Hesitations and Negotiations
Jan. 11th, 2005 10:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlShe's young, got that vacant strung-out look about her, wandering around like a lost puppy. I down my vodka shot, and decide to close the deal with her. Her eyes show a brief sign of life when I offer her a twenty to give me what I need. I lead her out of the pub, around the back to the alley. I get an uneasy sense that someone is there, but when I look, I can't see anything. So I lean against the wall and unzip. Her mouth latches on to me, gracelessly. She's not skilled, but I'm not here for the pleasure of it. I keep my gaze fixed to the opposite wall, not closing my eyes, not losing myself in any sort of pleasant fantasy, just thrusting into her heat, knowing it will work eventually.
It does and I spurt into her mouth, the spasms mechanical, almost dutiful. She spits and turns away after I hand her the money. I hate what I'm doing, but I have to keep any sort of feeling away, can't let myself really want anything . . . or anyone.
I realize that someone really is there, watching me, but I try to stay calm as I tuck myself away and adjust my clothing. When he steps into the light and I see his face, I freeze.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask bitterly. "Dave not keeping you busy?" And then I cringe at my next words, which I can't seem to stop. "Or did you come back for more?"
Théodred: I've wandered further a field tonight. Paris has been staying at Dave's lately, which limits my options. I have taken a few dawn rides along the sand on Dave's sedate mare, fascinated by the sea. To sit on horse back and stare out over the water, getting a sense of just how vast the ocean truly is, was an experience in itself. But tonight we are back at the warehouse. Paris told me … ordered me … not to leave the house tonight, but I stayed silent, and as he fell asleep, took the opportunity to head off to the Ship to see if my cousin had perhaps found his way here again. There was no sign of him.
But as I approach this new tavern, I see Karl disappear into an alley with a scrawny girl. Fascinated, I watch from the shadows, a frown creasing my brow at the way he seems to take no enjoyment from the act, no hint of satisfaction touching his face as he comes. There is no spark of life about him, not a hint of happiness, and that concerns me. But as his companion leaves, and I step into the light to such a pleasant greeting, I can't help myself, walking towards him as I speak.
"Dave is sickenly loyal to Paris, not that I didn't offer, although it is amazing what deceptions can be woven in the haze of an early morning, don't you agree?" That was an interesting conversation Dave and Paris had after I made myself known to Dave. Eavesdropping is not something I would usually do, but as a tactic to sound out potential friends or enemies, it is an invaluable tool.
And with a cocked eyebrow, I give him a friendly grin. "More? I haven't had the pleasure … yet, but you did not seem to take much pleasure from your, ah, companion, before she made off into the night with payment clutched in her hand."
Your eyes are full of hatred, and I wonder if this is aimed at me, or Paris. And as much fun as baiting you is, it is not going to help me persuade you to let Éomer travel here. "Come, we have things to discuss, you and I. Let me buy you a drink. Or two. With a sound slap on your back, I head off to the tavern, finally hearing your footsteps behind me.
Karl: Oh, shit, Paris has gone off the deep end. He's out here wandering around thinking he's Théodred. I do not need this fucking complication in my life! What the hell do I do? I want to run, the less I see of Paris, the better. But the part of me that still cares about Dave decides to stick with him and make sure he stays out of trouble. I've got the blonde fucker firmly under control and I can try to keep Théodred from picking anybody else up until Paris comes back to himself.
So when you slap me on the back and offer a drink, I follow you, wondering what you could possibly want to talk to me about. Other than how much I've screwed up your life.
We enter the pub, and I order a black and tan. No more hard liquor tonight, I have a feeling I'm going to need my wits. You order a beer and a Jack and we find a table in the back.
And just because I'm not in the mood to cooperate with the insanity, I decide to play dumb. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
Théodred: This tavern is, if anything, more downtrodden than the Ship, but they serve ale and Jack, so I have no complaints as I follow you to an out of the way table. Sitting opposite, I take some time to look at you properly. There is a definite look of my cousin about you, your features softer than his often stern face, but with that same deep crease between the eyes when something is bothering you. And I can see how much sitting here with me is bothering you.
I answer your question with a laugh, deciding to humour you. "I am Théodred, Second Marshal of the Mark, son of Théoden and Elfhild, who died giving birth to me." My eyes slip from yours for a moment, before going on. "Cousin to Éomer and Éowyn. How many centuries of lineage would you have me recite?"
I knock back my Jack and take a long drink of ale. "You know who I am, Karl. And I know who you are. You are the man who prevents my cousin from visiting this world, and I want that to change."
Karl: Yeah, you've flipped all right, Paris. And your shift is a damn arrogant, cocky bastard. Not that I'm surprised, considering who he's related to. And you don't ponce around, just say what's on your mind. But your words light a fire in my heart like nothing else has done in a long time.
"Got that right, asshole! Your fucking cousin doesn't belong in this world! And neither do you! So why don't you take your sorry horse-loving arse back to Rohan and leave me and Paris alone?"
I'm trembling with rage, pushed beyond the safe little cocoon I made for myself, wanting to leap over this table and bash your face in. My anger leaves me open briefly and I feel him stirring inside me, but I get control of myself, letting the ice come back.
"He's never getting out again."
Théodred: Ah, so there is passion in you, buried so deep you're almost afraid to let it out … you're afraid to let him out. You're afraid he won't leave … or of what he'll do when he's here? Maybe both. I sit back and watch you rage, you eyes flashing, fists clenching, and it strikes me how like my cousin you are. The angry determination on your face so like Éomer. If you are truly as headstrong as he is, it explains why you fight each other.
Something crosses your face, you almost lost that tight grip you have on yourself and I wonder how much it would take to make you really let go, if that would release the hold you have over him? Not that it would be any real solution to the problem. But my eyes narrow at the vehemence in your last words, rationality forgotten.
"Do you really think you have that much of a say in this? If you won't let him out of your own free will, he needs only to wait until the next time you are weakened in some way to make his escape from you."
Karl: I nearly laugh at your suggestion that he will get out someday. And mentally wrap another chain around him.
"It doesn't matter if he does, this isn't his world, and he can't stay here. He'll have to go back eventually." And when he does, then I will lock him up tighter the next time. He'll cease to exist eventually and I'll be free of him.
I've got my control back and I won't let you provoke me any more. But I'm curious. "So tell me . . . uh, Théodred. Why do you care so much if Éomer comes to this world? You can always see him in yours. Although, he's is so irritating and aggravating, I can't imagine why you would ever want to see him."
Théodred: Your control is amazing, the way you rein in your anger, not allowing it to be used against you, and I ease back on my own, much preferring to talk this out if we can, though not totally ruling out the possibility of violence. Éomer failed to tell me that his shift was highly unstable.
