Théo and Éomer: Keeping me strong
Dec. 31st, 2005 05:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonThéo: Early morning light flooding through the bedroom window eases me from sleep. As always, we have twisted and turned around each other in the night. You fell asleep after a lengthy bath last night with your head pillowed on my chest and I ran my fingers through your hair long after you had drifted off. My mind wandered for a while before I joined you, thinking on what happened in the barn, on what you gave me. Now I wake with you curled over my back, an arm slipped around my waist holding me firmly, our legs tangled. Your weight pins me down to crisp white sheets, and when I stretch my back a little, your early morning hardness presses against me. Your arm tightens and I can feel a soft moan of protest against my neck as I move, so I reach my hand round to rest on your hip and still, letting my eyes close again with a contented sigh.
The simple pleasure of waking in your arms is one of the greatest gifts this world has given me.
Éomer: I slept a deep exhausted sleep, from my exertions yesterday, and the long and hard love making that you gave me. After I napped we had curled into the tub until I was sleepy again and then you had soothed my back with some salve, while I nearly purred at the gentle care. I hope that this soreness will not stay with Karl when I leave.
I feel you stirring around on the edge of my consciousness. I growl a protest at being awakened and holding you tight against me, try to find sleep again.
Théo: I rest a while longer, but my stomach rumbles and I know that there is no point in trying to get back to sleep. I shift in your arms, turning over, earning myself another warning growl which sends shivers through my waking body and I press myself against you, groaning as my hardness slides over yours. Burying my face I your neck, I breathe deeply, filling my senses with your scent before my mouth latches onto your collarbone.
Slowly, lazily, I lick and nibble my way along it, lapping at the hollow of your throat. My tongue moves in circles, and I glance up to see you watching me through barely open eyes. I hope that my restraint yesterday was enough and that there is not too much discomfort this morning and I slip my hand round your back, holding it over your skin to feel how hot it is before gently placing my palm on it.
Éomer: Sighing as I realise that I am not going to get to sleep any longer, I look at you to see you exploring my body with your tongue. I decide that perhaps I have rested enough and squirm against you, showing my interest in what you are doing.
The hand you place on my back is gentle, but my skin is still sensitive, and it stings a bit. Not enough to bother me, and I lean back into your touch, sliding a leg between yours, the feeling of us tangled together in the morning has become one of my favorites. And there are so many other sensations to explore with you and I am eager for them. But this morning I do not want to play any of your games, I want to bury myself in you and ride you hard.
Théo: When your leg slips between mine, I moan, arching and pushing into the added pressure as my tongue scrapes up your throat. I slide my thigh up your leg, hooking my knee over your hip as our mouths meet and you push your tongue roughly between my lips to tangle with mine. The intensely musky taste of you has me groaning and kissing you back hard as your hand skims down my side, and with a deft move that makes me gasp, you have me pinned to the mattress.
I lie where I landed, my arms back against the pillows, legs splayed, and grind my hips against yours, looking up at you with a wanton smile. Being the focus of your desire like this gives me a sense of freedom, in direct contrast to the intense control I felt when you indulged me yesterday. Only you can give me both, and everything in between, and I find myself constantly greedy for more.
Éomer: The look in your eyes as you lie there sends a message straight to my cock and I groan, pushing back against you. I prop myself up and find the lotion, coating my fingers quickly. I slide one finger into you and then add another almost immediately, wanting to be in you as soon as possible.
My fingers twist and spread inside you, and the look in your eyes now is urgency and need. I make soothing noises as I add a third, working you open swiftly. I rear up and coat my cock, grabbing your hips and pulling your buttocks up until I can sink in with one long stroke, hitting my balls against you with the speed of my entry. Not in the mood for many preliminaries, I set a fast pace, trusting that you will keep up with me.
Théo: The speed at which you breech me makes me writhe and growl, hands grabbing your shoulders as you fill me, holding tightly as you take me hard and fast. Once I have steadied myself against your thrusts, I let go of one shoulder I reach down between us and curl my fingers around my cock. They graze over the tip, smearing the moisture leaking from the slit over my skin and I groan at the slip and glide as my hand matches your punishing rhythm.
