody thing about it to Paris or Dave. Not one fucking word." I stare at you defiantly. "It's nothing that can affect them, but knowing it might cause trouble for them. Swear it."
Théo: I let out a little sigh of relief. I had wondered if it would have to come to blows before I could get you to talk to me.
“I give you my word that what is said here stays here.” I meet your defiance with open honesty, pleased that you would trust me with this, hoping I can help in some way. “So tell me.”
Karl: I stare out across the pond, not really seeing anything, seeing instead a tattooed punk with my death in his eyes.
"I killed a man. I thought he was going to kill me, but I was faster. I took his head off with Gúthwinë." A bare recitation of the facts, nothing about why I was there, about Eric, or the girl, or Jay's heroics. You can judge me on my actions alone, not on any mitigating circumstances. I wonder if it's fair to ask you for that, knowing you don't know the laws and customs of my world, but there's no one else to do it.
And so I wait for your judgment, still frozen in that moment where it could have easily ended the other way, wondering if there is any way to ever get past it.
Théo: So I was right. It had taken a while to put the pieces together today, to recognise the look in your eyes for what it was, and even then I hoped I was wrong, thinking that it was a very unlikely cause of your troubles in this often peaceful world. And the way you killed him is totally unexpected. Never mind that you have a sword named for Mer’s sword, but decapitation? Now is not the time to seem impressed by that fact. That is not what you need right now.
“Karl, look at me.” After hesitation, your eyes finally meet mine. “Given what little you have told me, it was you or him. If you had not acted, we would not be having this conversation and your friends would be mourning your loss. But you did act, and now every time you close your eyes, you see his face.” I reach out and put my hand on your shoulder. “It is to be expected, as are the regret, the anger and the pain that you feel. This I know from experience and I would be more concerned if you felt nothing.” To keep this inside is not the way to deal with it and I hope I can get you to see that. “Come back inside. I want you to tell me what happened, all of it.”
Karl: I realise that arguing with you has left me feeling more alive than I have in weeks, that you've allowed me to be pissed off at you, that I don't have to cover up what I'm feeling around you, and that in itself is an enormous relief. So I don't protest when you steer back inside and push me down onto the sofa.
But fuck . . . where do I start? Where is the beginning of this whole mess? Define 'all of it.' I try to remember all the shit Gareth told me . . . about the first time the girl was taken, the stalker guy. But I don't know enough about all of that, I wasn't around for it.
So I start at the moment I stepped into the story. How I stopped by a bar wanting a drink after a hard days work and walked into what was supposed to be a massacre of the bartender. How the fanboys were covered in Tolkien runes and spoke Black Speech. How they wouldn't stay down, not even when I hit them with all I had. My ribs breaking. Then Eric's store the first time, and the Orc blade from WETA. My arrogant pronouncement to Gareth that I was going to end it. Eric's store part two, and waiting to see if he lived or died. How my thirst for revenge put Jay in a danger that I didn't bloody understand at the time. The girl, and the three of us going against ten of them to get her and Jay out. The fire and then . . . death, staring me in the face.
I leave out the reasons why Eric was attacked, because I can't cope with you feeling guilty about that at the moment. Besides, it wasn't your fault. And I'm not going to go in to the fallout from my recklessness with Eric. That hurts, but I can deal with that. People get dumped all the time.
Théo: I sit and listen to all that you tell me. I knew there had been trouble here when the shifting was blocked, but I am surprised to find that it had not ended with the battle with the Balrog and the warg hunt. And I am saddened that the dark powers that plague our world have caused so much damage in yours.
When you have finished, I go and find the bottle of Jack I know is in your cupboard, and a couple of glasses and pour us both a drink. I think tonight you could do with one. I hand you yours, and knock half of mine back.
“It took courage to do what you did, all of you, particularly given the odds. You fought a battle against evil, and you won and that is what you must remember. The men who died, the one you killed, they were not good men, they would have harmed others if you had not done as you did. Someone had to stop them, Karl, and it happened to fall on your shoulders.”
“It can be an easy thing to do, to take a life in the heat of battle defending yourself against someone who wants you dead, but the first time it is not an easy thing to live with, no matter what the circumstances.” I finish off my drink. “And I hope that you are never again in the position where it is necessary.”
Karl: The bourbon burns down my throat, soothing it. I can't remember the last time I've talked so much at one time. I finish my shot in one gulp and hold it out for a refill. The idea of getting totally pissed tonight has its appeal, although trying to surf tomorrow while hung over will suck.
"Thanks . . . " I wave my glass around. "for listening. But I don't think I can ever do anything like that again. I'm not a soldier, I'm an actor, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Théo: “You are welcome.” I raise my glass to you and knock it back then pour us both refills.
“You may not be a solider, but you have the heart of a warrior, to do what had to be done.” I smile at the look on your face and go on. “But you do not have to fight these battles, no matter how much you feel they are yours to fight. Éomer will gladly assist you if he is needed, as will I.” I know I can speak for my cousin on this matter. “It is what we are trained for after all.”
Stretching a little to ease out the tension in my muscles put there by today’s activities, I lean back against the soft cushions on the couch, and turn to look over at you. It is good to see the tension in you easing, the haunted look gone from your eyes.
Karl: I didn't know how much I needed for someone to tell me that it was okay, that I'm not a fuck up for doing what I did. Eric's criticism stung more than I realised . . . it got kinda shoved aside in the face of the whole 'I love you so much that I can't be with you' thing. And it's safe to tell you, because you don't belong in this world, so you won't have to face the consequences of knowing. Not that there appear to be any, the papers say the fire was from infighting amongst the gang. But I know fucking well, that if they found eleven bodies, they know that one of them was missing something. I don't trust the police, so I'm not taking any chances with my friends' safety.
As for Éomer, "I've called him to help when there's been things from your world bleeding over into my world. I guess I took this one personally because they hurt Eric. And I almost got people I care about killed because of it. I don't know, I suppose he wouldn't get emotional, just do what he's been trained to do. And you too." Leave it up to the professionals, I should. The men who've been trained to deal with nasty beasties. Only problem is, I don't do well leaving things up to other people, not just fighting my battles, but everything.
Théo: I nod, glad you understand that you do not have to deal with this alone. Where evil has bled over from our world to yours, I would rather we dealt with it when it comes to violence. I would hate for you or Paris or Dave or any of these friends of yours to be hurt, or worse, because you thought you had to handle it yourselves. We are all in this together.
“Has Eric recovered from his injuries?” I am surprised that you have not mentioned our encounter with him and come to think of it, you still managed to evade my earlier question as to whether you had sorted things out with him. I know you do not talk easily about personal things though, and you have shared a lot with me tonight, so I do not intend to push you on this matter. But it would feel wrong not to enquire after his health after hearing that he was hurt.
Karl: You remind me of some storybook character, I can't remember who at the moment, who keeps asking the same question over and over relentlessly. Aunt June loved that book, I think. Something about drawing a sheep.
I still don't see how Eric is your business, but I suppose I did tell you how hurt he was, so this could be a genuine attempt to be kind. And you've given me enough whiskey that I'm having a hard time sorting out a way to not answer your question without actually lying to you.
Has he recovered? I guess he has, I don't know it though. Surely Drew would have done me the courtesy of calling if he had a relapse. I sigh deeply. Maybe not, he thought I was partially responsible somehow and he thought I was upsetting to Eric, so maybe he wouldn't. Fuck. I scrub a hand through my hair.
"He was doing much better the last time I saw him." True enough.
Théo: You take your time answering what is a simple question, looking for all the world as though you are searching for something to say and when the answer comes, it is well considered and your tone flat.
I curb my natural curiosity. It is plain you do not want to talk about this further, so I decide not to ask anything more, but that does not stop my mind from working. I fill our glasses again, and sit back nursing mine, and letting my thoughts wander as we sit quietly for a while. From what I have gathered today, there is one possible explanation for your constant evasion of questions where Eric is concerned and I really do not want to be right about this too.
“You left him.” Musing and speculation that was not meant to be said out loud, but the smoky spirit has loosened my tongue a little too much, and now it is said. I curse myself silently for quite possibly ending the fragile trust we had built up here tonight. “Karl, I am sorry, I did not mean to … your relationship with Eric is none of my business …”
Karl: That's it. I throw the glass at the wall, not at your head, which is surprising.
"No, it's not your fucking business, but when has that ever stopped you? You've had your nose in my business since I met you."
I rein in my temper with effort. "I didn't fucking leave him, he left me. Because . . . " But I still don't understand his convoluted logic. "Because he doesn't approve of the way I dealt with problems." That much I got.
Yeah, Urban. Temper tantrums aren't pretty. I sigh and get the broom and a cloth. "Why don't you get all of your questions out of the way? Anything else you want to know . . . I'll tell you. It'll save time in the long run. Cause you're just going to annoy me till I spill. So . . . shoot."
