A Look Alone
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,270
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Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,270
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Look Alone
Title : A Look Alone.
Author: Fishy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Pairing: For me, Glorfindel/Erestor.
Summary: silly words in random order.
Haven't updated in so long, thought I'd update with some old fics that didn't make it here.
A Look Alone.
A relationship based on looks alone. Not of a physical nature, not lips nor cheek, I mean looks passed secretly from one person to another, a private, almost intimate exchange involving no words at all. That is my relationship with him, ridiculous, no? Consider that these looks are my excitement and tingling apprehension. My words and song, breath and smiles, consider all that and tell me no. No that is not ridiculous.
Perhaps I am too harsh, I think that perhaps a look, if it is genuine and true, and so intent, can mean more then words or gestures. Though a few words would not go a miss, and a gesture or two from this - this one person that holds me so tightly enraptured - would certainly be welcomed. So if I am then being harsh and not foolish, is this exchange hopelessly romantic, is it delightfully young and unexpected? I know only for sure that I wake each day anticipating the moment we may cross paths. Oh my yes, this is foolish, but perhaps it is also my big romance, the true and perfect part of us all that is content and thriving in the stillness and absolute silence within all.
See how much he makes me think, makes me digress and lose all sense? And I thank him for that, for his ability to make me wonder and want. And so as you are in the know, I think these fanciful and exquisite thoughts in surroundings unparalleled in it’s every day mundane sounds and colours. I am of course in council, the first here, waiting for the arrival of others - and for my day - in all it’s disappointing splendour to crash through the day dream of him, with the force of a heartrending storm. No matter.
I tidy my papers, I am the nonchalant master or professionalism. These people will listen to me, be impressed and ask advise of me. And so they should. But as they do so I will be thinking boyish thoughts and at any opportunity where no one sees, I will glance at him. And I know with a thrill that through some uncanny sense he will glance to me in that same moment, and something will be exchanged, with a look alone.
All take their seats, and I greet those closest with a slight and very councillor Erestor nod of my head. As all settle and brief conversation ensues before our Lord arrives, I take a moment to busy my hands, as if this will hide the fact that I dare glance to the chair opposite me for the first time that morn. And there he is.
He sits quite comfortably. He sits with legs crossed, his left ankle resting on his right knee. His elbow bent and supporting his head. His gaze is set upon me, and there is the kindest of all smiles upon his lips.
The effect on me is this. My shoulders relax slightly, warmth touches my cheeks ever so, and the most unguarded of any and all expressions takes hold. This I can tell by the warmth that then sparkles secretly in his blue and deep gaze. His smile spreads slightly, and the palm his chin had rested in a moment before casually wipes across his mouth, as if feeling to see if the smile he wears outside matches the one I hope he feels within. And then he is looking to me once more, and I feel pleasure in that he is not so very obvious, yet seems so very at liberty to hide nothing in his gaze. He will listen and offer his voice, but when the topic shifts to that which does not require either of us, we will resume.
It always ends so quickly this way, and before I know it, it’s time to walk through the corridor and go our separate ways for the day before seeing each other most likely in the next council. But then that would be the best part. Walking through the corridor, that leads to both my office in one wing, and to the grounds straight on, that is the closest we get before both silently and reluctantly putting what we have on hold until the next exchange. It is the most intense and dizzying part, all ours and far too brief.
Today I will cherish it. I delay as all take their leave, quietly speaking as they go, paying no heed to the councillor who takes an unordinary amount of time to gather his papers together, and to the warrior who sits unmoving in his seat, watching appreciatively and dotingly as I take my time.
And when all are gone, I tuck most papers under one arm and carry the rest in my free hand, and taking a breath he is full aware of I look to him. It is utter delight in his expression, and slowly he stands, walking towards me in the empty space we occupy. I unknowingly grip that which I hold tighter as he stands closer then before, and I know I look frightened and also completely willing. I know this when I feel his hand ghost across my lower back, to gently touch and cup around my side. And I know then too that he sees I am completely lost for the love I have for him. His hand simply feels all the more warm for it.
With a gesture of his free hand we leave for the corridor, a walk that echoes steps we have taken many times before and will continue to do so. It is slower this time, our stride that is. There are voice far off somewhere, and a warm breeze blows through our open path, making all seem hazy and distant.
A small breath escapes me as his hand on my side softly rubs, a slight squeeze that I will linger upon forever it seems. My eyes close briefly, and when I open them we are at a halt, at the end of our path, and he is looking directly into my gaze, close enough to whisper.
But we do not whisper, we share one look. And therein are the promises I want to hear, his caresses, and all the words in the world.
We part, and as he takes a step away in the direction of everything else that isn‘t me, his hand is the last to slip away. Where it had cupped his fingers lingered for a precious moment, and then are gone. Taking slow steps he looks back over his shoulder uncontrollably, and I smile and, quite accidentally, laugh, it is quiet but he hears, and just as he is to take a turn that would be out of my sight, he bites his lower lip contemplatively, still smiling and with his thoughts of me raging inside.
He pauses a moment, before a wide smile crosses his lips, and with a small nod to me, he is then gone for the day, leaving me waiting for the next.
Our relationship, strange as it is. My big romance. My words my song, my breath my heart. A relationship of looks alone, or perhaps not.