Your hands tighten on my hips and I cry out as your cock pounds into me harder, my hand slipping off your shoulder and into your hair. My neck arches, head pressed back into the pillow and I watch you through half closed eyes as you take me. Your eyes darken sending a primal shiver through me and with one more pull, I hold your gaze as I come, belly tightening as I let it take me, groaning as my seed splatters over my stomach, my chest. "Mer …"
Éomer: I lunge into you a few more times after your clenching muscles tell me you’ve reached your own completion, then I let go entirely, driving into you, shoving you up the bed with the force of my thrusts. I twist my hands in your hair and pull you to my mouth, taking yours, releasing my fierce howl into you as I come.
Pulling out slowly, I hold you tightly, knowing I was rough with you. But sometimes the love and lust I feel for you becomes so overwhelming that I must express it physically. I nibble your ear, making purring noises. I stifle a laugh as my lips move over your neck, thinking that I have this procedure backwards, I give you foreplay now that we both have come.
My eyes are twinkling when I raise my head to look at you. “Breakfast?”
Théo: Thoroughly and happily sated and all wrapped up in you, I chuckle as your mouth tickles my neck. You rode me hard which was exactly what I needed this morning, but now my stomach is in full agreement with you and rumbles accordingly. The look on your face brings a smile full of love and affection to mine as I nod.
"Mmmm … breakfast, yes." I push the hair back from your face, fingers lingering in the strands, thinking about what we can feast on. "I noticed some plump sausages and thin slices of cured ham that will make a fine breakfast." You push back into my hand and I run my fingers through your hair and over your scalp. "Karl's cold cabinets and cupboards are unusually well stocked this time." And I wonder if he has come to terms with his actions, perhaps found peace in himself, or in someone else.
Éomer: Karl is the last thing I care to discuss this morning, but I brighten at the idea of sausages. “I do know how to cook those, I will treat you this morning. And I cannot help but wonder, cousin, why you always seem to know exactly what is in everyone’s pantry.”
But I am laughing, for I have good cause to appreciate your practical nature. I wrap an affectionate arm around you and lead us to the kitchen, still naked, but the weather is fine and I see no need for clothes. I find a pan and hesitate at the stove, but then I remember how it works and I get the sausages cooking while you reconnoiter the rest of Karl’s stores.
Théo: I am in too good a mood to even pretend to huff over your good natured teasing, and put bread and butter on the table as you cook, along with tomatoes and the ham. "It is always wise to know what provisions are at hand." I say with mock seriousness. "Besides, it is in cupboards like these that some of the best treats to be had in this world are to be found." And I am smiling to myself as I go through the cold cabinet, my eyebrows rising as I find something new.
A handful of egg sized and shaped things, which are brown and hairy, sit on a shelf and I am curious. Fruit, vegetable, or something else? I take one and find a small knife to cut it open with, slicing it in half warily. Green flesh with small black seeds in revealed, and I slice it again into quarters before separating flesh from skin and tasting it. Sweet fruit, and quite pleasant. Picking up a piece of flesh, I turn and slip it between your lips as you tend the pan and kiss your shoulder. "See?" I grin smugly as I make a pot of coffee.
Éomer: The new fruit you have discovered is indeed good and I find the texture fascinating. I sneak another piece and then grab you for a kiss, sharing the flavor with you. I turn back to the sausages, which are almost done, thinking about how different we are in nature. You are as curious as Paris’s cat, curious and sensual, and I suppose that is what leads you to try so many games in the bedroom, so many things that would never occur to me.
I must be more like Karl’s dog, loyal and accepting, willing to follow your lead, but not terribly imaginative. Battle, however, that is a different story. I can be creative when I am thinking about the movements of men and horses, but I am still more like Ire. Which brings up the question of how our shifts were chosen to play us, if we resemble their pets.
“It is ready.” I dish the sausages out onto the plates you have out and get a cup of coffee with a large addition of milk.
Théo: I smile my thanks as you serve them up, thinking how good they smell, and the first bite shows they taste even better. I enjoy cooking for us when we are together and I have come to realise it is another way for me to take care of you, another small way to show you how much you mean to me, but it is a pleasant change for you to do this. I spread butter on a handful of slices of bread for us to share and get stuck in, skewering a small tomato with my fork.
