Théodred and Karl: How Far Will You Go?
Jan. 21st, 2005 05:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlTakes place directly after A Promise Kept, Part 2.
Karl: I wake up to sunlight slanting across the end of my bed, and I stretch lazily, feeling my muscles flexing. But I realize that I’m naked and terror freezes my heart. I don’t move, afraid of what I’ll find, but I open my eyes and turn my head to the side. I’m in my own bed, and I’m alone. Relief floods me and I think how warped is my life that I’m happy to wake up alone. But I feel amazingly contented and relaxed, almost like I could purr. I can’t remember waking up feeling this good, in well . . . forever. I roll over to my side, smiling, to look out the window at my forest, but I’m startled to see someone partially blocking the light.
My heart is pounding again, until he moves. “Théodred?” Oh, god, please don’t be Paris.
He comes out of the patch of sunlight and I can see him better. I think I have seen him enough to know the difference now. He doesn’t move like Paris, he moves with the easy grace of someone used to being on horseback, and his face is older somehow, or maybe it’s just the look in his eyes.
You kept the bargain, I think happily
Théodred: Looking down over the trees as Karl sleeps, my mind wanders. When did it change? When did I start to think of Éomer as anything more than the boy who saw me as a mentor, an older brother? I can remember the precise moment. When he was 17, we had been separated by duty for over six months when I returned to Edoras from Helm's Deep, tired and dusty from the journey home. Comrades not seen for months came to greet us as we rode into the stable yard, and as I turned to dismount, I saw a tall man walking through the throng, obviously looking for someone. His stature, the proud grace of his movements caught my eye, curious as to who this stranger was that knew my men so well. Something drew me to him, perhaps the strong set of his shoulders or the long hair blowing around his face, obscuring it as he came closer, and I knew this was the one I wanted in my bed that night. My brow creased as he grasped Brego's bridle and I swung out of the saddle to land in front of him, his face finally revealed to me seconds before he pulled me to him, arms crushing me against his broad chest. Pulling back, he slipped his arm around my shoulder, dragging me towards the Golden Hall with a grin. "It is good to see you Théo!!" It took me a moment to reply. "It is good to see you too, Mer. You've grown!" The boy was gone, replaced by the man who stood before me, so vibrant, so beautiful, and so totally and utterly untouchable …
Karl stirs in the bed behind me, and I turn to look at him, his body loosely covered with a sheet, skin glowing in the last of the evening sunlight. I leave my memories behind and sit down on the bed, studying him as I did for so long after Mer left me, noting every tiny difference between them. I could have stayed in bed, wrapped myself around him, had him waking to pleasure, taken him in his sleep haze, but I knew that would shatter the fragile trust we have built, so chose to let him wake alone. I can wait.
"Yes Karl, it is Théodred." I cannot keep the sadness from my voice. "Did I not promise I would be here when you woke? I trust you slept well?"
Karl: I stifle another yawn and sit up, pulling the sheet around me. This worked out really well, Éomer leaves me alone so I can live my life, and after he pops in and has his fun, I feel like I've been on a vacation. I smile at you, pleased with life. But you sound depressed.
"I did sleep well, but you don't sound happy. Horseboy not worth the effort?"
I get out of bed, dragging the sheet with me, my stomach suddenly growling and start hunting around for some clothes. I hope the blonde bastard was good to you, because I really want to continue my freedom, and if he isn't cooperating, you're not going to have any incentive to control him.
Théodred: "Not worth the effort?" Before you can move far, my hand darts out and grabs your arm hard, pulling you closer, my eyes flashing dangerously. "Horseboy??" I think perhaps you forget who you are dealing with. "My cousin has a name, and you would do well to use it if you want to continue your freedom. This is no game, Karl."
Letting go of your arm I push you away, and head off to find Paris' clothes, my anger barely contained.
Karl: I shake my head at my own stupidity, good job, Urban, letting your mouth get you into trouble again. I may hate Éomer, but Théodred clearly doesn't. I groan as I pull on my clothes, shit. I'm going to have to go apologize to the man who's been fucking his cousin in my bed. I wonder glumly if my life can get any weirder, but that's not a good direction for my thoughts, because there's no telling how weird things can get around here.
