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Huan succeeded in pulling the toy from Celegorm’s hand, and barked victoriously. “Shh,” Celegorm murmured, crouching down on his heels and digging his fingers into the thick fur of Huan’s neck until Huan flopped over blissfully.

“Not at your house, then? In publ…I mean, at a restaurant? Yes, I know that’s where people usually get dinner. No, no, it’s fine. Let me get back to you.”

“Intrigue,” whispered Celegorm to Huan, who stared at him pathetically until he resumed his scratching. Celegorm flopped down on the floor next to Huan, resting his head on Nahar’s side. This Nahar endured with tolerant resignation.

Oromë came back into the room, unable to hold back a smile as he saw Celegorm sprawled in a pile with the dogs.

“You three make quite the pack.”

“Nahar’s the alpha,” said Celegorm lazily, pulling at Nahar’s ears. “Me ‘n’ Huan are just the lowly underlings.”

Oromë sat down on the floor beside Celegorm, leaning back against the bureau. He stretched his legs out with a groan, and Celegorm immediately shifted over to rest his head in Oromë’s lap instead of on Nahar. Nahar gave a relieved sigh and closed his eyes.

“Knees bothering you?”

“No more than usual.” Oromë ran a hand through Celegorm’s hair. “See, this is why I’m not upset that you aren’t going pro. Thrice operated on knees, a once-torn rotator cuff and a twice-torn ACL may not be worth the dubious glory…”

“Your glory was pretty glorious,” said Celegorm, reaching up to brush his fingers against Oromë’s jaw. “But yeah, I take your point. Can I do anything for the pain? Bring you any – ”

“I’m fine.” Oromë laid an appreciative hand over Celegorm’s and changed the subject. “That was Vána on the phone.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the wife want?”

“She’s inviting us to dinner with her and Nienna.”

“Seriously?” Celegorm sat up and shook his hair back from his face, tying it back in a messy ponytail. “I thought she was kidding about that. You really want to go on a double date with your wife and her girlfriend?”

Oromë shrugged. “I get dinner with just the two of them not infrequently.”

“Never brought another boyfriend with you?” asked Celegorm, watching him intently.

Oromë shook his head, smiling. “Tyelko, I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was in my twenties.”

“Seriously? Wait.” Celegorm’s eyes widened. “…Then was I the first person you’d had sex with in ten years?”

“No.”

“Oooh. Tell me.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

Celegorm flopped back across Oromë’s lap. “That’s what you say when you’re hiding the juicy stuff. You had casual hook ups then, huh?”

“I suppose that’s what you’d call them.”

“With who?”

Oromë sighed. “I promise it’s not that interesting.”

“Of course it is. Tell me.”

“We’re getting side-tracked here.”

Huan scooted across the floor to lay his head alongside Celegorm’s, and Oromë laughed as Celegorm growled at Huan, who licked him. “Can we focus?”

“Sure, but don’t think I’m forgetting about your sex life.”

“Oh, good. Look, I’m not concerned that it will be weird getting dinner with Vána and Nienna. They’re dear friends of mine, and I think you’ll enjoy them. I’m more – I was thinking – I’m not sure…” Oromë trailed off, and Celegorm looked at him curiously.

“What?”

“I just don’t know that going out the four of us in public is such a good idea,” said Oromë quietly.

“Oh.” Celegorm pushed himself upright and considered. “I mean, even if people we knew saw us, they wouldn’t necessarily know it is…what it is.”

“I suppose.” Oromë still looked worried, and Celegorm rested his chin on his shoulder, letting his lips brush lightly against Oromë’s neck.

“You embarrassed to be seen out with me?”

“What? No!” Oromë caught Celegorm’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “That’s not it at all, Tyelko, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.”

“I think everyone I’m related to would tell you that’s not true. But I’m gonna hold you to it.” Celegorm lifted Oromë’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “So you’re still concerned that people will have questions on the whole you-used-to-be-my-coach thing?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck ‘em. No one can make calls on what’s between us but us.”

“That’s not true. There are valid questions to raise, and I don’t know if we’re ready to take that on...”

“Anyone tries to come after you, they’ll have to go through me,” said Celegorm firmly. “But if your job might be at risk – ”

“I honestly don’t know.” Oromë ran a hand over his hair tiredly. “This is all new territory for me, Tyelko.”

“I think we should go to dinner,” said Celegorm, turning Oromë’s hand over to kiss the palm. “You realize we’ve never been out to eat together? Like, on a date?”

“I know.” Oromë gazed at Celegorm, sadness bright in his eyes, and Celegorm quickly tried to lighten the mood.