The sausages are very tasty. Better even than the ones that came with the large platters that Faramir and I dined on when I last saw him. And that reminds me of news that you may not have heard. I eat another couple of bites, and wash them down with a good gulp of coffee. "The last time I saw Faramir, he told me that Boromir has begun to travel here. It will be good to see him and for you to meet him again."
Éomer: Your news is surprising and I am not sure that I want to meet that man again, not the one I saw at Edoras so recently. There was an edge of bitter desperation about him that was worrisome. But you have told me that the two of you are old friends, so perhaps time has treated him as ill as it has you, in my present.
“If he is the man you know, I would enjoy spending more time with him.” I wonder what his part was in our story, for if he travels here, he must have been in the films with Karl and Paris. But I remember my resolve that I do not want the burden of knowing my future and if Boromir’s trip North has anything to do with us, it is best if I do not know it.
“How old is he? Is he from the past, as you are?” I struggle again with the concept of time. And it strikes me that perhaps I am from someone else’s past. “From my past, I meant to say.”
Théo: I think back to my conversation with Faramir and realise that I had not asked him. "That I do not know, but I found out that Faramir is from nearer your time than mine." It still catches me unawares sometimes, when we have spent time together, the fact that we are from different times. And the more of us that come here, the harder it will be to keep track of it all.
But for once, I can use that time difference to my advantage. I smile to myself as I think of the surprise I have for you, and it widens to a grin when I look up at you, laying down my fork on my cleaned plate. You look at me quizzically and I shake my head, a small snort of laughter escaping. So I pick up the bottle of maple syrup and drizzle a little onto the plate, hoping to distract you from demanding an explanation. I run my finger through it, and reach forward, painting it onto your lower lip, still grinning like a child with a secret.
Éomer: I am wary of you when you try to distract me, having spent enough time with you by now to know that means you are planning something. But your surprises usually leave me screaming with pleasure, so I let you have your secrets.
Flicking my tongue out, I curl it around your fingers, enjoying the syrup and sucking it off your fingers. You pull your hand away, but I catch your fingers. “I am not sure I cleaned you thoroughly,” pulling them back into my mouth, swirling my tongue around. But my earlier thoughts return, and I realise that we have spent many days here together, on the sufferance of Karl and Paris. Time out of time we have been given, and remembering Dave’s anger, I resolve to thank Karl once again for his generosity.
Théo: My grin dissolves into a look of lust as you suckle on my fingers, my cock swelling under the table and suddenly you are the one doing the distracting. Your tongue curls around my longest finger and I let out a long breath. I glance down at the plate and back at your mouth and slowly get to my feet, freeing my hand from your grasp. I run my fingers through the rest of the syrup and wrap them around my hardness, moving to stand in front of you, offering it up with a wicked grin on my face.
Éomer: I laugh, delighted at the grin and I pull you toward me, turning the chair and eagerly taking the treat you offer, suckling and humming around you. The taste of you mixed with the syrup is delicious and every time I get you clean enough that the flavor disappears, I swirl my hand in the plate to get more syrup. I swallow you as you pump your release into my mouth and sit back licking my lips and smirking at you.
Théo: Unclenching my fingers which had been gripping your shoulders, I look down at you, laughing breathlessly at the grin on your face, letting the last of the aftershocks shiver through me. I tangle my hands in your hair and urge you to your feet and your arms slip round me. Rubbing my cheek against yours, I nuzzle your neck and murmur in your ear. "Want you in me again. Let me ride you." I urge you backwards, towards the softer seat of the couch.
Éomer: “Your stallion is ever your ready steed.” And I am unquestionably ready, rampant for you. I pull you to me tightly, nudging my leg between yours, loving the feel of your smooth skin against the roughness of the hair on mine.
Théo: Pushing you down onto the couch and straddling your hips, I squirm in your lap, your hands grasping my hips and my recently spent cock tingling at the friction of being trapped between us. I feel open and ready for you and groan as I push forward and graze the skin and muscle left sensitive from our earlier coupling over your hard cock. My spine arches and my head falls back as I reach behind me and take hold of your hardness, rubbing the tip over my hole, spreading the drop of moisture around before sinking down just enough to engulf the head of it inside me. My thighs are taut, the muscles quivering as I hold myself still for just as long as it takes to and find your eyes and hold your gaze. "Love you, my stallion." My fingertips ghost over your neck, and I sink down, taking you deep inside me with a long shuddering moan.