Théo: Your actions catch me off guard, and I actually start a little at the sound of shattering glass, although your words I do expect. While you tidy away the broom, I get you a fresh glass, and fill both of them, noting that we are making a fair dent in the bottle.
“It is never my intention to annoy you. Back in Rohan, I was raised to know that one day I would rule. With that knowledge comes a great sense of responsibility for others, and being Second Marshal means I am directly responsible for the wellbeing of many.” I shrug my shoulders. “If I see a problem, I instinctively try and fix it, and to do that, I need all the facts.” I smile at you apologetically. “So I am sorry for trying to “fix” your life, which is clearly none of my business.”
I knock back half my glass.
“But that offer is hard to resist … anything?” I do not have anything more I want to ask about Eric, and I think you have talked enough about what has been bothering you, so perhaps I can take your mind off your problems for a while.
“Tell me about the first time you lay with a man.” I settle back against the cushions again, a smile curling at the corners of my mouth. “Tell me that and in return you may ask anything of me.”
Karl: "Well, you are bloody annoying," I grumble. "This is your one chance. It's open season tonight, then you can butt the hell out."
I think back. 'Lay' has so many interpretations. I'm not sure exactly what you want, but in the spirit of my full disclosure offer, I'll try my best.
"When I was about twelve, I ran away and lived with a bunch of Maori surfers for a while. They're the ones who taught me. Anyway, one of them was a kid, just a year older than me and we got to be good friends. The police eventually returned me to my parents, but I'd sneak off whenever I could to meet Tanga to surf and hang out." I shrug. "We experimented. You know . . . hands and mouths. We tried fucking once when I was sixteen but neither of us knew what we were doing so it was a disaster. He eventually decided he liked girls better but we're still friends. It wasn't till I got to university that I met a guy who bottomed and knew what he was doing enough that he could show me how to make it good. He was pretty bossy, but he was extremely thorough in his lessons." I snort, remembering. "He was a fourth year and I met him when I was out drinking with friends. He told me about an hour into our acquaintance that he wanted my dick up his ass by midnight. So . . . we left for his place right then and there. I caught on quickly after that."
The bourbon is spreading a pleasant glow through me, but my brain isn't working fast enough to come up with something really intriguing to ask you. "All right, you tell me about yours. First time, I mean."
Théo: I watch your face as you talk and I cannot help visualising what you tell me, glad these sweatpants are loose.
“I was sixteen. I rode out with one of my father’s most trusted riders when I got my first tastes of riding with an éored. I came to value his experience and opinion and we became good friends. One feast night I went looking for him when I could not find him in the hall, and came across him with another rider. They were wrapped around each other, and I stepped back into the shadows and watched as they almost devoured each other before they moved away. The sight woke new feelings in me. I had been with girls before but the image of the two of them together haunted my sleep.
The next time we rode out alone, I confronted him when we stopped to water our mounts, telling him I had seen him after the feast. He thought at first I was angry with him, until I pulled him to me and kissed him hard and told him I wanted to know what it felt like to touch another man. I took him there in the long grass as he guided me, showed me how.” The memory of his dark hair spilling over his shoulders, my fingers tangling in it, is a sharp and pleasant one. “He too was a very good tutor.” My eyes spark as I glance over at you, and my next question is something I think I know the answer to. You have given so many hints, but never quite said one way or the other, so taking advantage of this evening’s openness, I really have to know.
“Have you ever let anyone take you?” I ask with a smirk.
Karl: I shut my mouth with a click when you finish your tale. That's the difference between being raised a prince and being raised as someone ordinary, I guess. You saw what you wanted and went after it, demanded satisfaction so there was no fumbling around trying to guess what goes where. Peter's Edoras is so vivid in my mind that I can almost see you there.
But any tightness in my jeans that showed up while you talked disappears at your next question and the sense memory of pain floods me. Tanga and I knew that we needed lube, but not about stretching me and preparing me, and in his excitement he had shoved into me like a girl whose virginity was long gone. I never knew how a hurt in one small place could send pain clear to my fingertips. I screamed and he withdrew, horrified by what he'd done, holding me and kissing me until I calmed down.
"I told you. We didn't know what we were doing, Tanga tried it, but he hurt me. Badly. Never had much urge for a repeat performance." Which is utterly ridiculous, I know that. Knowing what I do now, understanding my body so much better, I could make sure it wouldn't happen again. But as many people have commented over the years, including you, I'm stubborn.
"What about you?" I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this one, but you put me on the spot so the least I can do is return the favor. Leaving out how my body feels sometimes after Éomer gets done with it . . . it's probably against royal protocol for the future king to bottom.
Théo: “No … not until I started travelling here.” Another memory that has me smiling and shifting a little in my seat, of the first night Mer and I found each other, and gave each other what we had never given anyone else. “And now quite often, but only with Mer.” And there was one time with Faramir, but you did not ask with who exactly, so that I will keep to myself. I sip down a little of the spirit while I hold your gaze.
“It is an intense experience, giving yourself to someone like that, someone who knows what they are doing.” I rest my arm along the back of the couch, feeling increasingly mellow. “Maybe in the right hands you would find it a pleasurable experience.”
And another question, as I stare into your eyes and let you see my desire. “Would you kiss me?”
Karl: I don't need a map to see where this is going, based on past experience. "Oh, hell. I'm pathetic, that's what you're saying, isn't it? Every time my life goes in the shitter, you try to shag me. I'm a mercy fuck."
"Besides I can't. It doesn't work anymore." I'd almost laugh at your baffled expression, if the whole thing wasn't so embarrassing. "No, not like that. Fuck. I can get it up." After some of the pain of losing Eric receded, I tried to do what any normal human male would do, gay or straight, on any world. Have a nice wank. But every time I started to enjoy myself . . . blood. "I mean . . . you said that I see his face whenever I close my eyes. That goes for trying to, uh, you know, pleasure myself. I see things I'd rather not associate with sex, right? Sort of ruins the mood." I use my index finger to demonstrate the point, just in case. Fuck, I've had more to drink than I realise because I should be dying of shame but I just want to giggle at the look on your face.
But you asked a question. "Yes, I'll kiss you. You're a good kisser, as I recall. Just warning you."
Théo: My eyes widen at the description of your … problem, and think that perhaps this will be a good way to take your mind off things, if only for a while.
I move closer, a predatory look in my eyes, dipping my head to lightly nuzzle through your hair first, drinking in your scent. Grazing my lips over your skin, I work round your jaw until I am close enough to feel your breath on them and I linger there for a second before closing the gap.
With each firm caress of my lips, yours open further to me, and I slip my tongue inside the hot cavern of your mouth, groaning as I renew my acquaintance with the taste of you mixed with the taste of the Jack. One hand digs into silky dark strands to hold you steady, the fingers of the other stroking your neck as I explore, coaxing you to kiss me back.
Karl: Right. Kissing is good, kissing I can do. But I keep my eyes determinedly open, making sure that the only thing I can see is you. It crosses my mind that Paris doesn't make me twitch the way you do, which is odd considering it's the same face and the same body. But other than the morning when I didn't know who he was . . . maybe because I know he belongs to Dave.
You groan into my mouth, making my thoughts scatter, and I pay attention to the fingers in my hair and tracing my neck. I open my mouth further, and twist my tongue with yours, the feel of the muscles hot and slick against my mouth brings an answering groan from me and I push into your mouth.
Kissing, hmm. Need more. I tangle one hand in your hair and the other goes on your hip as I pull you roughly into my lap. Better. My mouth moves rhythmically, sucking on your tongue.
Théo: I growl my approval at the touch of your hand on my hip and settle across you, looking into warm hazel eyes as you kiss me, the pull on my tongue delicious, my hand tightening in your hair. My fingers dip below the neck of your t-shirt, digging into the strong muscles of your back, craving the feel of skin. Last time we got this far, you pushed me away, so I do not push further, not yet, but I do keep on kissing you, harder, my mouth demanding more, my tongue wrapped around yours. I lose myself in the kiss, my body responding to the heat of yours, pressing myself against you as your hand explores my back.
Karl: My body is getting away from me as the kiss goes on and you keep taking us deeper. I finally wrench my head away and bury my face in your neck, my chest heaving as I try to get my breath. But my hands slide under your shirt and up your back without my permission and the smell of you is making things worse.
"Oh, fuck. Touch me." I tug the shirt off of you as you help by wiggling out of it, then I wrap one arm around your shoulders and the other hand goes around the back of your neck, pulling you back to my mouth, holding you tightly against me, my legs sprawling.
Théo: Touch you? I do not need a second invitation. As our mouths meet again, my hands roam down your torso, tugging the hem of your t-shirt higher, fingers moving over your body, mapping out the contours I can get my hands on, but it is not enough. “Off.” I growl as I pull it over your head, mouths clashing back together after it is gone.
