Backdated. Takes place immediately after Théo is rescued from the wraith.

The embers were still warm in the hearth when Théo returned home, his mind slipping into his body still sitting in the chair by the hearth. When he’d left Rohan to travel to Wellington to assist in the plotting against the wraith, he’d had no idea of what fate had in store for him. He'd been gone less than a night. His soul had been torn into tatters, his heart shattered again and again and all in less time than it took the fire in his room to die and cool.

( Home )

When Dave slipped his arms around Paris and pulled him close to kiss him goodbye, Paris smiled softly and gave himself up into the embrace, feeling more relaxed than he had in a while. The night before was still vividly etched on his mind. How he'd felt when Dave's hands had closed around his wrists and the complete sense of security and safety that had filled him to know that Dave wouldn't let go, in any sense of the word, no matter how he'd tested his grip. Paris had pondered on how he was feeling earlier that morning when he'd woken in their bed, all still wrapped up in Dave's arms. He trusted his lover completely, knew how strong their relationship was without needing any kind of proof, but perhaps what they'd done the previous evening had been a physical confirmation of that trust.

Paris could feel Théo at the back of his mind, obviously trying not to demand that Paris shift out, but antsy to be there all the same. Paris sighed and stepped back from Dave with an apologetic smile. "I guess I'll see you later." Paris let himself fall back into nothingness as Théo shifted in.

Théo gave Dave a curt nod, not having yet forgiven him for his rash suggestion about Éomer at the meeting at Pete's place. He watched, fascinated as always, as Dave's features formed themselves into Faramir's face, and his hair grew into the familiar waves.

( Faramir! It is good to see you! )

This is set on the night of the War Council, straight after it breaks up

Paris was quiet on the way home from Pete’s. Not because he was thinking deep thoughts about what they had discussed or about Craig’s unexpected return, but because he was talking a very frustrated Théo out of shifting in.

"Théo …"

"Paris. You cannot allow Jed to roam freely when he can give access to this world to a wraith!" Théo was adamant. Until that night, he had only known of wraiths as figures of evil in old legends and child’s tales, and he was torn between staying and taking action, and leaving and spending time with his grandmother’s books searching for what information he could find on this new threat.

"And we can’t just shackle him to a wall, either." Before the horselord could respond, Paris continued. “But I agree with you, something needs to be done about Jed.”

"I am glad we are in agreement. What do you propose?" Théo asked.

"I propose that for tonight, you leave, and I sleep."

"But …"

"No buts. I need time alone with Dave for the rest of the night, and I’ll call you in the morning. You have my word."

Théo bristled, not understanding why nothing had been decided at the meeting that night, and frustrated and concerned about the consequences of waiting. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not his world, and that the rules he lived by did not often apply here. So he backed down, putting his trust in Paris, who he had come to know and respect.

"The morning then. I will be waiting for your call. And please inform Dave that I will need to speak to Faramir." With that, he was gone and already striding through the almost deserted corridors of Edoras at rest on his way to Morwen’s library.

Back in Wellington, Paris and Dave reached home, and Paris smiled reassuringly at Dave has he got out of the car and stretched the kinks out of his shoulders.

"He’s gone, at least until the morning." He followed Dave up the stairs to the cabin door, and stood to one side as Ise bounded past them into the woods. Once he’d slipped his jacket off, Paris pulled Dave towards him.

( Why don't you grab the Jack and a couple of glasses to take to bed? )

NC-17

Happens sometime after Dave finds out about Jed's shift, and after Théo and Éomer's picnic

A Ringwraith.

Long after Dave had fallen asleep, Paris had lain awake, his mid whirring, until finally, not wanting to disturb Dave, he’d slipped from the bed after placing a kiss on his lover’s shoulder and pulled on a pair of jeans. He padded downstairs and slipped his boots on and grabbed a sweater on the way out of the door.

The air was still chilled at this time of the morning outside, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm, feeling vulnerable in the light of what Dave had told him earlier that night.

A Ringwraith.

He shuddered, a bone deep shudder that left him colder than ever, and felt little surprise when he felt the tiny buzz in his head that let him know Théo was close. And this time, he took comfort from it. He didn’t really want to be alone, but Dave had looked tired enough when they’d spoken about this earlier, and he didn’t want him worrying about anything else, about him. He’d put up a brave front for him, reassured him that there was nothing they couldn’t face together, but deep down, he was shit scared.

He’d taken care of himself for so long before he’d arrived in Wellie, knew he could handle himself in a tight spot, but now? Now there wasn’t just himself to think of. What if Dave’s reckless nature got him into danger? What if Paris couldn’t get to him, couldn’t save him? Couldn’t … he couldn’t …

Paris let himself into the stables and gave Laurelea a pat and stroke of welcome before reaching Cavalo’s stall. The big gelding stuck his head over the door, and butted his head against Paris chest, leaving it there as Paris tangled his fingers in the dark mane and let out a sigh.

Théo could feel so many emotions running through his shift and not for the first time thought it would be easier if he could just read Paris thoughts. Fear, concern, anxiety, underlaced with a grim determination.

“Paris, there is something wrong. Please tell me what it is that troubles you?”

“You once told me that if I needed your help, all I had to do was ask. You said you were forever in my debt.” He rested his head against Cavalo’s forelock and the horse whickered softly, as if he understood the human’s distress.

“I am in your debt. Ask, and whatever it is you need, I will aid you.”

Paris teetered on the verge of telling him everything. Jed, the Ringwraith, his own fears and concerns, but he stopped himself. He knew Théo well enough to know he would want to act straight away, and while that made sense to Paris too, they had to decide what to do first, and that wasn't down to him. It was something that everyone needed to be involved in.

"It's nothing. Just ... just a bad dream set me off thinking, that's all."

"Hmmm ... A bad dream drew you from the warmth of your mate on a cold night to seek the solitude of the stables?" Théo wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, that's all it was." Paris let out a long sigh and scratched Cavalo behind the ears before turning and heading back out of the stable door.

"Paris?" Théo knew he was being lied to, but knew Paris to be an honest man, so assumed he must have good reason.

"Yeah?"

"When you need me, you know where to find me." His curiosity had been stirred, but he would try to bide his time until Paris was ready to tell him what was going on.

"Okay." Paris said quietly and he felt Théo leave as he walked back up the track to the cabin, still feeling uneasy but needing the reassuring warmth of Dave and their bed and the oblivion that sleep would bring.

Théo: I scrunch my toes in the sand, and smile delightedly as the next wavelet swirls around my ankles and pulls the sand out from between the tightly curled digits. The sun shines warmly on my shoulders, and I wade a little deeper, appreciating the practicalities of these loose cotton breeches which reach to just below my knees.

