Fic: Where Temptation Follows (Éomer/James T. Kirk, fusion, PG-13, 2.3k)
Title: Where Temptation Follows
Pairing/Characters: Éomer/James T. Kirk (Prince Charming)
Universe: fusion Lord of the Rings (movies)/Into the Woods (Sondheim)/Star Trek AOS
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word count: 2324
Summary: King Éomer debates the merits of his various suitors. There is more to Prince Kirk than meets the eye.
Author's notes: Written as comment fic for kinderjedi who made the Sunday, March 30 Daily Captain and Daily Doctor post at jim_and_bones. You must join the community to view the post, the comm is restricted to 18 and older.
Éomer, King of the Horselords, stood in the shadows of the great porch lining the front of the palace. The broad swath of shallow grassy hills stretched out to the foot of the mountains, their peaks obscured by low-hanging clouds that would bring rain to the verdant range. His herd would grow fleet and strong on such abundance.
Right now, though, his attention had been captured by the young man pacing slowly in thought in the lee of the building. Strong legs were encased in slim cut breeches, the elaborate embroidery of his station drawing attention to the graceful length of his legs. The rest of his figure matched: in its breadth of shoulders, the strong column of his neck rising out of the open neck of his blouse, the slim fingers clasped behind his back. It was as if this princeling had been designed with the Horselord in mind.
Prince Kirk was only one of many suitors that had come to present their suit to the newly exalted King of Rohan. Until now, Éomer had discounted Kirk's sincerity. Previous meetings had shown, to his mind, a shallowness of character. The young man sought out those horselords who spent their spare time flirting with other members of the court, gaming at dice, thoughtlessly knocking aside empty cups that had contained wine or mead, the dregs spilling over the tables and floor around them. His antics had earned him the sobriquet of Prince Charming. Éomer snorted thinking of it. It was the main reason he had yet to engage Kirk in any serious conversation, having found many of his other suitors more earnest in their interest of managing large estates and increasing their strength of arms.
Kirk's pacing picked up speed, becoming more agitated in its perambulations. His tongue flicked out repeatedly, a nervous tic that drew attention to the lush curves of his mouth. It certainly caught Éomer's attention; one more aspect of Kirk's features he had initally found quite enticing. Until Kirk had opened his mouth, his words holding little meaning and even less wisdom, and Éomer turned his attentions elsewhere in disgust.
This behavior, however, drew Éomer's concern. Something troubled Kirk, something he thought might be more than deciding between which chambermaid he planned to seduce next or which of his retainers he thought to fleece of their purses in a game of cards. None of it concerned Éomer too greatly; his people were well able to defend themselves if a guest overstepped their bounds. Éomer did not think it was something the prince found lacking in the hospitality extended to him, but it would do well to confirm that himself. He owed it to any of his guests as a good host. Perhaps they could both do with some ease of mind. His aim set, Éomer descended the stairs and directed his feet along the path that would take him to Kirk.
His approach went unheeded by the prince until Éomer came abreast of him, his steps taking his path on a parallel to Kirk's. Little acknowledgement other than a slight dip of Kirk's head gave hint to Éomer that his presence was neither unwelcome nor troubling. As vocal as Kirk was, prone to spouting tales of reckless abandon and intimate conquests to all and sundry, his current silence gave indication of a more introspective nature than Éomer had supposed.
Kirk's agitated pacing slowed to a more sedate pace after a few minutes beside Éomer's more deliberate steps. Éomer glanced at him occasionally, noting that the nervous flicking of his tongue had all but disappeared. When it did come back into view, its nature had changed to a slower sweep that lingered, one that caught and held Éomer's gaze. Was this on purpose? Kirk had, so far, paid no special attention to Éomer as they ambled along the path. No side-long looks from what he now realized were stunning blue eyes, no overblown coquetry, something Éomer knew Kirk revelled in from his observations during meals in the great hall; the none of it directed at him in the few minutes they had walked together. He would have said it was uncharacteristic of Kirk, but having spent so little individual time with him he could not in all honesty say if it was in the man's nature or not. As lost in his own thoughts as he was, Éomer nearly kept walking when Kirk slowed to a stop. When he realized Kirk no longer matched his strides, he too came to a halt. Éomer turned to face him, his head tilted in query. He remained silent while Kirk studied his face for something known only to him. Letting out a sigh, Kirk crossed his arms in front of himself, a surprisingly defensive pose for someone who normally boasted an invading posture that recognized few personal boundaries.