I groan at the heat of skin on skin, my hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch, noting the spots that make you squirm. And I want to taste it. My fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back and my mouth slips down onto your neck, licking and nipping the skin. You have your own taste, your own distinct smell that is so different from Mer’s, and right now, it is filling my senses and driving me to want more.
Karl: "Fuck, yeah." I gasp as your mouth moves over my skin, the pressure of your hand in my hair fucking perfect, the weight of you across my legs is a source of heat that's burning me. I squirm under the rasp your stubble, driving my neck into your mouth. But I need to taste too and I snap my teeth at you, before settling my lips on your shoulder, my tongue exploring muscle and bone.
Shit, I need . . . this. I need an emotionally uncomplicated lay that's still not with some stranger off the street. I don't care if I'm just a mercy fuck for you anymore, I'll enjoy the hell out of it.
I groan against your shoulder, the taste of you making me wild, my hips moving, showing you how hot you're making me. I pull back and stare at you, meeting your eyes, wondering how far I can trust you.
Théo: Your body is writhing beneath me, and I want us out of the rest of our clothes now … but you pull back and look at me. My hand slips from your hair onto your neck, fingers moving in small circles, my eyes never leaving yours.
Your eyes hold all the need and desire that I can feel coursing through you. There is no doubt that you want this, but there is a question there also. I know what I want. I want to take you, want to look into your eyes as I slide into you, taking what you have given no other, to fuck you until you scream for release, to show you how good it can feel, but perhaps that is something you cannot give me.
“I will only take what you can give me, nothing more.” I let you see the truth in my eyes, then get to my feet and hold out my hand. This has to be your decision. I know what I want, what your body wants, and hope that your mind will be in agreement.
“Come.”
Karl: I take your hand and get to my feet and find that my legs are shaking, my brain scrabbling around trying to think while we take that short walk to my bedroom. Trying to decide if I can believe your words. And then I realise that maybe I don't trust you with me, but I trust that you won't do anything to hurt Éomer. Which means me. Shit, I think too much.
But when we're in the room, you don't give me much time, your arms go around me and your lips find mine again and our bodies are hard together. A brief flash of my nightmare, but then I remember today, in the ocean, when I thought I'd lost that too, when I gave up . . . I got it back. I'm so fucking tired of fighting for everything, of trying to do the right thing, of telling you 'no.' Maybe I've got to let go in this area too, to get it back. Don't think, just feel.
I break the kiss, needing to look at you for this. "Théodred, you said . . . " My hands tighten convulsively on your back. in the right hands Just give in. Fuck, I hope I'm not making a huge mistake. "Show me, yeah?"
Théo: My cock twitches at your words and I nod, my voice husky. “I will show you.” And I take your bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling and sucking on it as my hands move firmly on your back, pressing you closer to me. When I rock my hips forward, you can be in no doubt as to how much I want you.
“And it has nothing to do with mercy, or pity.” My mouth roams over your shoulder as I reach between us and undo the button on your jeans, pulling down the zipper, easing them down off your hips and letting your thick shaft spring free. I pull your head back with one hand, licking the base of your throat as I run my palm down your hardness to cup and stroke between your legs. “You awake a lust in me that I have long wanted to satisfy.”
Dropping smoothly to my knees in front of you, I finish pulling your jeans down, and off over your bare feet, waiting for you to step out of them before giving my full attention to your throbbing erection. Grabbing your buttocks to keep you steady, I nuzzle at the creases at the tops of your thighs, drinking in your musk, running my tongue through the dark hairs covering your balls, lapping and tasting. With a moan, your hands dig into my hair and with one broad stroke, I lick your cock from base to head, collecting the moisture that leaks from the slit on my tongue, savouring it before slipping the head into my mouth with a groan.
Karl: I mentally add 'arguing with you' to my list of things I'm tired of doing. I don't care why you're doing this any more, just don't want you to stop. "Ah, fuck," I pant as you take my dick in your incredibly hot mouth.
"Yeah, ditto." I try to stop myself from pulling your hair out by the roots as you work me, while I spread my legs to brace myself, because my knees are trembling worse now. This isn't going to last long but hell, I've embarrassed myself around you plenty, so one more thing isn't gonna kill me.
I look down at you, the sight of your head moving over me is one that I'll gladly imprint on my memory, one to drive away the bad ones. I can't help my hips shifting around a little, but I'm trying to hold back, not ram myself down your throat.
"Oh, fuck, that feels so good." You get your fingers involved, touching me, caressing me, and the tide is ripping through me and I can't hold it back any longer. "Shit, I'm gonna . . . " But your hands grip my ass, driving me into your mouth while I jerk and shudder, coming endlessly, until my knees finally give out.
Théo: I swallow every drop as your hands tighten so hard in my hair, and you come hard, your cock pulsing against my tongue, seed pumping down my throat.
I feel your knees buckle and grasp you around the thighs to steady you, letting you slip down through my arms to kneel in front of me. My mouth latches onto yours, giving you a taste of your seed on my tongue, holding you and stroking your back until your eyes begin to focus again.
”Turn around.” You do as I ask, and I push you forward so you can rest your arms on the bed, your backside presented to me, and it takes a little control not to grab the lube and take you now at the sight of you. I trail my hands down your spine, bending to lick at the base of your back working slowly down your cleft, holding your cheeks apart as my tongue reaches your entrance.
You jerk at the first touch, and my hands tighten on your flesh, my wet tongue working in tight little circles around the ring of muscle. I push the tip of it inside you, building up a rhythm, thrusting deeper every time, my own cock aching at the way you move under my attentions, the sounds I am drawing from you. But I push my own needs away for the moment. I want to keep you in a state of intense pleasure before I finally take you.
Karl: Having successfully come without any weird flashbacks to get in the way, and come fucking hard, I feel relaxed and contented, willing to listen to you and let you do what you want. You surprise me with your tongue, don't know what I was expecting. So I decide not to expect anything, but just ride with it, and see where you take me.
But the feel of the slick muscle probing me, gradually opening me, has me writhing again, tremors of desire pulsing outwards from where you're touching me and fuck, I'm hard again. Any inhibitions I might have felt about this are erased by the enthusiastic noises you are making. You throw yourself into sex the same way you did the ocean, and it's such a fucking turn on to have a partner like that. My hips start swaying and I can't seem to stop it, pushing my ass at you, spreading my legs, trying to help you. Sweat pops out on my lower back and my hands are clenching the bed covers in time with your thrusts, and my head starts spinning as you build me up again. I moan something, it might have been your name.
Théo: I am groaning at the taste of you on my tongue when what sounds like my name falls from your lips. I thrust in further, slipping my hand beneath you to stroke your cock, now hard and leaking again. I smear the moisture around, tracing my fingers over the contours, letting you buck against me as they graze over the head. After one final thrust, I ease back, circling your opening and slipping one finger inside your willing body before moving upwards, tasting the salt of your sweat, a soft growl in my throat as I rub my face up your back.
I know this is possibly the only time I will be with you like this, and I intend to savour it. My own hardness, damp with need, slides over your cheeks as my mouth reaches your shoulder blades and I bite gently into the skin between them, sucking on it as I run my fingertip over the bundle of nerves deep inside you. Your cry goes straight to my groin, and I know you are ready to take this further.
“Get on the bed and lie on your back.” As you do as I ask, I find what I need in the nightstand, and then I am with you again, kissing you hard as my hand roams down your body.
Karl: Your weight is pressing me down into the bed, and it feels bloody good. I run my hand down your back, your muscles smooth under my fingers, kissing you hard, your mouth full of my flavors. Your knees go between mine, spreading my legs and I'm exposed to you, there's nothing to stop you from ramming me, but you don't and I shudder as you enter me again with a slick finger. Your tongue sensitized my asshole and it feels so good when you add another finger. I can feel you working me open, scraping my prostate every so often, making me moan.
You rear up to get a better angle and I trail kisses down your chest. I suck and lick one nipple until it is stiff and shiny with my spit, and then move to the other. The ring in it makes me hesitate, remembering how the one on my chest got there and my vow that I'd never trust you. But I poke the tip of my tongue through the ring, then get it in my teeth and pull on it. Screw it. I trust that you're gonna fuck me into next week and that's all the trust I need at the moment.
You've got three fingers in me now and the pressure is delicious, making me gasp. Fuck, I'm falling apart and I want everything you've got. My pelvis is already moving, wanting you in me. I lace my fingers through your hair and pull your head up. "Fuck me," I growl.
