The Gift (Théodred/Éomer)
Feb. 4th, 2006 08:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarl3rd October 3018, The Third Age, nearly four years later
Meduseld, Edoras
We are summoned back to Edoras again, for what should be a celebration. Théoden, my uncle, our king, commemorates the passing of another year since the day of his birth. But the happy purpose of our gathering is overshadowed by the decline of the man we honour. I do not know how my sister bears it, to stand by him each day and watch him fall further into ruin. But we mouth empty words wishing him health and long life, and all the while it is plain that he will have neither.
The ordeal is done at last and we stand while he makes his way to his rooms, clutching the arm of the reviled Gríma. My hand tightens on my sword hilt and I wish that removing the Worm's head from his shoulders would solve our problems. But my uncle would still be falling into early decrepitude with no way of reversing the tide and the Mark would lose one of her defenders to the swift hand of justice for unlawful killing.
I do not wish to seek my bed so early, for my mind is in turmoil and would not let me rest, of this I do not doubt. But a memory of a happy time a world away intrudes . . .
Remember the hiding place I showed you . . . I left something there for you.
Théo and the last time we were together in Wellington, in Karl's world. I look around for him, no . . . not for him, but instead for Théodred, the sad and weary prince who lives here, in this time. I know the evening pained him more than it has me, for I do not see him. I am certain that he withdrew from this farce of a celebration as soon as was polite.
I make my way into the private area of Meduseld, where the royal household lives, and begin counting the elaborately carved pillars.
If I recall, it was the seventh one on the left, nearly at the end of the passage.
Théodred: The evening passed with an agonising slowness, and it is a relief to leave the hall. Gríma makes such a show of caring for my father that it is all I can do not to strike him down here and now, but I know now that it cannot be. So with a weary sigh I take my leave of my father, even though I do not think he recognises me anymore, and wander outside to stand watching the stars for a while, pulling my heavy cloak around me. They are so different from the stars scattered over the sky in Wellington. My chest clenches at the sharp memory of sitting on a beach listening to the surf break against the rocks, wrapped around Éomer, around my Mer, as we looked at the stars and wondered at the differences. Éomer, the one person whose eyes I could not meet earlier for fear of betraying myself. The one person whose presence could console me.
And then I remember … the gift I left for you years ago, and the time you found it. I make my way back through the now almost deserted hall towards my chambers, nodding to the few who stay to drown their sorrows in the warmth, then quietly past the door to my rooms. A little further, and I see a glint of gold, his hair in the dim torchlight.
“Éomer.” My voice is low and quiet, just enough to catch his attention.
Éomer: It has been so long since Éowyn and I used this cache . . . my fingers are far more sword-calloused than they once were, but I move them carefully over the carvings, looking for the horse head that will move under my questing fingers. At last, I find a gold-covered piece moves, and I push it in, turning gently and it comes away, revealing a hole bored deep into the supporting pillar.
My fingers encounter a soft suede packet and I gently draw it out, wondering what you put in here all those years ago. I unwrap it slowly, finding a wide leather band with intricate intertwining designs of horses burned into its surface. There are holes punched in one end and thongs on the other and it is clearly meant to be a bracelet. Something in my chest tightens at the care that went into making this beautiful thing for me.
Your soft voice calling my name distracts me from my efforts to fasten it around my wrist.
Théodred: With a heavy breath, I move closer and extend my hand, remembering the making of the thing that you hold in your hand, so many years ago. The heat from the fire as I sat hunched over the leather pinned out on a board, drawing the tools over the surface until I was satisfied with it, painting colours onto the surface.
“Let me.” My fingers reach the familiar leather as my eyes finally meet yours.
Éomer: I surrender my wrist to you and catch my breath as your fingers graze my skin, tightening the leather around me. It brings back memories of other bonds I have been in for your sake, for Théo's sake, for my own pleasure.
My finger traces the brightly painted designs, protected by their years hidden from the sun, the beauty of it snaring me again. I raise my eyes to you who are my lover, yet not. You are a stranger, for the man I open my body and my heart to is younger than you, less careworn. But you are still the man I have loved, in one way or another, for my entire life.
"Thank you, I will treasure it for all of my life."
Théodred: I nod, smiling, not trusting myself to speak for the moment. All of your life. All of your long life, although you do not know that yet. The pride I have in you, in the man you are now, and the man you will become, swells my heart. My fingers linger on the leather, the tips grazing over yours and I hold your gaze. I cannot help feeling you belong to a different time … my head swims at the tangles that we are caught in, pushing them away and concentrating on this moment. My fingertips tingle at the slightest contact, and they move of their own accord onto the soft skin of your forearm. This I have missed, and never had here, but it is not just this. “I have missed your company, Mer.”
Éomer: I do not know how to answer that, for I saw you just days ago in Wellington, your younger self. But my heart tightens at the thought of you here alone, without me. And I want to forget all the rationales for making me the Third Marshal and beg to be under your command again.
But the shortening of my name, the name you use in your passion for me, makes me tremble with some emotion I cannot name.
"I miss you whenever we are separated . . . Théo." And the emotion is suddenly clear, for it has been with me always. "I love you."
Théodred: My breath hitches. So many times I have heard those words from your lips, but here, in our home … I was not prepared for that, not prepared for such open honesty. After having to live with so much deceit for what begins to seem like forever in the place I once thought of as eternally safe, your words take my breath away.
My hand strays to your face, softly tracing your cheekbone, the very touch of you filling me with a strength of purpose. “And I love you, Mer.” And if we stay here a minute longer, I will not be able to stop myself from pulling you to me. “We cannot stay here. Your rooms are closest …” I need to be with you, alone, without the possibility of prying eyes. I do not care if we simply spend time talking, as long as we can be together.
Éomer: I nod, unable to say anything, the touch of your hand on me robbing me of all thought, other than the overwhelming emotion filling my heart. I turn away, leading you into my rooms. I stir up the fire, trying to regain my balance. We have carefully avoided each other, wary of exciting suspicion in a court where we do not know exactly who we can trust. Wellington has been our only refuge. I close my eyes, silently thanking Karl for his tolerance. He does not know what a gift he has given me, letting me have time out of his life to be with you.
I turn and face you, spreading my hands. I will give you whatever you need, for I could no more deny you than I could deny my own heart. And my heart has belonged to you for many months now.
"The walls are thick here, we are safe."
Théodred: You are right. There is a feeling of safety that comes with the closing and locking of your door. Not totally safe, for nowhere is anymore, but for this night, I will push away those concerns. I shrug off my cloak, throwing it across your bed as you tend the fire and then you turn, offering yourself to me.
I take one step towards you, then another, the ghost of a smile crossing my face as I remember that we are of the same height here, and our eyes are level as I stand so close. A heartbeat more, and my hand snakes out and fingers dig into your hair, pulling us together, and I linger, drinking in your scent before my lips brush over yours with a groan borne from so much denial. I need this more than I need food and water to survive, and I deepen the kiss, startled by the overwhelming desire to devour you.
Éomer: Your mouth fastens on mine, and I open under your onslaught, for I will deny you nothing, not now, not ever. From our first night together when you claimed me for your own, I have belonged to you, and everything that I am is in service of you.
But I do not deny that this is strange, different from the way you appear in Wellington when you inhabit the body of your shift but you do not take him over as I do Karl. But this . . . this is what I have desired all the years of my manhood, to be possessed by you in your true form and I moan, eager for you, wanting to give you anything that might ease the weariness from your eyes.
You release my mouth finally, and I stare into your eyes, knowing that my own are wild.
"Yours."
Théodred: My eyes spark at that word on your lips, and the look on your face, And a growl starts low in my chest. “Mine.”
As I am yours, but further words fail me right now. I pull you to me, arms wrapping round you, fingers tugging your shirt from your breeches as I kiss you again, trying to sate my impossible hunger for you. The taste I know so well is subtly different, and my tongue swirls around yours, exploring your mouth. The kiss is only broken so I can pull your shirt off over your head, and my eyes rake over your chest as I pull off my own. And then we are skin to skin and nothing has ever felt better to me.
Éomer: I wind my fingers through your hair, delighting in its length, the silk of it sliding through my hands. But your skin against mine is too much, too much sensation, too much of everything. And I desire to give you everything that I can.
"I am your stallion. Tame me." I repeat the words that you have used to claim me so many times, words of love and possession.