I come downstairs to find you angrily pulling your clothes on. I walk over to you slowly, not sure of your temper, knowing that Éomer would probably have just hit me by now, hoping you're more mature. I touch your arm hesitantly.
"Look, I'm sorry I insulted him." I shrug helplessly. "I told you I don't like him, but you're right, that was unnecessary." I slide my hand down your arm, squeezing your hand. "I feel wonderful right now, relaxed and rested. It worked out fine and I know I have you to thank for that."
Théodred: Downstairs, I find Paris' clothes, and pull on his jeans, hearing you follow me, but not wanting to look at you, not right now. So your touch startles me, as does your apology and as your hand slips into mine, flesh that was his not so long ago … my anger fades. I need you, your co-operation in order to spend time with him. You can give me what I want, and in return, I will give you what you need. And if I have to curb my feelings to get this done, so be it. But perhaps a little sport would not hurt. Your hand has lingered for a moment, and my fingers twine with yours, wondering how
long it will take you to pull away.
"I am glad you feel rested. You look healthier too. I told you what the best method of relaxation was … a little pleasure can certainly help, but a lot of pleasure …" I leave that hanging, deciding not to add that it seems to work even if you are not in your own body at the time. You are standing close, my eyes on yours as I tell you what I think you really want to hear. "You have another week … but there are conditions."
Karl: Conditions. I drop your hand, wondering if my own idiocy brought this on, or if you had it planned all along. I shut Dave's voice out of my head, saying that you weren't trustworthy, because I so desperately need to trust you. I feel like I am out of my depth, but putting my fate in your hands has worked so far.
I try to pretend that I am my agent negotiating my salary for my next film, try to get in the mind frame to deal with you.
"All right, what are the conditions?"
Théodred: Your hand falls from mine, and I can see yesterday's nervousness returning.
"Talk to him before the week is up. You say you do not like him, but I think you have simply never tried to get to know him. I see your stubborn streak, Karl, so much like his, and you have been fighting each other for too long. I want your word you will talk to him."
I can see by your face that you were expecting something else, and there is something else, a whim of my own, but this is what I really need you to agree to.
"Do I have your word?"
Karl: Talk to him? All right, I'll ignore for now that I don't want to talk to him, even though everyone from Bernard to Gareth seems to think I should, I don't have the slightest idea how to. I begin to sputter, "How the fuck am I supposed to talk to him? If he's here, I'm not, and vice versa, sort of hard to hold a conversation when there's only one person present."
I glare at you, oh, great and wise Prince of Rohan, and I’m thinking you don't bloody know enough about shifting, but luckily for my continued health I mange to keep those thoughts safely locked up in my brain.
Théodred: It is like talking to a child.
"You have spent so much energy locking him out, and tying him down." The memory of his eyes a week ago, so tired and dark from his constant battles with you is still vivid in my mind, so different from how he was this time. "You know how to find him, all you have to do is reach out with that same energy and pull him to you. He will be waiting for you, and will answer if you call to him. Do not be afraid that he will try and shift. He will not. I give you my word on that."
I spot Paris' shirt, and slip my arms in the sleeves as I speak. "One conversation. Give me your word, and you have another week's peace."
Karl: I frown trying to understand this idea. "So I just pull on him, but instead of me leaving, I just stay there? And when we're done, he leaves?" You nod, still working on getting dressed.
"Is there an agenda for this talk? A list of subjects you want me to cover?" Dammit, I have got to get my mouth under control because I see you bristling again.
"All right, all right, I'll do it. I promise. But you said 'conditions.' That's only one. I sort of assumed that you wanted him to shift in for another day. Was there anything else?"
Théodred: I draw breath to let loose a tirade but you back down, and promise me you will do as I ask.
"A week of peace will always end in a day that Éomer can spend here, that is a given, not a new condition." I can see you open your mouth to protest, but wave any objections you might have aside. "But there is one more thing, a whim, if you like. Then you can take me back to the warehouse on your bike, and you won't see me for seven days." You look at me with curiosity and I move closer.
"Kiss me."
Karl: I gape at you. "What? Why?"
And I step back, my mouth already running. "I told you about that whole Paris thing . . . I mean, god knows, you look exactly like him . . . but fuck if you act like him . . . and you sure as fuck don't move like him . . . I'd never get you two confused, not anymore . . . but . . . you're fucking wearing his body . . . and god . . . do you do that on purpose . . . are you trying to drive me completely nutters?"