Théo: My nipples are tight, throbbing from your attentions as I stretch you, prepare you, adding to the maddening tension building in me, tension that will only be released when I know you are ready. Your body writhes beneath me, so eager for what is to come, but I need one more thing …
"Fuck me" My eyes darken at your words, and I hold your gaze as I pull out my fingers, line up my cock, and push into you. Tight, you are so tight and hot and my lips pull back in a snarl as I sink into you with one fluid stroke. You cry out, your hands grasping at me as you arch off the bed and I pause for a heartbeat, two, to let you adjust, staring down at your face. Now I am in you, my control is unravelling fast, and with a groan, I start to fuck you, long smooth strokes, dipping down to brush my open lips across your kiss swollen ones.
Karl: Ah, shit. Fingers were nothing compared to the long, slow slide of smooth skin on skin. I'm disoriented for a moment, used being on the other side of this and the pleasure is so intense that for a moment I'm not sure if I'm in my body or yours. I plant my feet and meet your thrusts, making sure you go all the way in every time. I'm panting heavily now, and my mouth latches onto the rounded muscle of your delt, my teeth digging in and masking the cries that are ripping from my mouth.
I hoist my legs up, trying to get you deeper and I put my hand on my cock, moving my fingers in time with your lunges. My other hand is holding your shoulder, my fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as I desperately try to ground myself against the sensations flooding my body. Your mouth covers mine as you root me out, jabbing my prostate and I tighten my hand. The pressure is too much, and I let go, howling into your mouth, my hot come spattering us both, my hips driving against yours, while I spasm.
Théo: The sting of your teeth has me growling, thrusting harder, deeper as you rise to meet me and the sight of you coming apart below me, your eyes wild as you let go, banishes all reason. I pound into you, hips snapping forward, swallowing your feral cry as you come and your body clenches impossibly around me. Throwing my head back and slamming into you, a roar tears from my throat as my own release rips through me, pumping from me as you milk me, pulling every last drop from me, leaving me shuddering from the force of it.
With a long breath, I let my head fall forward. My arms are still braced, stopping me from collapsing on you, and I can feel your hand on my shoulder, the grip lessened now. My sweat damp hair falls forward, and I duck my head down to swipe my lips over yours, smiling as I see the focus is coming back into your eyes, and with a satisfied sigh I relax, pushing my face into your neck and nuzzling your hair.
Karl: You slump onto me, but that's okay, feels bloody good to be plastered to the bed by a warm, sweaty body. I let my legs relax, tangled with yours. My hands are still moving over you and I kiss the mark I made on your shoulder, didn't mean to do that.
I'm not sure what to say to you, after we scratched an itch that I guess we'd both been feeling for a while. I can't remember the last time I let a fucking insane lust just take me over like that. But the odd thing is, I feel like I've got some of my balance back that's been gone since the night my life turned upside down. My body definitely feels a hell of a lot better, covered in come and sweat as it is.
You slide out of me and I yelp a little. Don't like that part of it much, but the rest felt bloody good. You move to roll to the side, but I hold you on top of me, enjoying the feel of your weight.
Théo: Warm and sated, I am happy to stay where I am even if it surprises me a little that you stop me from moving. I know we are not lovers and that even our friendship is a tentative one, but I have no intention of leaving this bed tonight and I am glad you feel the same way. My hands dig into your hair, my lips grazing over your skin, finding your mouth and kissing you long and slow. The earlier urgency is replaced by a desire to commit the taste and feel of you to memory. What happened tonight is unlikely to be repeated, I know that, although there is always the morning …
“We should sleep.” We have both taxed our bodies in new ways today, and if we are to surf again tomorrow, we both need to rest. The “problem” you described earlier was obviously overcome, and I think you will sleep better for having done this and also with someone holding you through the night.
Karl: I agree that I need to sleep . . . even with the pills, my sleep is never that restful, but I lay awake after your breathing has deepened and think. I sure as fuck never meant to do this with you, and I'm sort of wondering how to play it in the morning. I'd be inclined to pretend it never happened, but that'd be stupid and knowing how you never let me get away with anything, it'd probably just lead to more awkward questions. Just have to see I guess.
Although, I'll admit that I feel a small amount of envy for Éomer at this point. Not that he has you, so much, although you're bloody talented in bed . . . but that you're so willing to fight for him. Ever since we met, you haven't let anything get in the way of being with him, not fate, not time, not circumstances, not even me. What I envy is that he has someone who loves him enough to go to those lengths for him. I snort. I'm sure tonight was partially part of the let's-keep-Karl-happy-so-he'll-let-us-shift mentality. Way to take one for the team.
My stomach rumbles and I slide out of bed, cautiously, so I won't wake you up. Typical. And fucking Freudian. Or something. One appetite comes back and so the rest do too. I hunt through the freezer and find some ice cream bars that haven't fallen to the horseboys. I let the chocolate dissolve on my tongue and sigh. What would it be like to have someone like Éomer does? To be loved that much? I really thought Eric was strong enough to deal with the shit but he folded when trouble started. Maybe it was me, maybe I didn't deserve it somehow.
Fuck that. It's time to put the relationship to rest. It didn't work out, for whatever reason, time to move on. For tonight at least, I've got a warm, sexy man in my bed, time to rejoin him. I watch you for a minute, the light from the moon coming in from the deck. Your dick is lying soft and small against your leg and I'm tempted to take it in my mouth and hold it against my tongue until it grows. I love the taste of cock and the feel of a man getting hard in my mouth. I climb in and get comfortable, arranging the blankets over us. Maybe in the morning.
Warning: NC-17
I show you the guest bath, which has no tub, but you can get a hot shower. You seem intrigued by the futon bed in my office and I guess you didn't realise that the couch converts to a bed. Hopefully, the room is far enough away from mine that if I wake up screaming it won't disturb you. I'm gonna do all I can to avoid that tonight though, because I don't know if I can bear the humiliation of one of my nightmares waking you up. I’ve discovered that beer seems to make things worse, and after the incident with Dave, I’ve quit taking any alcohol, settling instead for water or coffee.
After a quick shower, I'm feeling much warmer and I go to the kitchen, lifting the lid of the slow cooker and smelling the lamb stew. It's been simmering all day and the aroma is tempting me. I resolve to eat like I'm normal and then maybe you won't ask me any more questions. The water from the other shower is still running, and I pull out the ingredients to make a batch of biscuits. They're in the oven and baking before the shower turns off, and I guess you must be pretty clean by now. I think that's the longest shower I've ever witnessed.
I'm putting out plates and bowls on the table when you finally reappear.
Théo: Showers are one of the things I like most about his world, so I take the opportunity to enjoy this one, letting the hot water pound down over my shoulders and neck. It is pleasant contrast to the cold of the sea. The extra time we spent out on the waves this afternoon was fruitful, and I feel as if I have achieved something today. I am also glad that we are going back tomorrow. A night of rest and further opportunity to put these new skills into practice is indeed a good idea.
As I lather up my hair with honey scented soap, it reminds me of the last time I showered in this house. Mer pressed against my back, taking me slowly, my hands braced on the tiles … I drop my head back and let the jets of water rinse my hair as I take my now hard flesh in my hand, fisting it, taking my time, eyes closing and finally coming with a sigh, the image of him writhing beneath me taking me over the edge.
Once my shower is over I dry my hair with a rough towel, running my fingers through it before pulling on the soft grey “sweatpants” as Paris calls them. They do not seem to want to stay on my waist and settle on my hips. Grabbing a t-shirt from my bag, I pull it on as I pad barefoot through the house to find you. It is not hard, I simply follow the delicious smell towards the kitchen and Ire comes to meet me, tail wagging. I greet him with a grin and scratch the sensitive spot behind his ear for him. He follows me into the kitchen, and it appears we have arrived just in time.
“It smells good.” My stomach rumbles loudly in agreement and I grin. “There is something about spending time at the beach that always makes me hungry.”
Karl: I watch Ire being disgusting all over you with a jaundiced eye. Oh, well, you've spent so much time here that I'm certain he's become used to you. The timer dings on the biscuits and I put them on a platter with a crock of butter beside it. I ladle the stew into our bowls, hesitating for a moment because I know Paris is a vegetarian, but then waving that concern off in my mind. There's enough steak that disappears from my fridge when you and Éomer get together, and I don't think he could be eating it all himself.
I get you a beer and refill my ice water. I've discovered I'm actually hungry for once, as I heap the piping hot biscuits with butter. Won't be so hard to convince you to leave things alone, I think.
Your comment about the ocean makes me smile. "Salt water takes it out of you. Plus, it's something that you're not used to, no matter how fit you are."
We eat in silence for a time and Ire slinks around alternately looking hopeful and guilty, and I shoo him away in annoyance.
Théo: The stew is delicious, and the biscuits tasty, especially when covered in butter so I wolf it down to calm the growling in my belly. Your appetite seems to have returned also, which is good, but my concern lingers.
By Ire’s behaviour, I realise he probably doesn’t get fed from the table that often, but he expects it from me, so when you turn back to the stove to get me more stew, I slip him my last piece of meat under the table, which he takes gratefully from my hand. By the time you turn back, I am reaching for another biscuit, and smile my thanks as you ladle the lamb out and sit back down.