It is a pleasant day, and I felt like spending it outdoors, where Mer and I can feel the breeze in our hair. Later we can take the bikes back to the warehouse and spend the night, but today I had been drawn to the coast so while the sun warms the air, we can relax outdoors.

After making arrangements to meet Mer at the beach near Dave’s cabin, I gathered blankets and towels, although the sea proved colder than last time we spent at the beach, and I think perhaps we will not be swimming today. Food and drink had also gone into the pack, which now rested beside a spread out blanket in a sheltered spot amongst the rocks along with the open shoes that I kicked off to go paddling. I walk a little further, calf deep in the sea, ( and wait for my cousin to arrive. )

Takes place about a week before Dinner for four

Paris: It’s a sunny winter’s day, and Sean has just finished giving me the grand tour of his new place. Well, their new place. It didn’t come as a huge surprise when Dave told me that Sean and Karl are together, not remembering how they both reacted when the other’s name was mentioned. And I’m happy for them. Sean seems to be good for Karl, given how happy he’s been the past couple of times I’ve seen him, compared to how he was earlier in the year when I know Dave was worried about him. And the place they’ve chosen for themselves is amazing, even the bathroom which is, well, different.

We finish saying hello to Smokey Joe in his new paddock and wander back round to the kitchen through the garden, which was why I called over in the first place. Sean still wants a new set of garden furniture, now to go with the new garden, and I wanted to get a feel for the place, which I think I have. And we’ve talked about styles and what are definite no’s, so I’ve got plenty to work with to pull together some ideas for them.

Thing is, I’m not the only one who was curious about the new house, but Théo’s curiosity about the bricks and mortar pales against his interest in Sean. I suppose he’s keen to meet Boromir’s shift. I’m beginning to think we need a social secretary to keep all our lives running smoothly, what with regular horseboy conjugal visits and now Faramir and Boromir wanting to spend time with each other. And I suppose now would be a good time to see if Sean would agree to Théo’s request. I nod and smile my thanks for the steaming hot mug of coffee he puts down in front of me, and decide to get straight to the point.

( Théo … Théodred wants to meet you. )

Takes place a couple of days after Pete and Ryssa have dinner together

Paris pulled up outside of Ryssa’s place and parked the truck before loping up the stairs and knocking on the door. She called out that the door was open and he let himself in, glancing at his watch as he sauntered through to the living room. They were cutting it fine to get to the potential client’s place with their plans and estimates, and Paris helped Ryssa gather what she needed as he glanced around at several large vases of colourful blooms.

"Are the flowers from the roses guy?" Paris pried.

"Yes they are. We had dinner here on Saturday and these arrived on Monday morning." Ryssa saw no need to hide anything from Paris anymore.

"Ah ha, so there is a guy!" Paris grinned triumphantly.

"Yes, there’s a guy." Ryssa rolled her eyes. "He was an acquaintance when he sent the roses, now he’s … " She considered what exactly Pete was as Paris slid his arm round her shoulders and propelled her in the direction of the door, knowing an incoming ramble when he heard one.

"My boyfriend? Hmmm … that sounds so teenage. My beau? Too formal. We’re courting?" Ryssa continued to muse things over as they climbed into the truck and Paris started the engine.

"Seeing each other? I’ve always thought that was such a wishy washy term. Involved? Yes, that fits."

"So does this guy you’re involved with have a name?"

"Hmmm? Yes, he’s called Pete. Peter Jackson."

Paris stalled the truck.

Théo: With a gasp, I am suddenly awake, forced from sleep by rapidly fading images, my heart hammering in my chest as I slowly get my bearings. Your arms and scent surrounding me are enough to begin to calm me and I turn in your embrace to face you as an involuntary shiver passes through me, and wind my fingers gently into your hair.

Nightmares never trouble me here, and it feels like an intrusion into our peaceful time together.

Éomer: My sleep is disturbed by something, and instincts and long years of training take over. I open my eyes, keeping perfectly still, trying to decide what woke me. As my eyes adjust I realise I am in Paris's warehouse . . . safe . . . no threats.

But something woke me and your weight against me is not heavy with sleep, but rather vibrating quietly with suppressed tension.

My voice is a husky rumble, thick with sleep.

( What is it, Théo? )

NC-17

Paris:These early morning rides are leaving me energised, and usually I'd slip into the shower before waking you to wash off the lingering smells of horse and stable before coming back to bed, but this morning I'm horny as hell, and can't wait to get my hands on you. Sneaking up the stairs, I peel off my t-shirt as I go, and find you lying on your stomach , the quilt covering your lower half. I toe off my boots and push off my jeans before grabbing hold of the bottom of the quilt and pulling it slowly off you and the bed, grinning to myself as you snuffle a little in your sleep.

( Mornin' sleepin' beauty )

NC-17

Théo: After Dave leaves I relax on the couch. The pills have removed the restlessness I would usually be feeling while waiting for you to arrive, and I find myself quite happy to sit here, until I hear the bike pull up in the yard. I decide to go and greet you and ease myself off the couch, testing how much weight I can put on my injured foot. I take one tentative step, steadying myself with a hand reached over to the back of the couch, then another. But as I hear the door open, I run out of couch and overbalance just enough to land my full weight on my foot and the pain shoots through the effect of the medicine. I let loose a string of curses and sit down heavily on the arm of the couch to wait for you, brow furrowing into a frown at the deep throbbing of dull pain in my ankle.

Éomer: Karl had told me that the arrangements are to meet at Paris’s warehouse, for though it happens that Paris lives with his lover now, Théo prefers the warehouse. I know that this world has many people in it, so that men may refuse to take a wife if they do not desire it. In ours, we do not have a choice, but I am glad that Dave and Paris have found the happiness of their choosing.

I am concerned that I have misunderstood however, when I arrive and you are not waiting to greet me. I do not wish to intrude where I am not wanted and so I knock, calling your name softly. I am more perplexed when bade me enter without opening the door yourself, but my questions are answered by the sight of you with bandages around your foot.

( Is this your injury or Paris's? )

Brief NC-17 at the beginning

Paris: Sighing, I let my head drop back and close my eyes for a moment. It’s gonna be another half hour at least before they see me, and I suppose it’s time to phone Dave, let him know about my ungraceful trip that’s left me with a badly twisted ankle after only one week working on the beach house. Ryssa and Ben gave me heaps of reassurances that they could cope, and it is Friday, but still. A nurse walks by and smiles and I return it as I dig in my pocket for my cell. Hitting speed-dial, I sigh again as I listen to it ring, exasperated at myself for not taking more care.

( Hey Babe. )

Takes place a few hours after Paris and Ryssa's celebration.