I shut my mouth abruptly because you are looking at me like I have indeed lost my mind. I rake my hands through my hair. God, Urban, one fucking kiss . . . I can close my eyes and think of England and forget it's Paris' body.
"Fine. Let's get it over with."
Théodred: "Get it over with?" I roll my eyes then grin at you. "That would have hurt the pride of a lesser man, but lucky for you, mine is not that easily bruised." I want to know how different kissing you will be compared to kissing Mer. The fact you share the same … substance fascinates me. Not exactly the same body, but with many similar physical attributes. It makes me curious about a lot of things.
You are standing in front of me, body rigid, mouth clamped shut, almost twitching to be away from here and I can safely say that you are the first person I have come across who would reject my advances if they had a choice. I can see a diversionary tactic is needed for this to work to my satisfaction.
Grasping your waist with both hands, I pull you hard against me. Your mouth opens with a gasp, and my lips are on yours before you have time to protest, gently but firmly kissing you, exploring your mouth as my arms slip around you.
Karl: Your sudden move surprises me, and when I open my mouth to protest, your tongue is already there. I'm off-balance and I grab your shoulders and your arms come around my waist.
Your tongue isn't demanding, but lazily probes my mouth, tangling with my own tongue, sliding against it, your hands holding me firmly in place. I stand still, letting you do what you want, but it has been too long . . . too long since someone kissed me like this, just slowly exploring my mouth, too long since I have felt real desire. My tongue moves tentatively against yours, and the feel of slick muscle sliding against me sends a bolt of desire straight to my balls. You tilt your head, your tongue no longer thrusting into my mouth, but teasing, withdrawing with light licks.
I resist for a bit, but with a groan, I open my mouth and send my tongue snaking after yours, my breathing coming fast and hard. You drag me against you and I know you feel my arousal, and desire races through me at every place we are touching.
Some part of my brain is shrieking what are you doing, you crazy fuck?, but the rest of my brain is so awash in hormones that I ignore the voice of reason and give in to the feelings, clinging to your shoulders.
Théodred: There is a difference to your taste, a flavour that is completely yours, not his, but after half expecting to be pushed away, the feel of your tongue moving hesitantly against mine makes me forget my original intent, aching for more and when you finally give in to my tempting and kiss me back with a groan, my arms tighten around you.
At the feel of your erection, I push my hips against yours, leaving you in no doubt that I feel the same desire that you do. One hand moves on your back on top of your shirt, until the fingers can dig into your silky hair as my other arm continues to hold you tight against me. You bolted from my touch last time, and you feel too good to easily let go this time.
I want to move my mouth to your neck, ease your shirt off your shoulders and taste your skin, but know I have to move slowly, so my kiss changes, my tongue swirling around yours, then thrusting deep and slow into your mouth, alternating the movements, my hips rocking against yours in time with the thrusts of my tongue.
Karl: If I had any doubts about shifting before, they are completely erased by this kiss. I have never kissed Paris before, but I have held him, but this man holding me is not Paris. And nobody in this world has ever kissed me like you do, like the veneer of civilization is just that, a veneer that can be easily scraped back to reveal the wildness underneath.
And the part of me that was so thrilled to be cast as Éomer, the barbarian warrior-king, that part of me wants to meet your wildness with my own. But the other part of me is too frightened to do that, afraid that if I let it out, I'll never get it back under control.
But your tongue is fucking my mouth, and your cock is grinding into mine, and your hands are in my hair, and I reach under your arm to bring my hand to your shoulder and my other pulls our hips together more tightly.
And my mind is starting to drown in the sensations you are evoking, but before I give in to it completely, I twist my lips away, but you won't let me go. "This isn't a game." I throw your earlier words back at you. "Don't play games with me."
Théodred: As you pull me hard against you a thrill runs down my spine. I can feel you unraveling beneath my fingers, you want more, I can feel it, I can taste it in your kiss. I want to push you to the ground, run my hand over your hard flesh before tasting it, before taking you …
You pull away from me, something holding you back, but I cannot let you out of my arms. There is a tension in you that almost demands release, but you have ignored it for so long it is bubbling to the surface, and you fear it, I can see it in your eyes.