"He doesn't want to stay here, Karl. He wants the freedom to come here when life in Rohan pushes him to seek an escape for a short time, as do I. Fighting the darkness that threatens our land day in day out isn't easy, and I think it is even harder for him than it is for me." On my return to Rohan after I first met with Éomer, I had
asked him if he had ever visited a tavern called the Ship, as we had agreed we would, but both his words and his eyes said no, which leads me to believe that the man I met here was older than the one I know in Edoras. "And to find there is a place like this, where there is no war, no daily struggle, a place where it is easy to forget, for a time, the bloodshed, the death …" I lower my eyes for a moment, my words having brought unwanted images to mind, images I come here to leave behind. "Surely you can see why we visit this place?" I finish my ale, and set the empty bottle on the table.
If I let you know the truth …no, not quite the truth. "We rarely find the time to spend together. My command is stationed at Helm's Deep and I can be away from Edoras for months at a time. We became very close growing up and I miss his company. You can understand that, wanting to spend time with friends, companions?" And now a little
truth that you perhaps have a hard time admitting to.
"Yes, he can be headstrong, and stubborn, but I think the reason you find him irritating is that he reminds you too much of yourself."
Karl: Ouch, I had forgotten how perceptive Paris is. But now you are telling me . . . what? that Wellington is where the horse lords come for vacation? That's ridiculous.
But you have struck near the truth. "Yes, he is like me because he is just a product of my sick mind. He doesn't exist and neither do you." It’s so hard to give up the idea that he is just a sick fantasy of mine, that I take refuge in its familiarity. You are pushing me too hard.
I finish my drink and wipe my hand over my mouth. "But when he takes over, he does it without my permission, he gets me in all sorts of trouble and then he leaves me to sort out the mess. So I'll keep him locked away as long as I can."
Théodred: "We don't exist?" For a second, I stare at you, just to check you are being serious, and then burst out laughing. You look at me with amazement on your face, which only makes me laugh harder. It takes a while to get it under control, and I have to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "You … thought us up? I'm sorry, but that is the funniest thing I have heard for a while." I can see my amusement isn't helping matters, so pull myself together and get back to the practical issues.
"Have you ever tried to talk to him, really talk to him, explain to him why you try to keep him away? Reasoned with him?" Although now I know where the problem lies, I can't see either of you listening to the other. "He is headstrong, but he is not bad. He cares about your welfare, he helps heal you when you are injured, does he not? Are those the actions of someone who deliberately wants to hurt you?"
I leave you to think that over, and go for more drinks at the bar which gives me a chance to think. Setting our ales down on the table, I make you an offer. "Let me talk to him. If I can give you a week's peace, you let him come here for a day and a night, and I give you my word he won't get you into trouble."
Karl: I decide not to explain to the laughing idiot across from me that, no I didn't think you up, some crazy Brit with apparently way too much time on his hands did.
You wander off leaving me totally aghast at your suggestion. Talk to him? Have an imaginary conversation with my imaginary enemy? It's bad enough the my dreaming mind conjures him, but to deliberately try to talk to him? That's ludicrous. And getting way more twisted than I can deal with.
And then you completely blow my mind with your ridiculous offer. How the fuck do you think you can control him? If I accept that he's real, just for shits and giggles, his record doesn't indicate that anyone can control him. He runs off after Orcs without permission, against direct orders, and with hardly any back up. He charges into ranks of enemies when he's totally outnumbered. And, though Tolkien discreetly doesn't mention it, he evidently fucks anything that moves, including his own cousin.
My eyes narrow as that little bit of information comes back into my memory. "Oh? And just what will you do with him on that day and night? And what makes you think he will listen to you?"
Théodred: I look straight into those fiery green gold eyes of yours, so like Mer's yet so different, and smile. "I'll keep him company." Your fingers are moving on the table, and I reach out and still them with mine. "And he'll listen to me because he would never disobey an order I gave him."
My thumb moves over yours. "What have you got to lose? If he dared to disobey me, you are no worse off. If he does as I say, you have a week of peace, guaranteed. But if you agree, I need to talk to him." I take my hand away and lean back in my chair, knocking back the Jack, waiting for your answer.
Karl: You stroke your thumb over my hand and I get a little shiver. "God, does it run in your fucking family?"
You look at me puzzled and I pull my hand away. "He uses seduction to get what he wants too."
You sit there calmly sipping your drink, while I twine my fingers in my hair, this whole conversation is making my head bloody hurt. This whole thing is surreal, you look like Paris, but you don't act like him. I'm tempted to tell you where the family habit of recklessness (let's not forget little sis, either, shall we?) is going to lead you. But I figure your ultimate fate is Paris' business, not mine. However, I remember that Bernard suggested this exact thing to me, and he’s one of the most rational people I know. Maybe he was right.
"You don't know what you are asking me. I've never deliberately tried to call him, he just busts in when I can't fight him off. This is . . . the whole idea . . . I just don't know." I can't believe I'm actually considering this.
Théodred: "I do know what I'm asking. I'm asking that you give this a chance, and I'm asking that you trust me. And I know you have no reason to do that. I can help you bring him out, and I give you my word that you will be back here with me within ten minutes." At least you are now thinking about it.
"Karl, it is obvious to anyone who cares to look that you're not happy. I saw your face out there in the alley. There was not one single spark of pleasure in your eyes. Are you that afraid of letting go? You think that if you do, he'll break through?" After talking to you tonight, I understand why you are reluctant to let him shift in. I can't believe the two of you have come to such an impasse. "How long have you lived like this?"
Karl: How long have I lived like this? I glare at you, wishing you weren't wearing Paris' face, wishing I could wipe that expression off of it.
"Since the morning I woke up naked in bed with my best friend's lover. Now, I may not be some noble warrior type of guy, but I do have my own concept of honor. And doing the horizontal grind with someone who belongs to a friend violates my honor."
And the memory of what I have done to Dave settles the ice back around my heart.
Théodred: You are as stubborn as he is!! I can see your guard fly back up, and start to despair of trying to reach you, but I have to give this one more go. It's either that, or knock you senseless each time I want to see him. At least the way you woke up wasn't Éomer's fault.
"I agree, it was not the best situation, but that was my fault, no-one else's. I watched as he shifted out, fascinated as he turned into you, and I was reluctant to leave you. I could have gone through to Paris' room, and left you to sleep alone, but I chose not to, and for that, I apologise." I almost add that it will not happen again, but I think that reminding you of why I am keen for Éomer to shift in will probably antagonise you further.
"My offer still stands, and I think you have more sense than my pigheaded cousin has. Let me talk to him."
Karl: I stare at you, knowing I must look like a complete idiot with my mouth hanging open, but you have caught me completely and totally off guard with your apology. I sort through what your said, trying to figure out what has me so shocked. Not the words themselves, I know you are trying to get me to do what you want, and trying to get on my good side by apologizing and complimenting my good sense.
But . . . your voice got so tender. He really means something to you. I think back on what I know about him and you. You were killed, Théoden was killed, Éowyn left him. Éomer ended up King of the Mark at age twenty-eight and abandoned by everyone he loved.