Théo: Since Paris is staying at the warehouse for a few days while Dave is away, I thought I would take the opportunity to shift in and finish reading the tale I started weeks ago. But the sight that greets me as I reach the bottom of the stairs is an unusual one. The low table by the couches is laden with small open boxes half full of food. There are dirty plates also and mugs and bottles so I can only guess that Paris and a friend ate here last night, although Paris is not one to leave such a mess until morning.

I consider leaving it as it is, but I will be happier sitting reading if it is out of sight, so with a sigh, I decide to clear it up into the kitchen, then Paris can deal with it in the morning. It only takes a few minutes, and once it is done, I find the book I want on the shelves and sit on the couch, relaxing and losing myself in the words.

Ryssa A glance at the clock through the crack in my eyelids confirms that it’s still the middle of the night. Never matters how much water I drink before I go to bed after drinking too much, I always wake up in the night wanting more.

( Padding down the stairs, I find myself face to face with Paris )

Happens the night after Paris and Sean meet

We got the contract.

I phoned and left a message for Dave on his cell, but I guess Faramir is working, as he hasn’t rung back yet.

But there’s celebrating to be done, and after we’d finished giggling madly and hugging each other, Ryssa and I sat the guys down and told them the good news. Ryssa’s slotted in nicely as part of the team, despite their initial reaction at having some well spoken Brit woman coming to work with me. She acknowledges that they know what they’re doing and listens to their ideas and concerns, which makes them happy. And she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty either, which surprised them.

We’re a good way into the latest stable project, and well ahead of schedule, so I decided we could all do with a break, and took everyone out for a drink. We ended up making an evening of it, and when Ben and Adam decided it was time they called it a night, I suggested that Ryssa sleep over at the warehouse, save getting a taxi to her place.

Ryssa: It’s been a long time since I’ve been this … well, squiffy. And I can’t remember eating anything tonight so as we walk … tumble in through the back door, I spot a menu for the Chinese takeaway place pinned on the wall, and grab it, waving it at Paris.

( Hungry? )

This is referred to at the end of this previous chat.

18th November 3014 Third Age
Meduseld, Edoras, Rohan

I sit by the hearth, tools laid out on the table in front of me, and a piece of leather long enough to wrap round a sturdy wrist pinned to a board by the two eyelet holes in each end. A leather thong lies near my tools, ready to slip through the eyelets when it is finished. There is a design marked on it, graceful and unstructured, based on the intricate knotwork that is so much a part of our lives, adorning as it does everything from the pillars in the Golden Hall to our armour. In the centre is a horse’s head, mane flowing, entwining with the rest of the pattern. Picking up a fine bladed knife, I set the point against the surface and begin to cut, taking care to penetrate no deeper than the grain of the leather.

( I lose myself in the work ... )

As I drive up to the cabin, Giz is sitting on the deck as usual, waiting for me. There's a cat flap for him to use in the back door, but I think he hears the engine as I turn off the road and comes to meet me. It also pisses Ise off that he's the first to greet me, slinking round my ankles as I dig out my keys to open the door and let her out.

We've both been living here almost full time since Christmas Day. I've stayed at the warehouse on the odd night that I have to work late or early, but apart from that, I guess this has become our main home, and there's a reason for that.

His name is Cavalo.

And unlike the rest of our motley crew, he can't be stuck on the back seat of the truck and driven into town for a few nights when the fancy takes us. I know the guys that look after Leelu could easily do the same for him, but I want to get to know him, let him get to know me, build that bond that Éomer talked about.

Dave isn't home yet, so I feed the furballs and grab a quick shower to get the dust out of my hair. As soon as I emerge, Ise is waiting for me, already used to a routine which is still new, but feels right and we head off down to the stables, leaving Giz curled up on the couch.

There's a whicker as I leave the trees behind and walk down to the paddock. I love the way he does that when he sees me, and comes straight over to the fence, tossing his head. He's feisty, full of spirit and he's mine. I climb over the fence and he walks towards me, butting his head against my chest. I run my hand down his neck as he snuffles at my pockets looking for the apple slices I always carry now. That was one of Éomer's hints. And that reminds me. Dave isn't the only one to thank for finding Cavalo, although I think it'll be in a different way.

Laurelea comes to greet me too, and I slip her an apple slice, not wanting her to feel left out. And I wonder if Dave will follow me down when he gets in. Maybe we'll be able to take them out together. Cavalo follows me over to the gate, and I slip out to get his combs and brushes. As I work on his beautiful chestnut coat, I think back to Christmas …

( It had been a quiet Christmas Eve. )

Théo: 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. )

NC-17

Ryssa: I finally persuaded Paris to abandon our usual haunt in favour of that quirky little café Sweet Pete introduced me to, and I can see by his face that he isn’t disappointed. I grin smugly as he finishes off his raspberry pastry.

Paris: Washing down the pastry with a gulp of coffee, I smile at the self-satisfied look on your face. “Okay, okay, I give in. This is way better than Starbucks.” We both reach for our jackets and I pick up the check, paying it while you pull yours on and we wander out into the street. “So you still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

( Ryssa: Absolutely. I can't wait to meet the stud muffin that is David Wenham. )

Mer and I walk through the streets of Wellington dressed in leather and mesh on our way to meet Darla, the server from the leather shop.

The morning I went back to the shop to buy the cuffs, I had a long conversation with her, and she told me of a club in Wellington that she thought my partner and I might enjoy. A place in this world where those who have similar tastes to us can come together and, as she put it, “party”. I admitted to being intrigued and asked her more. She called it Lucid, and when I told her I was rarely in town and did not know of such a place, she quite happily volunteered to take us both.

She gave me her phone number, and a few days before I was due to see Mer again, I shifted in just after Paris had fallen asleep and called her to make arrangements. And now she is waiting for us as we approach the place she suggested we meet her. I smile at her and she waves in greeting. She is tall and slim, her black hair shot through with dark red strands, and a soft ankle length leather coat moves around her as she walks towards us, revealing her long legs accentuated by high heels and a very short leather skirt. As she reaches us, she embraces me with a smug smile and slips a small heavy box into my pocket as she kisses my cheek. When she steps back I give her a tiny nod of thanks and introduce you both, and we continue on our way.

When we arrive, the throb of the music hits us even before we have paid our way in and left our jackets with an attendant. Darla turns and smiles at us before leading us downstairs into the club, the beat wrapping around and pulsing through us.

"Enjoy! I’ll catch you guys later"

( With a wink, she flits off through the crowd. )

NC-17 with mild D/S situations

Follows directly on from this

We walk straight up the stairs to the second floor, and emerge into a huge room with a very tall ceiling. And what grabs me straight away is the view. A big part of the back of the house is glass, with a view out over an expanse of white sand down to the ocean.

It’s magnificent.