“You know I’m always game for shenanigans, and dinner with my boyfriend, my boyfriend’s wife, and my boyfriend’s wife’s girlfriend sounds like it fits the bill. Let’s do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I always feel like someone’s walking over my grave when you say things like that,” Oromë muttered, but he relented as Celegorm laughed and kissed him.

---

Curufin brought his head down until his gaze was level with the desk, and examined his device critically. The one-eighth scale spark-gap was crackling merrily, and the purplish glow of its electric pulse gave the room an eerie light. A breeze sprang up through the open window, sending some papers skidding off the desk. Curufin stopped them with an absent hand and dropped them to the floor. Still watching the miniature Jacob’s Ladder, he jotted some notes into the notebook propped on his knees. The wind gusted stronger through the window, making the spark gap crackle and fizz, and Curufin shivered. He leaned forward to disconnect the device, and then reached to close the window. The room suddenly much warmer, he sat back in his chair with a sigh, flicking a loose lock of hair out of his eyes.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the light rap on the door, or register when it opened. He didn’t even see, at first, the pale figure in his doorway.

“Curvo?”

Finrod’s voice was very tentative, and at the sound Curufin looked up immediately, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, you’re back are you?”

“I swear I’ll be quick.” This time, when Finrod slipped into his room, he stayed far away, back to the closed door, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. He started to say something, and then broke off. “What’s that smell?”

“Ozone,” said Curufin, shortly.

Finrod’s eyes flickered to the desk and lit briefly in recognition. “A Jacob’s Ladder. I hope you had the window open when it was on.”

“Of course.” Curufin drummed his fingers against the desk. “What do you want, Findaráto?” He said the name brusquely, refusing to let it linger on his tongue.

Finrod took a deep breath. “Right. Listen, I am so sorry, Curvo. I don’t know what I was thinking, what I did was so inappropriate – I never, never should have kissed you. It was crossing the line, and it was taking advantage, and if I could take it back, I would.”

Curufin felt a black veil of rage drop down over his eyes as an acid burn roared through his chest. “Are you kidding me?”

Finrod hesitated, looking like he was searching for the right answer. “No?”

“You impossible – ” Curufin stood up and kicked the chair out of his way, furious. Finrod had no right to look so confused. “How dare you?” He strode across the room until he was inches from Finrod, who, he was pleased to see, looked deeply apprehensive. “You have the nerve to – to – ” He looked around, as if someone might be lurking in the corner, listening, and dropped his voice to a hiss, “to kiss me, you arrogant, presumptuous ass, and then – then – ”

“That’s why I’m trying to apologize,” said Finrod, his eyes flickering as he tilted his head back, trying to see Curufin’s face as he pressed closer. With Finrod shrinking back they were nearly of a height, Curufin noted, pleased, and he could actually pull off looming slightly over him. “I need you to know how sorry I am.”

“Sorry?” Curufin snarled and leaned forward, laying his hand against the door next to Finrod’s head. The other fisted, almost involuntarily, in the front of Finrod’s shirt. “You son of a bitch. First you kiss me, and then you have the gall to regret it? Who do you think you are?”

Finrod stared at him. “I don’t understand. Curvo, what exactly are you angry about?”

“I don’t want you to regret it,” whispered Curufin, low and dangerous. “I don’t want you to apologize.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” Curufin leaned forward, closing the last inch between them. “I want you to do it again.”

And he seized Finrod’s lips in a savage kiss.

He kissed Finrod like a challenge, like a dare – like a terrifying, gut-dropping leap. Do you want this? Do you regret this?

And maybe, just a little: Do I want this? Will I regret this?

(For a moment, he did.)

But Finrod kissed him back.

Chapter End Notes

1. Snartha has inadvertently illustrated Finrod and Curvo’s interaction in the final scene; either witchcraft or espionage at work, clearly.

You're hard to hug, tough to talk to

Chapter Summary

Some rather confused make-outs, a pile of Fëanorions, and sockless date prep.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Finrod’s lips were warm under his, his hand was still knotted in Finrod’s shirt, and Curufin was completely at a loss.

He could feel Finrod’s lips part slightly under his, and he shivered. I have no idea what I’m doing, he thought, wildly, This never happens. This can’t happen. To cover his uncertainty he surged forward, pressing Finrod back against the wall, kissing him almost violently. Finrod’s hands came up then, cupping Curufin’s face before carding gently through his hair and pulling him back slightly. One hand slid to the back of Curufin’s head, the other settled on his jaw, tilting his chin slightly to change the angle of the kiss.

