#askcurvoaboutling

I don't believe i can convey through this medium just how forceful my denial of this is. In the future, do bring up this sort of gossip to your own grandchildren, if you cannot contain your curiosity, and spare me the details.

Finrod draws himself up straight and tall and folds his hands within his sleeves, his face a placid pond that even his father would be proud of. It is easy enough to build a wall around his nerves but not so easy to ignore them, buzzing deep in his stomach and high in his chest.

"And is the eldest son of Lord Fëanáro in the habit of giving ear to such rumors," he asks mildly, meeting Maedhros' eyes with his own. There is greater risk he might see into him with such eye contact, yes, but to look away now would be suspicious. He might hope that his cousin is merely repeating the rumors for the joy of sharing gossip if not for the intensity in his gaze. "I should hope not. Else who knows what he might begin to believe about his own family."

He's given Maedhros (nor anyone in Tirion) no reason, he reminds himself, to believe him capable of anything untoward, let alone with any of his brothers. To act too offended would only lend credence to a rumor best discarded and forgotten. To appear not to care might mean worse.

In any case, this was hardly fair. He knew people who had enjoyed on going affairs of the most scandalous natures lasting long periods of time - this had happened only once! 

The blow is unexpected and, before it lands there is a flash of confusion and something else, something close to hurt in Maedhros’ gaze.But as soon as his brother’s palm connects with his face his expression turns in a grimace and, faster than anyone would expect from an elf of his size he grabs his brother’s arm in an iron grip, twists it behind his back and slams him face-first into the wall, holding him there with his whole body’s weight, right arm pressing behind Curvo’s neck.

Behind him his herald lets his hand fall from the handle of his sword but remains tense.

"Listen to me well, you ungrateful snake.” His tone is sharp as a blade and he punctuates the last two words twisting the arm he’s holding a little bit more."You don’t know how much it costed me not to have you two imbeciles judged before the council of the king for what happened” His voice comes in short breaths, sheer rage bleeding from him. “And I don’t care. You could argue until you are hoarse things weren’t supposed to go this way..”

He comes nearer his brother’s ear and whispers, tone suddenly as cold as ice."I don’t care how much it hurts to know your son would have nothing more to do with you, Curvo. You’d better remember who your enemies and friends are, and if that fails who is Lord here and how you should behave."

Suddenly leaving his brother’s body Maedhros turns toward Dimhelesin, standing still beside his desk and, in a tone that sounds as calm as the one he just used was furious, he commands.

|| …I am personally debating whether to send it or not

//Please do! It would be a bit O.C. but glorious like two trains transporting dynamite colliding at full speed! XD

paradife-loft replied to your post://The number of people writing that this...

oh, see I don’t want to slap Maedhros for being an ass; I want to see how badly Maedhros would go off at /Curvo/ for slapping him :P

//He's not an ass. He's a Noldo *cue music* XD

"Dramatics won’t save you from laundry day," Maglor said, closing his eyes in exasperation. "And if generosity is refusing to go shopping with me and instead wearing the shirt you’ve got on now for a week straight, I shudder to imagine your cruelty.”

Pros:

Your mouth on me

my mouth on you

your hands, clever hands, with those calluses and strong fingers

and your seeking teeth

the way you smile from across the hall when you're interested

the promise in it and its sharpness

the bruises left on your skin and the bruises you leave so that we both feel the results of our actions long after they've stopped

the bumbling, desperate beginnings and the familiar, practiced repeats have held equal appeal

you have been a comfort to me

and there are few needs for formalities; I am not your king

it's always better when one's partner is intelligent

and knows you so well

and makes such delicious noises

were the hands mentioned yet? perhaps another mention is due

the way you call me cousin

Cons:

There is only so much cruelty one can stomach

and only so many betrayals

and they are all sharper coming from someone who has known you so well

and given you so much pleasure

you can treat sex as a game you've won and one I have lost simply by allowing it

the triumph is distasteful and unearned

and moreso the mockery you spew

if it hits its target is has less to do with your accuracy than my susceptibility to one who I have allowed to be close and that is unacceptable 

you would see me shattered as a form of foreplay (but you will not be successful)

you draw out an ugliness in me I would prefer to leave buried and dormant

an anger that can only be shameful

I do not like what I have the potential to become around you 

worse, I know how much you do like it

that way you smirk when you are successful in the drawing

how it ended, the way you turned the people I had given my life to (present at their weddings and births and funerals, leading them into battle, creating cities for them and safe havens), the people who had been mine and I theirs since my father left, since the Ice - against me.

with so little effort

you smiled afterwards

you smiled as I left and we both knew there would be no coming back

we both knew of my death

and you smiled

Curufin's stare only increased in intensity. He was not fond of children, much less babies, even in normal circumstances, and - "It was that strange thing with the mask? And now it's a baby? How... do they /do/ that?" Well, evidently.