FIC: Eternal - 1/1, LOTR, PG, Éomer/Legolas
Title: Eternal
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Éomer/Legolas
Rating: PG
Word count: 400
Summary: There is a game Legolas likes to play with Éomer.
Disclaimer: The characters, sadly, are not mine. Much love to J.R.R. Tolkien for creating them and to Peter Jackson for envisioning them and sharing that vision with the world.
Author's Notes: The 'nineteenth day of Christmas' for azewewish, because she somehow always manages to get a Karl/Orlando request in, even when she doesn't. ;)
"Close your eyes, young horse lord."
"Young?" Éomer's amusement thrummed through him as he looked at Legolas. Only an elf would call him young.
Legolas merely looked at him, inscrutable as always. So Éomer held his amusement in check and did as Legolas had said. With his eyes closed, he realized he could still sense Legolas, still tell just how close the elf was standing.
"Now picture the ocean," Legolas said, making a quiet sound when Éomer started to protest. "A body of water so vast you cannot see the end. So powerful that nothing can stand before its might and rage. Smelling of salt and brine and life. Picture it, Éomer."
As he spoke, one hand tangled in Éomer's hair as the other slid around his waist, resting low on his stomach. Éomer tensed, then relaxed as that hand slipped a little lower, releasing his belt before toying with the laces of his trousers.
"If it's a game you're after, Legolas..."
"No," Legolas quietly said, his breath warm against Éomer's ear, and Éomer shivered. "Focus on my voice. Picture the ocean. Imagine the strength and unceasing motion of it as it pounds against the shore."
Éomer gasped as a strong hand wrapped around him, fingertips callused from centuries of weapons and battle gliding over his heated skin.
"Now," Legolas whispered as Éomer twitched and groaned, shivering with each flick of Legolas' hand. "Can you feel it? Can you feel that throb in your veins, feel the force of it moving through you, feel the true meaning of eternity in the relentlessness of it?"
"Yes," Éomer hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezed tight as he fought not to come apart beneath Legolas' skilled hands.
"Can you hold here, Éomer son of Éomund," Legolas asked, sharp white teeth closing on the skin of Éomer's neck as his hand continued to move, dragging him closer and closer to the edge, "can you hold and deny yourself your release until you feel another second of it will kill you?"
Éomer just gritted his teeth and jerked his head in a nod. He was beyond words, beyond thought, only caring that Legolas never stopped.
And when Legolas next spoke, his words soft as Éomer danced on the razor's edge, Éomer could hear the laughter lurking in his voice. "Then let the true game begin, horse lord, and learn what it means to be eternal."
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Éomer/Legolas
Rating: PG
Word count: 400
Summary: There is a game Legolas likes to play with Éomer.
Disclaimer: The characters, sadly, are not mine. Much love to J.R.R. Tolkien for creating them and to Peter Jackson for envisioning them and sharing that vision with the world.
Author's Notes: The 'nineteenth day of Christmas' for azewewish, because she somehow always manages to get a Karl/Orlando request in, even when she doesn't. ;)
"Close your eyes, young horse lord."
"Young?" Éomer's amusement thrummed through him as he looked at Legolas. Only an elf would call him young.
Legolas merely looked at him, inscrutable as always. So Éomer held his amusement in check and did as Legolas had said. With his eyes closed, he realized he could still sense Legolas, still tell just how close the elf was standing.
"Now picture the ocean," Legolas said, making a quiet sound when Éomer started to protest. "A body of water so vast you cannot see the end. So powerful that nothing can stand before its might and rage. Smelling of salt and brine and life. Picture it, Éomer."
As he spoke, one hand tangled in Éomer's hair as the other slid around his waist, resting low on his stomach. Éomer tensed, then relaxed as that hand slipped a little lower, releasing his belt before toying with the laces of his trousers.
"If it's a game you're after, Legolas..."
"No," Legolas quietly said, his breath warm against Éomer's ear, and Éomer shivered. "Focus on my voice. Picture the ocean. Imagine the strength and unceasing motion of it as it pounds against the shore."
Éomer gasped as a strong hand wrapped around him, fingertips callused from centuries of weapons and battle gliding over his heated skin.
"Now," Legolas whispered as Éomer twitched and groaned, shivering with each flick of Legolas' hand. "Can you feel it? Can you feel that throb in your veins, feel the force of it moving through you, feel the true meaning of eternity in the relentlessness of it?"
"Yes," Éomer hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezed tight as he fought not to come apart beneath Legolas' skilled hands.
"Can you hold here, Éomer son of Éomund," Legolas asked, sharp white teeth closing on the skin of Éomer's neck as his hand continued to move, dragging him closer and closer to the edge, "can you hold and deny yourself your release until you feel another second of it will kill you?"
Éomer just gritted his teeth and jerked his head in a nod. He was beyond words, beyond thought, only caring that Legolas never stopped.
And when Legolas next spoke, his words soft as Éomer danced on the razor's edge, Éomer could hear the laughter lurking in his voice. "Then let the true game begin, horse lord, and learn what it means to be eternal."