Éomer: I can’t take my eyes from the sight of you wantonly moving over me, taking what you want from me, gasping as your clasping muscles engulf me. I wrap my fingers in your hair, pulling you down to me without gentleness, but my mouth eases over yours softly. “I love you, too, Théo.”
My fingers sooth your scalp as you sit up, the movement putting pressure on my cock and I groan. I want to slam up into you, but I had my turn for that earlier and I am content to go at a slower pace now, working my way to orgasm over a long time, as long as you can hold out with me inside you, for I know you must be sore from the pounding I gave you.
Théo: Your fingers linger in my hair, play over my shoulders, my back leaving trails of fire on my skin where they pass and I rock backwards and forwards, riding you slowly. You are buried so deep inside flesh still achingly sensitive to every touch that even the slightest movement has pleasure rippling through me.
My body is not quite recovered enough to come again, but it is enough, this time, to see you to your satisfaction. My fingers curl in your hair as I slowly increase my pace, and my lips find yours again, taking the last traces of sweet syrup from your mouth as our tongues tangle.
Éomer: This slow, languid pace is something altogether different, something for which we usually have so little time. I hold still, letting you move however you want, your slow slide on me allowing me to feel every contour of your body clasped around my shaft. The pressure gradually builds up in me, so gradually I am almost not aware of it. But eventually it becomes an inexorable tide, flooding my senses, but I am not fighting for it or reaching for it, just letting it take me.
“Théo,” I breathe out your name, falling into your sky blue eyes while my orgasm washes through every part of me, every part of me responding to your slow love making.
Théo: I don't take my eyes from yours, watching them fade in and out of focus as you come, watching as it hits you in waves, feeling those waves shudder through your body. Finally you still and I nuzzle your hair before reluctantly pulling off you.
Your hands never quite let me go and I smile as we curl together on the couch, small touches and kisses putting off the inevitable parting for just a while longer. And there is something I need to tell you before I go. I kiss you softly then pull away a little to catch your gaze.
"There is something I want you to have. Not here, back home, back in Rohan."
Éomer: I am pleasantly relaxed and enjoying the small but important pleasure of just touching you, reaffirming the bond between us, but you catch my attention, the look in your eyes telling me that this is something significant.
I wonder how you can give me anything in Rohan, since your present is my past, and the person you are now is someone who rarely has the time or the ability to find me.
“How?”
Théo: "Remember the hiding place I showed you not long after you arrived in Edoras?" It was the place I had used as a boy to hide my treasures for fear that Winarin would find them and throw them away, not realising their importance. My most treasured possession was a rosy piece of quartz, its edges worn smooth by the river. My father found it on one of our rides when I was small, told me how it would have been washed down from the mountain. I watched as he ran his fingers over its surface before handing it to me with a smile, and before we left, I slipped it into my pocket. When we got back, it went straight into my hiding place and at times over the years when he was away and I missed him, I would slip it back into my pocket to remind me of him.
Later, it became the ideal place to hide the love poems from Brianna, Brand's sister, which I first read with wide eyes and a blush on my cheeks. Long after I had stopped using it, I showed it to you, hoping that sharing a secret would help you open up to me when grief over the death of your parents still held you so tightly in it's grasp.
I run my hand down your arm, fingers mapping the muscles under your skin. "I left something there for you. By the time you find it, it will have been there for four years. After we spoke about what happens in my future, I wanted you to have something solid, something you can touch, to remind you that you have my love and my trust, always, no matter how far away I may seem in your time."
Éomer: I know exactly the place you are speaking of, one of the carvings in the private rooms at Edoras has a hole behind it, going back into the supporting pillar. Wyn and I used to leave things there for each other, but neither of us have thought about it for years, with the press of worry and fear we have no time for games.
Your kindness touches me, that you would want to have something tangible to help me in the dark days of my present time. And I wish I could do more for the you who lives in my time.
“Théo, I . . . thank you.” I pull you close, sinking my face into your neck, wishing as always that the requirements of duty and the time that we owe our shifts would not force us to separate again, always too soon.
Théo: My arms wrap round you, holding you as I kiss your hair. I close my eyes and melt against you, drinking in your scent, relaxing into the peace you bring me for just a little longer. And something occurs to me. "After you find it, wear it, and when he … when I see it, I will know that we have found each other here. It will ease my heart also, to know that."