"Take what you need." For I would erase the sorrow from your eyes, if only for a time and if only in my arms.
Your skin against mine has me shivering with my own needs, but I trust you beyond life or death, trust you with my own life and anything else, and I will give you anything you ask of me.
Théodred: “My stallion.” My cares start to fall away, and a real smile quirks at the corners of my lips. To hear those words here … It has been a while since I last saw you in Wellington, but even if it had been yesterday, my hunger for you would be no less as it is my body pressed against yours, not a borrowed one, not this time. I feel the tremors of desire running through you as you offer yourself to me so freely, my breath ragged at the prospect.
“I need to take you, bury myself so deep inside you … want to taste you, Mer, the salt of your sweat, the musk of your seed on my tongue …”
My words are soft over your skin as I feast on you, mouth moving from your lips to your neck, trailing hot kisses over your shoulder as one hand skims down your spine and the other digs into your hair, pulling your head back to give me better access to your throat.
“So long have I craved your touch on my skin, your hands, your mouth … ”
I want to fit a lifetime of being with you into one night, I want to walk from this room as the sun rises with you etched onto my body as the horses are etched into the leather, your scent lingering on my skin …
Pulling back, I run my fingers down your arm, over the leather, and take your hand, leading you towards the bed where my cloak lies spread over it where it fell, the soft fur lining upwards. “I want to take you on this, so every time I pull it around me, it will be as if I wrap myself in you.”
Éomer: I go with you willingly, knowing that all my secret dreaming will come true this night. I release your hand, skimming off my breeches and boots, standing naked before you, giving my body to you, for the delight of your eyes, and your hands, and your tongue, and your cock.
"Let me," I murmur, and I carefully undo the bindings on your leggings, helping you out of them. We stand facing each other, hands drifting up strong arms, and you are gilded in the firelight, your eyes even with mine, your hair drifting over your shoulders. This body is rough and scarred, and as furred as mine. I drink you in, eagerly memorising your contours, knowing that we can risk this only this once, and only because our need for each other, for the comfort of our love, has overridden other fears. But we cannot evade who we are, and when the sun rises, we must part.
You slide your arms around me, pulling me in close and guiding me down onto the fur draped over my bed. My tongue traces the scar of a knife wound that slices across your upper arm.
Théodred: You are truly magnificent to behold in the soft light, and as we sink down onto the bed, our limbs twine, until we are skin to skin from head to toe. My body sings, to be sliding against yours after so much denial, the fur below us heightening every sensation, and I hiss as your hot wet tongue maps the scar on my arm.
Encouraged, you glance up at me, your eyes reflecting the love and lust burning in my own then bite down gently on the ridged skin. My body bucks violently and I pull you closer as my fingers move erratically over every curve and dip of muscle that I can reach, and I bury my face in your hair, groaning and revelling in the feel of your mouth on my flesh.
And I want more. “Taste me, Mer, I need to feel your mouth on me.”
Éomer: We roll so that you are under me, and I latch onto your mouth again. When I bring my head up, I trace my fingers over the lines of your face, stolid bones, skin tanned from a life outdoors, laugh lines that used to be deeper . . . But already you seem easier than you were in the Hall.
"Anything you ask of me shall be yours, Théo."
I make my way slowly down your body, for I will not be rushed this night, I will learn every curve and scar. And I will keep the knowledge close until the time that the danger has passed and we may be together without fear.
Your shaft is hard and dripping, and I smile, delighted at the evidence of your passion for me, but I groan as I taste you for the first time.
Théodred: Your mouth is hot as fire, searing my flesh with every touch, every kiss as you trace each scar with a reverence that leaves me breathless. It is as if you read the story of each mark, each ridge and dip of damaged flesh with your tongue, and I am an open book laid out before you.
As you work lower, my body tenses until it is as tight as a bowstring, back arching off the fur at the first touch of your tongue against the swollen head of my cock, your groan vibrating through me. I catch your gaze and hold it as your tongue dips into the slit and I do not realise I am holding my breath until it escapes from me as a hard gasp as you take me into your mouth.
My hands move over your shoulders and dig into your hair, knowing that I cannot possibly hold out for long against this and against finally knowing your touch on my own skin.
Éomer: You taste so good and your hands in my hair send sparks of sensation throughout my body, but I resist the urge to grind myself against the soft fur beneath us, wanting to hold out for whatever you ask of me next. I will make this night for your pleasure, and give you as much of myself as I can.
Your reactions are familiar to me though your body is not. I know the sounds you make when you are close, when the pleasure I bring you threatens to swamp you, and I bring you to that place time and again. But at the last, you reach the edge one time too many and fall over, knowing I am there to catch you. You shove your hips into my mouth, but I am ready for you, opening for you, gulping your seed down while you spasm for many minutes.
I give my lips a final lick, nuzzle your balls and then smile up at you. "What would you wish from me now?"
Théodred: I come so hard, the release this body has craved for so long pumping down your throat as if it will never end, years of desire satisfied in one long burst of intensity. I watch you through glazed eyes, my hands randomly petting your hair until my breathing steadies and I brush it back from your face, returning your smile with a lazy, sated one. And I feel lighter, almost, as if a weight has been lifted, setting me free even if only for a while.
My lust for you may have been satisfied momentarily, but my need for you is as strong as ever and I urge you with my hands to lie back beside me. This time the kiss is a slow, languid one, even though I can feel the heated desire still coursing through your veins. “Turn over.” You do as I ask and I curl around your back, pulling your hair to one side to give me access to your neck and my hand runs through the fur on your chest as I murmur against your skin. “I wish to hear you, my love. I want to torment you until I am ready to take you and then I wish to hear you scream.”
My tongue paints sworls on the top of your spine as first my fingertips, then my nails rake across your nipples. I work very slowly lower, tasting and kissing your skin, tongue licking broad stripes across your back one minute, the tip swirling over bone the next, my fingers marking out each rib and all the while glorying in the feel of you in my arms, in every tremor I cause, every groan I pull from you.
Éomer: You are relentless, your hands and your tongue . . . tracing my body, using your knowledge of my reactions against me until I am dancing to the tune that you call, writhing in your arms. It is like making love to a stranger in your body, but yet who knows my body so well, almost better than I do. You do things to me that I did not know I would like, but you do it with a confidence that tells me you discovered these secrets long ago. And that gives me hope for the future, that it is an older me who taught you these things.
Your fingers finally enter me, working and stretching me so slowly, stroking in and out, waiting while my body responds to your caresses. I am wild and tongue-tied, begging you with moans and panting exhalations to take me, to enter me fully. But your slow movements keep driving me higher, and then dropping me back down when I get too close.
I regain control of my voice for a desperate plea. "Please, Théo, please do it. I cannot bear it any longer. I need you inside me."
Théodred: Your words send a spike of desire straight to my erection, already hard and throbbing for you again. So I turn you onto your back, wanting to see every reaction on your face. I know that here you have not given yourself to anyone like this before, that I am the first, for a second time. Your mind may know me, but your body does not and that stops me from breeching you with spit alone. It only takes a moment to find a small bottle of oil in the pocket of my discarded breeches, and I remember how you have teased me over the years for always having the right supplies to hand, but this is not the time for teasing.
Kneeling between your legs, I look down at you as I oil myself, your strong body laid out before me, and my breath hitches at the sight. Golden hair spread out over the fur, golden skin glowing in the firelight, your cock weeping freely. As I watch, you bend your knees, letting your legs open wider, displaying yourself for me and I groan as my hand slips up my length. I bend down to lap at the tip of your cock, the taste intoxicating, and my oiled fingers slip over your balls, rolling and caressing for a moment before slipping lower, and straight inside you. It is all I can do to stop myself from sucking you to completion, but I want … I need to feel you come with me buried inside you so I content myself with slipping your length into my mouth, sucking and tasting your hard flesh before pulling back.
