WIP Amnesty: Telling The Dream (LOTR)
Dec. 18th, 2006 09:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
browngirlPosted for my Unofficial WIP Amnesty Week
Title: Telling the Dream
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: As it is: R at least As it was intended to be: NC-17
Pairing/s: Frodo/Merry
Notes: This story fell afoul of a kerfuffle I got myself into with a BNF and her minion over whether people who write Frodo/Merry are tinhats; after that, every time I looked at it I thought of that fight, and I just couldn't keep working on it. Which is ridiculous, but that's how creativity works sometimes, or rather doesn't.
On a completely other subject, it also has two beginnings, one tucked into the notes below the text.
Telling the Dream
Hazy summer sunlight and the Brandywine's babble...."Merry." Frodo's voice, warm in his ear, Frodo's touch, seemingly all over his skin.... "Mmm, yes." Merry moans, sinking into warmth...
"Merry!" Frodo is laughing, now, and shaking him? And Merry is back in his clothes, he's slumped over the arm of the overstuffed sofa where he must have fallen asleep, in the midst of a truly boring late winter afternoon with the rain droning on against the windows. Merry blinks awake to find Frodo leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the abandoned book off Merry's lap. [edit from here, and start writing again]
Off the tent Merry's pitched, what with that dream, and his blood already up. "Well, now," Frodo drawls, looking down as he sets the book aside, "I came to wake you for tea." One cool forefinger traces a hot line over Merry's straining fly; the shudder ripples outward through Merry, making his belly quiver and his breath stutter, his hand clench and his toes tingle and his mouth fall open on a gasp, and even as embarrassment clears the sleep-fog from Merry's mind it opens room for the haze-heat of the dream, still lingering behind his eyes, to overtake his thought.
Frodo continues, low and amused, "it seems, however, that tea might wait, if you would like it to." Frodo glances up through his lashes, smile small and tilted and naughty, eyes deeper than the Brandywine at evening, and Merry forgets how to speak and can barely nod. Frodo's grin is a little wider, a little wilder, as he settles in beside Merry, tucking them together, and cups his cheek and kisses him. For now, the kiss is warm and soft, but the press and the intent and the heat are all there just beneath the surface, just about to burn through, and Merry pushes into the kiss, pushes into Frodo's hand settled over his hardness, already shuddering towards flame.
Frodo kisses him, and smiles over his mouth, and pulls back. "Who were you dreaming of?" he asks, trailing two maddening fingertips up and down straining cloth. "A pretty lass? A handsome lad?"
Well, caught as he is, Merry might as well make a laugh of his confession. He winds his arm around Frodo's waist as he replies, "A very handsome lad indeed."
"Hmm, do I know him?" Frodo toys with Merry's buttons, circling them each in turn with his fingertip.
"Yes, that you do."
[conversation while they neck: "yes you do," "who is he," "a very eligible bachelor with dark hair and bright eyes and a lovely smial all his own." "What's his family?" "An ancient and respected line, with ties to the tooks and especially the brandybucks." "Ah, and does he have any golden-haired kissing-cousins?" "Yes, he does, a lad of surpassing attractiveness and sense." "And for a moment I thought you were talking about me." Merry laughs and bites him. Frodo giggles and takes him in hand, and Merry makes to get up, and Frodo says "where are you going?" Merry says "we can't here" and Frodo says "yes we can. Tell me what you dreamt." And while Frodo strokes and bites him Merry does.]
Start with Merry waking up. Frodo takes the book off his lasp and runs fingers over the bulge.
Merry has settled on the sofa, not an armchair.
[former intro It was one of those lagging late winter afternoons, the sky grey and spitting beyond the windows, the raw chill seeming to congeal Merry's thoughts. It was not a day that any hobbit would go out into if he didn't have to; Sam had only come up briefly, to check the fires and the woodpile, before going home to spend the day. Whlie Frodo sat in his study balancing ledgers of such a profound dullness that Merry could not imagine how he could stand it, Merry picked the book of tales with the brightest illustrations and sat in the small parlor to read them. Settled into a soft armchair, the fire warm inside and the rain pattering outside, Merry made it through half of the first tale before falling soundly asleep.
He was so deeply asleep when Frodo came to wake him that his cousin's familiar voice and touch mingled with his dream, and he moaned, "Frodo". A laugh brought him fully awake, as he realized with a start he was fully dressed and slumped uncomfortably, and his cheeks began to pink. [Frodo asks what he was dreaming about, fingers over but not touching the Bulge, and Merry gasps "you".
For Aratlithiel's birthday<----won't be done in time. Instead, write for hobbit smut. Make language less highfalutin and more porny.
Frodo/Merry:
Frodo wanking Merry while making Merry tell him about a fantasy.
Making him tell a dream that Merry had about him. Frodo comes to wake Merry for afternoon tea (which he made, Sam being home that day), but says it'll keep and hauls him away to bed where he makes him tell the dreamwhile wanking him. Merry dreamt of late spring and brandywine swimming and Frodo and Pippin was off somewhere....he dreamt of tupping Frodo.
This is the F/M analogue to "Cures All Ills"
Notes: Merry dreamt protectively/toppily/. Ddin't move scene to bedroom: Merry says, "we can't in the parlor" and Frodo says, "Bag End is all my own to do with as I please. I think we might."