Éomer: Overwhelmed, I nod wordlessly against your skin, wishing I could see a way out of the dark tangle our lives have become. But it would be easier to travel safely through Fangorn, I think.
Finally clearing the tightness in my throat, I whisper, “Of course, and I pray you remember how much I love you.”
NC-17
The simple pleasure of waking in your arms is one of the greatest gifts this world has given me.
Éomer: I slept a deep exhausted sleep, from my exertions yesterday, and the long and hard love making that you gave me. After I napped we had curled into the tub until I was sleepy again and then you had soothed my back with some salve, while I nearly purred at the gentle care. I hope that this soreness will not stay with Karl when I leave.
I feel you stirring around on the edge of my consciousness. I growl a protest at being awakened and holding you tight against me, try to find sleep again.
Théo: I rest a while longer, but my stomach rumbles and I know that there is no point in trying to get back to sleep. I shift in your arms, turning over, earning myself another warning growl which sends shivers through my waking body and I press myself against you, groaning as my hardness slides over yours. Burying my face I your neck, I breathe deeply, filling my senses with your scent before my mouth latches onto your collarbone.
Slowly, lazily, I lick and nibble my way along it, lapping at the hollow of your throat. My tongue moves in circles, and I glance up to see you watching me through barely open eyes. I hope that my restraint yesterday was enough and that there is not too much discomfort this morning and I slip my hand round your back, holding it over your skin to feel how hot it is before gently placing my palm on it.
Éomer: Sighing as I realise that I am not going to get to sleep any longer, I look at you to see you exploring my body with your tongue. I decide that perhaps I have rested enough and squirm against you, showing my interest in what you are doing.
The hand you place on my back is gentle, but my skin is still sensitive, and it stings a bit. Not enough to bother me, and I lean back into your touch, sliding a leg between yours, the feeling of us tangled together in the morning has become one of my favorites. And there are so many other sensations to explore with you and I am eager for them. But this morning I do not want to play any of your games, I want to bury myself in you and ride you hard.
Théo: When your leg slips between mine, I moan, arching and pushing into the added pressure as my tongue scrapes up your throat. I slide my thigh up your leg, hooking my knee over your hip as our mouths meet and you push your tongue roughly between my lips to tangle with mine. The intensely musky taste of you has me groaning and kissing you back hard as your hand skims down my side, and with a deft move that makes me gasp, you have me pinned to the mattress.
I lie where I landed, my arms back against the pillows, legs splayed, and grind my hips against yours, looking up at you with a wanton smile. Being the focus of your desire like this gives me a sense of freedom, in direct contrast to the intense control I felt when you indulged me yesterday. Only you can give me both, and everything in between, and I find myself constantly greedy for more.
Éomer: The look in your eyes as you lie there sends a message straight to my cock and I groan, pushing back against you. I prop myself up and find the lotion, coating my fingers quickly. I slide one finger into you and then add another almost immediately, wanting to be in you as soon as possible.
My fingers twist and spread inside you, and the look in your eyes now is urgency and need. I make soothing noises as I add a third, working you open swiftly. I rear up and coat my cock, grabbing your hips and pulling your buttocks up until I can sink in with one long stroke, hitting my balls against you with the speed of my entry. Not in the mood for many preliminaries, I set a fast pace, trusting that you will keep up with me.
Théo: The speed at which you breech me makes me writhe and growl, hands grabbing your shoulders as you fill me, holding tightly as you take me hard and fast. Once I have steadied myself against your thrusts, I let go of one shoulder I reach down between us and curl my fingers around my cock. They graze over the tip, smearing the moisture leaking from the slit over my skin and I groan at the slip and glide as my hand matches your punishing rhythm.
Your hands tighten on my hips and I cry out as your cock pounds into me harder, my hand slipping off your shoulder and into your hair. My neck arches, head pressed back into the pillow and I watch you through half closed eyes as you take me. Your eyes darken sending a primal shiver through me and with one more pull, I hold your gaze as I come, belly tightening as I let it take me, groaning as my seed splatters over my stomach, my chest. "Mer …"
Éomer: I lunge into you a few more times after your clenching muscles tell me you’ve reached your own completion, then I let go entirely, driving into you, shoving you up the bed with the force of my thrusts. I twist my hands in your hair and pull you to my mouth, taking yours, releasing my fierce howl into you as I come.