"My lord, I think it is past time for me to depart. Coming here was a fool's errand on my part. But I am known for being a good part fool, so there is nothing to surprise anyone there." Kirk's mouth quirked to one side in rueful self-mockery.
"Aye, you do play the fool quite well, Kirk," Éomer agreed, nodding his head. A choked-off laugh came from Kirk, one hand splayed across his chest in sham protection.
"I'd say you wound me, but I've been told my skin is as thick as an oliphaunt's hide. You needn't have agreed with me so quickly, though!" Kirk's complaint held no real edge, maintaining its light tone without effort.
"I'm a plain-spoken man, Kirk; I think everyone knows that. You should not expect anything else from me." Éomer looked directly at Kirk, not smiling, but not showing any displeasure either. "I would only ask the same thing in return. Before you depart, I would know what fool's errand initially brought you to my lands as you have yet to petition me for anything."
Kirk returned his look, his voice sobering. "Come now, my lord; you have made no secret of the fact you desire to make an alliance with one of the larger kingdoms that border your lands."
"Aye, 'tis truth," Éomer conceded.
Kirk gestured toward the grassy horizon far beyond them. "And it just so happens that my mother's lands do; marching along more than one-third of that border, more than any other contender's. It would be a good match militaristically. Not so much dynastically as she has no daughters and only a profligate son in myself. You do, however, have a sister all know has offered surrogacy if needed. That leaves the matter up to you to choose whom you would to suit your taste and needs."
Éomer shrugged. "The form matters not, if all else is sympathetic; practicality is paramount. I seek only someone like-minded and hearty."
"And in that lies the lack. My heartiness, I believe, may be attested to by many." Kirk flashed a wicked grin at Éomer from under lowered lashes, the first sign of coquetry he'd seen from the man. "Practicality, however, is not to my nature, that being made of pure spontaneity. I am not ruled by my whims, but yet I follow them as I will. It gives me much enjoyment. In that, I would doubt we are like-minded."
Éomer considered Kirk's words. Indeed, Kirk had darted from one activity to another, rarely lighting in one place for too long. Once he had arrived in Rohan's capital, Kirk showed no desire to settle. Conversely, for a self-proclaimed potential suitor, he had also been the last of the petitioners from the bordering kingdoms to arrive in his court. Something had held him back, a reluctance that hinted at practicality for all that Kirk disavowed it. He had stopped to think before setting his course. Éomer felt compelled to know what those thoughts were that had finally brought him here. He clapped a hand on Kirk's shoulder, startling him into straightening up and dropping his hands to his sides. Those startlingly blue eyes stared directly into his and compelled a different reaction from Éomer than his previous indifference. Between Kirk's form and face, and a depth of mind that was slowly being revealed, he felt a desire to study them all more closely. Particularly that sinuous tongue that betrayed an abiding oral fixation in the young man. It was obvious where lay much of Kirk's charm.
"Come, I would not have you leave 'til we have had some opportunity for discourse, for we have had none so far. Let us retire somewhere more congenial to discuss those issues where we might find concordance." With a gesture towards the palace, Éomer waited for Kirk to give a nod in agreement before setting his course back along the path.
They idled their way back toward the main entrance, speaking only of trivial matters: the weather in the mountains, the roughness of the paths, the lack of good wayside shelters for travelers. Kirk's words, which could have been voiced as complaints, instead offered well-thought solutions to the efforts needed to improve the infrastructure of the kingdom. There was, indeed, more depth to Kirk than he had presumed. The cavalier act was but a veneer that when scratched revealed a capable and nimble mind.