"No, this is no game." I growl before my mouth latches onto your neck. Your words say one thing, but your body is speaking a different language. I would never take what was not freely given, never needed to, but I need to know whether I should listen to your body or your words. "Let go," I murmur across your skin. "Whatever you hold back, let it go, set it free …"
Karl: I wrench away from you, the effort of leaving your embrace costing me a few moments to regain my speech. My body is aching for you, my hands want to roam freely over you, I want . . . but it doesn't matter.
"You've proved your point, you can get me to respond to you. You're fucking gorgeous and you're strong . . . and certain. Everything I like."
I raise my hand as you try to come closer. "No, I can't do it, I can't be what you want me to. I can't let the wildness out, the part of me that wants to take and ravish and forget the consequences. You don't know what you're asking."
"Just . . . let me take you back to the warehouse, let's just keep this business between us."
Théodred: Once again you pull away and this time I let you go with a growl of frustration, knowing how much you want this, want me, but knowing that for today, the moment is over, and your guard has gone straight back up. One last attempt, but you make it clear what you do not want, and I let out a sigh, my body craving your touch. But hearing what it is you want to keep inside makes me want you all the more so I ignore the fact you want this to be purely business.
"When you are ready to let out that wildness, I'll be waiting." I find Paris' jacket right where I left it. "But don't leave it too long, it is not wise to keep something like that inside forever."
I pull the jacket on, and rummage round in the pockets to check that Paris’ housekeys are still there before we set off. "So where is this bike of yours?" After this latest setback, which has left me so hard and aching for you, riding back behind you on the bike doesn't sound as appealing as it would have done an hour ago, but it is either that or your truck, and that I swore I would never travel in again.
Karl: I don't point out to you that I've managed to mostly keep it inside my whole life, even though meeting you has severely tested my limits in that regard. But I'm afraid of the consequences if I let go, and I don't think you, as strong as you are, could face it.
I push away the lust, saving it for later, when I'm alone, when I can think about what I would do to you without fear of it coming true.
My stomach rumbles again and I stop by the kitchen to grab a banana, wondering if you fed Éomer at all. I peel it hurriedly and head for the barn. "Just pull the door, no point in locking it. Bike's in the barn, ever ridden one before?"
At your negative gesture, I turn and give you a wide smile. Maybe I can make up for leaving you hanging like I did. "I'll show you how, it's not so hard."
Théodred: I pull the door shut and follow you, waiting outside the barn as you ride the bike out and realise that this will solve my problems. I needed to learn how to control these bikes in order to have transport while I am here, so I watch intently as you show me how they work.
How to put it into gear using my hand to pull in the clutch, and my foot to select "first". How to brake, telling me the merits of using the back brake, which I control with my other foot, and the front brake, which I control with my other hand, the same hand that operates the throttle …
You get me to climb up behind you, which makes me grin, but I push aside desire to concentrate on the business at hand, and watch your actions over your shoulder as you put the bike through it's paces, telling me to listen to the engine to assess when I need to change gear, which brake to use when, and I realise it is simply a matter of co-ordination.
Then you stop and slip off, and I slide forward, hands grasping the controls, getting a feel for the bike before I slip it into first, and ride it round the yard, bringing it to a halt right in front of you, grinning. "Does your bike have a name?"
Karl: I never thought about naming it, it's just a machine, not like Smokey or Ire. "No, I never came up with a name. Take this spare helmet, don't ever ride without it, or someone else's. The last thing I need is for Paris to be a vegetable, or worse, because you were careless." He might still be pissed that I showed you, but from what I can tell, you would try it on you own anyway, at least I gave you some idea of safety.
"Climb on, I'll take you back." I get you back to the warehouse without incident and we agree that next time it would be simpler for you to come to me, instead of meeting in Wellie. We part on . . . not exactly friendly terms . . . but not bad either, the tension between us ebbing away.
When I get back to the house, I let Ire out of the barn, laughing as he frisks around. "Yeah, I know, maybe I'll introduce you to the Prince of Rohan next time."
I'm still relaxed from my 'mental vacation' so I just roll my eyes at the mess in the kitchen, instead of cursing the horse lords. I find my clothes in a pile in the living room. By the time I see the disaster in the bathroom, I'm not sure whether I should be mad or not. They made good use of the time together.