Pulling out slowly, I hold you tightly, knowing I was rough with you. But sometimes the love and lust I feel for you becomes so overwhelming that I must express it physically. I nibble your ear, making purring noises. I stifle a laugh as my lips move over your neck, thinking that I have this procedure backwards, I give you foreplay now that we both have come.
My eyes are twinkling when I raise my head to look at you. “Breakfast?”
Théo: Thoroughly and happily sated and all wrapped up in you, I chuckle as your mouth tickles my neck. You rode me hard which was exactly what I needed this morning, but now my stomach is in full agreement with you and rumbles accordingly. The look on your face brings a smile full of love and affection to mine as I nod.
"Mmmm … breakfast, yes." I push the hair back from your face, fingers lingering in the strands, thinking about what we can feast on. "I noticed some plump sausages and thin slices of cured ham that will make a fine breakfast." You push back into my hand and I run my fingers through your hair and over your scalp. "Karl's cold cabinets and cupboards are unusually well stocked this time." And I wonder if he has come to terms with his actions, perhaps found peace in himself, or in someone else.
Éomer: Karl is the last thing I care to discuss this morning, but I brighten at the idea of sausages. “I do know how to cook those, I will treat you this morning. And I cannot help but wonder, cousin, why you always seem to know exactly what is in everyone’s pantry.”
But I am laughing, for I have good cause to appreciate your practical nature. I wrap an affectionate arm around you and lead us to the kitchen, still naked, but the weather is fine and I see no need for clothes. I find a pan and hesitate at the stove, but then I remember how it works and I get the sausages cooking while you reconnoiter the rest of Karl’s stores.
Théo: I am in too good a mood to even pretend to huff over your good natured teasing, and put bread and butter on the table as you cook, along with tomatoes and the ham. "It is always wise to know what provisions are at hand." I say with mock seriousness. "Besides, it is in cupboards like these that some of the best treats to be had in this world are to be found." And I am smiling to myself as I go through the cold cabinet, my eyebrows rising as I find something new.
A handful of egg sized and shaped things, which are brown and hairy, sit on a shelf and I am curious. Fruit, vegetable, or something else? I take one and find a small knife to cut it open with, slicing it in half warily. Green flesh with small black seeds in revealed, and I slice it again into quarters before separating flesh from skin and tasting it. Sweet fruit, and quite pleasant. Picking up a piece of flesh, I turn and slip it between your lips as you tend the pan and kiss your shoulder. "See?" I grin smugly as I make a pot of coffee.
Éomer: The new fruit you have discovered is indeed good and I find the texture fascinating. I sneak another piece and then grab you for a kiss, sharing the flavor with you. I turn back to the sausages, which are almost done, thinking about how different we are in nature. You are as curious as Paris’s cat, curious and sensual, and I suppose that is what leads you to try so many games in the bedroom, so many things that would never occur to me.
I must be more like Karl’s dog, loyal and accepting, willing to follow your lead, but not terribly imaginative. Battle, however, that is a different story. I can be creative when I am thinking about the movements of men and horses, but I am still more like Ire. Which brings up the question of how our shifts were chosen to play us, if we resemble their pets.
“It is ready.” I dish the sausages out onto the plates you have out and get a cup of coffee with a large addition of milk.
Théo: I smile my thanks as you serve them up, thinking how good they smell, and the first bite shows they taste even better. I enjoy cooking for us when we are together and I have come to realise it is another way for me to take care of you, another small way to show you how much you mean to me, but it is a pleasant change for you to do this. I spread butter on a handful of slices of bread for us to share and get stuck in, skewering a small tomato with my fork.
The sausages are very tasty. Better even than the ones that came with the large platters that Faramir and I dined on when I last saw him. And that reminds me of news that you may not have heard. I eat another couple of bites, and wash them down with a good gulp of coffee. "The last time I saw Faramir, he told me that Boromir has begun to travel here. It will be good to see him and for you to meet him again."
Éomer: Your news is surprising and I am not sure that I want to meet that man again, not the one I saw at Edoras so recently. There was an edge of bitter desperation about him that was worrisome. But you have told me that the two of you are old friends, so perhaps time has treated him as ill as it has you, in my present.