Once inside the great hall, Kirk looked around the room, obviously determined to find a more isolated corner to hold their conversation. His gaze settled on one table in the shadow of a hanging tapestry that would provide a modicum of privacy. Before Kirk could deviate from the path Éomer had set them on, Éomer grasped Kirk's elbow, urging him through the great hall and further into the palace. Kirk nearly tripped at his high-handed treatment, but walked on with confidence when Éomer released his arm once he moved in the direction indicated. Éomer smiled briefly at the questioning look he received as they continued deeper into the palace.
"I would that we are not interrupted too soon. A chamber further from the state rooms will ensure greater privacy." Éomer waved his hand at the smaller meeting halls branching off the corridor, some meant for less formal meals, some for smaller meetings of state. Kirk nodded his understanding. Éomer noted that his gaze lingered on him, perhaps searching for some hidden meaning in his words. Innuendo was not something Éomer dealt in, preferring plain-speaking, but he could make innuendo sound innocuous though his blunt manner. No one expected innuendo from him, so none saw it.
They turned down another corridor, this one lined with closed doors. The furniture in the hallway was plain and undecorated, the rugs thick and sturdy. One door opened, disgorging a servant carrying a pile of linens in both arms. Éomer nodded to her in passing before she could attempt a curtsey and drop her burden.
The hallway ended in a set of ornate double doors. Intricate carving covered their surface and bronze accents gleamed against the dark wood. Éomer threw them open, revealing a hallway lined with finely wrought furnishings and opulent rugs edged in silver and gold. Sumptuous wall-hangings gave warmth to the cold stone walls lit by flickering wall sconces.
Kirk turned to Éomer, a knowing look on his face. "More private you said. As in your private quarters, it looks like." His face crinkled up in mischievous grin, making him look even younger than before. Éomer stared back at him steadily.
"Did I not say I had no desire for interruptions? Yes, these are the family quarters. No one will dare disturb us here." Éomer stepped into Kirk's personal space, giving him a heated look from his feet to his head. He leaned in close, his mouth only a breath away from Kirk's. "The greatest privacy is in my bed," he confided in a low voice.
Kirk's eyes widened, his breath catching before he released it in a heavy sigh that washed over Éomer's lips. One hand came up to cup Éomer's face as Kirk drew his face ever closer to those plush lips Éomer had set his sight on less than an hour past. The words came as a whisper against his mouth. "Then let us retire to that privacy. I would have our discourse on my body."
Éomer felt Kirk's mouth settle on his, oh so softly, brushing lightly back and forth, the kiss deepening with each pass until their mouths had opened to each other, tongues tangling in play, retreating and advancing to test each other's taste and contours. Éomer wrapped one arm around Kirk's waist, the other around his shoulders, while Kirk wrapped one hand around the back of his neck pulling them even closer. He indulged himself in the wet heat and sensuous depths of Kirk's mouth; the experience better even than his imagination had provided upon first glimpse.
Reluctantly, Éomer broke the kiss. These matters were better consummated where none could interfere. He drew his head back to look Kirk in the eye. As ever, he was blunt and honest, with both Kirk and himself.
"I make no promises toward your suit, but will you follow?" His hand gripped Kirk's hip and tugged, bringing their hips into alignment, his interest evident by his arousal pressed into the other man's thigh.
Kirk gave no hesitation. "Yes. For you must know, the name Prince Charming was bestowed on me for more than just my turn of phrase." He drew Éomer closer again with the hand on the back of his neck. The words whispered in his ear elicited a full-body shiver, "I've been told I have a talented tongue. We shall see how persuasive it might be, in either case."
With a deep groan, Éomer backed Kirk down the hallway, near stumbling, until they reached a door which he pushed open with force. Kirk's laugh chimed out at his eagerness before being stilled by the slamming of the door and Éomer's mouth.