And for both of us to find peace, to stop hurting each other . . .
"If I let you do this, if I admit that a figment of my imagination has a right to a little happiness . . . where does that leave me?" You look at me strangely. Shit, I didn't mean to say that aloud. "Then I have to accept that the whole world has gone crazy and it's not just me. That terrifies me."
Théodred: There is something more behind your words that you would keep from me, but there isn't time to dwell on that now.
"I fully admit that when I chanced on you tonight, my sole aim was to persuade you to allow Éomer to travel more freely between our worlds, and I would have used all means at my disposal, including seduction." I give you a wry grin. "But talking to you, getting to know you and how my cousin as made his presence felt, has given me an understanding of what you need. Your welfare is as important to me as his, Karl so think on this. If you have conjured us up, and Éomer is nothing more than a part of you, are you not simply allowing yourself that happiness? At the same time benefitting from seven days of peace, of freedom from the possibility that he will try and force his way through."
I can see you have a proud spirit, so your admission of how you feel touches me deeply. "We are all a little crazy, my friend, no matter which world we come from. What makes you think you are alone in that? And wouldn't you rather chance living in a crazy world than live the rest of your life like this?" I have to curb my instinct to reach out and touch your face, wishing I could smooth away the furrow on your brow. "You have nothing to lose with this, and so much to gain."
Karl: I struggle against the feeling that I am being managed, but drawn to what appears to be your simple honesty. Which makes me suspicious. King's sons get extra training in diplomacy, I guess.
I hunch against myself, fighting the weariness that I feel, not physical, the drugs have seen to that, but the spiritual. Fighting for my independence from the ghost that won't leave me alone.
You are not offering a permanent solution, which is depressing, but maybe I should just take a chance on peace for a time. Perhaps you can manage Éomer as well as you do me.
I look at you, hoping you can give me what you've promised. "All right."
Théodred: It pains me to see the almost haunted look in your eyes, and reminds me that I have my own problems to sort out also. I now need Paris' help, if I am to spend any length of time here myself. An apology or two is owed to him too. And I cannot let him become as you are although he does seem more accepting of this shifting.
When you finally give me your answer, I let out a sigh of relief and nod at you. "You will not regret this." I finish my ale off, and lean over the table, lowering my voice.
"Perhaps this is not the best place to let him out. Somewhere private would be better. Will you come back to the warehouse with me?"
Karl: You mention the warehouse, shit, where Paris lives. I never wanted to see that place again. I didn't really think this through, but maybe I should have a rational conversation with Paris. I may have to if Éomer spends much time with his cousin. I look at you, speculatively. You went to a lot of effort to convince me to try this. I just hope horseboy makes it worth your time. And I hope he appreciates you.
But as much as I don't want to face Paris again, I've put my fate in your hands, hoping you can fix some of the things that are wrong with my life. "Okay."
You give me an encouraging smile and usher me out of the bar. I follow you down the dark streets, trying to push away my nervousness, wondering how the fuck you talked me into this, but my pride won't let me back out now.
Théodred: We walk in silence, and before too long, we are back in the place I am becoming to think of as my home here. Taking off my jacket, and motioning for you to sit on the couch, I find a bottle of whisky, which is new to me, and a couple of glasses, and head back sitting down beside you.
"You've never done this before?" You shake your head, and I hand you a drink. "When I look for Paris after I've been here, I reach back in my mind until I can feel him, and nudge him forward. As he slips in, it feels like I'm falling backwards, until I am back in my own body. When Paris leaves, I feel him fall back into darkness. I somehow don't think you will have to look far for Éomer." I knock back my drink and you do the same, wariness on your face. "It may be different for you, but here …" I grasp your hands. "Anchor yourself on me. I won't let you fall."
Karl: I try to let my mind drift, try to find him, but I'm so cold. I'm so used to fighting him off that I'm having a hard time switching gears. Why doesn't he blast his way through? When I'm trying to find him for the first time ever, why can't I?
I try to remember all the times that he's overwhelmed my will, try to remember what that felt like. I grip your hands, hard, I know I must be hurting you, but bugger that. You're a warrior, you should be able to deal with it.
I close my eyes, remembering the dream I had a few weeks ago, seeing him like that, relaxed, acting like he cared about me. I draw his face in my mind . . . and then he's standing there holding my hands instead of you. His hair is down again, but he looks weary. He looks at me with sad eyes, "Karl . . ." I shake my head and release his hands and step away into nothing.
Théodred: Your hands tighten on mine, the pain inconsequential and I watch a frown of concentration settle on your face. Then your hands loosen momentarily, before they grip even harder, and I stare in wonder as your features shift, just a little, your hair paling as it grows, your form literally growing larger before my eyes, and I fear for your clothes but that is easily forgotten, despite the ripping sound, when your eyes open and I'm staring into your eyes, Mer … but your eyes are so full of sadness. I let go of your hands, and run my hand up the side of you face, thumb moving gently over the dark circle below your eye.
"Mer, what is wrong?" I pull you to me, wrapping my arms around you, holding you close for a moment before pulling back to look at you. "Tell me what is wrong."
Éomer: When I open my eyes, you are there at last and I want hurl myself into your arms and never let you go. And then your hands are gentle on my face, asking me what is wrong.
"I have tried so hard to reach you, Théo, but Karl is stronger than I have ever seen him. He has never let his guard down even once. And I tried to ride to you in Rohan, just to see you, but the raids are increasing and I could not leave my Riders. I couldn't leave my command just to go chasing after you at Helm's Deep."
I shudder at the memory of endless hours pounding against the stone wall of Karl's hatred and lean into you.
Théodred: The way you shiver alarms me, and I pull you closer, your head resting on my shoulder as I stroke your hair, your arms slipping round my waist. "I'm here now." And now I have you here, I don't want to send you away again, and why should I? Why should I deny us this time together? Silently cursing, I sigh against your hair. Because I gave my word, promised him peace, and that is what I cannot deny.
So you have given your all to return here, and Karl has exhausted himself keeping you at bay. So alike, so utterly alike. Then something you say makes me smile. Your command. You must have made Third Marshall, and that is something we will have to celebrate, but later, when I have you to myself for longer. First, I have to convince you to leave Karl alone.
"Be careful, my stallion. It is not safe to openly show what we have found here back home in Rohan." You raise your head to look at me, and I lower my lips to yours, the kiss soft at first, as I savour your taste, but my hands dig into your hair, and yours into mine, your tongue slips into my mouth and I suckle on it greedily. Then you're pressing me back against the couch as we devour each other, and I remember the feel of you as I rode you … Gasping for breath, I pull your head back with your hair so I can talk to you. "I spoke to Karl, he is willing to let you stay here for a day and a night, but it is on
condition that you leave him alone for seven whole days."