“Did you sort things out with Eric?” I wasn’t happy with how our unexpected meeting had gone with him, for many reasons. When we could not shift for so long, I had wondered if our actions that night had caused you offence. Yet when I got to see Mer, he told me you had been almost keen to shift out, and had given no reason for the delay apart from the bar fight. So I am curious.
Karl: At your question, my appetite deserts me again, and I push the food around on my plate while I debate how to answer you. Finally, I get up and start cleaning up the kitchen.
"You and Éomer aren't in trouble over that, so you can stop worrying about it, mate." I'm to blame for Eric being there that night. The only fault I can find with Éomer is for not calling me when Eric left, but again, Eric would never have been there if it weren't for me, so . . . not starting another fight with my shift over it.
I put the leftover stew, not much of that, in the fridge and the rolls in a jar. The plates are scraped and in the dishwasher and suddenly I realise I've got to entertain you for a while, because it's not near time for bed, no matter how much energy we've spent surfing today.
"Uh, wanna watch a movie?"
Théo: Once again, you evade the question and the minute the words are out of my mouth, your appetite disappears. I get up, and lean against the doorframe, watching as you busy yourself around the kitchen. It may be that things went badly with Eric, but there is something more, something that has put that haunted look in your eyes. I have my suspicions as to what put it there, it reminds me of something I have seen before, but I hope with all my heart that I am wrong. There is only one way to find out.
“We can watch a movie later.” Lifting the bottle in my hand to my lips, I take a long drink. “You did not answer my question. Did you sort things out with Eric?”
Karl: I stare at you in disbelief. You never fucking give up. And I'm a little sick of your relentlessness. Just too much to deal with on top of everything else.
"He thought I was cheating on him, we resolved that issue." I keep my voice as even as possible, trying to keep a grasp on my temper, wondering why the bloody hell you think you have the right to invade my privacy like you do.
"I've done everything you've asked of me, I've given you time to be with your lover, without protest, even though it interferes with my life. I've taken you surfing in the fucking dead of winter. I've helped you out with your little camping trips, let you borrow my horse and fed your apparently insatiable appetite. Now leave me the fuck alone."
I slam out to the deck, conscious that I'm acting like a prat, but not really caring.
Théo: Leaving my beer in the kitchen, I follow you outside, talking as I walk towards you.
“I am beyond grateful for all the things you and Paris do for Mer and I, and perhaps one day I will find a way to repay you, but it is because of what you have given me that I cannot in all good conscience ignore what is happening to you. Something eats away at your soul. Anyone who is around you for any length of time would be able to see you are not yourself, so I have to assume that you are keeping away from those who care about you, those who would want to help you.”
I can feel your anger hanging around you like a cloud as I get nearer.
“I know you do not want to hear this, especially from me, but you do not eat, you are not drinking, the weight has dropped from you and there are dark rings under your eyes. You are listless, the spark has gone from you, it looks as if you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it is almost painful to see the haunted look in your eyes.” Taking a chance, I reach out and run my hand down your arm and take another one to gauge your reaction.
“Do you sleep at all, or do the nightmares keep you awake at night?”
Karl: I stiffen at your touch and pull my arm away, glaring at you, wondering what would happen if I clocked you, whether you'd leave Paris to face the consequences again.
But the secret is weighing me down, I can't argue that and there's no one I can talk to about it, only Jimmy witnessed what I did and I don't know him, not even his last name. And I won't endanger any of my friends with it. I stare at the woods. My mind seems to reach for Éomer in my dreams, and you are another like him, maybe I should talk to you. You may be sneaky and underhanded, but I've never known you to break your word.
"All right, but first I want your word that you won't say a bloody thing about it to Paris or Dave. Not one fucking word." I stare at you defiantly. "It's nothing that can affect them, but knowing it might cause trouble for them. Swear it."
Théo: I let out a little sigh of relief. I had wondered if it would have to come to blows before I could get you to talk to me.
“I give you my word that what is said here stays here.” I meet your defiance with open honesty, pleased that you would trust me with this, hoping I can help in some way. “So tell me.”
Karl: I stare out across the pond, not really seeing anything, seeing instead a tattooed punk with my death in his eyes.
"I killed a man. I thought he was going to kill me, but I was faster. I took his head off with Gúthwinë." A bare recitation of the facts, nothing about why I was there, about Eric, or the girl, or Jay's heroics. You can judge me on my actions alone, not on any mitigating circumstances. I wonder if it's fair to ask you for that, knowing you don't know the laws and customs of my world, but there's no one else to do it.
And so I wait for your judgment, still frozen in that moment where it could have easily ended the other way, wondering if there is any way to ever get past it.
Théo: So I was right. It had taken a while to put the pieces together today, to recognise the look in your eyes for what it was, and even then I hoped I was wrong, thinking that it was a very unlikely cause of your troubles in this often peaceful world. And the way you killed him is totally unexpected. Never mind that you have a sword named for Mer’s sword, but decapitation? Now is not the time to seem impressed by that fact. That is not what you need right now.
“Karl, look at me.” After hesitation, your eyes finally meet mine. “Given what little you have told me, it was you or him. If you had not acted, we would not be having this conversation and your friends would be mourning your loss. But you did act, and now every time you close your eyes, you see his face.” I reach out and put my hand on your shoulder. “It is to be expected, as are the regret, the anger and the pain that you feel. This I know from experience and I would be more concerned if you felt nothing.” To keep this inside is not the way to deal with it and I hope I can get you to see that. “Come back inside. I want you to tell me what happened, all of it.”
Karl: I realise that arguing with you has left me feeling more alive than I have in weeks, that you've allowed me to be pissed off at you, that I don't have to cover up what I'm feeling around you, and that in itself is an enormous relief. So I don't protest when you steer back inside and push me down onto the sofa.
But fuck . . . where do I start? Where is the beginning of this whole mess? Define 'all of it.' I try to remember all the shit Gareth told me . . . about the first time the girl was taken, the stalker guy. But I don't know enough about all of that, I wasn't around for it.
So I start at the moment I stepped into the story. How I stopped by a bar wanting a drink after a hard days work and walked into what was supposed to be a massacre of the bartender. How the fanboys were covered in Tolkien runes and spoke Black Speech. How they wouldn't stay down, not even when I hit them with all I had. My ribs breaking. Then Eric's store the first time, and the Orc blade from WETA. My arrogant pronouncement to Gareth that I was going to end it. Eric's store part two, and waiting to see if he lived or died. How my thirst for revenge put Jay in a danger that I didn't bloody understand at the time. The girl, and the three of us going against ten of them to get her and Jay out. The fire and then . . . death, staring me in the face.
I leave out the reasons why Eric was attacked, because I can't cope with you feeling guilty about that at the moment. Besides, it wasn't your fault. And I'm not going to go in to the fallout from my recklessness with Eric. That hurts, but I can deal with that. People get dumped all the time.
Théo: I sit and listen to all that you tell me. I knew there had been trouble here when the shifting was blocked, but I am surprised to find that it had not ended with the battle with the Balrog and the warg hunt. And I am saddened that the dark powers that plague our world have caused so much damage in yours.
When you have finished, I go and find the bottle of Jack I know is in your cupboard, and a couple of glasses and pour us both a drink. I think tonight you could do with one. I hand you yours, and knock half of mine back.
“It took courage to do what you did, all of you, particularly given the odds. You fought a battle against evil, and you won and that is what you must remember. The men who died, the one you killed, they were not good men, they would have harmed others if you had not done as you did. Someone had to stop them, Karl, and it happened to fall on your shoulders.”
“It can be an easy thing to do, to take a life in the heat of battle defending yourself against someone who wants you dead, but the first time it is not an easy thing to live with, no matter what the circumstances.” I finish off my drink. “And I hope that you are never again in the position where it is necessary.”
Karl: The bourbon burns down my throat, soothing it. I can't remember the last time I've talked so much at one time. I finish my shot in one gulp and hold it out for a refill. The idea of getting totally pissed tonight has its appeal, although trying to surf tomorrow while hung over will suck.
"Thanks . . . " I wave my glass around. "for listening. But I don't think I can ever do anything like that again. I'm not a soldier, I'm an actor, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Théo: “You are welcome.” I raise my glass to you and knock it back then pour us both refills.
“You may not be a solider, but you have the heart of a warrior, to do what had to be done.” I smile at the look on your face and go on. “But you do not have to fight these battles, no matter how much you feel they are yours to fight. Éomer will gladly assist you if he is needed, as will I.” I know I can speak for my cousin on this matter. “It is what we are trained for after all.”
Stretching a little to ease out the tension in my muscles put there by today’s activities, I lean back against the soft cushions on the couch, and turn to look over at you. It is good to see the tension in you easing, the haunted look gone from your eyes.