And they lived happily ever after. With tongue.
Also available at AO3
Pairing/Characters: Éomer/James T. Kirk (Prince Charming)
Universe: fusion Lord of the Rings (movies)/Into the Woods (Sondheim)/Star Trek AOS
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word count: 2324
Summary: King Éomer debates the merits of his various suitors. There is more to Prince Kirk than meets the eye.
Author's notes: Written as comment fic for kinderjedi who made the Sunday, March 30 Daily Captain and Daily Doctor post at jim_and_bones. You must join the community to view the post, the comm is restricted to 18 and older.
Éomer, King of the Horselords, stood in the shadows of the great porch lining the front of the palace. The broad swath of shallow grassy hills stretched out to the foot of the mountains, their peaks obscured by low-hanging clouds that would bring rain to the verdant range. His herd would grow fleet and strong on such abundance.
Right now, though, his attention had been captured by the young man pacing slowly in thought in the lee of the building. Strong legs were encased in slim cut breeches, the elaborate embroidery of his station drawing attention to the graceful length of his legs. The rest of his figure matched: in its breadth of shoulders, the strong column of his neck rising out of the open neck of his blouse, the slim fingers clasped behind his back. It was as if this princeling had been designed with the Horselord in mind.
Prince Kirk was only one of many suitors that had come to present their suit to the newly exalted King of Rohan. Until now, Éomer had discounted Kirk's sincerity. Previous meetings had shown, to his mind, a shallowness of character. The young man sought out those horselords who spent their spare time flirting with other members of the court, gaming at dice, thoughtlessly knocking aside empty cups that had contained wine or mead, the dregs spilling over the tables and floor around them. His antics had earned him the sobriquet of Prince Charming. Éomer snorted thinking of it. It was the main reason he had yet to engage Kirk in any serious conversation, having found many of his other suitors more earnest in their interest of managing large estates and increasing their strength of arms.
Kirk's pacing picked up speed, becoming more agitated in its perambulations. His tongue flicked out repeatedly, a nervous tic that drew attention to the lush curves of his mouth. It certainly caught Éomer's attention; one more aspect of Kirk's features he had initally found quite enticing. Until Kirk had opened his mouth, his words holding little meaning and even less wisdom, and Éomer turned his attentions elsewhere in disgust.
This behavior, however, drew Éomer's concern. Something troubled Kirk, something he thought might be more than deciding between which chambermaid he planned to seduce next or which of his retainers he thought to fleece of their purses in a game of cards. None of it concerned Éomer too greatly; his people were well able to defend themselves if a guest overstepped their bounds. Éomer did not think it was something the prince found lacking in the hospitality extended to him, but it would do well to confirm that himself. He owed it to any of his guests as a good host. Perhaps they could both do with some ease of mind. His aim set, Éomer descended the stairs and directed his feet along the path that would take him to Kirk.
His approach went unheeded by the prince until Éomer came abreast of him, his steps taking his path on a parallel to Kirk's. Little acknowledgement other than a slight dip of Kirk's head gave hint to Éomer that his presence was neither unwelcome nor troubling. As vocal as Kirk was, prone to spouting tales of reckless abandon and intimate conquests to all and sundry, his current silence gave indication of a more introspective nature than Éomer had supposed.
Kirk's agitated pacing slowed to a more sedate pace after a few minutes beside Éomer's more deliberate steps. Éomer glanced at him occasionally, noting that the nervous flicking of his tongue had all but disappeared. When it did come back into view, its nature had changed to a slower sweep that lingered, one that caught and held Éomer's gaze. Was this on purpose? Kirk had, so far, paid no special attention to Éomer as they ambled along the path. No side-long looks from what he now realized were stunning blue eyes, no overblown coquetry, something Éomer knew Kirk revelled in from his observations during meals in the great hall; the none of it directed at him in the few minutes they had walked together. He would have said it was uncharacteristic of Kirk, but having spent so little individual time with him he could not in all honesty say if it was in the man's nature or not. As lost in his own thoughts as he was, Éomer nearly kept walking when Kirk slowed to a stop. When he realized Kirk no longer matched his strides, he too came to a halt. Éomer turned to face him, his head tilted in query. He remained silent while Kirk studied his face for something known only to him. Letting out a sigh, Kirk crossed his arms in front of himself, a surprisingly defensive pose for someone who normally boasted an invading posture that recognized few personal boundaries.