Even given it’s nothing but an empty shell now, there’s no doubt about it. I recognised the art deco influences from the exterior but inside is basically a blank canvas.

Mag-fucking-nificent.

As I’m walking round, Ryssa pulls open the glass doors and disappears outside onto the deck. As well as the room we walked into, there’s another next to it, and one at the back which must have been the kitchen at one time. Further through, there are three bedrooms, one with an en-suite, and a separate bathroom. The master bedroom also has access to the deck, so I open the door and wander outside.

The railings round the wide deck are rusted, and I run my hands over them, already counting up the costs of restoration. There’s a set of steps that bisect the deck and lead down to the sand, and soon it’s crunching under my feet. I turn and study the building, eyes drawn by the curving walls.

Ryssa joins me, tilting her face up into the sun.

“How many rooms downstairs?” I ask her.

“Four, with another bathroom.”

( Ryssa, this is a huge project. )

It’s becoming a habit.

Thursdays, one o’clock, Starbucks.

With her.

She’s gorgeous. Wavy blonde hair, and sea green eyes that seem to change with her mood from almost emerald to oh so soft with a hint of smoky blue.

She’s always late, so I get to see the looks of envy from any other guys around as she makes a bee-line to my table and kisses me on the cheek.

I always have her order ready. She tells me that our lunchtimes together are her only regular indulgence, and that’s easy to believe. She’s in great shape.

We talk as we eat, sharing little pieces of our lives, our work, and laughing together. She’s very tactile, touching my hand and my arm as she speaks, and I quite like that. It’s just part of who she is, and I am so lucky that she found me. All too soon, it’s nearly time for me to go, and I drain the sweet dregs of my mocha as she daintily finishes off her muffin.

“Paris.” She virtually purrs in my ear. “Remember what we talked about last week?”

“Yeah?” I nod slowly as she bites her lip with obvious anticipation.

“Well, I made all the arrangements. This afternoon, you and I have the place all to ourselves.”

She pulls out a set of old keys on a worn keychain, and dangles them in front of me, a look of pure wickedness on her face.

“Just us? No-one else knows about this?” My heart rate leaps at what this means. My doubts still linger, but I’ve thought out all the possible consequences, and at the end of the day, sometimes when an opportunity like this presents itself, you just can’t say no, no matter what the cost.

So I reach out and take the keys without hesitation, our fingers brushing briefly.

“I’ve got the truck with me. I’ll follow you.”

There’s a look of smug satisfaction on her face, as without another word she picks up her bag and waits for me. I grab my jacket and we make our way down to the car park. On the way out of town, I phone Adam to let the guys know I won’t be back for the rest of the afternoon. If I’m gonna do this, no point in rushing it.

40 minutes later, I follow her as she pulls off the road onto a long driveway. The place is more overgrown than I had expected, and the outside of the white house we pull up in front looks as if it needs attention, but that’s not important, not right now. I join her, my nerves understandable and obviously showing as she takes my hand and leads me to the door, slipping the largest key into the lock. It turns smoothly. Maybe I should see that as a sign that this is the right thing to do.

She smiles at me, and I swallow with anticipation and smile back.

“Come on.”

She tugs on my hand, and I follow her willingly, knowing that once I cross the threshold, things may never be the same again …

A morning of intellectual pursuits was a lot to ask of Théodred. Even as rumpled and mussed as the Helvetica was, it was still a place of studious reading and discussions. Even Faramir was ready for something a bit more down to earth. He directed Théodred from the back of the bike, holding on tightly with one hand and pointing out directions with the other, until they pulled up in front of The Malthouse. Faramir knew the ale here was excellent, food would be plentiful, and recalled the large open fires that took any chill right out of the air.

( Faramir, Théodred, and a Big Bang. No, not that kind. )

Théo: Dave and Paris kindly agreed to allow Faramir and I to spend some time together. My recent conversation with Mer has left me curious about many things, one being the history of this world and how it meshes with our world, and can think of no-one better to help me find out more. I remember well his love of books and the look of surprise on his face when he found out my own passion for them, something I thank my grandmother for. And Faramir himself was a good influence on me during a time when I was younger and had forsaken reading for more earthy pursuits. I smile at the memory of a lad with serious grey eyes who was as passionate about his books as he was about his sword practice. Not that his father ever acknowledged either skill. But I banish all thought of Denethor as Dave nods a farewell to me, and my old friend replaces him.

“Faramir!” I pull you into a hug. “It has been too long.”

Faramir: The hug is warm and very welcome. It has indeed been too long. "Théodred! I was beginning to think you had run off with the hobbits and forgotten me. So, what would you like to do today? Play pool? Go off carousing in the taverns? Ride?"

You've got an odd look on your face, one I can't quite discern. I have to admit it intrigues me. I've not been in Wellington much of late, since Dave and Paris have come to some agreements of their own, I have left them in peace to discover the new levels of their relationship. While I am glad for them, and celebrate their coming to terms with their union... I have to admit that I've craved some time of my own in this land I have adopted as my second home, and have missed those I consider friends. Foremost among those is Théodred, and now we have a day to ourselves. "Tell me of what we will do this fine day in Wellington, old friend"

( Théo: I suppose you never expected to hear me ask to be taken to a library? )

I chase the last of the crumbs from what had been a large slab of raspberry cheesecake around the plate, eventually squishing them with the back of my spoon and licking them off. It had been divine. All creamy and sweet, off set by the sharp tang of raspberries and complimented by the crumbly nutty base. Putting my spoon down, I flash Dave a grin as he finishes his dark chocolate mousse, which had been almost as good as my dessert, going by the fork-full he fed me when it first arrived.

Our coffees arrive with a smile. Rich and smooth, they’re the perfect end to the perfect lunch. I wanted to spend some time with Dave away from Wellie cause last time I had a day off, I spent it with Éomer. So I suggested we take Leelu up the coast for a blast, and he suggested this place.

He sits back, looking happily stuffed to the gills, and I can’t resist picking up the small dish of chocolates that came with the coffee and offering them to him with a smirk.

( Wafer thin mint? )

Takes place a few hours after this

Théo: Sometimes I want to explore this new world with you, leave the confines of these walls and wander, either aimlessly or with purpose, drinking in experiences with you at my side. And sometimes, I have no desire to step out of the door, not even to ride free and easy on the bike. On days like that, there is no need for clothes. I want to spend every second naked with you, touching your skin, arching at the slightest caress of your fingertips, my body so in tune with yours that I do not feel whole unless I am touching you.

Sometimes when I think on our time here, it is a wonderful tapestry of sensation, soaked in sweat and love. Muscles tensing and rippling beneath my touch, your hair slipping through fingers, tight heat gripping me, hard flesh taking me, the sound of your voice crying my name, groaning for me, growling possessively.