“If he is the man you know, I would enjoy spending more time with him.” I wonder what his part was in our story, for if he travels here, he must have been in the films with Karl and Paris. But I remember my resolve that I do not want the burden of knowing my future and if Boromir’s trip North has anything to do with us, it is best if I do not know it.
“How old is he? Is he from the past, as you are?” I struggle again with the concept of time. And it strikes me that perhaps I am from someone else’s past. “From my past, I meant to say.”
Théo: I think back to my conversation with Faramir and realise that I had not asked him. "That I do not know, but I found out that Faramir is from nearer your time than mine." It still catches me unawares sometimes, when we have spent time together, the fact that we are from different times. And the more of us that come here, the harder it will be to keep track of it all.
But for once, I can use that time difference to my advantage. I smile to myself as I think of the surprise I have for you, and it widens to a grin when I look up at you, laying down my fork on my cleaned plate. You look at me quizzically and I shake my head, a small snort of laughter escaping. So I pick up the bottle of maple syrup and drizzle a little onto the plate, hoping to distract you from demanding an explanation. I run my finger through it, and reach forward, painting it onto your lower lip, still grinning like a child with a secret.
Éomer: I am wary of you when you try to distract me, having spent enough time with you by now to know that means you are planning something. But your surprises usually leave me screaming with pleasure, so I let you have your secrets.
Flicking my tongue out, I curl it around your fingers, enjoying the syrup and sucking it off your fingers. You pull your hand away, but I catch your fingers. “I am not sure I cleaned you thoroughly,” pulling them back into my mouth, swirling my tongue around. But my earlier thoughts return, and I realise that we have spent many days here together, on the sufferance of Karl and Paris. Time out of time we have been given, and remembering Dave’s anger, I resolve to thank Karl once again for his generosity.
Théo: My grin dissolves into a look of lust as you suckle on my fingers, my cock swelling under the table and suddenly you are the one doing the distracting. Your tongue curls around my longest finger and I let out a long breath. I glance down at the plate and back at your mouth and slowly get to my feet, freeing my hand from your grasp. I run my fingers through the rest of the syrup and wrap them around my hardness, moving to stand in front of you, offering it up with a wicked grin on my face.
Éomer: I laugh, delighted at the grin and I pull you toward me, turning the chair and eagerly taking the treat you offer, suckling and humming around you. The taste of you mixed with the syrup is delicious and every time I get you clean enough that the flavor disappears, I swirl my hand in the plate to get more syrup. I swallow you as you pump your release into my mouth and sit back licking my lips and smirking at you.
Théo: Unclenching my fingers which had been gripping your shoulders, I look down at you, laughing breathlessly at the grin on your face, letting the last of the aftershocks shiver through me. I tangle my hands in your hair and urge you to your feet and your arms slip round me. Rubbing my cheek against yours, I nuzzle your neck and murmur in your ear. "Want you in me again. Let me ride you." I urge you backwards, towards the softer seat of the couch.
Éomer: “Your stallion is ever your ready steed.” And I am unquestionably ready, rampant for you. I pull you to me tightly, nudging my leg between yours, loving the feel of your smooth skin against the roughness of the hair on mine.
Théo: Pushing you down onto the couch and straddling your hips, I squirm in your lap, your hands grasping my hips and my recently spent cock tingling at the friction of being trapped between us. I feel open and ready for you and groan as I push forward and graze the skin and muscle left sensitive from our earlier coupling over your hard cock. My spine arches and my head falls back as I reach behind me and take hold of your hardness, rubbing the tip over my hole, spreading the drop of moisture around before sinking down just enough to engulf the head of it inside me. My thighs are taut, the muscles quivering as I hold myself still for just as long as it takes to and find your eyes and hold your gaze. "Love you, my stallion." My fingertips ghost over your neck, and I sink down, taking you deep inside me with a long shuddering moan.
Éomer: I can’t take my eyes from the sight of you wantonly moving over me, taking what you want from me, gasping as your clasping muscles engulf me. I wrap my fingers in your hair, pulling you down to me without gentleness, but my mouth eases over yours softly. “I love you, too, Théo.”