"My lord, I think it is past time for me to depart. Coming here was a fool's errand on my part. But I am known for being a good part fool, so there is nothing to surprise anyone there." Kirk's mouth quirked to one side in rueful self-mockery.
"Aye, you do play the fool quite well, Kirk," Éomer agreed, nodding his head. A choked-off laugh came from Kirk, one hand splayed across his chest in sham protection.
"I'd say you wound me, but I've been told my skin is as thick as an oliphaunt's hide. You needn't have agreed with me so quickly, though!" Kirk's complaint held no real edge, maintaining its light tone without effort.
"I'm a plain-spoken man, Kirk; I think everyone knows that. You should not expect anything else from me." Éomer looked directly at Kirk, not smiling, but not showing any displeasure either. "I would only ask the same thing in return. Before you depart, I would know what fool's errand initially brought you to my lands as you have yet to petition me for anything."
Kirk returned his look, his voice sobering. "Come now, my lord; you have made no secret of the fact you desire to make an alliance with one of the larger kingdoms that border your lands."
"Aye, 'tis truth," Éomer conceded.
Kirk gestured toward the grassy horizon far beyond them. "And it just so happens that my mother's lands do; marching along more than one-third of that border, more than any other contender's. It would be a good match militaristically. Not so much dynastically as she has no daughters and only a profligate son in myself. You do, however, have a sister all know has offered surrogacy if needed. That leaves the matter up to you to choose whom you would to suit your taste and needs."
Éomer shrugged. "The form matters not, if all else is sympathetic; practicality is paramount. I seek only someone like-minded and hearty."
"And in that lies the lack. My heartiness, I believe, may be attested to by many." Kirk flashed a wicked grin at Éomer from under lowered lashes, the first sign of coquetry he'd seen from the man. "Practicality, however, is not to my nature, that being made of pure spontaneity. I am not ruled by my whims, but yet I follow them as I will. It gives me much enjoyment. In that, I would doubt we are like-minded."
Éomer considered Kirk's words. Indeed, Kirk had darted from one activity to another, rarely lighting in one place for too long. Once he had arrived in Rohan's capital, Kirk showed no desire to settle. Conversely, for a self-proclaimed potential suitor, he had also been the last of the petitioners from the bordering kingdoms to arrive in his court. Something had held him back, a reluctance that hinted at practicality for all that Kirk disavowed it. He had stopped to think before setting his course. Éomer felt compelled to know what those thoughts were that had finally brought him here. He clapped a hand on Kirk's shoulder, startling him into straightening up and dropping his hands to his sides. Those startlingly blue eyes stared directly into his and compelled a different reaction from Éomer than his previous indifference. Between Kirk's form and face, and a depth of mind that was slowly being revealed, he felt a desire to study them all more closely. Particularly that sinuous tongue that betrayed an abiding oral fixation in the young man. It was obvious where lay much of Kirk's charm.
"Come, I would not have you leave 'til we have had some opportunity for discourse, for we have had none so far. Let us retire somewhere more congenial to discuss those issues where we might find concordance." With a gesture towards the palace, Éomer waited for Kirk to give a nod in agreement before setting his course back along the path.
They idled their way back toward the main entrance, speaking only of trivial matters: the weather in the mountains, the roughness of the paths, the lack of good wayside shelters for travelers. Kirk's words, which could have been voiced as complaints, instead offered well-thought solutions to the efforts needed to improve the infrastructure of the kingdom. There was, indeed, more depth to Kirk than he had presumed. The cavalier act was but a veneer that when scratched revealed a capable and nimble mind.