I run my hands down your thighs, pressing them towards your chest, before taking hold of my cock and pushing slowly inside with one long fluid stroke. I can feel the deep heavy throb of your pulse around me, and braced on my arms I stare down at you, my hair brushing over your skin. Your eyes are wild, and you return my stare before pulling me down to you. With a shudder, I thrust into you again, and again, each stroke slow and deliberate, my eyes never leaving yours. This is something I thought we could never share here, a gift beyond price to be able to find comfort in each other in our own world, and words borne of the love I have for you that is wrapped up with desire and lust spill from me as I move in you. “ … yours, Mer, always … I belong to you … “
Éomer: The body pressing down on me is larger and heavier than the one you wear in Wellington, and your cock breeching me causes a burn that is unfamiliar, and it occurs to me that this body has not been taken this way until now. But I gasp as my body opens for you, any pain quickly replaced with pleasure as you move. Your hair is a curtain around us and I wind my fingers through it, enthralled to have it to grip for the first time.
I twine my legs around yours, falling into your strength, letting you move us as my hips meet your thrusts. I cannot take my eyes from yours, we are locked together, bodies and spirits. You strike the gland inside me again and again, and I cannot hold out against the slick slide of your cock inside of me, or the heavy weight of you pressing against my shaft, or the love in your eyes, or the words on your lips.
"Yes, we belong to each other." I suck in air, fighting my orgasm away. "Close, Théo, so close."
I press against you as tight as I can, shoving back against you and your eyes hold everything I ever wanted or imagined, and it is too much. I buck against you, my muscles contracting, everything in me clenching and tightening as ripples move out from my balls.
Théodred: Your fist tightens in my hair as you let go and your body grips me, demanding that I follow and I do so gladly. As your cock pulses against my belly, the sticky warmth of your seed spurting between us, I thrust into your heat one last time, flooding you with mine as my orgasm tears through me. My head snaps back and I almost howl with the force of it, hips twitching as you milk every last drop from me, until finally I am spent, and with a sharp intake of breath and a deep shudder, my body relaxes, and I find your gaze again.
Your legs are still wrapped round mine and your fingers run through my hair. I push into your touch before lowering my head to kiss you softly, slowly, nuzzling your face and resting my forehead on yours. I know I should move, but want to savour this feeling of being joined to you for a moment longer. We may have been together more times than I would care to count, and I truly cherish each visit, but that is in a different world, in borrowed skin. Tonight it is truly us, and I will never forget it.
Éomer: My fingers slowly unclench from your hair and I do not doubt that I will find long golden strands in my bed later, lighter gold than mine, and I will know, will remember this night. Your body gradually relaxes over me and I pull you closed, making my body a frame for yours, for you to take your ease on or in.
My fingers trace the whorl of your ear, following the pattern of ridges of skin. There are so many details about you that I have never been close enough to you to record. But I will have them all tonight, everything that you are, I will absorb.
The sigh that slips out as your flesh leaves mine is both regretful and satisfied. To have known you so intimately has satisfied the one ache that our time in Wellington can never soothe. For this world, this Middle Earth is the real world, not the other. I do not believe that this life exists only on the pages of a history. If it were so, then neither the grief nor the joys of this life would feel so sharp. And I have tasted a full measure of both.
But tonight . . . "Tonight is my joy," I say, meeting your lips gently.
Théodred: “Mine also.” We lie twined together unable to stop touching each other. Small touches, caresses, kisses, fingers and mouths exploring as we lie so close, breathing each other’s breath. And I feel more rested than I have for so long. Cares and sorrows left behind, and one of those sorrows healed by being able to be with you, here. Something I will keep in my heart for what is left of my life.
I duck my head and bury it in your chest, inhaling your scent and wishing there was a way to make this moment last forever. But there is not, and there are things that must be said. I lift my head and smile softly, brushing the hair back from your face then take your hand and press it against the centre of my chest.
“You hold my heart, Mer, and my trust, always, no matter how distant I may seem. Knowing you are with me, even though we cannot be together, gives me the strength I need to see this through. Never doubt that.”
Éomer: The strong beat of your heart under my hand is reassuring, like a child's comfort in the dark. And though I am no longer a child, you have kept the darkness from me for most of my life.
"I am with you. Always. And you have my utmost faith. You will lead our people out of this darkness and keep us all safe."
As you have both my sister and me. Though I fear the mantle of the King will descend on you soon and my grief for my uncle who has been as a father will be vast, I will stand at your side while we cleanse our land of traitors. And later, when you take a queen, I will still be beside you, your most loyal counsellor.
I know I should talk to you about getting yourself an heir. But I cannot bear to discuss the subject of my replacement while we lie here in my bed, the remnants of our pleasure still sparkling along my nerves.
I slide my other hand around your back, stroking you lightly, but wanting to grip you tightly and never let you go, praying that dawn will never come.
"Your trust in me is the most precious thing in my life." And it is, perhaps even more so than your love, for that can be given to anyone, even a child, but your trust tells me that you value me as a man, as a warrior to protect your flank, and that adds depth to our love.
Théodred: You will lead our people out of this darkness … I wish with all my heart that could be true, wish we both had the length of your long life to come, but that is not to be. I have wondered if it would have been easier not to know my fate, but it was inevitable that in travelling to Wellington I would find out eventually, and I would not give up what we found there for anything. My death is the one truth I must keep from you. It is not time for you to know, not yet. We have more memories to make in that other world together, more laughter to share, more new things to discover and it is important to me that we can both do this, you and the me of years past, without the burden of foreknowledge.
“Together we will keep our people safe.” What I started, you will finish and I am glad to know that my father will recover in time to lead his people again, before passing on the kingship to you. It is meant to be, and my trust in you is so complete that there was never a shadow of doubt that you would rise to the task. The memory of the king you will become swells my heart, taking away my ability to speak without a tremor in my voice. Instead, I give myself over to your touch, swallowing as my back arches at the trail of your fingers and a small sigh of pleasure escapes my lips. I sink further into your embrace, pushing away the shades of our futures as best I can to dwell with you in this stolen time a while longer.
Éomer: Yes, together, that is the best way. And though I still hope that we may save your father, I am beginning to doubt that we will succeed. But for our people and our country, the hope in my heart is still strong, knowing as I do that we have valiant and formidable prince to lead us.
I pull you more tightly against me, feeling your body against mine, the body that shows the full weight of your forty years of life. I decide that I prefer this one to the smoother one that you wear in Wellington. For this body is the truth, reflecting your years of hard living and the content of your character. Though there have been avaricious and idle princes that have descended from Eorl, you have never been one of them, and I imagine that you must resemble our legendary ancestor.
My fingers wander random paths on your skin, not seeking to excite, merely exploring, mapping muscle and scars. The fur beneath my back is soft and you are warm over me, and rarely have I known such comfort.
Théodred: I give myself over to your curious hands and rest my head on your chest, closing my eyes and tangling my fingers in your hair. The peace you give my soul in Wellington has found its way here and I let it fill me with contentment. Every touch and stroke adds to that feeling, taking me further down to a place where nothing else exists but you and I and the boundaries that separate us blur and shift as I melt against your skin.
It would be so, so easy to drift off into a doze like this, to lie wrapped in your arms until morning but there is something else I want to share with you in this body and this is the only chance we have. I raise my head, and lazily explore the firm muscle I have been resting on, pressing kisses onto the warm golden fur that covers your chest before looking up at you.
“I would ask one more thing of you Mer.” Emotion rises to the surface and it leaves my voice thick. “Take me. Claim me.”
Éomer: Your request surprises me, for though you have become more peaceful than you were during the celebration, you are still not the man I am familiar with in Wellington. The aura of sadness that surrounds you has not completely left you, and your father's sickness hurts your heart, I know this. But also, the large difference between our ages is restored and I am aware of my inexperienced youth next to you. And here, you are Théodred, the Prince of Rohan, and the future king.
Yet my body tightens at the thought of taking you here, and your wishes align with my own. I pull your head down, kissing you, probing your mouth with my tongue. I sit up, our lips still joined, my hands going to your shoulders to hold you. After we break the kiss, I smile happily at you.
"Lay down, Théo, on your belly." I do not doubt that you have the same hesitation about giving yourself to someone here in the Mark that I do. That there are none who are your equal, none who you would trust in this way. And so I must be as careful with your body as you were with mine.
I trail kisses down your spine, wanting to go slowly, but I crave the intimate taste of you on my tongue and I cannot hold back from delving between your buttocks, tonguing the creases where muscles join together, before licking your opening.