Éomer: I bury my nose in your neck, inhaling, breathing in your scent and it tells me more than anything else that I have finally found a way back to you. My lips start wandering and my hands follow as well. "Of course, I'm not going to reveal this in Rohan, but I just wanted to see you. I haven't lost all sense. I just . . . I haven't seen you since that night."
I'm enjoying the feel of you under me, pressing myself down into you, suddenly achingly hard, wanting to wrap myself around you. But you tug my hair, pulling me to face you.
"You spoke to Karl? Why should I wait a whole week to be with you? And who's seven days are we talking about? I will just stay now and worry about him later."
Théodred: I let my head fall back, and let out a long sigh, leaving go of your hair. Have I just spent half the night persuading Karl to accept these terms, only to have to spend the rest of it convincing you? My head is beginning to hurt. As my father is fond of telling me, I am not a natural diplomat, although I think he would be proud of my efforts so far tonight, even if he didn't approve of my intended goal.
Wriggling out from under you, I get to my feet, taking myself away from temptation while I talk to you. "We … I placed Karl in a dishonourable position after the night we spent together. When you left, I chose to fall asleep wrapped around your memory, and Karl feels he was dishonoured by waking up with Paris, my shift, and also the lover of his best friend. It has made him very resentful of your visits here, which is why he has kept you from coming back." And now the part I know you are not going to like.
"I gave him my word that you would leave him in peace for one of his weeks. I gave him my word, Mer."
Éomer: Karl has a sense of honour? All the denizens of this world I have ever encountered have been so caught up in their own pleasure that I had thought such concepts did not exist here.
"You gave him your word?" I sigh, knowing that is the one argument which I cannot counter. Your honour I do not doubt. And I will not be the cause of you being foresworn.
At least one of his weeks is shorter than one of mine, as far as I have been able to tell. I have no choice but to trust that you have worked this bargain for us the best you can. But I can no longer bear to not touch you so I stand and wrap my arms around your waist.
"What must I do?"
Théodred: Why did I doubt you for even a second? I snake my arms around your neck, and kiss you hard, your hands grasping my buttocks, pulling me so tight against you, I can feel your hard flesh pressing against mine.
"We only have minutes before you must return. For the next seven days, you must not touch his mind in any way. No contact at all. In a week's time, he will reach for you again. Then you can shift in and I will be waiting for you, I promise, but until he reaches out for you, nothing must pass between you."
Your fingers rake down my back, making me gasp, and I know I should be telling you to go, but the thought of another week apart has me pulling your shirt from your leggings, needing the feel of your skin.
Éomer: Your hands are on me and I'm having a hard time concentrating on your orders. "Agreed," I mutter against your lips.
Only minutes? This is torture. I slide my hands under your shirt, knowing the same hunger that you seem to feel to get skin to skin. I slip my hands into your breeches, curving my fingers around your firm muscles, dragging you into my erection, making sure that you have no doubt how difficult this week will be for me.
Théodred: The feel of your strong hands kneading me has me thrusting my hips against you, moaning into your mouth, and I know if you don't leave soon, you'll be here for the night. With a groan, I pull back. "If you don't go now, I won't be able to let you go. I promise I'll be waiting for you …. I promise …" I hiss as you leave blistering kisses on my neck, nipping the skin before staring me down with those intense eyes filled full of lust and need, and your mouth locks onto mine once more.
Éomer: You're mouth opens under mine so hotly and hungrily, that I want to ravish you, to take everything I can from you and leave us both mindless, drowning in it. But your promise holds us both now and we finally slow down, our lips just brushing, breathing each other in, our arms wrapped around each other. And I can't bear it any longer, if I don't go, I'll grab you and carry you off somewhere and we'll both be lost.
"Farewell, Théo, I'll wait to be called." And I let my sense of myself go and let Karl come back.
Théodred: I will never cease to be amazed at the change, the shift, although I dearly wish it didn't have to happen so soon. One moment, I'm holding my beloved cousin, the next, Karl's features slowly reappear, and his stunned eyes stare back at me as I hold him steady against me, my erection still very obviously pressed against him. He tenses as he takes a deep breath. Still feeling a sense of intimacy with the body in my arms, I push back a strand of hair from his face, which is so close to mine. My other hand moves possessively on his back, ignoring the ripped seam of his shirt, and I murmur sadly.
"You have your week of freedom."
Karl: I come back to myself once more wrapped up with what appears to be Paris, but I pray for the sake of my sanity that it is Théodred. When you speak I realize that I am safe for now and I ignore the fact that Éomer once again left me . . . dangling. But it feels so good just to be held by someone for the first time in a long time that I sag in your arms, until your hands run up my back.
"My shirt is torn," I say blankly.
You give a strangled sort of laugh and lead me to the couch, settling me against the cushions.
"What do I need to do when my week is up?" I'm too tired to sort this out and happy to leave the planning up to you, since you seem so good at it.
Théodred: I stick my finger through the tear in the fabric of your shirt, taking care not to touch your skin, and shrug. "He is bigger than you." Sitting close enough for you to lean against me if you need to, but not close enough to crowd you, I wonder why I have begun to treat you like a skittish colt.
"Meet me in the tavern we drank in tonight, take me to your home, find him as you did tonight, and I will wake you when he has gone. That is all I ask." I know Éomer will do as I have asked, and wonder what you will do with this freedom from his intrusion.
"And I want you to do something for me. Find someone who's touch pleases you, who you can take real pleasure in, and spend time with them. You have denied yourself this for too long, I can see it in your eyes." My fingers push through your hair, as I smile, fascinated by the dark silky strands, so different from Mer's long blonde hair and let a teasing note enter my voice. "I would offer to take on this task as it would not be too much of a hardship, but I don't think you would be interested. Though I am curious to know whether that is because if who I am, or because of who I look like."
Karl: I just sit, too exhausted by the stress of the past hour to do anything. You make your surprising offer and you seem sincere, but . . .
"I can't, Théodred. You are very kind, and I like you very much. If things were different, perhaps. But you look exactly like Paris, and I'm having a hard enough time with this without getting confused by desiring someone wearing his body. I promise, I'll try to relax in the next week, and I'll meet you at the pub at the same time."
I stay for a few more minutes, but now I need to go. I get to my feet. "Thank you, Théodred, but I need to get home. I'll see you." I leave, hoping I won’t regret my one moment of empathy for a ghost.
Théodred: After locking the house up after Karl leaves, I down one more whisky, putting the bottle back where I found it, and rinsing the glasses before putting them away. One week. Seven whole days before I can see him, touch him ... sighing I head for Paris' bed.
I hadn't expected Karl to accept what I was offering, and I can understand why he didn't, but still he intrigues me. I think it is the similarities and differences between him and my cousin that draw me to him. Although maybe life would be simpler for both of them without their shared stubborn streak.
Stripping off Paris' clothes I slip in between the sheets, my head sinking into his pillow.