PG-13
Karl: I wake up to sunlight slanting across the end of my bed, and I stretch lazily, feeling my muscles flexing. But I realize that I’m naked and terror freezes my heart. I don’t move, afraid of what I’ll find, but I open my eyes and turn my head to the side. I’m in my own bed, and I’m alone. Relief floods me and I think how warped is my life that I’m happy to wake up alone. But I feel amazingly contented and relaxed, almost like I could purr. I can’t remember waking up feeling this good, in well . . . forever. I roll over to my side, smiling, to look out the window at my forest, but I’m startled to see someone partially blocking the light.
My heart is pounding again, until he moves. “Théodred?” Oh, god, please don’t be Paris.
He comes out of the patch of sunlight and I can see him better. I think I have seen him enough to know the difference now. He doesn’t move like Paris, he moves with the easy grace of someone used to being on horseback, and his face is older somehow, or maybe it’s just the look in his eyes.
You kept the bargain, I think happily
Théodred: Looking down over the trees as Karl sleeps, my mind wanders. When did it change? When did I start to think of Éomer as anything more than the boy who saw me as a mentor, an older brother? I can remember the precise moment. When he was 17, we had been separated by duty for over six months when I returned to Edoras from Helm's Deep, tired and dusty from the journey home. Comrades not seen for months came to greet us as we rode into the stable yard, and as I turned to dismount, I saw a tall man walking through the throng, obviously looking for someone. His stature, the proud grace of his movements caught my eye, curious as to who this stranger was that knew my men so well. Something drew me to him, perhaps the strong set of his shoulders or the long hair blowing around his face, obscuring it as he came closer, and I knew this was the one I wanted in my bed that night. My brow creased as he grasped Brego's bridle and I swung out of the saddle to land in front of him, his face finally revealed to me seconds before he pulled me to him, arms crushing me against his broad chest. Pulling back, he slipped his arm around my shoulder, dragging me towards the Golden Hall with a grin. "It is good to see you Théo!!" It took me a moment to reply. "It is good to see you too, Mer. You've grown!" The boy was gone, replaced by the man who stood before me, so vibrant, so beautiful, and so totally and utterly untouchable …
Karl stirs in the bed behind me, and I turn to look at him, his body loosely covered with a sheet, skin glowing in the last of the evening sunlight. I leave my memories behind and sit down on the bed, studying him as I did for so long after Mer left me, noting every tiny difference between them. I could have stayed in bed, wrapped myself around him, had him waking to pleasure, taken him in his sleep haze, but I knew that would shatter the fragile trust we have built, so chose to let him wake alone. I can wait.
"Yes Karl, it is Théodred." I cannot keep the sadness from my voice. "Did I not promise I would be here when you woke? I trust you slept well?"
Karl: I stifle another yawn and sit up, pulling the sheet around me. This worked out really well, Éomer leaves me alone so I can live my life, and after he pops in and has his fun, I feel like I've been on a vacation. I smile at you, pleased with life. But you sound depressed.
"I did sleep well, but you don't sound happy. Horseboy not worth the effort?"
I get out of bed, dragging the sheet with me, my stomach suddenly growling and start hunting around for some clothes. I hope the blonde bastard was good to you, because I really want to continue my freedom, and if he isn't cooperating, you're not going to have any incentive to control him.
Théodred: "Not worth the effort?" Before you can move far, my hand darts out and grabs your arm hard, pulling you closer, my eyes flashing dangerously. "Horseboy??" I think perhaps you forget who you are dealing with. "My cousin has a name, and you would do well to use it if you want to continue your freedom. This is no game, Karl."
Letting go of your arm I push you away, and head off to find Paris' clothes, my anger barely contained.
Karl: I shake my head at my own stupidity, good job, Urban, letting your mouth get you into trouble again. I may hate Éomer, but Théodred clearly doesn't. I groan as I pull on my clothes, shit. I'm going to have to go apologize to the man who's been fucking his cousin in my bed. I wonder glumly if my life can get any weirder, but that's not a good direction for my thoughts, because there's no telling how weird things can get around here.
I come downstairs to find you angrily pulling your clothes on. I walk over to you slowly, not sure of your temper, knowing that Éomer would probably have just hit me by now, hoping you're more mature. I touch your arm hesitantly.
