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Winter Dreams

Beta: Half Elf Lost

7: storm clouds

December 7th

His eyes are the color of storm clouds roiling over the sea. I have not seen the sea in a very long time, but my memory is long and vivid. There is grey, yes, but also hints of green and the memory of blue. He looks down at me, and my mouth becomes dry. It is hard to swallow as he lowers his lips to mine, his sweet breath ghosting over my skin before the firm press of mouths.

It should have only been a brief, fleeting kiss -- that was what kisses under the mistletoe usually were. But he kept kissing me. His tongue gently lapped at my lower lip, asking for entrance into my mouth, and I granted it. He tasted of spiced wine and sweet apples, reminding me of the lovely dessert we had been served before I had been caught under this sprig of greenery.

The kiss was anything but chaste. I have never been kissed as he kissed me, deep and thoroughly. I think that, had we been alone and not surrounded by dozens of Elves, I would have wrapped my arms around him, drawn him closer, and returned the kiss with a fervor none thought me capable. Especially him.

We pull back from one another and his eyes are still the shade of storm clouds, and I am sure mine are as dark as the sapphires decorating my hair. He takes a lock of my black hair in his hand and twirls it absently as he continues to stare down at me. I can still taste him on my lips and I resist the urge to lick them. He smirks at me, his eyes knowing.

"Forgive me, Legolas," he says softly. "I became carried away."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "There is no need for forgiveness," I tell him. "I enjoyed it."

He kisses my hand and bows low to me before he walks away. As I watch him retreat, I cannot help but call out, "Maeglin!" He turns and nods in my direction but he continues his path to where the members of his House await him.

Say what you will about winters in Gondolin, but they are never boring.


	Navigation multi-part stories previous next		Winter Dreams Beta: Half Elf Lost 7: storm clouds December 7th His eyes are the color of storm clouds roiling over the sea. I have not seen the sea in a very long time, but my memory is long and vivid. There is grey, yes, but also hints of green and the memory of blue. He looks down at me, and my mouth becomes dry. It is hard to swallow as he lowers his lips to mine, his sweet breath ghosting over my skin before the firm press of mouths. It should have only been a brief, fleeting kiss -- that was what kisses under the mistletoe usually were. But he kept kissing me. His tongue gently lapped at my lower lip, asking for entrance into my mouth, and I granted it. He tasted of spiced wine and sweet apples, reminding me of the lovely dessert we had been served before I had been caught under this sprig of greenery. The kiss was anything but chaste. I have never been kissed as he kissed me, deep and thoroughly. I think that, had we been alone and not surrounded by dozens of Elves, I would have wrapped my arms around him, drawn him closer, and returned the kiss with a fervor none thought me capable. Especially him. We pull back from one another and his eyes are still the shade of storm clouds, and I am sure mine are as dark as the sapphires decorating my hair. He takes a lock of my black hair in his hand and twirls it absently as he continues to stare down at me. I can still taste him on my lips and I resist the urge to lick them. He smirks at me, his eyes knowing. "Forgive me, Legolas," he says softly. "I became carried away." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "There is no need for forgiveness," I tell him. "I enjoyed it." He kisses my hand and bows low to me before he walks away. As I watch him retreat, I cannot help but call out, "Maeglin!" He turns and nods in my direction but he continues his path to where the members of his House await him. Say what you will about winters in Gondolin, but they are never boring.