But enough thinking. I came here tonight looking for an escape, and a night of negotiation certainly isn't that, but at least it got me what I wanted. Almost. Now all I have to do is talk to Paris, and get him to agree.
But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Reaching back to nudge him forward, I let him begin to slip back in as I fall asleep. I am tired of talking too. Just plain tired …
It does and I spurt into her mouth, the spasms mechanical, almost dutiful. She spits and turns away after I hand her the money. I hate what I'm doing, but I have to keep any sort of feeling away, can't let myself really want anything . . . or anyone.
I realize that someone really is there, watching me, but I try to stay calm as I tuck myself away and adjust my clothing. When he steps into the light and I see his face, I freeze.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask bitterly. "Dave not keeping you busy?" And then I cringe at my next words, which I can't seem to stop. "Or did you come back for more?"
Théodred: I've wandered further a field tonight. Paris has been staying at Dave's lately, which limits my options. I have taken a few dawn rides along the sand on Dave's sedate mare, fascinated by the sea. To sit on horse back and stare out over the water, getting a sense of just how vast the ocean truly is, was an experience in itself. But tonight we are back at the warehouse. Paris told me … ordered me … not to leave the house tonight, but I stayed silent, and as he fell asleep, took the opportunity to head off to the Ship to see if my cousin had perhaps found his way here again. There was no sign of him.
But as I approach this new tavern, I see Karl disappear into an alley with a scrawny girl. Fascinated, I watch from the shadows, a frown creasing my brow at the way he seems to take no enjoyment from the act, no hint of satisfaction touching his face as he comes. There is no spark of life about him, not a hint of happiness, and that concerns me. But as his companion leaves, and I step into the light to such a pleasant greeting, I can't help myself, walking towards him as I speak.
"Dave is sickenly loyal to Paris, not that I didn't offer, although it is amazing what deceptions can be woven in the haze of an early morning, don't you agree?" That was an interesting conversation Dave and Paris had after I made myself known to Dave. Eavesdropping is not something I would usually do, but as a tactic to sound out potential friends or enemies, it is an invaluable tool.
And with a cocked eyebrow, I give him a friendly grin. "More? I haven't had the pleasure … yet, but you did not seem to take much pleasure from your, ah, companion, before she made off into the night with payment clutched in her hand."
Your eyes are full of hatred, and I wonder if this is aimed at me, or Paris. And as much fun as baiting you is, it is not going to help me persuade you to let Éomer travel here. "Come, we have things to discuss, you and I. Let me buy you a drink. Or two. With a sound slap on your back, I head off to the tavern, finally hearing your footsteps behind me.
Karl: Oh, shit, Paris has gone off the deep end. He's out here wandering around thinking he's Théodred. I do not need this fucking complication in my life! What the hell do I do? I want to run, the less I see of Paris, the better. But the part of me that still cares about Dave decides to stick with him and make sure he stays out of trouble. I've got the blonde fucker firmly under control and I can try to keep Théodred from picking anybody else up until Paris comes back to himself.
So when you slap me on the back and offer a drink, I follow you, wondering what you could possibly want to talk to me about. Other than how much I've screwed up your life.
We enter the pub, and I order a black and tan. No more hard liquor tonight, I have a feeling I'm going to need my wits. You order a beer and a Jack and we find a table in the back.
And just because I'm not in the mood to cooperate with the insanity, I decide to play dumb. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
Théodred: This tavern is, if anything, more downtrodden than the Ship, but they serve ale and Jack, so I have no complaints as I follow you to an out of the way table. Sitting opposite, I take some time to look at you properly. There is a definite look of my cousin about you, your features softer than his often stern face, but with that same deep crease between the eyes when something is bothering you. And I can see how much sitting here with me is bothering you.
I answer your question with a laugh, deciding to humour you. "I am Théodred, Second Marshal of the Mark, son of Théoden and Elfhild, who died giving birth to me." My eyes slip from yours for a moment, before going on. "Cousin to Éomer and Éowyn. How many centuries of lineage would you have me recite?"
I knock back my Jack and take a long drink of ale. "You know who I am, Karl. And I know who you are. You are the man who prevents my cousin from visiting this world, and I want that to change."
Karl: Yeah, you've flipped all right, Paris. And your shift is a damn arrogant, cocky bastard. Not that I'm surprised, considering who he's related to. And you don't ponce around, just say what's on your mind. But your words light a fire in my heart like nothing else has done in a long time.
"Got that right, asshole! Your fucking cousin doesn't belong in this world! And neither do you! So why don't you take your sorry horse-loving arse back to Rohan and leave me and Paris alone?"
I'm trembling with rage, pushed beyond the safe little cocoon I made for myself, wanting to leap over this table and bash your face in. My anger leaves me open briefly and I feel him stirring inside me, but I get control of myself, letting the ice come back.
"He's never getting out again."
Théodred: Ah, so there is passion in you, buried so deep you're almost afraid to let it out … you're afraid to let him out. You're afraid he won't leave … or of what he'll do when he's here? Maybe both. I sit back and watch you rage, you eyes flashing, fists clenching, and it strikes me how like my cousin you are. The angry determination on your face so like Éomer. If you are truly as headstrong as he is, it explains why you fight each other.
Something crosses your face, you almost lost that tight grip you have on yourself and I wonder how much it would take to make you really let go, if that would release the hold you have over him? Not that it would be any real solution to the problem. But my eyes narrow at the vehemence in your last words, rationality forgotten.
"Do you really think you have that much of a say in this? If you won't let him out of your own free will, he needs only to wait until the next time you are weakened in some way to make his escape from you."
Karl: I nearly laugh at your suggestion that he will get out someday. And mentally wrap another chain around him.
"It doesn't matter if he does, this isn't his world, and he can't stay here. He'll have to go back eventually." And when he does, then I will lock him up tighter the next time. He'll cease to exist eventually and I'll be free of him.
I've got my control back and I won't let you provoke me any more. But I'm curious. "So tell me . . . uh, Théodred. Why do you care so much if Éomer comes to this world? You can always see him in yours. Although, he's is so irritating and aggravating, I can't imagine why you would ever want to see him."
Théodred: Your control is amazing, the way you rein in your anger, not allowing it to be used against you, and I ease back on my own, much preferring to talk this out if we can, though not totally ruling out the possibility of violence. Éomer failed to tell me that his shift was highly unstable.
"He doesn't want to stay here, Karl. He wants the freedom to come here when life in Rohan pushes him to seek an escape for a short time, as do I. Fighting the darkness that threatens our land day in day out isn't easy, and I think it is even harder for him than it is for me." On my return to Rohan after I first met with Éomer, I had
asked him if he had ever visited a tavern called the Ship, as we had agreed we would, but both his words and his eyes said no, which leads me to believe that the man I met here was older than the one I know in Edoras. "And to find there is a place like this, where there is no war, no daily struggle, a place where it is easy to forget, for a time, the bloodshed, the death …" I lower my eyes for a moment, my words having brought unwanted images to mind, images I come here to leave behind. "Surely you can see why we visit this place?" I finish my ale, and set the empty bottle on the table.