Karl: I didn't know how much I needed for someone to tell me that it was okay, that I'm not a fuck up for doing what I did. Eric's criticism stung more than I realised . . . it got kinda shoved aside in the face of the whole 'I love you so much that I can't be with you' thing. And it's safe to tell you, because you don't belong in this world, so you won't have to face the consequences of knowing. Not that there appear to be any, the papers say the fire was from infighting amongst the gang. But I know fucking well, that if they found eleven bodies, they know that one of them was missing something. I don't trust the police, so I'm not taking any chances with my friends' safety.
As for Éomer, "I've called him to help when there's been things from your world bleeding over into my world. I guess I took this one personally because they hurt Eric. And I almost got people I care about killed because of it. I don't know, I suppose he wouldn't get emotional, just do what he's been trained to do. And you too." Leave it up to the professionals, I should. The men who've been trained to deal with nasty beasties. Only problem is, I don't do well leaving things up to other people, not just fighting my battles, but everything.
Théo: I nod, glad you understand that you do not have to deal with this alone. Where evil has bled over from our world to yours, I would rather we dealt with it when it comes to violence. I would hate for you or Paris or Dave or any of these friends of yours to be hurt, or worse, because you thought you had to handle it yourselves. We are all in this together.
“Has Eric recovered from his injuries?” I am surprised that you have not mentioned our encounter with him and come to think of it, you still managed to evade my earlier question as to whether you had sorted things out with him. I know you do not talk easily about personal things though, and you have shared a lot with me tonight, so I do not intend to push you on this matter. But it would feel wrong not to enquire after his health after hearing that he was hurt.
Karl: You remind me of some storybook character, I can't remember who at the moment, who keeps asking the same question over and over relentlessly. Aunt June loved that book, I think. Something about drawing a sheep.
I still don't see how Eric is your business, but I suppose I did tell you how hurt he was, so this could be a genuine attempt to be kind. And you've given me enough whiskey that I'm having a hard time sorting out a way to not answer your question without actually lying to you.
Has he recovered? I guess he has, I don't know it though. Surely Drew would have done me the courtesy of calling if he had a relapse. I sigh deeply. Maybe not, he thought I was partially responsible somehow and he thought I was upsetting to Eric, so maybe he wouldn't. Fuck. I scrub a hand through my hair.
"He was doing much better the last time I saw him." True enough.
Théo: You take your time answering what is a simple question, looking for all the world as though you are searching for something to say and when the answer comes, it is well considered and your tone flat.
I curb my natural curiosity. It is plain you do not want to talk about this further, so I decide not to ask anything more, but that does not stop my mind from working. I fill our glasses again, and sit back nursing mine, and letting my thoughts wander as we sit quietly for a while. From what I have gathered today, there is one possible explanation for your constant evasion of questions where Eric is concerned and I really do not want to be right about this too.
“You left him.” Musing and speculation that was not meant to be said out loud, but the smoky spirit has loosened my tongue a little too much, and now it is said. I curse myself silently for quite possibly ending the fragile trust we had built up here tonight. “Karl, I am sorry, I did not mean to … your relationship with Eric is none of my business …”
Karl: That's it. I throw the glass at the wall, not at your head, which is surprising.
"No, it's not your fucking business, but when has that ever stopped you? You've had your nose in my business since I met you."
I rein in my temper with effort. "I didn't fucking leave him, he left me. Because . . . " But I still don't understand his convoluted logic. "Because he doesn't approve of the way I dealt with problems." That much I got.
Yeah, Urban. Temper tantrums aren't pretty. I sigh and get the broom and a cloth. "Why don't you get all of your questions out of the way? Anything else you want to know . . . I'll tell you. It'll save time in the long run. Cause you're just going to annoy me till I spill. So . . . shoot."
Théo: Your actions catch me off guard, and I actually start a little at the sound of shattering glass, although your words I do expect. While you tidy away the broom, I get you a fresh glass, and fill both of them, noting that we are making a fair dent in the bottle.
“It is never my intention to annoy you. Back in Rohan, I was raised to know that one day I would rule. With that knowledge comes a great sense of responsibility for others, and being Second Marshal means I am directly responsible for the wellbeing of many.” I shrug my shoulders. “If I see a problem, I instinctively try and fix it, and to do that, I need all the facts.” I smile at you apologetically. “So I am sorry for trying to “fix” your life, which is clearly none of my business.”
I knock back half my glass.
“But that offer is hard to resist … anything?” I do not have anything more I want to ask about Eric, and I think you have talked enough about what has been bothering you, so perhaps I can take your mind off your problems for a while.
“Tell me about the first time you lay with a man.” I settle back against the cushions again, a smile curling at the corners of my mouth. “Tell me that and in return you may ask anything of me.”
Karl: "Well, you are bloody annoying," I grumble. "This is your one chance. It's open season tonight, then you can butt the hell out."
I think back. 'Lay' has so many interpretations. I'm not sure exactly what you want, but in the spirit of my full disclosure offer, I'll try my best.
"When I was about twelve, I ran away and lived with a bunch of Maori surfers for a while. They're the ones who taught me. Anyway, one of them was a kid, just a year older than me and we got to be good friends. The police eventually returned me to my parents, but I'd sneak off whenever I could to meet Tanga to surf and hang out." I shrug. "We experimented. You know . . . hands and mouths. We tried fucking once when I was sixteen but neither of us knew what we were doing so it was a disaster. He eventually decided he liked girls better but we're still friends. It wasn't till I got to university that I met a guy who bottomed and knew what he was doing enough that he could show me how to make it good. He was pretty bossy, but he was extremely thorough in his lessons." I snort, remembering. "He was a fourth year and I met him when I was out drinking with friends. He told me about an hour into our acquaintance that he wanted my dick up his ass by midnight. So . . . we left for his place right then and there. I caught on quickly after that."
The bourbon is spreading a pleasant glow through me, but my brain isn't working fast enough to come up with something really intriguing to ask you. "All right, you tell me about yours. First time, I mean."
Théo: I watch your face as you talk and I cannot help visualising what you tell me, glad these sweatpants are loose.
“I was sixteen. I rode out with one of my father’s most trusted riders when I got my first tastes of riding with an éored. I came to value his experience and opinion and we became good friends. One feast night I went looking for him when I could not find him in the hall, and came across him with another rider. They were wrapped around each other, and I stepped back into the shadows and watched as they almost devoured each other before they moved away. The sight woke new feelings in me. I had been with girls before but the image of the two of them together haunted my sleep.
The next time we rode out alone, I confronted him when we stopped to water our mounts, telling him I had seen him after the feast. He thought at first I was angry with him, until I pulled him to me and kissed him hard and told him I wanted to know what it felt like to touch another man. I took him there in the long grass as he guided me, showed me how.” The memory of his dark hair spilling over his shoulders, my fingers tangling in it, is a sharp and pleasant one. “He too was a very good tutor.” My eyes spark as I glance over at you, and my next question is something I think I know the answer to. You have given so many hints, but never quite said one way or the other, so taking advantage of this evening’s openness, I really have to know.
“Have you ever let anyone take you?” I ask with a smirk.
Karl: I shut my mouth with a click when you finish your tale. That's the difference between being raised a prince and being raised as someone ordinary, I guess. You saw what you wanted and went after it, demanded satisfaction so there was no fumbling around trying to guess what goes where. Peter's Edoras is so vivid in my mind that I can almost see you there.
But any tightness in my jeans that showed up while you talked disappears at your next question and the sense memory of pain floods me. Tanga and I knew that we needed lube, but not about stretching me and preparing me, and in his excitement he had shoved into me like a girl whose virginity was long gone. I never knew how a hurt in one small place could send pain clear to my fingertips. I screamed and he withdrew, horrified by what he'd done, holding me and kissing me until I calmed down.
"I told you. We didn't know what we were doing, Tanga tried it, but he hurt me. Badly. Never had much urge for a repeat performance." Which is utterly ridiculous, I know that. Knowing what I do now, understanding my body so much better, I could make sure it wouldn't happen again. But as many people have commented over the years, including you, I'm stubborn.
"What about you?" I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this one, but you put me on the spot so the least I can do is return the favor. Leaving out how my body feels sometimes after Éomer gets done with it . . . it's probably against royal protocol for the future king to bottom.
Théo: “No … not until I started travelling here.” Another memory that has me smiling and shifting a little in my seat, of the first night Mer and I found each other, and gave each other what we had never given anyone else. “And now quite often, but only with Mer.” And there was one time with Faramir, but you did not ask with who exactly, so that I will keep to myself. I sip down a little of the spirit while I hold your gaze.
“It is an intense experience, giving yourself to someone like that, someone who knows what they are doing.” I rest my arm along the back of the couch, feeling increasingly mellow. “Maybe in the right hands you would find it a pleasurable experience.”
And another question, as I stare into your eyes and let you see my desire. “Would you kiss me?”