And sometimes I remember every single expression that has passed over your face, each with crystal clarity. I can touch every memory we have made together as if I were living it afresh. Eyes that darken with raw lust so focussed on me that my spine tingles, or flash with touches of a vulnerability I know is kept for me alone. Lips that can burn my flesh or heal my wounds. Words that can turn my soul inside out with the comprehension of how much you love me, or overwhelm me with the desire to take you and make you mine again and again and again …

It took a while to ease out from the tangle of your limbs without waking you, a raging thirst for cold fresh water hard to ignore. I notice how dark it is outside, even though it is nowhere near midnight as I stand in the bathroom drinking one glass before refilling it and taking it back to bed with me, thinking you may need it too when you wake. I took the comfort you offered me earlier, and we let our passions run free down in the training room, ending up in a satisfied knot of limbs after hours of tormenting each other. After a shower and food we were both in the mood to curl up and doze for a while.

When I get back, you have grabbed one of the nest of pillows we always sleep in and it has replaced me in your arms. Smiling, I take a seat on the bed next to you and kiss your shoulder, pushing my fingers gently through your hair to stroke your neck, wondering if you truly know how much I love you, if I ever really succeed when I try to tell you. A low sound akin to a purr resonates from somewhere deep in your chest and I know you are not quite as drowsy as you look.

( My fingers run slowly down your spine )

NC-17

Éomer: The clash of swords echoes in this high ceilinged room. We grin at each other, tossing our heads to fling sweaty hair out of our eyes. This is another gift that we have found in Karl's world . . . training together. It has been long since either you or I have been able to indulge in sword practice for the sheer enjoyment of it. And certainly not together, our different commands keeping us far apart for months at a time.

But I have seen you recently at Edoras, and the memory of that meeting has me unsettled. I was afraid to look at you too long or too fondly, for fear that hostile eyes would mark my regard for you. However, that constraint may have given rise to other problems, which worry me. Yet another gift is the opportunity to talk to you without fear, though I cannot tell you precisely what has occurred, I can reassure myself on certain things.

The angle of the sun coming through the long windows on the west wall has lengthened by the time we stop, panting and grinning at each other. By mutual impulse, we begin putting the weapons away, cleaning and drying them as we work.

"Théo . . . " ( I cannot hold my questions back any longer. )

I shifted in early today, as soon as Paris woke. I said I had things to do this morning before Éomer arrives, and I could tell Paris was curious, but he had the good grace not to ask. I am thankful for that, as I do not wish to lie to him, yet there are some things he does not need to know. It gave me a chance to enjoy a shower and a coffee before heading into Wellington …

I am back with plenty of time to spare, and take my purchases up to the bedroom to arrange a few things. That does not take long and I have had time to open the gate and sit on the step in the cool spring sunlight for a while before I hear the bike approaching.

( Paris told me Karl’s cast is off which I am pleased about, otherwise I would have had to pospone my plans for today. )

Warning - NC-17

The driftwood is warm under my fingers as I smooth the edges of the marks left by the small carving tool. It knows what it wants to be, just needs a little help to get there …

I found it one Sunday, weeks ago, as me and Dave walked along the beach. We’d been talking about things, stuff, nothing in particular, spending time together, making each other laugh and smile as Ise ran in and out of the sea, when we came across a line of debris left by the last high tide. Ise snuffled her way through it, grasping a frayed length of blue nylon rope between her teeth, growling to herself as she pulled it free of the rest, dislodging a piece of driftwood in the process.

The slender curve of it drew me and I picked it up as Dave played tug of war with her. Just over two feet long, it was wide at one end, tapering to a soft point at the other, the grain clearly visible. There was something about it …

I carried it back to the cabin, keeping it out of Ise’s reach. As I laid it in the truck before we went inside, Dave asked me why I wanted it, why that piece out of all the others that had littered the beach.

“It feels right.” I’d shrugged with a puzzled smile, not really knowing why, but knowing that it had a purpose, and that I’d figure it out eventually. He touched my face, fingers ghosting round my jaw and all thoughts of driftwood were driven from my mind, replaced by desire. His hand had slipped into mine and I followed willingly as he tugged me towards the door …

The driftwood stood on my workbench for weeks. Every now and then I’d pick it up, run my hands over it, sure that I almost knew what it was for, almost …

On a damp spring evening I arrived home knowing that Dave wouldn’t be around until after ten, and stopped on my way past the workshop to drop some sketches onto the bench. As I glanced round the room, my eyes skimmed over the driftwood, and I finally saw in it what it was meant to be. I sat down, hands reaching out for my tools, and began to work …

I was still there when he heard Dave’s car approaching hours later, not realising how long I’d worked on it, not realising how hungry I was until I was distracted. Closing the door behind me, I smiled as Dave locked the car door, moving to greet him with a kiss before hurrying him into the warehouse so I could go in search of food.

I worked on it every chance I got until two nights ago, and then it was done. The sleek, smooth body of a dolphin bursting from the rough foaming surface of the sea, pushing itself skyward. What it was meant to be. And as soon as I knew that, I knew who it was for. I just hope he likes it …

I carefully wrap it in a dozen layers of tissue paper before lying it in a dark blue satin box and tying it up with a black ribbon and adding a small card with a simple message.

Happy Birthday Dave.

Love you forever, for always.

Paris.

Leaving the box on the table beside an opened bottle of Shiraz and two glasses, I guess I’ve just got time to dash upstairs to shower and change before he arrives. Leather jeans, bare feet and that dark blue silk shirt he likes so much, I think.

Ten minutes later, I hear the door open as I reach the bottom of the stairs, dragging my fingers through still drying hair. He smiles at me as I greet him with a lopsided grin.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

I wake early this morning as the sun is starting to rise, a soft light filling the room. You stir in your sleep, your arm tightening around me, your head tilting back just a little and it gives me the opportunity to study your face closely. When you sleep, the years slip from you, your face softening, dark lashes lying against your tanned skin holding my attention.

I let out a little sigh as I look at you, and then a soft snort of laughter at where my thoughts have gone. I was thinking how you need someone strong by your side, someone who will accept you for who you are, headstrong, wild, who will value everything about you, not punish you for acting on instinct. Someone strong enough to tame you without breaking you, bring a peace into your life. It is hard for me to accept that I cannot help solve your problems. This is not my world and you are not my responsibility. If you were one of my riders … I know you do not like the idea, but if you had been born in Rohan, there would have been no shortage of men and women who would want you at their sides.

There is a moment when you become restless, your brow furrowing, eyes moving rapidly beneath their lids so I run my fingers through your hair and ease you back to sleep as you burrow further against me. Closing my eyes, I wrap myself around you, deciding a few more hours sleep would do us both good.