“Easy,” whispered Finrod, and for a moment Curufin burned with humiliation, aware that he was being coached.

I don’t need your help!

But he was secretly grateful for Finrod’s light touch as he guided their lips together once more, running two fingers against Curufin’s throat, where Curufin was sure he’d be able to feel the frantic pounding of his heart. He flinched back slightly when he felt the brush of Finrod’s tongue against his lips, and immediately Finrod backed off. But though the sensation was alien, and odd, Curufin felt a wild rush of recklessness, and parted his lips for Finrod’s tongue.

This is strange, he thought, abstractedly, as Finrod laid an arm around his waist, his other hand light on the back of Curufin’s neck. Though he could feel his body responding, part of his brain refused to stop pointing out the individual motes of strangeness: How odd, the texture of another’s tongue. How invasive, to know the taste of another’s mouth. The inherent awkwardness of the whole thing, their noses bumping, the inevitability of teeth… There was an odd curl of sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t tell whether it was desire or disgust. The mingling of breath, the slick wetness of mouths…

Shut up, he ordered his brain, shut up shut up shut up

His left hand was still pressed flat to the wall by Finrod’s head, and as an afterthought, he moved it down, almost curiously, to touch Finrod’s neck. Finrod gave a murmur and tipped his head slightly to the right, exposing the stretch of skin between ear and shoulder, and Curufin, emboldened, ran his fingers along it. Finrod shuddered against him and Curufin felt oddly gratified at the response. He hesitated, distracted, and Finrod broke their kiss. Curufin thought for a moment that Finrod would push him away, but instead Finrod brought his mouth to just below Curufin’s ear, and then lower, lightly sucking at the sensitive skin of his throat. Curufin drew in a sharp breath, his hand tightening on Finrod’s shoulder, but just managed not to jerk back. He lowered his own head and nuzzled against Finrod’s neck, startled at the heat of his flesh. He twitched as he felt Finrod’s tongue slide against his skin, and almost defensively, he bit down on Finrod’s shoulder in retribution. Finrod gave a whole-body shiver and a low moan, muffled into Curufin’s neck.

He likes it.

This realization both exhilarated and disturbed him, and so he retreated. Half of him wanted to push Finrod away, out of the room, shut the door and lock it, but the other half couldn’t seem to stop. Not wanting his trepidation to show – I am not following your lead; I am not afraid – he caught Finrod’s chin and pulled him roughly back into a kiss.

Is this what Tyelko meant when he asked if I wanted him? Is this want?

Surely the room was far too hot and airless. He should never have closed the window.

And what does it mean if he wants me back?

Finrod’s teeth tugged playfully at Curufin’s lower lip and Curufin sank his fingers into the soft hair at the back of Finrod’s neck, digging his fingernails into Finrod’s scalp as his skin crawled and burned.

Always he manages to get under my skin –

He didn’t know how long they would have stayed there, wrapped together, kissing feverishly against the closed door – perhaps hours; perhaps only seconds, until Curufin yielded to some embarrassing urge to flee or shout or burst into tears – had there not been a noise from downstairs. They froze together, listening. The noise came again, and Curufin realized it was the sound of someone whose arms were full, fumbling to open the front door.

Sure enough, a harassed voice came indistinctly from outside. “Is anyone home? Can you open the door for me?” This was followed by the thump, as though someone had kicked the door for emphasis.

“You have to go,” said Curufin at once, releasing Finrod as if he’d been burned.

“Yes,” said Finrod, “I – ” He broke off, looking confused, and Curufin wondered when he’d ever seen Finrod so clearly at a loss for words.

“Go downstairs,” Curufin ordered, smoothing his clothes and shaking his hair back from his face, “Ahead of me. Quickly, you idiot, and go into Moryo’s room. You can go out the window from there – I know you have before. I’ll get the front door.”

“Yes.” Finrod stared at him, and half lifted a hand as if to touch his cheek. Curufin flinched, and then Finrod was gone, so fast that for a moment Curufin blinked, stupefied.

“Please will someone open the door?” came Maglor’s plaintive voice again from the front stoop.

Curufin rattled down the stairs, sparing only a glance for the swift figure vanishing into Caranthir’s room. He yanked the door open, and Maglor half fell over the lintel, weighed down with grocery bags and instrument cases.

“Why didn’t you put something down and open the door yourself?” he asked impatiently, grabbing a bag from Maglor’s arms.

“I just didn’t,” Maglor grumbled. “Oh god, my fingers are frozen…”