More Than One Hundred Words About Maedhros by Himring

The Sound Of Our Voices

A Maedhros/Fingon fade-to-grey.

Warnings: moderate sexual content (not very explicit: see fade-to-grey).

Rating: Teens-ish.

He’s standing on the terrace, facing away from me, his hair aflame with the sunset. He gives no sign that he realizes I’m watching him, that he even knows I’m there, and yet I can tell, somehow, that he’s aware of me with every inch of his body. I don’t know how I know this, but I do; it’s difficult to remember now that not so long ago, I would have had no idea at all.

At night, I slip into his room. He’s sitting waiting, a book on his lap for company. And although his face lights up in welcome as I reach out to him, there comes a split second when my touch on his shoulder make him shy like a skittish horse. He stills as my hand slides down his arm; he closes the book carefully, puts it aside and, without a word, gives himself to me.

My first kiss almost takes us to the floor, but we make it to the bed, where love breaks over us in a great wave.

Findekano.

He would shout my name aloud if he could. I can see how his body strains to cry out, but instinct as much as willpower stifles his voice. It emerges as a mere thread of sound, barely above a whisper. I kiss his throat in trembling gratitude.

Findekano.

His lips move without a sound now. He does not speak much of love. It is my name that means all that to him and more.

I say: Beloved. Dearest, dearest love. Heart of my heart.

I want him to hear it. He lies listening. He raises his hand and, with the tip of his finger, touches the corner of my mouth. It rests there for a little while, then gently trails across my lips.