Théodred: I fall readily into the kiss, and have no hesitation in giving myself up to you. The smile on your face is infectious and I return it before moving to lie face down on the fur. Your roving fingers have left my skin sensitive and I sigh and shiver at the touch of your lips on my back, body bucking at the first intimate touch of your tongue. You swipe it over the ring of muscle again and my hands dig into the fur. Each hot slick touch has me writhing and gasping for breath and I spread my legs wider, pushing back against your mouth.
You grasp my buttocks, holding me still, thumbs on either side of my entrance pulling me open and as you plunge your tongue into me, I cry out, flames of pleasure licking their way up my spine and down my legs, heat pooling deep inside. That we do this lying on your bed adds to my arousal and my trapped cock throbs against my belly. Another thrust and your name is on my lips. “Mer …”
Éomer: You say my name half in plea, half in protest, and indeed I want to sink down into your warm depths, losing myself in the pleasure of riding you. You are wet and open for me, and I think I can breech you easily. I slick myself with the oil you left, before pulling you to your knees.
I slide my cock back and forth along your cleft, teasing your opening, nudging it with my cockhead, watching your ring of muscle quiver and pulse, wanting to take me inside. I would enjoy taking you as a stallion takes a mare, rough and passionate, but I want to see you.
Turning you over, I spread your legs wide, and then lean forward, brushing your hair back. I rest my head against your opening, pressing on you but not pushing into your body, waiting for you. Finally, with a moan, you tilt your hips up and at the same time opening yourself for me. I close my eyes against the heat of you as I sink fully into you.
Théodred: My body welcomes the slick burn as your thick cock enters me, my eyes darkening at the feeling of being stretched open like this for the first time. You pull a long drawn out moan from me as you fill me to the hilt and my back arches off the fur as I grasp your shoulders tight, my own erection leaking against the hair on my belly. You still for a moment and I tentatively rock my hips towards you again, hissing at the feel of you buried so deep inside me, so natural, yet so strange at the same time.
You push into me and I leave go of your shoulders and dig my fingers into your hair, pulling you down to me, needing your mouth on mine. Our lips crush together and I pull my legs higher, groaning into your mouth with your next thrust. “Claim me.”
Éomer: I need no further commands from you, for this one I have long desired. My hips pound into you, knowing you are strong enough to take whatever I can give you, my control lost in the abandon of taking you. I look long into your sky lit eyes, letting you see all the love and lust in mine.
Then I drop my head to your mouth again, feasting on your lips, my rhythm going faster, long deep strokes jolting us together. I rear back and grip your flanks to keep us in place.
"Mine," I growl.
Théodred: The primal possessiveness of that one word sends a sharp stab of desire lancing through me and I tilt my hips up to meet your every thrust, gasping and grunting as you slam into me, riding out the storm as you take me hard. It is what I want, what I need, so hard I will feel you for days, imprinted on me, in me.
I slip my hand between us, grasping my cock and fisting it in time to your punishing rhythm, reaching up and slipping my other hand onto your neck, fingers splayed over your skin, golden strands tangled around them. I hold your gaze, back arching as your cock scrapes against that spot inside again and again, and one last pull takes me over the edge.
“Yours.” I cry out as it hits me, hand fastened on your neck as my body jerks and spasms below you, clamping around you as my seed spurts out through my fingers, splattering over my chest.
Éomer: As you clench around me, I ride out your bucking body, immense satisfaction flooding my heart at your acknowledgment of my claim on you. I hold you through, desperately keeping my own release back because I want to feel all of yours, every instant of shattering pleasure.
My control finally shreds and I slam into you, led by my cock so deeply into you. My arms cannot hold out against the contractions of my muscles as powerful forces take me and I spend inside you. Hands on my back soothe as your grip on my neck loosens and drifts over my sweat slick skin.
I relax on you, burying my nose in your neck, inhaling your scent, a position I have taken more times than I can count, but never enough. "Never enough," I whisper. "I will never have enough of you."
Théodred: Thoroughly sated, I wrap my arms around you, pulling the fur over your back to keep you warm. It feels so right, resting together like this, you sprawled over me and I hold you close as I rest my cheek on your hair, drinking you in as you echo the way I feel in my own heart. The words you use are truer than you can know.
As you slip from me I hiss a little at the loss of you, feeling a twinge of regret that we will not share this here again. Time trickles away like grains of sand running through my fingers and I know this is the last winter I will see. But I push away that thought as you settle back on top of me and I stroke your hair. Words of reassurance that you spoke to me long ago in Wellington are as much of a comfort now as they were then.
"We are mortal men and we will die someday, but when that day comes, I will go to the halls of our fathers to wait for you, and then we will be together for always. Until that day . . . we have each other in this world … I am happy."
Neither of us knew then that I would be the one to wait for you, but your earnest tone and the light that shone in your eyes as you spoke have helped me through the darkest of nights. And they help me now, help me to live in the moment and banish the future to its rightful place.
“No, love, never enough.” I tilt your head up to me and smile, kissing you softly. “So we must take the times we can be together as a gift and live them to the full, filling each day with love and laughter.”
Éomer: I meet your smile, delighted with your mood, delighted to think that I have somehow eased your burdens. And I wish, not for the last time, that we could be together as lovers in our homeland, wishing that it was not dangerous for us to take our ease together the way other Riders do.
My body is unwinding into the warmth of you and the fur you have wrapped around us. My fingers tangle in your hair, kissing you back. "You fill my heart with love. And my days."
I reach my arms around your back to trace the etched designs in the leather bracelet, filled once again with joy because you made it for me. And my voice is laughing as I ask, "Have I thanked you completely for this gift? Or would you have more of me?"
And I hope you know that there is no thing, large or small, in any world that I would not do for you.
Théodred: “You have quite worn me out with your thanks,” I tease, the corners of my eyes crinkling as my smile widens. “All I would ask is that we take our rest together a while longer.” I wriggle to get more comfortable, shifting us around and tangling us further into the fur. I pull your hand to my lips, kissing your fingers before letting mine wander over the leather and the soft skin of your wrist, across the lacing where I tied it earlier.
“Wear this and remember that however far away I may seem, I am always with you. I am yours as you are mine.” My eyes are bright, but they shine with love and gladness that we had this time together and something else that you need to hear. I slip my hand onto your neck, catching your gaze and staring into your warm hazel eyes.
“I am proud of you, Mer, for the man, the leader you have become.” It is something your king should tell you, your uncle or your father, but through fate or circumstance they cannot and it must be said because you would fill both their hearts with pride. So I tell you, as your commander and your kin, your friend and your lover. “So very proud.”
Éomer: You take my breath away with the look of love in your eyes and the words. To hear such things from you, the man I respect above all others . . . I nod, having lost my power of speech. You have overwhelmed me. I kiss you again, letting all my feelings for you glow in my eyes.
"If I am a good man and a good leader, it is because you and your father made sure of it. You took my father’s place when my own died. I am a reflection of you."
The warmth and comfort of you here in my bed are slowly closing my eyes. I settle against you, briefly confused again that you are the same size as I am. I will miss this the next time we are in Wellington.
Théodred: I kiss your forehead, stroking your shoulder as we drift off. There is no doubt that my father and I had a great influence on you as you grew, just as my father and grandmother influenced me, and you had the memories of your own father to guide you, but you will eclipse us all. You will become the king I was never meant to be, and after you help banish the darkness from our world, you will lead our people into a time of great prosperity.
Blessed, they will call you. Éomer Éadig. It is a good name. You move in your sleep and burrow closer and I smile sadly as my arms tighten around you. If I could alter my fate, live to see you become king … but by doing so, too many things could change. If Saruman was thwarted in his quest for my demise, who knows how he would act? One unanticipated action and the future could begin to unravel, to the doom of us all. And I know that if I lived, you would never allow me to walk away from the kingship to let you rule as you must. My end may be written and there may be no escaping it but I have no intention of going to it meekly. I will fight to my last breath, for Rohan, for my people and my family, and for you. If death wants me, it will have to take me screaming defiance into its face.