If I let you know the truth …no, not quite the truth. "We rarely find the time to spend together. My command is stationed at Helm's Deep and I can be away from Edoras for months at a time. We became very close growing up and I miss his company. You can understand that, wanting to spend time with friends, companions?" And now a little
truth that you perhaps have a hard time admitting to.
"Yes, he can be headstrong, and stubborn, but I think the reason you find him irritating is that he reminds you too much of yourself."
Karl: Ouch, I had forgotten how perceptive Paris is. But now you are telling me . . . what? that Wellington is where the horse lords come for vacation? That's ridiculous.
But you have struck near the truth. "Yes, he is like me because he is just a product of my sick mind. He doesn't exist and neither do you." It’s so hard to give up the idea that he is just a sick fantasy of mine, that I take refuge in its familiarity. You are pushing me too hard.
I finish my drink and wipe my hand over my mouth. "But when he takes over, he does it without my permission, he gets me in all sorts of trouble and then he leaves me to sort out the mess. So I'll keep him locked away as long as I can."
Théodred: "We don't exist?" For a second, I stare at you, just to check you are being serious, and then burst out laughing. You look at me with amazement on your face, which only makes me laugh harder. It takes a while to get it under control, and I have to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "You … thought us up? I'm sorry, but that is the funniest thing I have heard for a while." I can see my amusement isn't helping matters, so pull myself together and get back to the practical issues.
"Have you ever tried to talk to him, really talk to him, explain to him why you try to keep him away? Reasoned with him?" Although now I know where the problem lies, I can't see either of you listening to the other. "He is headstrong, but he is not bad. He cares about your welfare, he helps heal you when you are injured, does he not? Are those the actions of someone who deliberately wants to hurt you?"
I leave you to think that over, and go for more drinks at the bar which gives me a chance to think. Setting our ales down on the table, I make you an offer. "Let me talk to him. If I can give you a week's peace, you let him come here for a day and a night, and I give you my word he won't get you into trouble."
Karl: I decide not to explain to the laughing idiot across from me that, no I didn't think you up, some crazy Brit with apparently way too much time on his hands did.
You wander off leaving me totally aghast at your suggestion. Talk to him? Have an imaginary conversation with my imaginary enemy? It's bad enough the my dreaming mind conjures him, but to deliberately try to talk to him? That's ludicrous. And getting way more twisted than I can deal with.
And then you completely blow my mind with your ridiculous offer. How the fuck do you think you can control him? If I accept that he's real, just for shits and giggles, his record doesn't indicate that anyone can control him. He runs off after Orcs without permission, against direct orders, and with hardly any back up. He charges into ranks of enemies when he's totally outnumbered. And, though Tolkien discreetly doesn't mention it, he evidently fucks anything that moves, including his own cousin.
My eyes narrow as that little bit of information comes back into my memory. "Oh? And just what will you do with him on that day and night? And what makes you think he will listen to you?"
Théodred: I look straight into those fiery green gold eyes of yours, so like Mer's yet so different, and smile. "I'll keep him company." Your fingers are moving on the table, and I reach out and still them with mine. "And he'll listen to me because he would never disobey an order I gave him."
My thumb moves over yours. "What have you got to lose? If he dared to disobey me, you are no worse off. If he does as I say, you have a week of peace, guaranteed. But if you agree, I need to talk to him." I take my hand away and lean back in my chair, knocking back the Jack, waiting for your answer.
Karl: You stroke your thumb over my hand and I get a little shiver. "God, does it run in your fucking family?"
You look at me puzzled and I pull my hand away. "He uses seduction to get what he wants too."
You sit there calmly sipping your drink, while I twine my fingers in my hair, this whole conversation is making my head bloody hurt. This whole thing is surreal, you look like Paris, but you don't act like him. I'm tempted to tell you where the family habit of recklessness (let's not forget little sis, either, shall we?) is going to lead you. But I figure your ultimate fate is Paris' business, not mine. However, I remember that Bernard suggested this exact thing to me, and he’s one of the most rational people I know. Maybe he was right.
"You don't know what you are asking me. I've never deliberately tried to call him, he just busts in when I can't fight him off. This is . . . the whole idea . . . I just don't know." I can't believe I'm actually considering this.
Théodred: "I do know what I'm asking. I'm asking that you give this a chance, and I'm asking that you trust me. And I know you have no reason to do that. I can help you bring him out, and I give you my word that you will be back here with me within ten minutes." At least you are now thinking about it.
"Karl, it is obvious to anyone who cares to look that you're not happy. I saw your face out there in the alley. There was not one single spark of pleasure in your eyes. Are you that afraid of letting go? You think that if you do, he'll break through?" After talking to you tonight, I understand why you are reluctant to let him shift in. I can't believe the two of you have come to such an impasse. "How long have you lived like this?"
Karl: How long have I lived like this? I glare at you, wishing you weren't wearing Paris' face, wishing I could wipe that expression off of it.
"Since the morning I woke up naked in bed with my best friend's lover. Now, I may not be some noble warrior type of guy, but I do have my own concept of honor. And doing the horizontal grind with someone who belongs to a friend violates my honor."
And the memory of what I have done to Dave settles the ice back around my heart.
Théodred: You are as stubborn as he is!! I can see your guard fly back up, and start to despair of trying to reach you, but I have to give this one more go. It's either that, or knock you senseless each time I want to see him. At least the way you woke up wasn't Éomer's fault.
"I agree, it was not the best situation, but that was my fault, no-one else's. I watched as he shifted out, fascinated as he turned into you, and I was reluctant to leave you. I could have gone through to Paris' room, and left you to sleep alone, but I chose not to, and for that, I apologise." I almost add that it will not happen again, but I think that reminding you of why I am keen for Éomer to shift in will probably antagonise you further.
"My offer still stands, and I think you have more sense than my pigheaded cousin has. Let me talk to him."
Karl: I stare at you, knowing I must look like a complete idiot with my mouth hanging open, but you have caught me completely and totally off guard with your apology. I sort through what your said, trying to figure out what has me so shocked. Not the words themselves, I know you are trying to get me to do what you want, and trying to get on my good side by apologizing and complimenting my good sense.
But . . . your voice got so tender. He really means something to you. I think back on what I know about him and you. You were killed, Théoden was killed, Éowyn left him. Éomer ended up King of the Mark at age twenty-eight and abandoned by everyone he loved.
And for both of us to find peace, to stop hurting each other . . .
"If I let you do this, if I admit that a figment of my imagination has a right to a little happiness . . . where does that leave me?" You look at me strangely. Shit, I didn't mean to say that aloud. "Then I have to accept that the whole world has gone crazy and it's not just me. That terrifies me."