( This time when I wake, the light is brighter, and you are no longer in my arms. )

Warning: NC-17

Karl: Paekakariki Beach is not very far from Wellie, so after we finally concede that it's too fucking cold to surf anymore, it's only about an hour later that we're pulling up in front of the barn. We leave the boards in the truck for tonight, but unload the wetsuits and cooler. I hang the wetsuits in the laundry room to dry, and now all I want to do is get in the shower.

I show you the guest bath, which has no tub, but you can get a hot shower. You seem intrigued by the futon bed in my office and I guess you didn't realise that the couch converts to a bed. Hopefully, the room is far enough away from mine that if I wake up screaming it won't disturb you. I'm gonna do all I can to avoid that tonight though, because I don't know if I can bear the humiliation of one of my nightmares waking you up. I’ve discovered that beer seems to make things worse, and after the incident with Dave, I’ve quit taking any alcohol, settling instead for water or coffee.

After a quick shower, I'm feeling much warmer and I go to the kitchen, lifting the lid of the slow cooker and smelling the lamb stew. It's been simmering all day and the aroma is tempting me. I resolve to eat like I'm normal and then maybe you won't ask me any more questions. The water from the other shower is still running, and I pull out the ingredients to make a batch of biscuits. They're in the oven and baking before the shower turns off, and I guess you must be pretty clean by now. I think that's the longest shower I've ever witnessed.

( I'm putting out plates and bowls on the table when you finally reappear. )

Warning: NC-17

The truck finally comes to a halt, and I open the door, slipping out without a glance at you. Admittedly, this new truck is very comfortable, but I still prefer riding the bikes of this world to being so enclosed.

There is the unmistakeable tang of salt in the air, and a couple of steps up the shallow bank reveal the beach and the ocean beyond it. Already the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves bring good memories to mind, making me smile as I remember time spent in a similar place with Mer, and the laughter I shared at the beach with Dave. Paris tried to talk me out of this when I asked him to arrange it. He said it would be too cold, but Karl agreed, so here we are.

The sound of the truck door slamming brings me back to the present, and I jump back down off the bank, following Karl to the back of the truck to unload our gear. I watch him as he pulls open the back of the truck as if it angered him beyond reason. He has spoken less than a handful of words since we set off, and I am beginning to think this was a bad idea. It is as if something is eating away at him, the few questions I asked him during the drive answered with little more than grunts.

I let out a long sigh. This was originally his idea. Well, surfing was his idea, being friends was my idea, but I cannot see much of a friendship forming if we are not going to speak to each other. He thrusts a surfboard at me, and I take it from him, noting the deep crease in his forehead that reminds me so much of Mer.

Then there is the matter of his hand. Broken in a bar fight, he told Mer, although that doesn’t sit quite right, given how adamant he is that Mer stay out of trouble when he is here. Perhaps that has something to do with his mood. For once in my life I stay silent, even though there are so many questions eating away at me, and I am more than a little concerned that this mood is not dissimilar to the one he was in when I first met him months ago. At least this time, it can have nothing to do with Mer and I … can it?

I follow his lead and plant the board in the sand, and can suddenly no longer keep quiet.

( Karl, have I annoyed you in some way? )

This took place the morning after Dave and Karl rehearsed Baz's script for Alexander and before Karl phoned Dave to tell him that he and Eric had split up.


Paris: First things first. Feed the furballs and then stick the coffee on, and I’m gonna need it good and strong this morning. And while that’s brewing I’ll try Dave’s cell. Again. No answer. Again. Sighing, I lay the phone down on the counter, pour myself a large mug of coffee and grab a cinnamon bagel to munch on. I didn’t sleep much last night. Dave was supposed to be sleeping here but he didn’t turn up. I knew he was spending the day at Karl’s, helping him rehearse, so I guess they must have gotten caught up with it and maybe he stayed over, but it’s not like him not to call. I tried him three times last night and then gave up, not wanting to play the jealous lover. But it wasn’t jealousy that had me tossing and turning in the middle of the night, it was concern, worry.

( The phone rings and I grab it off the bench. )

It’s around nine when I get back to the warehouse. I forgot Dave wasn’t gonna be here, Laurelea’s taken an odd turn, and he wanted to stay out at the cabin tonight to be sure she's not getting ill. On top of that, I have to be up at six tomorrow morning, so this way, at least one of us will get a good night’s sleep. Course, there’s no food in the fridge, so I grab a beer and a bag of Kettle Chips, feed Giz and head to bed.

The Vaio is still sitting on the bedside table. It’s a cute little thing, no bigger than a hard back book when it’s closed. I flip it open and start it up as a well fed Giz slinks through the door, and jumps on the bed demanding a stroke. Dave had a wireless system installed in the warehouse for me a couple of weeks ago and bought this for me too, so we can stay in touch when he’s away working. He even signed me up for AIM, and chose my screen name. I snicker at it as I log on, wondering if he’ll be around. I know he talks to his sisters quite a bit … and yes, DaisyMae has been logged on for 34 minutes.

( pokes )

Eventually NC-17

I arrived at Karl's in good spirits today, and found you waiting for me on the porch. It has been longer than usual since we have seen each other, and I park up the bike, pulling off my helmet as I walk quickly towards you, a grin on my face. It isn't until I get closer that I see the heavy bandage on your hand covered in a blue sleeve, and evidence of a fight, going by the fading bruises and marks on your face.

My brow furrows, and I reach out and put my hand on your cheek, examining your face, knowing by the age of them that these must be Karl's injuries, not yours. The bandage on your hand is rigid, designed to hold it still, so I guess that it is broken, but I get a demonstration of how little it bothers you by the way you pull me to you.

( Missed you ... )

NC-17

Paris: Business over for the day, I grab a shower at the warehouse before heading out to the cabin, looking forward to seeing Dave but I'm surprised to see Faramir relaxing on the porch. Pulling off my helmet, I walk to the steps to join him wondering why he's still here. Not that I don't like his company, but I had expected Dave to be back by now.

"Hey Faramir. Where's Dave? Everything okay?" Course its okay, he wouldn't look this happy if there was anything wrong, and he does look very happy … "Or do you wanna play that decider game after all?"

Faramir: Perfect. It must be that this plan was truly meant to happen today, as you've given me the perfect opening to lure you to the clearing. "Dave is fine. But I thought perhaps a tie-breaker was indeed in order. Would you be willing to change the game, though? I thought perhaps a round of sparring, in the woods. Unless you think I would win too easily, that is." I give you what I hope is a subtle, yet taunting look.