Once inside the great hall, Kirk looked around the room, obviously determined to find a more isolated corner to hold their conversation. His gaze settled on one table in the shadow of a hanging tapestry that would provide a modicum of privacy. Before Kirk could deviate from the path Éomer had set them on, Éomer grasped Kirk's elbow, urging him through the great hall and further into the palace. Kirk nearly tripped at his high-handed treatment, but walked on with confidence when Éomer released his arm once he moved in the direction indicated. Éomer smiled briefly at the questioning look he received as they continued deeper into the palace.
"I would that we are not interrupted too soon. A chamber further from the state rooms will ensure greater privacy." Éomer waved his hand at the smaller meeting halls branching off the corridor, some meant for less formal meals, some for smaller meetings of state. Kirk nodded his understanding. Éomer noted that his gaze lingered on him, perhaps searching for some hidden meaning in his words. Innuendo was not something Éomer dealt in, preferring plain-speaking, but he could make innuendo sound innocuous though his blunt manner. No one expected innuendo from him, so none saw it.
They turned down another corridor, this one lined with closed doors. The furniture in the hallway was plain and undecorated, the rugs thick and sturdy. One door opened, disgorging a servant carrying a pile of linens in both arms. Éomer nodded to her in passing before she could attempt a curtsey and drop her burden.
The hallway ended in a set of ornate double doors. Intricate carving covered their surface and bronze accents gleamed against the dark wood. Éomer threw them open, revealing a hallway lined with finely wrought furnishings and opulent rugs edged in silver and gold. Sumptuous wall-hangings gave warmth to the cold stone walls lit by flickering wall sconces.
Kirk turned to Éomer, a knowing look on his face. "More private you said. As in your private quarters, it looks like." His face crinkled up in mischievous grin, making him look even younger than before. Éomer stared back at him steadily.
"Did I not say I had no desire for interruptions? Yes, these are the family quarters. No one will dare disturb us here." Éomer stepped into Kirk's personal space, giving him a heated look from his feet to his head. He leaned in close, his mouth only a breath away from Kirk's. "The greatest privacy is in my bed," he confided in a low voice.
Kirk's eyes widened, his breath catching before he released it in a heavy sigh that washed over Éomer's lips. One hand came up to cup Éomer's face as Kirk drew his face ever closer to those plush lips Éomer had set his sight on less than an hour past. The words came as a whisper against his mouth. "Then let us retire to that privacy. I would have our discourse on my body."
Éomer felt Kirk's mouth settle on his, oh so softly, brushing lightly back and forth, the kiss deepening with each pass until their mouths had opened to each other, tongues tangling in play, retreating and advancing to test each other's taste and contours. Éomer wrapped one arm around Kirk's waist, the other around his shoulders, while Kirk wrapped one hand around the back of his neck pulling them even closer. He indulged himself in the wet heat and sensuous depths of Kirk's mouth; the experience better even than his imagination had provided upon first glimpse.
Reluctantly, Éomer broke the kiss. These matters were better consummated where none could interfere. He drew his head back to look Kirk in the eye. As ever, he was blunt and honest, with both Kirk and himself.
"I make no promises toward your suit, but will you follow?" His hand gripped Kirk's hip and tugged, bringing their hips into alignment, his interest evident by his arousal pressed into the other man's thigh.
Kirk gave no hesitation. "Yes. For you must know, the name Prince Charming was bestowed on me for more than just my turn of phrase." He drew Éomer closer again with the hand on the back of his neck. The words whispered in his ear elicited a full-body shiver, "I've been told I have a talented tongue. We shall see how persuasive it might be, in either case."
With a deep groan, Éomer backed Kirk down the hallway, near stumbling, until they reached a door which he pushed open with force. Kirk's laugh chimed out at his eagerness before being stilled by the slamming of the door and Éomer's mouth.
And they lived happily ever after. With tongue.
Also available at AO3