Théodred: There is something more behind your words that you would keep from me, but there isn't time to dwell on that now.
"I fully admit that when I chanced on you tonight, my sole aim was to persuade you to allow Éomer to travel more freely between our worlds, and I would have used all means at my disposal, including seduction." I give you a wry grin. "But talking to you, getting to know you and how my cousin as made his presence felt, has given me an understanding of what you need. Your welfare is as important to me as his, Karl so think on this. If you have conjured us up, and Éomer is nothing more than a part of you, are you not simply allowing yourself that happiness? At the same time benefitting from seven days of peace, of freedom from the possibility that he will try and force his way through."
I can see you have a proud spirit, so your admission of how you feel touches me deeply. "We are all a little crazy, my friend, no matter which world we come from. What makes you think you are alone in that? And wouldn't you rather chance living in a crazy world than live the rest of your life like this?" I have to curb my instinct to reach out and touch your face, wishing I could smooth away the furrow on your brow. "You have nothing to lose with this, and so much to gain."
Karl: I struggle against the feeling that I am being managed, but drawn to what appears to be your simple honesty. Which makes me suspicious. King's sons get extra training in diplomacy, I guess.
I hunch against myself, fighting the weariness that I feel, not physical, the drugs have seen to that, but the spiritual. Fighting for my independence from the ghost that won't leave me alone.
You are not offering a permanent solution, which is depressing, but maybe I should just take a chance on peace for a time. Perhaps you can manage Éomer as well as you do me.
I look at you, hoping you can give me what you've promised. "All right."
Théodred: It pains me to see the almost haunted look in your eyes, and reminds me that I have my own problems to sort out also. I now need Paris' help, if I am to spend any length of time here myself. An apology or two is owed to him too. And I cannot let him become as you are although he does seem more accepting of this shifting.
When you finally give me your answer, I let out a sigh of relief and nod at you. "You will not regret this." I finish my ale off, and lean over the table, lowering my voice.
"Perhaps this is not the best place to let him out. Somewhere private would be better. Will you come back to the warehouse with me?"
Karl: You mention the warehouse, shit, where Paris lives. I never wanted to see that place again. I didn't really think this through, but maybe I should have a rational conversation with Paris. I may have to if Éomer spends much time with his cousin. I look at you, speculatively. You went to a lot of effort to convince me to try this. I just hope horseboy makes it worth your time. And I hope he appreciates you.
But as much as I don't want to face Paris again, I've put my fate in your hands, hoping you can fix some of the things that are wrong with my life. "Okay."
You give me an encouraging smile and usher me out of the bar. I follow you down the dark streets, trying to push away my nervousness, wondering how the fuck you talked me into this, but my pride won't let me back out now.
Théodred: We walk in silence, and before too long, we are back in the place I am becoming to think of as my home here. Taking off my jacket, and motioning for you to sit on the couch, I find a bottle of whisky, which is new to me, and a couple of glasses, and head back sitting down beside you.
"You've never done this before?" You shake your head, and I hand you a drink. "When I look for Paris after I've been here, I reach back in my mind until I can feel him, and nudge him forward. As he slips in, it feels like I'm falling backwards, until I am back in my own body. When Paris leaves, I feel him fall back into darkness. I somehow don't think you will have to look far for Éomer." I knock back my drink and you do the same, wariness on your face. "It may be different for you, but here …" I grasp your hands. "Anchor yourself on me. I won't let you fall."
Karl: I try to let my mind drift, try to find him, but I'm so cold. I'm so used to fighting him off that I'm having a hard time switching gears. Why doesn't he blast his way through? When I'm trying to find him for the first time ever, why can't I?
I try to remember all the times that he's overwhelmed my will, try to remember what that felt like. I grip your hands, hard, I know I must be hurting you, but bugger that. You're a warrior, you should be able to deal with it.
I close my eyes, remembering the dream I had a few weeks ago, seeing him like that, relaxed, acting like he cared about me. I draw his face in my mind . . . and then he's standing there holding my hands instead of you. His hair is down again, but he looks weary. He looks at me with sad eyes, "Karl . . ." I shake my head and release his hands and step away into nothing.
Théodred: Your hands tighten on mine, the pain inconsequential and I watch a frown of concentration settle on your face. Then your hands loosen momentarily, before they grip even harder, and I stare in wonder as your features shift, just a little, your hair paling as it grows, your form literally growing larger before my eyes, and I fear for your clothes but that is easily forgotten, despite the ripping sound, when your eyes open and I'm staring into your eyes, Mer … but your eyes are so full of sadness. I let go of your hands, and run my hand up the side of you face, thumb moving gently over the dark circle below your eye.
"Mer, what is wrong?" I pull you to me, wrapping my arms around you, holding you close for a moment before pulling back to look at you. "Tell me what is wrong."
Éomer: When I open my eyes, you are there at last and I want hurl myself into your arms and never let you go. And then your hands are gentle on my face, asking me what is wrong.
"I have tried so hard to reach you, Théo, but Karl is stronger than I have ever seen him. He has never let his guard down even once. And I tried to ride to you in Rohan, just to see you, but the raids are increasing and I could not leave my Riders. I couldn't leave my command just to go chasing after you at Helm's Deep."
I shudder at the memory of endless hours pounding against the stone wall of Karl's hatred and lean into you.
Théodred: The way you shiver alarms me, and I pull you closer, your head resting on my shoulder as I stroke your hair, your arms slipping round my waist. "I'm here now." And now I have you here, I don't want to send you away again, and why should I? Why should I deny us this time together? Silently cursing, I sigh against your hair. Because I gave my word, promised him peace, and that is what I cannot deny.
So you have given your all to return here, and Karl has exhausted himself keeping you at bay. So alike, so utterly alike. Then something you say makes me smile. Your command. You must have made Third Marshall, and that is something we will have to celebrate, but later, when I have you to myself for longer. First, I have to convince you to leave Karl alone.
"Be careful, my stallion. It is not safe to openly show what we have found here back home in Rohan." You raise your head to look at me, and I lower my lips to yours, the kiss soft at first, as I savour your taste, but my hands dig into your hair, and yours into mine, your tongue slips into my mouth and I suckle on it greedily. Then you're pressing me back against the couch as we devour each other, and I remember the feel of you as I rode you … Gasping for breath, I pull your head back with your hair so I can talk to you. "I spoke to Karl, he is willing to let you stay here for a day and a night, but it is on
condition that you leave him alone for seven whole days."
Éomer: I bury my nose in your neck, inhaling, breathing in your scent and it tells me more than anything else that I have finally found a way back to you. My lips start wandering and my hands follow as well. "Of course, I'm not going to reveal this in Rohan, but I just wanted to see you. I haven't lost all sense. I just . . . I haven't seen you since that night."