"Look, I'm sorry I insulted him." I shrug helplessly. "I told you I don't like him, but you're right, that was unnecessary." I slide my hand down your arm, squeezing your hand. "I feel wonderful right now, relaxed and rested. It worked out fine and I know I have you to thank for that."
Théodred: Downstairs, I find Paris' clothes, and pull on his jeans, hearing you follow me, but not wanting to look at you, not right now. So your touch startles me, as does your apology and as your hand slips into mine, flesh that was his not so long ago … my anger fades. I need you, your co-operation in order to spend time with him. You can give me what I want, and in return, I will give you what you need. And if I have to curb my feelings to get this done, so be it. But perhaps a little sport would not hurt. Your hand has lingered for a moment, and my fingers twine with yours, wondering how
long it will take you to pull away.
"I am glad you feel rested. You look healthier too. I told you what the best method of relaxation was … a little pleasure can certainly help, but a lot of pleasure …" I leave that hanging, deciding not to add that it seems to work even if you are not in your own body at the time. You are standing close, my eyes on yours as I tell you what I think you really want to hear. "You have another week … but there are conditions."
Karl: Conditions. I drop your hand, wondering if my own idiocy brought this on, or if you had it planned all along. I shut Dave's voice out of my head, saying that you weren't trustworthy, because I so desperately need to trust you. I feel like I am out of my depth, but putting my fate in your hands has worked so far.
I try to pretend that I am my agent negotiating my salary for my next film, try to get in the mind frame to deal with you.
"All right, what are the conditions?"
Théodred: Your hand falls from mine, and I can see yesterday's nervousness returning.
"Talk to him before the week is up. You say you do not like him, but I think you have simply never tried to get to know him. I see your stubborn streak, Karl, so much like his, and you have been fighting each other for too long. I want your word you will talk to him."
I can see by your face that you were expecting something else, and there is something else, a whim of my own, but this is what I really need you to agree to.
"Do I have your word?"
Karl: Talk to him? All right, I'll ignore for now that I don't want to talk to him, even though everyone from Bernard to Gareth seems to think I should, I don't have the slightest idea how to. I begin to sputter, "How the fuck am I supposed to talk to him? If he's here, I'm not, and vice versa, sort of hard to hold a conversation when there's only one person present."
I glare at you, oh, great and wise Prince of Rohan, and I’m thinking you don't bloody know enough about shifting, but luckily for my continued health I mange to keep those thoughts safely locked up in my brain.
Théodred: It is like talking to a child.
"You have spent so much energy locking him out, and tying him down." The memory of his eyes a week ago, so tired and dark from his constant battles with you is still vivid in my mind, so different from how he was this time. "You know how to find him, all you have to do is reach out with that same energy and pull him to you. He will be waiting for you, and will answer if you call to him. Do not be afraid that he will try and shift. He will not. I give you my word on that."
I spot Paris' shirt, and slip my arms in the sleeves as I speak. "One conversation. Give me your word, and you have another week's peace."
Karl: I frown trying to understand this idea. "So I just pull on him, but instead of me leaving, I just stay there? And when we're done, he leaves?" You nod, still working on getting dressed.
"Is there an agenda for this talk? A list of subjects you want me to cover?" Dammit, I have got to get my mouth under control because I see you bristling again.
"All right, all right, I'll do it. I promise. But you said 'conditions.' That's only one. I sort of assumed that you wanted him to shift in for another day. Was there anything else?"
Théodred: I draw breath to let loose a tirade but you back down, and promise me you will do as I ask.
"A week of peace will always end in a day that Éomer can spend here, that is a given, not a new condition." I can see you open your mouth to protest, but wave any objections you might have aside. "But there is one more thing, a whim, if you like. Then you can take me back to the warehouse on your bike, and you won't see me for seven days." You look at me with curiosity and I move closer.
"Kiss me."
Karl: I gape at you. "What? Why?"
And I step back, my mouth already running. "I told you about that whole Paris thing . . . I mean, god knows, you look exactly like him . . . but fuck if you act like him . . . and you sure as fuck don't move like him . . . I'd never get you two confused, not anymore . . . but . . . you're fucking wearing his body . . . and god . . . do you do that on purpose . . . are you trying to drive me completely nutters?"