You snuffle a little, bringing me out of deep thoughts. Your brow furrows, so I stroke your hair, lulling you back into a deeper sleep. I will treasure each and every memory we made tonight, wrap myself up in them as I will wrap myself in you each time I pull my cloak around me. There are a few hours until dawn, a few more hours to hold you and watch over you, so I let myself drift a little, imagining that we can do this whenever we please, that when the morning comes, we will ride together over the plains, carefree, with the wind in our hair and laughter in our hearts. It is a good dream …
NC-17
WARNING: Angst
Meduseld, Edoras
We are summoned back to Edoras again, for what should be a celebration. Théoden, my uncle, our king, commemorates the passing of another year since the day of his birth. But the happy purpose of our gathering is overshadowed by the decline of the man we honour. I do not know how my sister bears it, to stand by him each day and watch him fall further into ruin. But we mouth empty words wishing him health and long life, and all the while it is plain that he will have neither.
The ordeal is done at last and we stand while he makes his way to his rooms, clutching the arm of the reviled Gríma. My hand tightens on my sword hilt and I wish that removing the Worm's head from his shoulders would solve our problems. But my uncle would still be falling into early decrepitude with no way of reversing the tide and the Mark would lose one of her defenders to the swift hand of justice for unlawful killing.
I do not wish to seek my bed so early, for my mind is in turmoil and would not let me rest, of this I do not doubt. But a memory of a happy time a world away intrudes . . .
Remember the hiding place I showed you . . . I left something there for you.
Théo and the last time we were together in Wellington, in Karl's world. I look around for him, no . . . not for him, but instead for Théodred, the sad and weary prince who lives here, in this time. I know the evening pained him more than it has me, for I do not see him. I am certain that he withdrew from this farce of a celebration as soon as was polite.
I make my way into the private area of Meduseld, where the royal household lives, and begin counting the elaborately carved pillars.
If I recall, it was the seventh one on the left, nearly at the end of the passage.
Théodred: The evening passed with an agonising slowness, and it is a relief to leave the hall. Gríma makes such a show of caring for my father that it is all I can do not to strike him down here and now, but I know now that it cannot be. So with a weary sigh I take my leave of my father, even though I do not think he recognises me anymore, and wander outside to stand watching the stars for a while, pulling my heavy cloak around me. They are so different from the stars scattered over the sky in Wellington. My chest clenches at the sharp memory of sitting on a beach listening to the surf break against the rocks, wrapped around Éomer, around my Mer, as we looked at the stars and wondered at the differences. Éomer, the one person whose eyes I could not meet earlier for fear of betraying myself. The one person whose presence could console me.
And then I remember … the gift I left for you years ago, and the time you found it. I make my way back through the now almost deserted hall towards my chambers, nodding to the few who stay to drown their sorrows in the warmth, then quietly past the door to my rooms. A little further, and I see a glint of gold, his hair in the dim torchlight.
“Éomer.” My voice is low and quiet, just enough to catch his attention.
Éomer: It has been so long since Éowyn and I used this cache . . . my fingers are far more sword-calloused than they once were, but I move them carefully over the carvings, looking for the horse head that will move under my questing fingers. At last, I find a gold-covered piece moves, and I push it in, turning gently and it comes away, revealing a hole bored deep into the supporting pillar.
My fingers encounter a soft suede packet and I gently draw it out, wondering what you put in here all those years ago. I unwrap it slowly, finding a wide leather band with intricate intertwining designs of horses burned into its surface. There are holes punched in one end and thongs on the other and it is clearly meant to be a bracelet. Something in my chest tightens at the care that went into making this beautiful thing for me.
Your soft voice calling my name distracts me from my efforts to fasten it around my wrist.
Théodred: With a heavy breath, I move closer and extend my hand, remembering the making of the thing that you hold in your hand, so many years ago. The heat from the fire as I sat hunched over the leather pinned out on a board, drawing the tools over the surface until I was satisfied with it, painting colours onto the surface.
“Let me.” My fingers reach the familiar leather as my eyes finally meet yours.
Éomer: I surrender my wrist to you and catch my breath as your fingers graze my skin, tightening the leather around me. It brings back memories of other bonds I have been in for your sake, for Théo's sake, for my own pleasure.
My finger traces the brightly painted designs, protected by their years hidden from the sun, the beauty of it snaring me again. I raise my eyes to you who are my lover, yet not. You are a stranger, for the man I open my body and my heart to is younger than you, less careworn. But you are still the man I have loved, in one way or another, for my entire life.
"Thank you, I will treasure it for all of my life."
Théodred: I nod, smiling, not trusting myself to speak for the moment. All of your life. All of your long life, although you do not know that yet. The pride I have in you, in the man you are now, and the man you will become, swells my heart. My fingers linger on the leather, the tips grazing over yours and I hold your gaze. I cannot help feeling you belong to a different time … my head swims at the tangles that we are caught in, pushing them away and concentrating on this moment. My fingertips tingle at the slightest contact, and they move of their own accord onto the soft skin of your forearm. This I have missed, and never had here, but it is not just this. “I have missed your company, Mer.”
Éomer: I do not know how to answer that, for I saw you just days ago in Wellington, your younger self. But my heart tightens at the thought of you here alone, without me. And I want to forget all the rationales for making me the Third Marshal and beg to be under your command again.
But the shortening of my name, the name you use in your passion for me, makes me tremble with some emotion I cannot name.
"I miss you whenever we are separated . . . Théo." And the emotion is suddenly clear, for it has been with me always. "I love you."
Théodred: My breath hitches. So many times I have heard those words from your lips, but here, in our home … I was not prepared for that, not prepared for such open honesty. After having to live with so much deceit for what begins to seem like forever in the place I once thought of as eternally safe, your words take my breath away.
My hand strays to your face, softly tracing your cheekbone, the very touch of you filling me with a strength of purpose. “And I love you, Mer.” And if we stay here a minute longer, I will not be able to stop myself from pulling you to me. “We cannot stay here. Your rooms are closest …” I need to be with you, alone, without the possibility of prying eyes. I do not care if we simply spend time talking, as long as we can be together.
Éomer: I nod, unable to say anything, the touch of your hand on me robbing me of all thought, other than the overwhelming emotion filling my heart. I turn away, leading you into my rooms. I stir up the fire, trying to regain my balance. We have carefully avoided each other, wary of exciting suspicion in a court where we do not know exactly who we can trust. Wellington has been our only refuge. I close my eyes, silently thanking Karl for his tolerance. He does not know what a gift he has given me, letting me have time out of his life to be with you.
I turn and face you, spreading my hands. I will give you whatever you need, for I could no more deny you than I could deny my own heart. And my heart has belonged to you for many months now.
"The walls are thick here, we are safe."
Théodred: You are right. There is a feeling of safety that comes with the closing and locking of your door. Not totally safe, for nowhere is anymore, but for this night, I will push away those concerns. I shrug off my cloak, throwing it across your bed as you tend the fire and then you turn, offering yourself to me.
I take one step towards you, then another, the ghost of a smile crossing my face as I remember that we are of the same height here, and our eyes are level as I stand so close. A heartbeat more, and my hand snakes out and fingers dig into your hair, pulling us together, and I linger, drinking in your scent before my lips brush over yours with a groan borne from so much denial. I need this more than I need food and water to survive, and I deepen the kiss, startled by the overwhelming desire to devour you.
Éomer: Your mouth fastens on mine, and I open under your onslaught, for I will deny you nothing, not now, not ever. From our first night together when you claimed me for your own, I have belonged to you, and everything that I am is in service of you.
But I do not deny that this is strange, different from the way you appear in Wellington when you inhabit the body of your shift but you do not take him over as I do Karl. But this . . . this is what I have desired all the years of my manhood, to be possessed by you in your true form and I moan, eager for you, wanting to give you anything that might ease the weariness from your eyes.
You release my mouth finally, and I stare into your eyes, knowing that my own are wild.
"Yours."
Théodred: My eyes spark at that word on your lips, and the look on your face, And a growl starts low in my chest. “Mine.”
As I am yours, but further words fail me right now. I pull you to me, arms wrapping round you, fingers tugging your shirt from your breeches as I kiss you again, trying to sate my impossible hunger for you. The taste I know so well is subtly different, and my tongue swirls around yours, exploring your mouth. The kiss is only broken so I can pull your shirt off over your head, and my eyes rake over your chest as I pull off my own. And then we are skin to skin and nothing has ever felt better to me.
Éomer: I wind my fingers through your hair, delighting in its length, the silk of it sliding through my hands. But your skin against mine is too much, too much sensation, too much of everything. And I desire to give you everything that I can.
"I am your stallion. Tame me." I repeat the words that you have used to claim me so many times, words of love and possession.