Title: Telling the Dream
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: As it is: R at least As it was intended to be: NC-17
Pairing/s: Frodo/Merry
Notes: This story fell afoul of a kerfuffle I got myself into with a BNF and her minion over whether people who write Frodo/Merry are tinhats; after that, every time I looked at it I thought of that fight, and I just couldn't keep working on it. Which is ridiculous, but that's how creativity works sometimes, or rather doesn't.
On a completely other subject, it also has two beginnings, one tucked into the notes below the text.
Telling the Dream
Hazy summer sunlight and the Brandywine's babble...."Merry." Frodo's voice, warm in his ear, Frodo's touch, seemingly all over his skin.... "Mmm, yes." Merry moans, sinking into warmth...
"Merry!" Frodo is laughing, now, and shaking him? And Merry is back in his clothes, he's slumped over the arm of the overstuffed sofa where he must have fallen asleep, in the midst of a truly boring late winter afternoon with the rain droning on against the windows. Merry blinks awake to find Frodo leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the abandoned book off Merry's lap. [edit from here, and start writing again]
Off the tent Merry's pitched, what with that dream, and his blood already up. "Well, now," Frodo drawls, looking down as he sets the book aside, "I came to wake you for tea." One cool forefinger traces a hot line over Merry's straining fly; the shudder ripples outward through Merry, making his belly quiver and his breath stutter, his hand clench and his toes tingle and his mouth fall open on a gasp, and even as embarrassment clears the sleep-fog from Merry's mind it opens room for the haze-heat of the dream, still lingering behind his eyes, to overtake his thought.
Frodo continues, low and amused, "it seems, however, that tea might wait, if you would like it to." Frodo glances up through his lashes, smile small and tilted and naughty, eyes deeper than the Brandywine at evening, and Merry forgets how to speak and can barely nod. Frodo's grin is a little wider, a little wilder, as he settles in beside Merry, tucking them together, and cups his cheek and kisses him. For now, the kiss is warm and soft, but the press and the intent and the heat are all there just beneath the surface, just about to burn through, and Merry pushes into the kiss, pushes into Frodo's hand settled over his hardness, already shuddering towards flame.
Frodo kisses him, and smiles over his mouth, and pulls back. "Who were you dreaming of?" he asks, trailing two maddening fingertips up and down straining cloth. "A pretty lass? A handsome lad?"
Well, caught as he is, Merry might as well make a laugh of his confession. He winds his arm around Frodo's waist as he replies, "A very handsome lad indeed."
"Hmm, do I know him?" Frodo toys with Merry's buttons, circling them each in turn with his fingertip.
"Yes, that you do."
[conversation while they neck: "yes you do," "who is he," "a very eligible bachelor with dark hair and bright eyes and a lovely smial all his own." "What's his family?" "An ancient and respected line, with ties to the tooks and especially the brandybucks." "Ah, and does he have any golden-haired kissing-cousins?" "Yes, he does, a lad of surpassing attractiveness and sense." "And for a moment I thought you were talking about me." Merry laughs and bites him. Frodo giggles and takes him in hand, and Merry makes to get up, and Frodo says "where are you going?" Merry says "we can't here" and Frodo says "yes we can. Tell me what you dreamt." And while Frodo strokes and bites him Merry does.]
Start with Merry waking up. Frodo takes the book off his lasp and runs fingers over the bulge.
Merry has settled on the sofa, not an armchair.
[former intro It was one of those lagging late winter afternoons, the sky grey and spitting beyond the windows, the raw chill seeming to congeal Merry's thoughts. It was not a day that any hobbit would go out into if he didn't have to; Sam had only come up briefly, to check the fires and the woodpile, before going home to spend the day. Whlie Frodo sat in his study balancing ledgers of such a profound dullness that Merry could not imagine how he could stand it, Merry picked the book of tales with the brightest illustrations and sat in the small parlor to read them. Settled into a soft armchair, the fire warm inside and the rain pattering outside, Merry made it through half of the first tale before falling soundly asleep.
He was so deeply asleep when Frodo came to wake him that his cousin's familiar voice and touch mingled with his dream, and he moaned, "Frodo". A laugh brought him fully awake, as he realized with a start he was fully dressed and slumped uncomfortably, and his cheeks began to pink. [Frodo asks what he was dreaming about, fingers over but not touching the Bulge, and Merry gasps "you".
For Aratlithiel's birthday<----won't be done in time. Instead, write for hobbit smut. Make language less highfalutin and more porny.
Frodo/Merry:
Frodo wanking Merry while making Merry tell him about a fantasy.
Making him tell a dream that Merry had about him. Frodo comes to wake Merry for afternoon tea (which he made, Sam being home that day), but says it'll keep and hauls him away to bed where he makes him tell the dreamwhile wanking him. Merry dreamt of late spring and brandywine swimming and Frodo and Pippin was off somewhere....he dreamt of tupping Frodo.
This is the F/M analogue to "Cures All Ills"
Notes: Merry dreamt protectively/toppily/. Ddin't move scene to bedroom: Merry says, "we can't in the parlor" and Frodo says, "Bag End is all my own to do with as I please. I think we might."
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Date: 2006-12-18 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-18 04:12 pm (UTC)This REALLY makes me angry, and it takes a LOT to make me angry.
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Date: 2006-12-18 10:13 pm (UTC)I didn't mean for my anger at the situation to throw a shadow on your lovely piece.
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Date: 2006-12-19 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-18 06:27 pm (UTC)Also, agslsa gah, hot. I would like your Frodo and your Merry, right now.
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Date: 2006-12-19 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-22 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-22 03:34 pm (UTC)