The End.
Author: Fishy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Pairing: For me, Glorfindel/Erestor.
Summary: silly words in random order.
Haven't updated in so long, thought I'd update with some old fics that didn't make it here.
A Look Alone.
A relationship based on looks alone. Not of a physical nature, not lips nor cheek, I mean looks passed secretly from one person to another, a private, almost intimate exchange involving no words at all. That is my relationship with him, ridiculous, no? Consider that these looks are my excitement and tingling apprehension. My words and song, breath and smiles, consider all that and tell me no. No that is not ridiculous.
Perhaps I am too harsh, I think that perhaps a look, if it is genuine and true, and so intent, can mean more then words or gestures. Though a few words would not go a miss, and a gesture or two from this - this one person that holds me so tightly enraptured - would certainly be welcomed. So if I am then being harsh and not foolish, is this exchange hopelessly romantic, is it delightfully young and unexpected? I know only for sure that I wake each day anticipating the moment we may cross paths. Oh my yes, this is foolish, but perhaps it is also my big romance, the true and perfect part of us all that is content and thriving in the stillness and absolute silence within all.
See how much he makes me think, makes me digress and lose all sense? And I thank him for that, for his ability to make me wonder and want. And so as you are in the know, I think these fanciful and exquisite thoughts in surroundings unparalleled in it’s every day mundane sounds and colours. I am of course in council, the first here, waiting for the arrival of others - and for my day - in all it’s disappointing splendour to crash through the day dream of him, with the force of a heartrending storm. No matter.
I tidy my papers, I am the nonchalant master or professionalism. These people will listen to me, be impressed and ask advise of me. And so they should. But as they do so I will be thinking boyish thoughts and at any opportunity where no one sees, I will glance at him. And I know with a thrill that through some uncanny sense he will glance to me in that same moment, and something will be exchanged, with a look alone.
All take their seats, and I greet those closest with a slight and very councillor Erestor nod of my head. As all settle and brief conversation ensues before our Lord arrives, I take a moment to busy my hands, as if this will hide the fact that I dare glance to the chair opposite me for the first time that morn. And there he is.
He sits quite comfortably. He sits with legs crossed, his left ankle resting on his right knee. His elbow bent and supporting his head. His gaze is set upon me, and there is the kindest of all smiles upon his lips.
The effect on me is this. My shoulders relax slightly, warmth touches my cheeks ever so, and the most unguarded of any and all expressions takes hold. This I can tell by the warmth that then sparkles secretly in his blue and deep gaze. His smile spreads slightly, and the palm his chin had rested in a moment before casually wipes across his mouth, as if feeling to see if the smile he wears outside matches the one I hope he feels within. And then he is looking to me once more, and I feel pleasure in that he is not so very obvious, yet seems so very at liberty to hide nothing in his gaze. He will listen and offer his voice, but when the topic shifts to that which does not require either of us, we will resume.
It always ends so quickly this way, and before I know it, it’s time to walk through the corridor and go our separate ways for the day before seeing each other most likely in the next council. But then that would be the best part. Walking through the corridor, that leads to both my office in one wing, and to the grounds straight on, that is the closest we get before both silently and reluctantly putting what we have on hold until the next exchange. It is the most intense and dizzying part, all ours and far too brief.
Today I will cherish it. I delay as all take their leave, quietly speaking as they go, paying no heed to the councillor who takes an unordinary amount of time to gather his papers together, and to the warrior who sits unmoving in his seat, watching appreciatively and dotingly as I take my time.
And when all are gone, I tuck most papers under one arm and carry the rest in my free hand, and taking a breath he is full aware of I look to him. It is utter delight in his expression, and slowly he stands, walking towards me in the empty space we occupy. I unknowingly grip that which I hold tighter as he stands closer then before, and I know I look frightened and also completely willing. I know this when I feel his hand ghost across my lower back, to gently touch and cup around my side. And I know then too that he sees I am completely lost for the love I have for him. His hand simply feels all the more warm for it.
With a gesture of his free hand we leave for the corridor, a walk that echoes steps we have taken many times before and will continue to do so. It is slower this time, our stride that is. There are voice far off somewhere, and a warm breeze blows through our open path, making all seem hazy and distant.
A small breath escapes me as his hand on my side softly rubs, a slight squeeze that I will linger upon forever it seems. My eyes close briefly, and when I open them we are at a halt, at the end of our path, and he is looking directly into my gaze, close enough to whisper.
But we do not whisper, we share one look. And therein are the promises I want to hear, his caresses, and all the words in the world.
We part, and as he takes a step away in the direction of everything else that isn‘t me, his hand is the last to slip away. Where it had cupped his fingers lingered for a precious moment, and then are gone. Taking slow steps he looks back over his shoulder uncontrollably, and I smile and, quite accidentally, laugh, it is quiet but he hears, and just as he is to take a turn that would be out of my sight, he bites his lower lip contemplatively, still smiling and with his thoughts of me raging inside.
He pauses a moment, before a wide smile crosses his lips, and with a small nod to me, he is then gone for the day, leaving me waiting for the next.
Our relationship, strange as it is. My big romance. My words my song, my breath my heart. A relationship of looks alone, or perhaps not.
The End.