I shut my mouth abruptly because you are looking at me like I have indeed lost my mind. I rake my hands through my hair. God, Urban, one fucking kiss . . . I can close my eyes and think of England and forget it's Paris' body.
"Fine. Let's get it over with."
Théodred: "Get it over with?" I roll my eyes then grin at you. "That would have hurt the pride of a lesser man, but lucky for you, mine is not that easily bruised." I want to know how different kissing you will be compared to kissing Mer. The fact you share the same … substance fascinates me. Not exactly the same body, but with many similar physical attributes. It makes me curious about a lot of things.
You are standing in front of me, body rigid, mouth clamped shut, almost twitching to be away from here and I can safely say that you are the first person I have come across who would reject my advances if they had a choice. I can see a diversionary tactic is needed for this to work to my satisfaction.
Grasping your waist with both hands, I pull you hard against me. Your mouth opens with a gasp, and my lips are on yours before you have time to protest, gently but firmly kissing you, exploring your mouth as my arms slip around you.
Karl: Your sudden move surprises me, and when I open my mouth to protest, your tongue is already there. I'm off-balance and I grab your shoulders and your arms come around my waist.
Your tongue isn't demanding, but lazily probes my mouth, tangling with my own tongue, sliding against it, your hands holding me firmly in place. I stand still, letting you do what you want, but it has been too long . . . too long since someone kissed me like this, just slowly exploring my mouth, too long since I have felt real desire. My tongue moves tentatively against yours, and the feel of slick muscle sliding against me sends a bolt of desire straight to my balls. You tilt your head, your tongue no longer thrusting into my mouth, but teasing, withdrawing with light licks.
I resist for a bit, but with a groan, I open my mouth and send my tongue snaking after yours, my breathing coming fast and hard. You drag me against you and I know you feel my arousal, and desire races through me at every place we are touching.
Some part of my brain is shrieking what are you doing, you crazy fuck?, but the rest of my brain is so awash in hormones that I ignore the voice of reason and give in to the feelings, clinging to your shoulders.
Théodred: There is a difference to your taste, a flavour that is completely yours, not his, but after half expecting to be pushed away, the feel of your tongue moving hesitantly against mine makes me forget my original intent, aching for more and when you finally give in to my tempting and kiss me back with a groan, my arms tighten around you.
At the feel of your erection, I push my hips against yours, leaving you in no doubt that I feel the same desire that you do. One hand moves on your back on top of your shirt, until the fingers can dig into your silky hair as my other arm continues to hold you tight against me. You bolted from my touch last time, and you feel too good to easily let go this time.
I want to move my mouth to your neck, ease your shirt off your shoulders and taste your skin, but know I have to move slowly, so my kiss changes, my tongue swirling around yours, then thrusting deep and slow into your mouth, alternating the movements, my hips rocking against yours in time with the thrusts of my tongue.
Karl: If I had any doubts about shifting before, they are completely erased by this kiss. I have never kissed Paris before, but I have held him, but this man holding me is not Paris. And nobody in this world has ever kissed me like you do, like the veneer of civilization is just that, a veneer that can be easily scraped back to reveal the wildness underneath.
And the part of me that was so thrilled to be cast as Éomer, the barbarian warrior-king, that part of me wants to meet your wildness with my own. But the other part of me is too frightened to do that, afraid that if I let it out, I'll never get it back under control.
But your tongue is fucking my mouth, and your cock is grinding into mine, and your hands are in my hair, and I reach under your arm to bring my hand to your shoulder and my other pulls our hips together more tightly.
And my mind is starting to drown in the sensations you are evoking, but before I give in to it completely, I twist my lips away, but you won't let me go. "This isn't a game." I throw your earlier words back at you. "Don't play games with me."
Théodred: As you pull me hard against you a thrill runs down my spine. I can feel you unraveling beneath my fingers, you want more, I can feel it, I can taste it in your kiss. I want to push you to the ground, run my hand over your hard flesh before tasting it, before taking you …
You pull away from me, something holding you back, but I cannot let you out of my arms. There is a tension in you that almost demands release, but you have ignored it for so long it is bubbling to the surface, and you fear it, I can see it in your eyes.