Karl: I don't need a map to see where this is going, based on past experience. "Oh, hell. I'm pathetic, that's what you're saying, isn't it? Every time my life goes in the shitter, you try to shag me. I'm a mercy fuck."
"Besides I can't. It doesn't work anymore." I'd almost laugh at your baffled expression, if the whole thing wasn't so embarrassing. "No, not like that. Fuck. I can get it up." After some of the pain of losing Eric receded, I tried to do what any normal human male would do, gay or straight, on any world. Have a nice wank. But every time I started to enjoy myself . . . blood. "I mean . . . you said that I see his face whenever I close my eyes. That goes for trying to, uh, you know, pleasure myself. I see things I'd rather not associate with sex, right? Sort of ruins the mood." I use my index finger to demonstrate the point, just in case. Fuck, I've had more to drink than I realise because I should be dying of shame but I just want to giggle at the look on your face.
But you asked a question. "Yes, I'll kiss you. You're a good kisser, as I recall. Just warning you."
Théo: My eyes widen at the description of your … problem, and think that perhaps this will be a good way to take your mind off things, if only for a while.
I move closer, a predatory look in my eyes, dipping my head to lightly nuzzle through your hair first, drinking in your scent. Grazing my lips over your skin, I work round your jaw until I am close enough to feel your breath on them and I linger there for a second before closing the gap.
With each firm caress of my lips, yours open further to me, and I slip my tongue inside the hot cavern of your mouth, groaning as I renew my acquaintance with the taste of you mixed with the taste of the Jack. One hand digs into silky dark strands to hold you steady, the fingers of the other stroking your neck as I explore, coaxing you to kiss me back.
Karl: Right. Kissing is good, kissing I can do. But I keep my eyes determinedly open, making sure that the only thing I can see is you. It crosses my mind that Paris doesn't make me twitch the way you do, which is odd considering it's the same face and the same body. But other than the morning when I didn't know who he was . . . maybe because I know he belongs to Dave.
You groan into my mouth, making my thoughts scatter, and I pay attention to the fingers in my hair and tracing my neck. I open my mouth further, and twist my tongue with yours, the feel of the muscles hot and slick against my mouth brings an answering groan from me and I push into your mouth.
Kissing, hmm. Need more. I tangle one hand in your hair and the other goes on your hip as I pull you roughly into my lap. Better. My mouth moves rhythmically, sucking on your tongue.
Théo: I growl my approval at the touch of your hand on my hip and settle across you, looking into warm hazel eyes as you kiss me, the pull on my tongue delicious, my hand tightening in your hair. My fingers dip below the neck of your t-shirt, digging into the strong muscles of your back, craving the feel of skin. Last time we got this far, you pushed me away, so I do not push further, not yet, but I do keep on kissing you, harder, my mouth demanding more, my tongue wrapped around yours. I lose myself in the kiss, my body responding to the heat of yours, pressing myself against you as your hand explores my back.
Karl: My body is getting away from me as the kiss goes on and you keep taking us deeper. I finally wrench my head away and bury my face in your neck, my chest heaving as I try to get my breath. But my hands slide under your shirt and up your back without my permission and the smell of you is making things worse.
"Oh, fuck. Touch me." I tug the shirt off of you as you help by wiggling out of it, then I wrap one arm around your shoulders and the other hand goes around the back of your neck, pulling you back to my mouth, holding you tightly against me, my legs sprawling.
Théo: Touch you? I do not need a second invitation. As our mouths meet again, my hands roam down your torso, tugging the hem of your t-shirt higher, fingers moving over your body, mapping out the contours I can get my hands on, but it is not enough. “Off.” I growl as I pull it over your head, mouths clashing back together after it is gone.
I groan at the heat of skin on skin, my hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch, noting the spots that make you squirm. And I want to taste it. My fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back and my mouth slips down onto your neck, licking and nipping the skin. You have your own taste, your own distinct smell that is so different from Mer’s, and right now, it is filling my senses and driving me to want more.
Karl: "Fuck, yeah." I gasp as your mouth moves over my skin, the pressure of your hand in my hair fucking perfect, the weight of you across my legs is a source of heat that's burning me. I squirm under the rasp your stubble, driving my neck into your mouth. But I need to taste too and I snap my teeth at you, before settling my lips on your shoulder, my tongue exploring muscle and bone.
Shit, I need . . . this. I need an emotionally uncomplicated lay that's still not with some stranger off the street. I don't care if I'm just a mercy fuck for you anymore, I'll enjoy the hell out of it.
I groan against your shoulder, the taste of you making me wild, my hips moving, showing you how hot you're making me. I pull back and stare at you, meeting your eyes, wondering how far I can trust you.
Théo: Your body is writhing beneath me, and I want us out of the rest of our clothes now … but you pull back and look at me. My hand slips from your hair onto your neck, fingers moving in small circles, my eyes never leaving yours.
Your eyes hold all the need and desire that I can feel coursing through you. There is no doubt that you want this, but there is a question there also. I know what I want. I want to take you, want to look into your eyes as I slide into you, taking what you have given no other, to fuck you until you scream for release, to show you how good it can feel, but perhaps that is something you cannot give me.
“I will only take what you can give me, nothing more.” I let you see the truth in my eyes, then get to my feet and hold out my hand. This has to be your decision. I know what I want, what your body wants, and hope that your mind will be in agreement.
“Come.”
Karl: I take your hand and get to my feet and find that my legs are shaking, my brain scrabbling around trying to think while we take that short walk to my bedroom. Trying to decide if I can believe your words. And then I realise that maybe I don't trust you with me, but I trust that you won't do anything to hurt Éomer. Which means me. Shit, I think too much.
But when we're in the room, you don't give me much time, your arms go around me and your lips find mine again and our bodies are hard together. A brief flash of my nightmare, but then I remember today, in the ocean, when I thought I'd lost that too, when I gave up . . . I got it back. I'm so fucking tired of fighting for everything, of trying to do the right thing, of telling you 'no.' Maybe I've got to let go in this area too, to get it back. Don't think, just feel.
I break the kiss, needing to look at you for this. "Théodred, you said . . . " My hands tighten convulsively on your back. in the right hands Just give in. Fuck, I hope I'm not making a huge mistake. "Show me, yeah?"
Théo: My cock twitches at your words and I nod, my voice husky. “I will show you.” And I take your bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling and sucking on it as my hands move firmly on your back, pressing you closer to me. When I rock my hips forward, you can be in no doubt as to how much I want you.
“And it has nothing to do with mercy, or pity.” My mouth roams over your shoulder as I reach between us and undo the button on your jeans, pulling down the zipper, easing them down off your hips and letting your thick shaft spring free. I pull your head back with one hand, licking the base of your throat as I run my palm down your hardness to cup and stroke between your legs. “You awake a lust in me that I have long wanted to satisfy.”
Dropping smoothly to my knees in front of you, I finish pulling your jeans down, and off over your bare feet, waiting for you to step out of them before giving my full attention to your throbbing erection. Grabbing your buttocks to keep you steady, I nuzzle at the creases at the tops of your thighs, drinking in your musk, running my tongue through the dark hairs covering your balls, lapping and tasting. With a moan, your hands dig into my hair and with one broad stroke, I lick your cock from base to head, collecting the moisture that leaks from the slit on my tongue, savouring it before slipping the head into my mouth with a groan.
Karl: I mentally add 'arguing with you' to my list of things I'm tired of doing. I don't care why you're doing this any more, just don't want you to stop. "Ah, fuck," I pant as you take my dick in your incredibly hot mouth.
"Yeah, ditto." I try to stop myself from pulling your hair out by the roots as you work me, while I spread my legs to brace myself, because my knees are trembling worse now. This isn't going to last long but hell, I've embarrassed myself around you plenty, so one more thing isn't gonna kill me.
I look down at you, the sight of your head moving over me is one that I'll gladly imprint on my memory, one to drive away the bad ones. I can't help my hips shifting around a little, but I'm trying to hold back, not ram myself down your throat.
"Oh, fuck, that feels so good." You get your fingers involved, touching me, caressing me, and the tide is ripping through me and I can't hold it back any longer. "Shit, I'm gonna . . . " But your hands grip my ass, driving me into your mouth while I jerk and shudder, coming endlessly, until my knees finally give out.
Théo: I swallow every drop as your hands tighten so hard in my hair, and you come hard, your cock pulsing against my tongue, seed pumping down my throat.
I feel your knees buckle and grasp you around the thighs to steady you, letting you slip down through my arms to kneel in front of me. My mouth latches onto yours, giving you a taste of your seed on my tongue, holding you and stroking your back until your eyes begin to focus again.
”Turn around.” You do as I ask, and I push you forward so you can rest your arms on the bed, your backside presented to me, and it takes a little control not to grab the lube and take you now at the sight of you. I trail my hands down your spine, bending to lick at the base of your back working slowly down your cleft, holding your cheeks apart as my tongue reaches your entrance.