My fingers sooth your scalp as you sit up, the movement putting pressure on my cock and I groan. I want to slam up into you, but I had my turn for that earlier and I am content to go at a slower pace now, working my way to orgasm over a long time, as long as you can hold out with me inside you, for I know you must be sore from the pounding I gave you.
Théo: Your fingers linger in my hair, play over my shoulders, my back leaving trails of fire on my skin where they pass and I rock backwards and forwards, riding you slowly. You are buried so deep inside flesh still achingly sensitive to every touch that even the slightest movement has pleasure rippling through me.
My body is not quite recovered enough to come again, but it is enough, this time, to see you to your satisfaction. My fingers curl in your hair as I slowly increase my pace, and my lips find yours again, taking the last traces of sweet syrup from your mouth as our tongues tangle.
Éomer: This slow, languid pace is something altogether different, something for which we usually have so little time. I hold still, letting you move however you want, your slow slide on me allowing me to feel every contour of your body clasped around my shaft. The pressure gradually builds up in me, so gradually I am almost not aware of it. But eventually it becomes an inexorable tide, flooding my senses, but I am not fighting for it or reaching for it, just letting it take me.
“Théo,” I breathe out your name, falling into your sky blue eyes while my orgasm washes through every part of me, every part of me responding to your slow love making.
Théo: I don't take my eyes from yours, watching them fade in and out of focus as you come, watching as it hits you in waves, feeling those waves shudder through your body. Finally you still and I nuzzle your hair before reluctantly pulling off you.
Your hands never quite let me go and I smile as we curl together on the couch, small touches and kisses putting off the inevitable parting for just a while longer. And there is something I need to tell you before I go. I kiss you softly then pull away a little to catch your gaze.
"There is something I want you to have. Not here, back home, back in Rohan."
Éomer: I am pleasantly relaxed and enjoying the small but important pleasure of just touching you, reaffirming the bond between us, but you catch my attention, the look in your eyes telling me that this is something significant.
I wonder how you can give me anything in Rohan, since your present is my past, and the person you are now is someone who rarely has the time or the ability to find me.
“How?”
Théo: "Remember the hiding place I showed you not long after you arrived in Edoras?" It was the place I had used as a boy to hide my treasures for fear that Winarin would find them and throw them away, not realising their importance. My most treasured possession was a rosy piece of quartz, its edges worn smooth by the river. My father found it on one of our rides when I was small, told me how it would have been washed down from the mountain. I watched as he ran his fingers over its surface before handing it to me with a smile, and before we left, I slipped it into my pocket. When we got back, it went straight into my hiding place and at times over the years when he was away and I missed him, I would slip it back into my pocket to remind me of him.
Later, it became the ideal place to hide the love poems from Brianna, Brand's sister, which I first read with wide eyes and a blush on my cheeks. Long after I had stopped using it, I showed it to you, hoping that sharing a secret would help you open up to me when grief over the death of your parents still held you so tightly in it's grasp.
I run my hand down your arm, fingers mapping the muscles under your skin. "I left something there for you. By the time you find it, it will have been there for four years. After we spoke about what happens in my future, I wanted you to have something solid, something you can touch, to remind you that you have my love and my trust, always, no matter how far away I may seem in your time."
Éomer: I know exactly the place you are speaking of, one of the carvings in the private rooms at Edoras has a hole behind it, going back into the supporting pillar. Wyn and I used to leave things there for each other, but neither of us have thought about it for years, with the press of worry and fear we have no time for games.
Your kindness touches me, that you would want to have something tangible to help me in the dark days of my present time. And I wish I could do more for the you who lives in my time.
“Théo, I . . . thank you.” I pull you close, sinking my face into your neck, wishing as always that the requirements of duty and the time that we owe our shifts would not force us to separate again, always too soon.
Théo: My arms wrap round you, holding you as I kiss your hair. I close my eyes and melt against you, drinking in your scent, relaxing into the peace you bring me for just a little longer. And something occurs to me. "After you find it, wear it, and when he … when I see it, I will know that we have found each other here. It will ease my heart also, to know that."
Éomer: Overwhelmed, I nod wordlessly against your skin, wishing I could see a way out of the dark tangle our lives have become. But it would be easier to travel safely through Fangorn, I think.
Finally clearing the tightness in my throat, I whisper, “Of course, and I pray you remember how much I love you.”
NC-17
