In Memoriam
In honor of a certain anniversary...
Title: In the Dark
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Boromir/Théodred
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Tolkien = genius. Simbelmynë = not so much.
Summary: Double-drabble, now with more angst! Sometimes Théodred prefers to stay in the dark--literally and figuratively.
Shoulder, collarbone, throat. The darkness around them is nearly absolute, but Théodred’s lips show him what he cannot see, what he would know even in the blackest night. His hands too know their course, sliding over skin as familiar as his own while Boromir clutches him tightly and whispers his name between shallow, halting breaths.
Suddenly Théodred’s fingertips still, then carefully retrace their path, ghosting over Boromir’s side. A long, jagged scar mars the smooth skin there, running crosswise beneath his ribs.
Boromir sighs and shifts uneasily, his hands falling away from Théodred’s shoulders. ‘Ithilien, last year,’ he murmurs in explanation. ‘It seems worse than it was.’
Théodred swallows hard, grateful that Boromir cannot see the sudden pallor of his face. Gingerly he traces the wound again. Had it been slightly lower, or perhaps a thumb’s breadth longer…He cannot bear to complete the thought.
Boromir voices it in his stead. ‘I was very fortunate.’
‘Then so am I,’ Théodred tells him softly. He draws Boromir close enough to feel their heartbeats quickening as one, and kisses him to celebrate the whim of fate that spared them at least one more taste of the bliss they find only with each other.
Title: In the Dark
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Boromir/Théodred
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Tolkien = genius. Simbelmynë = not so much.
Summary: Double-drabble, now with more angst! Sometimes Théodred prefers to stay in the dark--literally and figuratively.
Shoulder, collarbone, throat. The darkness around them is nearly absolute, but Théodred’s lips show him what he cannot see, what he would know even in the blackest night. His hands too know their course, sliding over skin as familiar as his own while Boromir clutches him tightly and whispers his name between shallow, halting breaths.
Suddenly Théodred’s fingertips still, then carefully retrace their path, ghosting over Boromir’s side. A long, jagged scar mars the smooth skin there, running crosswise beneath his ribs.
Boromir sighs and shifts uneasily, his hands falling away from Théodred’s shoulders. ‘Ithilien, last year,’ he murmurs in explanation. ‘It seems worse than it was.’
Théodred swallows hard, grateful that Boromir cannot see the sudden pallor of his face. Gingerly he traces the wound again. Had it been slightly lower, or perhaps a thumb’s breadth longer…He cannot bear to complete the thought.
Boromir voices it in his stead. ‘I was very fortunate.’
‘Then so am I,’ Théodred tells him softly. He draws Boromir close enough to feel their heartbeats quickening as one, and kisses him to celebrate the whim of fate that spared them at least one more taste of the bliss they find only with each other.