You jerk at the first touch, and my hands tighten on your flesh, my wet tongue working in tight little circles around the ring of muscle. I push the tip of it inside you, building up a rhythm, thrusting deeper every time, my own cock aching at the way you move under my attentions, the sounds I am drawing from you. But I push my own needs away for the moment. I want to keep you in a state of intense pleasure before I finally take you.
Karl: Having successfully come without any weird flashbacks to get in the way, and come fucking hard, I feel relaxed and contented, willing to listen to you and let you do what you want. You surprise me with your tongue, don't know what I was expecting. So I decide not to expect anything, but just ride with it, and see where you take me.
But the feel of the slick muscle probing me, gradually opening me, has me writhing again, tremors of desire pulsing outwards from where you're touching me and fuck, I'm hard again. Any inhibitions I might have felt about this are erased by the enthusiastic noises you are making. You throw yourself into sex the same way you did the ocean, and it's such a fucking turn on to have a partner like that. My hips start swaying and I can't seem to stop it, pushing my ass at you, spreading my legs, trying to help you. Sweat pops out on my lower back and my hands are clenching the bed covers in time with your thrusts, and my head starts spinning as you build me up again. I moan something, it might have been your name.
Théo: I am groaning at the taste of you on my tongue when what sounds like my name falls from your lips. I thrust in further, slipping my hand beneath you to stroke your cock, now hard and leaking again. I smear the moisture around, tracing my fingers over the contours, letting you buck against me as they graze over the head. After one final thrust, I ease back, circling your opening and slipping one finger inside your willing body before moving upwards, tasting the salt of your sweat, a soft growl in my throat as I rub my face up your back.
I know this is possibly the only time I will be with you like this, and I intend to savour it. My own hardness, damp with need, slides over your cheeks as my mouth reaches your shoulder blades and I bite gently into the skin between them, sucking on it as I run my fingertip over the bundle of nerves deep inside you. Your cry goes straight to my groin, and I know you are ready to take this further.
“Get on the bed and lie on your back.” As you do as I ask, I find what I need in the nightstand, and then I am with you again, kissing you hard as my hand roams down your body.
Karl: Your weight is pressing me down into the bed, and it feels bloody good. I run my hand down your back, your muscles smooth under my fingers, kissing you hard, your mouth full of my flavors. Your knees go between mine, spreading my legs and I'm exposed to you, there's nothing to stop you from ramming me, but you don't and I shudder as you enter me again with a slick finger. Your tongue sensitized my asshole and it feels so good when you add another finger. I can feel you working me open, scraping my prostate every so often, making me moan.
You rear up to get a better angle and I trail kisses down your chest. I suck and lick one nipple until it is stiff and shiny with my spit, and then move to the other. The ring in it makes me hesitate, remembering how the one on my chest got there and my vow that I'd never trust you. But I poke the tip of my tongue through the ring, then get it in my teeth and pull on it. Screw it. I trust that you're gonna fuck me into next week and that's all the trust I need at the moment.
You've got three fingers in me now and the pressure is delicious, making me gasp. Fuck, I'm falling apart and I want everything you've got. My pelvis is already moving, wanting you in me. I lace my fingers through your hair and pull your head up. "Fuck me," I growl.
Théo: My nipples are tight, throbbing from your attentions as I stretch you, prepare you, adding to the maddening tension building in me, tension that will only be released when I know you are ready. Your body writhes beneath me, so eager for what is to come, but I need one more thing …
"Fuck me" My eyes darken at your words, and I hold your gaze as I pull out my fingers, line up my cock, and push into you. Tight, you are so tight and hot and my lips pull back in a snarl as I sink into you with one fluid stroke. You cry out, your hands grasping at me as you arch off the bed and I pause for a heartbeat, two, to let you adjust, staring down at your face. Now I am in you, my control is unravelling fast, and with a groan, I start to fuck you, long smooth strokes, dipping down to brush my open lips across your kiss swollen ones.
Karl: Ah, shit. Fingers were nothing compared to the long, slow slide of smooth skin on skin. I'm disoriented for a moment, used being on the other side of this and the pleasure is so intense that for a moment I'm not sure if I'm in my body or yours. I plant my feet and meet your thrusts, making sure you go all the way in every time. I'm panting heavily now, and my mouth latches onto the rounded muscle of your delt, my teeth digging in and masking the cries that are ripping from my mouth.
I hoist my legs up, trying to get you deeper and I put my hand on my cock, moving my fingers in time with your lunges. My other hand is holding your shoulder, my fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as I desperately try to ground myself against the sensations flooding my body. Your mouth covers mine as you root me out, jabbing my prostate and I tighten my hand. The pressure is too much, and I let go, howling into your mouth, my hot come spattering us both, my hips driving against yours, while I spasm.
Théo: The sting of your teeth has me growling, thrusting harder, deeper as you rise to meet me and the sight of you coming apart below me, your eyes wild as you let go, banishes all reason. I pound into you, hips snapping forward, swallowing your feral cry as you come and your body clenches impossibly around me. Throwing my head back and slamming into you, a roar tears from my throat as my own release rips through me, pumping from me as you milk me, pulling every last drop from me, leaving me shuddering from the force of it.
With a long breath, I let my head fall forward. My arms are still braced, stopping me from collapsing on you, and I can feel your hand on my shoulder, the grip lessened now. My sweat damp hair falls forward, and I duck my head down to swipe my lips over yours, smiling as I see the focus is coming back into your eyes, and with a satisfied sigh I relax, pushing my face into your neck and nuzzling your hair.
Karl: You slump onto me, but that's okay, feels bloody good to be plastered to the bed by a warm, sweaty body. I let my legs relax, tangled with yours. My hands are still moving over you and I kiss the mark I made on your shoulder, didn't mean to do that.
I'm not sure what to say to you, after we scratched an itch that I guess we'd both been feeling for a while. I can't remember the last time I let a fucking insane lust just take me over like that. But the odd thing is, I feel like I've got some of my balance back that's been gone since the night my life turned upside down. My body definitely feels a hell of a lot better, covered in come and sweat as it is.
You slide out of me and I yelp a little. Don't like that part of it much, but the rest felt bloody good. You move to roll to the side, but I hold you on top of me, enjoying the feel of your weight.
Théo: Warm and sated, I am happy to stay where I am even if it surprises me a little that you stop me from moving. I know we are not lovers and that even our friendship is a tentative one, but I have no intention of leaving this bed tonight and I am glad you feel the same way. My hands dig into your hair, my lips grazing over your skin, finding your mouth and kissing you long and slow. The earlier urgency is replaced by a desire to commit the taste and feel of you to memory. What happened tonight is unlikely to be repeated, I know that, although there is always the morning …
“We should sleep.” We have both taxed our bodies in new ways today, and if we are to surf again tomorrow, we both need to rest. The “problem” you described earlier was obviously overcome, and I think you will sleep better for having done this and also with someone holding you through the night.
Karl: I agree that I need to sleep . . . even with the pills, my sleep is never that restful, but I lay awake after your breathing has deepened and think. I sure as fuck never meant to do this with you, and I'm sort of wondering how to play it in the morning. I'd be inclined to pretend it never happened, but that'd be stupid and knowing how you never let me get away with anything, it'd probably just lead to more awkward questions. Just have to see I guess.
Although, I'll admit that I feel a small amount of envy for Éomer at this point. Not that he has you, so much, although you're bloody talented in bed . . . but that you're so willing to fight for him. Ever since we met, you haven't let anything get in the way of being with him, not fate, not time, not circumstances, not even me. What I envy is that he has someone who loves him enough to go to those lengths for him. I snort. I'm sure tonight was partially part of the let's-keep-Karl-happy-so-he'll-let-us-shift mentality. Way to take one for the team.
My stomach rumbles and I slide out of bed, cautiously, so I won't wake you up. Typical. And fucking Freudian. Or something. One appetite comes back and so the rest do too. I hunt through the freezer and find some ice cream bars that haven't fallen to the horseboys. I let the chocolate dissolve on my tongue and sigh. What would it be like to have someone like Éomer does? To be loved that much? I really thought Eric was strong enough to deal with the shit but he folded when trouble started. Maybe it was me, maybe I didn't deserve it somehow.
Fuck that. It's time to put the relationship to rest. It didn't work out, for whatever reason, time to move on. For tonight at least, I've got a warm, sexy man in my bed, time to rejoin him. I watch you for a minute, the light from the moon coming in from the deck. Your dick is lying soft and small against your leg and I'm tempted to take it in my mouth and hold it against my tongue until it grows. I love the taste of cock and the feel of a man getting hard in my mouth. I climb in and get comfortable, arranging the blankets over us. Maybe in the morning.
Warning: NC-17