( Okay, you're on. )

The afternoon had been one of the most pleasant Faramir had spent in Wellington in a long time. He'd been practicing the billiard game that Paris had gotten him so hooked on, and, to be honest, he was anxious to show off his skills a bit. They'd ended up at 'The White Room', wanting to put a bit of distance between themselves and some of Theodred's regular haunts. Four games and two pitchers of beer later, the two friends conceded that a draw was a fine place to leave it. They strolled out into the early afternoon air, and said their goodbyes. Paris wanted to check on a supply shipment due to arrive that day, and Faramir knew Dave needed to stop by Hugo's place to tend to his cat and give everything a once-over for his out of town friend. Paris had mentioned he had no plans for the evening, and would meet up with Dave at the cabin after checking on his shipment.

As he drove back to the cabin, he thought about the time he'd spent with Paris, and what a good mood his friend was in this afternoon. It was a beautiful day. The morning rains had cleared, and brilliant sunshine helped the cool winter air feel a bit warmer.

( Times like this were to be savored. )

The birthday party had carried on well into the night. Dave was amazed by the stamina displayed by Paris’ parents, which threatened to outweigh his own. As the midnight hour approached, the smallest party guests were rounded up, though most of them seemed too hyper to sleep, most likely due to second helpings of the sugar laden birthday cake. A small boy of five apparently had skipped that indulgence, though, judging by the way he latched onto Dave’s leg and peered up at him, giving in to a gigantic yawn before mumbling “Are you my mummy?” Dave had been talking with Steve, who immediately snickered knowingly, forcing Dave to shoot him a ‘don’t even go there’ look before kneeling down and ruffling the boy’s hair, telling him in no uncertain terms it was time to go to his room.

Though he’d arrived with a plan to be polite, unobtrusive and not give any reason for stodgy members of the family to be shocked, Dave had slowly been worn down throughout the evening by the antics of Auntie Eileen. After he’d returned from his walk on the beach with Kate, she’d asked him to dance. The band had calmed out from the earlier Scottish tunes, and to Dave’s surprise, they played a nice easygoing rendition of “Moonlight Serenade”, well within Dave’s comfort zone. But as the song ended, she gave him a huge smile and refused to let go of his hand, and Dave knew he’d been had.

( Dancing ... )

Dinner had gone well, Kate thought. The chatter during the four courses that had been overseen by Jason got louder and louder as the wine flowed and there had been cat calls for her poor embarrassed husband to rise and give a speech. As it happened, he was in a talkative mood, and had kept them all laughing with anecdotes about the perpetrators of the party. He managed to make both of his sons roll their eyes and hide their faces with tales oftheir childhood, a feat she could see he was quite proud of. Steve had earlier insisted that Paris be the one to make the toast, and since he could be as shy as his father sometimes, he had been a nice shade of pink under that tan as he spoke. She was happy to see her two sons together again, and back to that friendship they had always shared growing up with only two years between them. After the cheering had died down, Paris had also raised a toast to prodigal children, that they all return safely to the fold, and most people present knew that this time, it was Helen that was uppermost in the family’s mind.

Kate sighed. Her youngest children took after her sister, and of course her mother. That was the only way to explain this necessity they both seemed to have to head off and disappear for years at a time. At least Paris was settled now, or so she hoped.

After the dinner had broken up, people had wandered off into the bar, or through to the room where a band was playing, a traditional Scottish band at Eileen’s request, and by now her sister was no doubt leading the party through the Gay Gordon’s or Strip the Willow. She smiled as she ordered another glass of wine from the bar. She had seen Paris being pulled in that direction too by a couple of his younger cousins, and noticed David slipping out onto the deserted balcony. She smiled at the though of what he must have gone through meeting everyone this weekend, but he had taken it all in his stride, and apparently had a new friend in the form of Eileen. She took a sip from the long stemmed glass and wandered out through the balcony doors, the slight breeze moving the silk of her slim fitting ankle length dress. It was a warm evening, and there was no need for a jacket to cover her shoulders. She slipped off her sandals, leaving them by the door and wiggled her toes.

( Dave and Kate reach an understanding )

There's a family album being pulled together for these chats to let you know how we see them. I'll post a linky when it's done :)

Dad's face when he walked in to applause and cheers was amazing. He scanned the room, his eyes resting on me and Steve standing together at the back, a huge grin growing on his face as he shook his head, and we happily grinned back at him. Then he was swamped by people all wishing him the best, and telling him he really didn't look his age, as people do on these occasions. It had been arranged that he open his presents before dinner, and his eyes glowed when he tore the silvery paper off the horse, and he pulled me into a huge hug. "Thanks son. That you made it with your own hands ... that means a lot."

( I don't ever think I've seen my Dad tear up before. )

We’re heading up the coast to the hotel, and Izzy is driving. She refused to let Steve get behind the wheel of her shiny new SUV, and I had to smile at his hangdog expression. So he’s giving Dave a running commentary of places we pass. We’re heading up early, because Jas, who is travelling behind us with Jack in his sporty little Mazda, is supervising the food, and wants everything to be perfect.

( I have to admit, my heart was pounding in my chest when we walked through the doors of 69 this morning )

Paris: *lets myself be pushed backwards to fall on the bed* *grins up at you*

Dave: Mmm. Look. We're alone in your brother’s spare room. *picks up your leg and bends it and pulls off your shoe*

( Paris: So we are. )

Dave: If I could take a deeper breath, I would, but my lungs can only take so much. No turning back now. We've had a nice flight up, your gift for your dad made it intact and is currently in a large crate down in reception. And we're standing in the elevator on our way up to Steve's apartment. I watch the softly lit numbers of the floors slide by as we ride to the Penthouse, and my vision brings it all down to slow motion. Four days with your family, and most likely a bit of time with your ex-lover. It's all good. You love me, and I love you. Your family will welcome me with open arms. Or else they'll throw me in the bay. Mental note to self: Next time I meet the love of my life's family, do so away from waterfront. Deep breath, Dave, come on, I'll be fine. I'm wearing a wonderful shirt Paris picked out that he assures me is reasonably in good taste, though I fail to find the attraction of it. I tug on it nervously.

( Maybe Steve's not home. )

"Yeah Mom, I haven't forgotten."

It's still early, and Sunday, so I left Dave sleeping when I heard the phone ring, and slipped downstairs. I talk as I walk to the back door, and open it, letting Ise and Giz out into the yard.

"I'm flying up on Friday night, and staying with Steve so as not to spoil the surprise."

Wandering back to the kitchen, the phone nestles against my shoulder as I spoon coffee into the cafeteria and wait for the water to boil.

"Is Helen gonna be there?" I snort with laughter at her reply. "And I thought I was supposed to be the prodigal child!"

The hot water, just off the boil, soaks into the grounds, filling the place with such a strong scent you can almost taste the caffeine on the air.

