Not-a-River challenge: Meander: Mouth: 'Summer's Daze', a drabble pair
Title: Summer’s Daze, a drabble pair
Author: Kortirion
Character: Theodréd/Boromir
Rating: warning for implied slash
Source: FotR
Disclaimer: Tolkien stated the facts; Kortirion wove them into something else.
Notes: Catching up with rivers that aren't, horses coming soon. ;-p
Meander
Theodréd smiled; in these situations he always remembered the advice of an early teacher… ‘in war, take the direct route, in love, one can linger to enjoy the meander…’
Cool water trickled shallow over shingly riverbed and smooth skin. Warm summer sun glinted off both surfaces… the one fluid, almost painfully icy in contrast to blood-hot flesh, the muscles bunched in anticipation.
Warrior’s hands, palms tempered to leather by hard metal and taut reins, fingertips burred to calluses, traced rivulets of moisture across muscles, lingering to tangle in stray curls that held fast to meandering drops of perspiration. Boromir shivered.
Mouth
Shining bodies had intertwined, mouths agape, to gasp, groan, seal one to the other, tasting salt-slicked skin, lapping icy river-water and the scent of submission, each seeking satisfaction in domination. Who holds, who is held… hostages to the fortunes of the moment… the everlasting, oh so brief moment, stolen out of lives lived for battle.
The River remembered, for every drop, every molecule knows what all other waters know… of blood spilt. And as it cradled the grey boat down to where the Great River’s mouth kissed the sea, the waters dreamed of lover’s past… and loves yet to come.
Author: Kortirion
Character: Theodréd/Boromir
Rating: warning for implied slash
Source: FotR
Disclaimer: Tolkien stated the facts; Kortirion wove them into something else.
Notes: Catching up with rivers that aren't, horses coming soon. ;-p
Meander
Theodréd smiled; in these situations he always remembered the advice of an early teacher… ‘in war, take the direct route, in love, one can linger to enjoy the meander…’
Cool water trickled shallow over shingly riverbed and smooth skin. Warm summer sun glinted off both surfaces… the one fluid, almost painfully icy in contrast to blood-hot flesh, the muscles bunched in anticipation.
Warrior’s hands, palms tempered to leather by hard metal and taut reins, fingertips burred to calluses, traced rivulets of moisture across muscles, lingering to tangle in stray curls that held fast to meandering drops of perspiration. Boromir shivered.
Mouth
Shining bodies had intertwined, mouths agape, to gasp, groan, seal one to the other, tasting salt-slicked skin, lapping icy river-water and the scent of submission, each seeking satisfaction in domination. Who holds, who is held… hostages to the fortunes of the moment… the everlasting, oh so brief moment, stolen out of lives lived for battle.
The River remembered, for every drop, every molecule knows what all other waters know… of blood spilt. And as it cradled the grey boat down to where the Great River’s mouth kissed the sea, the waters dreamed of lover’s past… and loves yet to come.