"Take what you need." For I would erase the sorrow from your eyes, if only for a time and if only in my arms.
Your skin against mine has me shivering with my own needs, but I trust you beyond life or death, trust you with my own life and anything else, and I will give you anything you ask of me.
Théodred: “My stallion.” My cares start to fall away, and a real smile quirks at the corners of my lips. To hear those words here … It has been a while since I last saw you in Wellington, but even if it had been yesterday, my hunger for you would be no less as it is my body pressed against yours, not a borrowed one, not this time. I feel the tremors of desire running through you as you offer yourself to me so freely, my breath ragged at the prospect.
“I need to take you, bury myself so deep inside you … want to taste you, Mer, the salt of your sweat, the musk of your seed on my tongue …”
My words are soft over your skin as I feast on you, mouth moving from your lips to your neck, trailing hot kisses over your shoulder as one hand skims down your spine and the other digs into your hair, pulling your head back to give me better access to your throat.
“So long have I craved your touch on my skin, your hands, your mouth … ”
I want to fit a lifetime of being with you into one night, I want to walk from this room as the sun rises with you etched onto my body as the horses are etched into the leather, your scent lingering on my skin …
Pulling back, I run my fingers down your arm, over the leather, and take your hand, leading you towards the bed where my cloak lies spread over it where it fell, the soft fur lining upwards. “I want to take you on this, so every time I pull it around me, it will be as if I wrap myself in you.”
Éomer: I go with you willingly, knowing that all my secret dreaming will come true this night. I release your hand, skimming off my breeches and boots, standing naked before you, giving my body to you, for the delight of your eyes, and your hands, and your tongue, and your cock.
"Let me," I murmur, and I carefully undo the bindings on your leggings, helping you out of them. We stand facing each other, hands drifting up strong arms, and you are gilded in the firelight, your eyes even with mine, your hair drifting over your shoulders. This body is rough and scarred, and as furred as mine. I drink you in, eagerly memorising your contours, knowing that we can risk this only this once, and only because our need for each other, for the comfort of our love, has overridden other fears. But we cannot evade who we are, and when the sun rises, we must part.
You slide your arms around me, pulling me in close and guiding me down onto the fur draped over my bed. My tongue traces the scar of a knife wound that slices across your upper arm.
Théodred: You are truly magnificent to behold in the soft light, and as we sink down onto the bed, our limbs twine, until we are skin to skin from head to toe. My body sings, to be sliding against yours after so much denial, the fur below us heightening every sensation, and I hiss as your hot wet tongue maps the scar on my arm.
Encouraged, you glance up at me, your eyes reflecting the love and lust burning in my own then bite down gently on the ridged skin. My body bucks violently and I pull you closer as my fingers move erratically over every curve and dip of muscle that I can reach, and I bury my face in your hair, groaning and revelling in the feel of your mouth on my flesh.
And I want more. “Taste me, Mer, I need to feel your mouth on me.”
Éomer: We roll so that you are under me, and I latch onto your mouth again. When I bring my head up, I trace my fingers over the lines of your face, stolid bones, skin tanned from a life outdoors, laugh lines that used to be deeper . . . But already you seem easier than you were in the Hall.
"Anything you ask of me shall be yours, Théo."
I make my way slowly down your body, for I will not be rushed this night, I will learn every curve and scar. And I will keep the knowledge close until the time that the danger has passed and we may be together without fear.
Your shaft is hard and dripping, and I smile, delighted at the evidence of your passion for me, but I groan as I taste you for the first time.
Théodred: Your mouth is hot as fire, searing my flesh with every touch, every kiss as you trace each scar with a reverence that leaves me breathless. It is as if you read the story of each mark, each ridge and dip of damaged flesh with your tongue, and I am an open book laid out before you.
As you work lower, my body tenses until it is as tight as a bowstring, back arching off the fur at the first touch of your tongue against the swollen head of my cock, your groan vibrating through me. I catch your gaze and hold it as your tongue dips into the slit and I do not realise I am holding my breath until it escapes from me as a hard gasp as you take me into your mouth.
My hands move over your shoulders and dig into your hair, knowing that I cannot possibly hold out for long against this and against finally knowing your touch on my own skin.
Éomer: You taste so good and your hands in my hair send sparks of sensation throughout my body, but I resist the urge to grind myself against the soft fur beneath us, wanting to hold out for whatever you ask of me next. I will make this night for your pleasure, and give you as much of myself as I can.
Your reactions are familiar to me though your body is not. I know the sounds you make when you are close, when the pleasure I bring you threatens to swamp you, and I bring you to that place time and again. But at the last, you reach the edge one time too many and fall over, knowing I am there to catch you. You shove your hips into my mouth, but I am ready for you, opening for you, gulping your seed down while you spasm for many minutes.
I give my lips a final lick, nuzzle your balls and then smile up at you. "What would you wish from me now?"
Théodred: I come so hard, the release this body has craved for so long pumping down your throat as if it will never end, years of desire satisfied in one long burst of intensity. I watch you through glazed eyes, my hands randomly petting your hair until my breathing steadies and I brush it back from your face, returning your smile with a lazy, sated one. And I feel lighter, almost, as if a weight has been lifted, setting me free even if only for a while.
My lust for you may have been satisfied momentarily, but my need for you is as strong as ever and I urge you with my hands to lie back beside me. This time the kiss is a slow, languid one, even though I can feel the heated desire still coursing through your veins. “Turn over.” You do as I ask and I curl around your back, pulling your hair to one side to give me access to your neck and my hand runs through the fur on your chest as I murmur against your skin. “I wish to hear you, my love. I want to torment you until I am ready to take you and then I wish to hear you scream.”
My tongue paints sworls on the top of your spine as first my fingertips, then my nails rake across your nipples. I work very slowly lower, tasting and kissing your skin, tongue licking broad stripes across your back one minute, the tip swirling over bone the next, my fingers marking out each rib and all the while glorying in the feel of you in my arms, in every tremor I cause, every groan I pull from you.
Éomer: You are relentless, your hands and your tongue . . . tracing my body, using your knowledge of my reactions against me until I am dancing to the tune that you call, writhing in your arms. It is like making love to a stranger in your body, but yet who knows my body so well, almost better than I do. You do things to me that I did not know I would like, but you do it with a confidence that tells me you discovered these secrets long ago. And that gives me hope for the future, that it is an older me who taught you these things.
Your fingers finally enter me, working and stretching me so slowly, stroking in and out, waiting while my body responds to your caresses. I am wild and tongue-tied, begging you with moans and panting exhalations to take me, to enter me fully. But your slow movements keep driving me higher, and then dropping me back down when I get too close.
I regain control of my voice for a desperate plea. "Please, Théo, please do it. I cannot bear it any longer. I need you inside me."
Théodred: Your words send a spike of desire straight to my erection, already hard and throbbing for you again. So I turn you onto your back, wanting to see every reaction on your face. I know that here you have not given yourself to anyone like this before, that I am the first, for a second time. Your mind may know me, but your body does not and that stops me from breeching you with spit alone. It only takes a moment to find a small bottle of oil in the pocket of my discarded breeches, and I remember how you have teased me over the years for always having the right supplies to hand, but this is not the time for teasing.
Kneeling between your legs, I look down at you as I oil myself, your strong body laid out before me, and my breath hitches at the sight. Golden hair spread out over the fur, golden skin glowing in the firelight, your cock weeping freely. As I watch, you bend your knees, letting your legs open wider, displaying yourself for me and I groan as my hand slips up my length. I bend down to lap at the tip of your cock, the taste intoxicating, and my oiled fingers slip over your balls, rolling and caressing for a moment before slipping lower, and straight inside you. It is all I can do to stop myself from sucking you to completion, but I want … I need to feel you come with me buried inside you so I content myself with slipping your length into my mouth, sucking and tasting your hard flesh before pulling back.
I run my hands down your thighs, pressing them towards your chest, before taking hold of my cock and pushing slowly inside with one long fluid stroke. I can feel the deep heavy throb of your pulse around me, and braced on my arms I stare down at you, my hair brushing over your skin. Your eyes are wild, and you return my stare before pulling me down to you. With a shudder, I thrust into you again, and again, each stroke slow and deliberate, my eyes never leaving yours. This is something I thought we could never share here, a gift beyond price to be able to find comfort in each other in our own world, and words borne of the love I have for you that is wrapped up with desire and lust spill from me as I move in you. “ … yours, Mer, always … I belong to you … “
Éomer: The body pressing down on me is larger and heavier than the one you wear in Wellington, and your cock breeching me causes a burn that is unfamiliar, and it occurs to me that this body has not been taken this way until now. But I gasp as my body opens for you, any pain quickly replaced with pleasure as you move. Your hair is a curtain around us and I wind my fingers through it, enthralled to have it to grip for the first time.