( Yeah Mom, I'm still listening, just making coffee. )

Éomer: The sun is well up though Théo had rousted us out of bed early, eager to get to his plans for the day, but not so much that he did not have time to wake me with his mouth on my cock. By the time I was aware of what was happening my hips were working against his mouth. I pulled him around to me, wanting to taste his own silky flesh in my mouth and his seed on my tongue. After we brought each other to shuddering completion, then I was just as ready for our day's plans.

Théo handed me a cup of the dark bitter drink that he favors and I find that I am growing accustomed to it, even starting to like it. We breakfasted on sweet bread and fruit, eating while we sat together, our legs entwined.

But now we are on the way to find a horse for Théo while we are here and he has gone, leaving you driving Karl's truck again. We are almost to the place where your friend, Mike, has his string of trail horses. You tell me that they are obtainable to rent for anyone with the coin to pay for them, and I am skeptical as to their value, knowing that a horse and rider must be matched carefully and cannot form a good partnership if it is nothing more than an economic transaction.

( Nevertheless, as the small farmstead comes into view, I find that I am keen to see what kind of horses this Mike has available. )

Eventually NC-17

It’s a pleasant enough day, considering its winter, and I take it easy on the drive over to Karl’s. I feel Théo arrive halfway there.

“Hey Théo. So you and Éomer gonna shift in when we get there?”

“No, you will be driving to the cabin with Éomer.”

“What??”

“I thought it was time you met my cousin, got to know him.”

“Why??”

“In case you ever have need of one another. Surely it would be better that you meet now, and not at some moment of crisis?”

I sigh. ( Why does it sometimes feel like you're another incarnation of my Mom? )

NC-17 eventually

Karl: I'm restless, Eric's doing inventory, so I'm at loose ends and I'm sick of being home, feel like getting out. Don't feel like drinking by myself, what I really want to do is play . . . something. I remember talking to Paris about hustling pool . . . wonder if he'd like to go. Probably tied up with Dave, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to check, I haven't seen him in a while, since the horseboys have learned their way around Wellie so well.

Mentally cursing my disorganization, I hunt around for Paris' number, before remembering that I saved it in my phone. Next problem, finding the phone. I glare at Ire who appears to be laughing at my frustration.

"Go away, you mangy beast." He rolls over lazily, and starts licking his balls. Now I really need to go out, I'm getting disrespected by my own dog.

Phone finally located, I call Paris, who is free, surprisingly enough.

( We agree to meet at Copperface Jacks on Kent Terrace. )

We have spent most of afternoon in Karl’s barn, blankets spread out on fresh straw, bodies entwined together, but the seasons have changed, and when we wake, the night is cold and we head back to the house. Ire is already asleep on one of the couches, wagging his tail as we enter and make a fuss of him before we head off for a shower.

The hard jets of streaming water soon warm us, and your hands are slippy with soap on my skin as we wash each other. You get that look in your eye that I know so well, and I grin back at you …

I cooked up all the steak that Karl had left in the fridge, which proved far too much for even the two of us, so I cut what was left into strips, and fed it to Ire who was camped out under the table. Later, warm, clean and well fed, we leave the kitchen and you take my hand and tug me towards the bedroom. I pull you close and kiss you, never tiring of the taste of you, the feel of your lips against mine. I kiss your neck and murmur against it. “Go through to the bedroom and lie face down on the bed. I will not be long.” You pull away and look at me. I smile back at you, a teasing look in my eyes.

( No commands Mer, not tonight. Just a whim. )

NC-17

Follows directly on from Unravelling

Éomer: My hair is still damp from the bath and I shift it out of the way as we settle together on your bed. For once, I am having trouble deciding what to do with my arms.

Théo: You have been quieter than usual since we sat together on the couch, and I can feel a little distance between us, which pulls at my heart. When you do not pull me to you as we lie together on the bed, I know we have to talk. I sit cross-legged at your side, looking at you with a small smile. "Mer, tell me what is wrong? Have I done something to hurt you?"

( Éomer: No! Of course not. )

It was early today when you arrived, and with no plans made, we were free to fall into bed and spend a couple of hours making up for the time we have been apart. Happy, and for the moment sated, we curled up on the bed, tangling together, touching, kissing, dozing, until the angle of the sun streaming in through the window and the grumbling of your stomach remind me that it is almost midday.

I grin at the loud rumbling sound that disturbed my rest. Propping myself up on one elbow, I let my fingers roam through the fur on your chest, my eyes finding yours as you purr and stretch under my touch. Your hand reaches out to stroke my hair, and I lean into it, closing my eyes and rubbing my head against your palm as a cat would. When I open my eyes again, I catch sight of your … Karl’s old breeches, hanging by one leg over the back of the couch where they were thrown earlier in our haste to remove your clothing, and my mind starts to work.

I lower my mouth to your chest, kissing my way slowly up it as I think. Paris is quite happy to answer my questions about this world, and went into detail on how trade and commerce work here. How merchants no longer travel from town to town selling their wares, rather have fixed places of business, “shops”. I quizzed him on where he had his clothes made, and he laughed, and told me that clothes were very rarely made for a person unless they were incredibly rich, in which case they were made by expensive “designers” who I gather are not unlike seamstresses. In this world, clothes are usually bought in these shops, which I now realise we have passed many times on our travels.

I slide my lips over your collar bone. “I think we should take the money we won playing darts and find you some riding leathers, breeches and a jacket. You are too big for Karl’s clothes and as we are able to spend time here regularly now, I think it is only fitting that the Third Marshall be properly attired.” Biting down gently, I suck on your salty skin before teasing.

( And I want to see you in leather. )

NC-17 for light bondage and leather kink

Théo: This time when you arrive at the warehouse, I am waiting for you with only a pair of Paris’ loose training breeches on, my feet bare, having made a few preparations before hand. I watch as you lock up Karl’s bike, thinking it should have a name, and then you are with me, crushing me to you, your hair falling over my bare arms. My mouth opens to your kiss, tongue sliding over yours, losing myself in your taste until we have to part to breathe again.

With a slow smile I wriggle out of your grasp and pull you into the house to the bottom of the stairs. “Will you put yourself in my hands again, Mer? Follow my commands?”

Éomer: The memory of the last time you asked this of me is vivid in my mind, as is the pleasure you brought me with your game. I am aching to touch you, to slake my desires on you, and I can never have enough of you. But I asked you to teach me this, and I wonder what you have in store for me.

I look into your eyes and see your desire for me and I trust you above all others. You want me to follow your commands, easy enough, I am used to doing that anyway. And if the nature of those commands has changed from matters of military strategy to matters of pleasure, there should be no difference. But I do not give up control easily, for you alone will I ever do this.

( I will ... )

Warning: NC-17 inc mild bondage :)