"No, this is no game." I growl before my mouth latches onto your neck. Your words say one thing, but your body is speaking a different language. I would never take what was not freely given, never needed to, but I need to know whether I should listen to your body or your words. "Let go," I murmur across your skin. "Whatever you hold back, let it go, set it free …"
Karl: I wrench away from you, the effort of leaving your embrace costing me a few moments to regain my speech. My body is aching for you, my hands want to roam freely over you, I want . . . but it doesn't matter.
"You've proved your point, you can get me to respond to you. You're fucking gorgeous and you're strong . . . and certain. Everything I like."
I raise my hand as you try to come closer. "No, I can't do it, I can't be what you want me to. I can't let the wildness out, the part of me that wants to take and ravish and forget the consequences. You don't know what you're asking."
"Just . . . let me take you back to the warehouse, let's just keep this business between us."
Théodred: Once again you pull away and this time I let you go with a growl of frustration, knowing how much you want this, want me, but knowing that for today, the moment is over, and your guard has gone straight back up. One last attempt, but you make it clear what you do not want, and I let out a sigh, my body craving your touch. But hearing what it is you want to keep inside makes me want you all the more so I ignore the fact you want this to be purely business.
"When you are ready to let out that wildness, I'll be waiting." I find Paris' jacket right where I left it. "But don't leave it too long, it is not wise to keep something like that inside forever."
I pull the jacket on, and rummage round in the pockets to check that Paris’ housekeys are still there before we set off. "So where is this bike of yours?" After this latest setback, which has left me so hard and aching for you, riding back behind you on the bike doesn't sound as appealing as it would have done an hour ago, but it is either that or your truck, and that I swore I would never travel in again.
Karl: I don't point out to you that I've managed to mostly keep it inside my whole life, even though meeting you has severely tested my limits in that regard. But I'm afraid of the consequences if I let go, and I don't think you, as strong as you are, could face it.
I push away the lust, saving it for later, when I'm alone, when I can think about what I would do to you without fear of it coming true.
My stomach rumbles again and I stop by the kitchen to grab a banana, wondering if you fed Éomer at all. I peel it hurriedly and head for the barn. "Just pull the door, no point in locking it. Bike's in the barn, ever ridden one before?"
At your negative gesture, I turn and give you a wide smile. Maybe I can make up for leaving you hanging like I did. "I'll show you how, it's not so hard."
Théodred: I pull the door shut and follow you, waiting outside the barn as you ride the bike out and realise that this will solve my problems. I needed to learn how to control these bikes in order to have transport while I am here, so I watch intently as you show me how they work.
How to put it into gear using my hand to pull in the clutch, and my foot to select "first". How to brake, telling me the merits of using the back brake, which I control with my other foot, and the front brake, which I control with my other hand, the same hand that operates the throttle …
You get me to climb up behind you, which makes me grin, but I push aside desire to concentrate on the business at hand, and watch your actions over your shoulder as you put the bike through it's paces, telling me to listen to the engine to assess when I need to change gear, which brake to use when, and I realise it is simply a matter of co-ordination.
Then you stop and slip off, and I slide forward, hands grasping the controls, getting a feel for the bike before I slip it into first, and ride it round the yard, bringing it to a halt right in front of you, grinning. "Does your bike have a name?"
Karl: I never thought about naming it, it's just a machine, not like Smokey or Ire. "No, I never came up with a name. Take this spare helmet, don't ever ride without it, or someone else's. The last thing I need is for Paris to be a vegetable, or worse, because you were careless." He might still be pissed that I showed you, but from what I can tell, you would try it on you own anyway, at least I gave you some idea of safety.
"Climb on, I'll take you back." I get you back to the warehouse without incident and we agree that next time it would be simpler for you to come to me, instead of meeting in Wellie. We part on . . . not exactly friendly terms . . . but not bad either, the tension between us ebbing away.
When I get back to the house, I let Ire out of the barn, laughing as he frisks around. "Yeah, I know, maybe I'll introduce you to the Prince of Rohan next time."
I'm still relaxed from my 'mental vacation' so I just roll my eyes at the mess in the kitchen, instead of cursing the horse lords. I find my clothes in a pile in the living room. By the time I see the disaster in the bathroom, I'm not sure whether I should be mad or not. They made good use of the time together.
PG-13