I'm enjoying the feel of you under me, pressing myself down into you, suddenly achingly hard, wanting to wrap myself around you. But you tug my hair, pulling me to face you.
"You spoke to Karl? Why should I wait a whole week to be with you? And who's seven days are we talking about? I will just stay now and worry about him later."
Théodred: I let my head fall back, and let out a long sigh, leaving go of your hair. Have I just spent half the night persuading Karl to accept these terms, only to have to spend the rest of it convincing you? My head is beginning to hurt. As my father is fond of telling me, I am not a natural diplomat, although I think he would be proud of my efforts so far tonight, even if he didn't approve of my intended goal.
Wriggling out from under you, I get to my feet, taking myself away from temptation while I talk to you. "We … I placed Karl in a dishonourable position after the night we spent together. When you left, I chose to fall asleep wrapped around your memory, and Karl feels he was dishonoured by waking up with Paris, my shift, and also the lover of his best friend. It has made him very resentful of your visits here, which is why he has kept you from coming back." And now the part I know you are not going to like.
"I gave him my word that you would leave him in peace for one of his weeks. I gave him my word, Mer."
Éomer: Karl has a sense of honour? All the denizens of this world I have ever encountered have been so caught up in their own pleasure that I had thought such concepts did not exist here.
"You gave him your word?" I sigh, knowing that is the one argument which I cannot counter. Your honour I do not doubt. And I will not be the cause of you being foresworn.
At least one of his weeks is shorter than one of mine, as far as I have been able to tell. I have no choice but to trust that you have worked this bargain for us the best you can. But I can no longer bear to not touch you so I stand and wrap my arms around your waist.
"What must I do?"
Théodred: Why did I doubt you for even a second? I snake my arms around your neck, and kiss you hard, your hands grasping my buttocks, pulling me so tight against you, I can feel your hard flesh pressing against mine.
"We only have minutes before you must return. For the next seven days, you must not touch his mind in any way. No contact at all. In a week's time, he will reach for you again. Then you can shift in and I will be waiting for you, I promise, but until he reaches out for you, nothing must pass between you."
Your fingers rake down my back, making me gasp, and I know I should be telling you to go, but the thought of another week apart has me pulling your shirt from your leggings, needing the feel of your skin.
Éomer: Your hands are on me and I'm having a hard time concentrating on your orders. "Agreed," I mutter against your lips.
Only minutes? This is torture. I slide my hands under your shirt, knowing the same hunger that you seem to feel to get skin to skin. I slip my hands into your breeches, curving my fingers around your firm muscles, dragging you into my erection, making sure that you have no doubt how difficult this week will be for me.
Théodred: The feel of your strong hands kneading me has me thrusting my hips against you, moaning into your mouth, and I know if you don't leave soon, you'll be here for the night. With a groan, I pull back. "If you don't go now, I won't be able to let you go. I promise I'll be waiting for you …. I promise …" I hiss as you leave blistering kisses on my neck, nipping the skin before staring me down with those intense eyes filled full of lust and need, and your mouth locks onto mine once more.
Éomer: You're mouth opens under mine so hotly and hungrily, that I want to ravish you, to take everything I can from you and leave us both mindless, drowning in it. But your promise holds us both now and we finally slow down, our lips just brushing, breathing each other in, our arms wrapped around each other. And I can't bear it any longer, if I don't go, I'll grab you and carry you off somewhere and we'll both be lost.
"Farewell, Théo, I'll wait to be called." And I let my sense of myself go and let Karl come back.
Théodred: I will never cease to be amazed at the change, the shift, although I dearly wish it didn't have to happen so soon. One moment, I'm holding my beloved cousin, the next, Karl's features slowly reappear, and his stunned eyes stare back at me as I hold him steady against me, my erection still very obviously pressed against him. He tenses as he takes a deep breath. Still feeling a sense of intimacy with the body in my arms, I push back a strand of hair from his face, which is so close to mine. My other hand moves possessively on his back, ignoring the ripped seam of his shirt, and I murmur sadly.
"You have your week of freedom."
Karl: I come back to myself once more wrapped up with what appears to be Paris, but I pray for the sake of my sanity that it is Théodred. When you speak I realize that I am safe for now and I ignore the fact that Éomer once again left me . . . dangling. But it feels so good just to be held by someone for the first time in a long time that I sag in your arms, until your hands run up my back.
"My shirt is torn," I say blankly.
You give a strangled sort of laugh and lead me to the couch, settling me against the cushions.
"What do I need to do when my week is up?" I'm too tired to sort this out and happy to leave the planning up to you, since you seem so good at it.
Théodred: I stick my finger through the tear in the fabric of your shirt, taking care not to touch your skin, and shrug. "He is bigger than you." Sitting close enough for you to lean against me if you need to, but not close enough to crowd you, I wonder why I have begun to treat you like a skittish colt.
"Meet me in the tavern we drank in tonight, take me to your home, find him as you did tonight, and I will wake you when he has gone. That is all I ask." I know Éomer will do as I have asked, and wonder what you will do with this freedom from his intrusion.
"And I want you to do something for me. Find someone who's touch pleases you, who you can take real pleasure in, and spend time with them. You have denied yourself this for too long, I can see it in your eyes." My fingers push through your hair, as I smile, fascinated by the dark silky strands, so different from Mer's long blonde hair and let a teasing note enter my voice. "I would offer to take on this task as it would not be too much of a hardship, but I don't think you would be interested. Though I am curious to know whether that is because if who I am, or because of who I look like."
Karl: I just sit, too exhausted by the stress of the past hour to do anything. You make your surprising offer and you seem sincere, but . . .
"I can't, Théodred. You are very kind, and I like you very much. If things were different, perhaps. But you look exactly like Paris, and I'm having a hard enough time with this without getting confused by desiring someone wearing his body. I promise, I'll try to relax in the next week, and I'll meet you at the pub at the same time."
I stay for a few more minutes, but now I need to go. I get to my feet. "Thank you, Théodred, but I need to get home. I'll see you." I leave, hoping I won’t regret my one moment of empathy for a ghost.
Théodred: After locking the house up after Karl leaves, I down one more whisky, putting the bottle back where I found it, and rinsing the glasses before putting them away. One week. Seven whole days before I can see him, touch him ... sighing I head for Paris' bed.
I hadn't expected Karl to accept what I was offering, and I can understand why he didn't, but still he intrigues me. I think it is the similarities and differences between him and my cousin that draw me to him. Although maybe life would be simpler for both of them without their shared stubborn streak.
Stripping off Paris' clothes I slip in between the sheets, my head sinking into his pillow.
But enough thinking. I came here tonight looking for an escape, and a night of negotiation certainly isn't that, but at least it got me what I wanted. Almost. Now all I have to do is talk to Paris, and get him to agree.
But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Reaching back to nudge him forward, I let him begin to slip back in as I fall asleep. I am tired of talking too. Just plain tired …