I twine my legs around yours, falling into your strength, letting you move us as my hips meet your thrusts. I cannot take my eyes from yours, we are locked together, bodies and spirits. You strike the gland inside me again and again, and I cannot hold out against the slick slide of your cock inside of me, or the heavy weight of you pressing against my shaft, or the love in your eyes, or the words on your lips.
"Yes, we belong to each other." I suck in air, fighting my orgasm away. "Close, Théo, so close."
I press against you as tight as I can, shoving back against you and your eyes hold everything I ever wanted or imagined, and it is too much. I buck against you, my muscles contracting, everything in me clenching and tightening as ripples move out from my balls.
Théodred: Your fist tightens in my hair as you let go and your body grips me, demanding that I follow and I do so gladly. As your cock pulses against my belly, the sticky warmth of your seed spurting between us, I thrust into your heat one last time, flooding you with mine as my orgasm tears through me. My head snaps back and I almost howl with the force of it, hips twitching as you milk every last drop from me, until finally I am spent, and with a sharp intake of breath and a deep shudder, my body relaxes, and I find your gaze again.
Your legs are still wrapped round mine and your fingers run through my hair. I push into your touch before lowering my head to kiss you softly, slowly, nuzzling your face and resting my forehead on yours. I know I should move, but want to savour this feeling of being joined to you for a moment longer. We may have been together more times than I would care to count, and I truly cherish each visit, but that is in a different world, in borrowed skin. Tonight it is truly us, and I will never forget it.
Éomer: My fingers slowly unclench from your hair and I do not doubt that I will find long golden strands in my bed later, lighter gold than mine, and I will know, will remember this night. Your body gradually relaxes over me and I pull you closed, making my body a frame for yours, for you to take your ease on or in.
My fingers trace the whorl of your ear, following the pattern of ridges of skin. There are so many details about you that I have never been close enough to you to record. But I will have them all tonight, everything that you are, I will absorb.
The sigh that slips out as your flesh leaves mine is both regretful and satisfied. To have known you so intimately has satisfied the one ache that our time in Wellington can never soothe. For this world, this Middle Earth is the real world, not the other. I do not believe that this life exists only on the pages of a history. If it were so, then neither the grief nor the joys of this life would feel so sharp. And I have tasted a full measure of both.
But tonight . . . "Tonight is my joy," I say, meeting your lips gently.
Théodred: “Mine also.” We lie twined together unable to stop touching each other. Small touches, caresses, kisses, fingers and mouths exploring as we lie so close, breathing each other’s breath. And I feel more rested than I have for so long. Cares and sorrows left behind, and one of those sorrows healed by being able to be with you, here. Something I will keep in my heart for what is left of my life.
I duck my head and bury it in your chest, inhaling your scent and wishing there was a way to make this moment last forever. But there is not, and there are things that must be said. I lift my head and smile softly, brushing the hair back from your face then take your hand and press it against the centre of my chest.
“You hold my heart, Mer, and my trust, always, no matter how distant I may seem. Knowing you are with me, even though we cannot be together, gives me the strength I need to see this through. Never doubt that.”
Éomer: The strong beat of your heart under my hand is reassuring, like a child's comfort in the dark. And though I am no longer a child, you have kept the darkness from me for most of my life.
"I am with you. Always. And you have my utmost faith. You will lead our people out of this darkness and keep us all safe."
As you have both my sister and me. Though I fear the mantle of the King will descend on you soon and my grief for my uncle who has been as a father will be vast, I will stand at your side while we cleanse our land of traitors. And later, when you take a queen, I will still be beside you, your most loyal counsellor.
I know I should talk to you about getting yourself an heir. But I cannot bear to discuss the subject of my replacement while we lie here in my bed, the remnants of our pleasure still sparkling along my nerves.
I slide my other hand around your back, stroking you lightly, but wanting to grip you tightly and never let you go, praying that dawn will never come.
"Your trust in me is the most precious thing in my life." And it is, perhaps even more so than your love, for that can be given to anyone, even a child, but your trust tells me that you value me as a man, as a warrior to protect your flank, and that adds depth to our love.
Théodred: You will lead our people out of this darkness … I wish with all my heart that could be true, wish we both had the length of your long life to come, but that is not to be. I have wondered if it would have been easier not to know my fate, but it was inevitable that in travelling to Wellington I would find out eventually, and I would not give up what we found there for anything. My death is the one truth I must keep from you. It is not time for you to know, not yet. We have more memories to make in that other world together, more laughter to share, more new things to discover and it is important to me that we can both do this, you and the me of years past, without the burden of foreknowledge.
“Together we will keep our people safe.” What I started, you will finish and I am glad to know that my father will recover in time to lead his people again, before passing on the kingship to you. It is meant to be, and my trust in you is so complete that there was never a shadow of doubt that you would rise to the task. The memory of the king you will become swells my heart, taking away my ability to speak without a tremor in my voice. Instead, I give myself over to your touch, swallowing as my back arches at the trail of your fingers and a small sigh of pleasure escapes my lips. I sink further into your embrace, pushing away the shades of our futures as best I can to dwell with you in this stolen time a while longer.
Éomer: Yes, together, that is the best way. And though I still hope that we may save your father, I am beginning to doubt that we will succeed. But for our people and our country, the hope in my heart is still strong, knowing as I do that we have valiant and formidable prince to lead us.
I pull you more tightly against me, feeling your body against mine, the body that shows the full weight of your forty years of life. I decide that I prefer this one to the smoother one that you wear in Wellington. For this body is the truth, reflecting your years of hard living and the content of your character. Though there have been avaricious and idle princes that have descended from Eorl, you have never been one of them, and I imagine that you must resemble our legendary ancestor.
My fingers wander random paths on your skin, not seeking to excite, merely exploring, mapping muscle and scars. The fur beneath my back is soft and you are warm over me, and rarely have I known such comfort.
Théodred: I give myself over to your curious hands and rest my head on your chest, closing my eyes and tangling my fingers in your hair. The peace you give my soul in Wellington has found its way here and I let it fill me with contentment. Every touch and stroke adds to that feeling, taking me further down to a place where nothing else exists but you and I and the boundaries that separate us blur and shift as I melt against your skin.
It would be so, so easy to drift off into a doze like this, to lie wrapped in your arms until morning but there is something else I want to share with you in this body and this is the only chance we have. I raise my head, and lazily explore the firm muscle I have been resting on, pressing kisses onto the warm golden fur that covers your chest before looking up at you.
“I would ask one more thing of you Mer.” Emotion rises to the surface and it leaves my voice thick. “Take me. Claim me.”
Éomer: Your request surprises me, for though you have become more peaceful than you were during the celebration, you are still not the man I am familiar with in Wellington. The aura of sadness that surrounds you has not completely left you, and your father's sickness hurts your heart, I know this. But also, the large difference between our ages is restored and I am aware of my inexperienced youth next to you. And here, you are Théodred, the Prince of Rohan, and the future king.
Yet my body tightens at the thought of taking you here, and your wishes align with my own. I pull your head down, kissing you, probing your mouth with my tongue. I sit up, our lips still joined, my hands going to your shoulders to hold you. After we break the kiss, I smile happily at you.
"Lay down, Théo, on your belly." I do not doubt that you have the same hesitation about giving yourself to someone here in the Mark that I do. That there are none who are your equal, none who you would trust in this way. And so I must be as careful with your body as you were with mine.
I trail kisses down your spine, wanting to go slowly, but I crave the intimate taste of you on my tongue and I cannot hold back from delving between your buttocks, tonguing the creases where muscles join together, before licking your opening.
Théodred: I fall readily into the kiss, and have no hesitation in giving myself up to you. The smile on your face is infectious and I return it before moving to lie face down on the fur. Your roving fingers have left my skin sensitive and I sigh and shiver at the touch of your lips on my back, body bucking at the first intimate touch of your tongue. You swipe it over the ring of muscle again and my hands dig into the fur. Each hot slick touch has me writhing and gasping for breath and I spread my legs wider, pushing back against your mouth.
You grasp my buttocks, holding me still, thumbs on either side of my entrance pulling me open and as you plunge your tongue into me, I cry out, flames of pleasure licking their way up my spine and down my legs, heat pooling deep inside. That we do this lying on your bed adds to my arousal and my trapped cock throbs against my belly. Another thrust and your name is on my lips. “Mer …”
Éomer: You say my name half in plea, half in protest, and indeed I want to sink down into your warm depths, losing myself in the pleasure of riding you. You are wet and open for me, and I think I can breech you easily. I slick myself with the oil you left, before pulling you to your knees.
I slide my cock back and forth along your cleft, teasing your opening, nudging it with my cockhead, watching your ring of muscle quiver and pulse, wanting to take me inside. I would enjoy taking you as a stallion takes a mare, rough and passionate, but I want to see you.
Turning you over, I spread your legs wide, and then lean forward, brushing your hair back. I rest my head against your opening, pressing on you but not pushing into your body, waiting for you. Finally, with a moan, you tilt your hips up and at the same time opening yourself for me. I close my eyes against the heat of you as I sink fully into you.
Théodred: My body welcomes the slick burn as your thick cock enters me, my eyes darkening at the feeling of being stretched open like this for the first time. You pull a long drawn out moan from me as you fill me to the hilt and my back arches off the fur as I grasp your shoulders tight, my own erection leaking against the hair on my belly. You still for a moment and I tentatively rock my hips towards you again, hissing at the feel of you buried so deep inside me, so natural, yet so strange at the same time.
You push into me and I leave go of your shoulders and dig my fingers into your hair, pulling you down to me, needing your mouth on mine. Our lips crush together and I pull my legs higher, groaning into your mouth with your next thrust. “Claim me.”
Éomer: I need no further commands from you, for this one I have long desired. My hips pound into you, knowing you are strong enough to take whatever I can give you, my control lost in the abandon of taking you. I look long into your sky lit eyes, letting you see all the love and lust in mine.
Then I drop my head to your mouth again, feasting on your lips, my rhythm going faster, long deep strokes jolting us together. I rear back and grip your flanks to keep us in place.
"Mine," I growl.
Théodred: The primal possessiveness of that one word sends a sharp stab of desire lancing through me and I tilt my hips up to meet your every thrust, gasping and grunting as you slam into me, riding out the storm as you take me hard. It is what I want, what I need, so hard I will feel you for days, imprinted on me, in me.
I slip my hand between us, grasping my cock and fisting it in time to your punishing rhythm, reaching up and slipping my other hand onto your neck, fingers splayed over your skin, golden strands tangled around them. I hold your gaze, back arching as your cock scrapes against that spot inside again and again, and one last pull takes me over the edge.
“Yours.” I cry out as it hits me, hand fastened on your neck as my body jerks and spasms below you, clamping around you as my seed spurts out through my fingers, splattering over my chest.
Éomer: As you clench around me, I ride out your bucking body, immense satisfaction flooding my heart at your acknowledgment of my claim on you. I hold you through, desperately keeping my own release back because I want to feel all of yours, every instant of shattering pleasure.
My control finally shreds and I slam into you, led by my cock so deeply into you. My arms cannot hold out against the contractions of my muscles as powerful forces take me and I spend inside you. Hands on my back soothe as your grip on my neck loosens and drifts over my sweat slick skin.
I relax on you, burying my nose in your neck, inhaling your scent, a position I have taken more times than I can count, but never enough. "Never enough," I whisper. "I will never have enough of you."
Théodred: Thoroughly sated, I wrap my arms around you, pulling the fur over your back to keep you warm. It feels so right, resting together like this, you sprawled over me and I hold you close as I rest my cheek on your hair, drinking you in as you echo the way I feel in my own heart. The words you use are truer than you can know.
As you slip from me I hiss a little at the loss of you, feeling a twinge of regret that we will not share this here again. Time trickles away like grains of sand running through my fingers and I know this is the last winter I will see. But I push away that thought as you settle back on top of me and I stroke your hair. Words of reassurance that you spoke to me long ago in Wellington are as much of a comfort now as they were then.
"We are mortal men and we will die someday, but when that day comes, I will go to the halls of our fathers to wait for you, and then we will be together for always. Until that day . . . we have each other in this world … I am happy."
Neither of us knew then that I would be the one to wait for you, but your earnest tone and the light that shone in your eyes as you spoke have helped me through the darkest of nights. And they help me now, help me to live in the moment and banish the future to its rightful place.
“No, love, never enough.” I tilt your head up to me and smile, kissing you softly. “So we must take the times we can be together as a gift and live them to the full, filling each day with love and laughter.”
Éomer: I meet your smile, delighted with your mood, delighted to think that I have somehow eased your burdens. And I wish, not for the last time, that we could be together as lovers in our homeland, wishing that it was not dangerous for us to take our ease together the way other Riders do.
My body is unwinding into the warmth of you and the fur you have wrapped around us. My fingers tangle in your hair, kissing you back. "You fill my heart with love. And my days."
I reach my arms around your back to trace the etched designs in the leather bracelet, filled once again with joy because you made it for me. And my voice is laughing as I ask, "Have I thanked you completely for this gift? Or would you have more of me?"
And I hope you know that there is no thing, large or small, in any world that I would not do for you.
Théodred: “You have quite worn me out with your thanks,” I tease, the corners of my eyes crinkling as my smile widens. “All I would ask is that we take our rest together a while longer.” I wriggle to get more comfortable, shifting us around and tangling us further into the fur. I pull your hand to my lips, kissing your fingers before letting mine wander over the leather and the soft skin of your wrist, across the lacing where I tied it earlier.
“Wear this and remember that however far away I may seem, I am always with you. I am yours as you are mine.” My eyes are bright, but they shine with love and gladness that we had this time together and something else that you need to hear. I slip my hand onto your neck, catching your gaze and staring into your warm hazel eyes.
“I am proud of you, Mer, for the man, the leader you have become.” It is something your king should tell you, your uncle or your father, but through fate or circumstance they cannot and it must be said because you would fill both their hearts with pride. So I tell you, as your commander and your kin, your friend and your lover. “So very proud.”
Éomer: You take my breath away with the look of love in your eyes and the words. To hear such things from you, the man I respect above all others . . . I nod, having lost my power of speech. You have overwhelmed me. I kiss you again, letting all my feelings for you glow in my eyes.
"If I am a good man and a good leader, it is because you and your father made sure of it. You took my father’s place when my own died. I am a reflection of you."
The warmth and comfort of you here in my bed are slowly closing my eyes. I settle against you, briefly confused again that you are the same size as I am. I will miss this the next time we are in Wellington.
Théodred: I kiss your forehead, stroking your shoulder as we drift off. There is no doubt that my father and I had a great influence on you as you grew, just as my father and grandmother influenced me, and you had the memories of your own father to guide you, but you will eclipse us all. You will become the king I was never meant to be, and after you help banish the darkness from our world, you will lead our people into a time of great prosperity.
Blessed, they will call you. Éomer Éadig. It is a good name. You move in your sleep and burrow closer and I smile sadly as my arms tighten around you. If I could alter my fate, live to see you become king … but by doing so, too many things could change. If Saruman was thwarted in his quest for my demise, who knows how he would act? One unanticipated action and the future could begin to unravel, to the doom of us all. And I know that if I lived, you would never allow me to walk away from the kingship to let you rule as you must. My end may be written and there may be no escaping it but I have no intention of going to it meekly. I will fight to my last breath, for Rohan, for my people and my family, and for you. If death wants me, it will have to take me screaming defiance into its face.
You snuffle a little, bringing me out of deep thoughts. Your brow furrows, so I stroke your hair, lulling you back into a deeper sleep. I will treasure each and every memory we made tonight, wrap myself up in them as I will wrap myself in you each time I pull my cloak around me. There are a few hours until dawn, a few more hours to hold you and watch over you, so I let myself drift a little, imagining that we can do this whenever we please, that when the morning comes, we will ride together over the plains, carefree, with the wind in our hair and laughter in our hearts. It is a good dream …
NC-17
WARNING: Angst
