title: focus and shift
author: annie oates
fandom: lotr|rps
pairing: viggo mortensen/elijah wood
rating: r-ish
archive: ask.
disclaimers: not real. not mine. deny everything.
warnings: rps, slash
summery: winter, cabin, photograph in the snow.
feedback: always welcome.
Focus: Viggo
Sometimes he forgets.
Yesterday had been a blaze of sunlight and blue skies, making them grateful for the end of the cold. The wind still had a bite to it, but Viggo stood in the sun and pretended he was home.
Then today.
The sky was bruised and sullen, heavy just over their heads. It did not bode well.
The figure in black walked through the iced snow. Stumbling as the delicate crystals gave way, trying to swallow him up. The way his shoulders were hunched, Viggo thought he might be crying... or more accurately, trying not to. It had been sunny and smart the day before, giving a much needed buoyancy to the troupe.
But not today. Nothing floated today. Lij was cradled in the hollow, knees to the ground, face to the sky. Frozen shards in his hair. Wild in the wind. Eyes gone black, searching but not focusing. Empty mouth open, not breathing, just... tasting the sharp air.
Focus: Elijah
He had come out for a smoke, a break from the constant presence in the cabin. The building sprawled into the sky, wood and rooted, eyeless glass opening onto the surrounding forest. Now blanketed in snow, it was blinding white. The dark wood a silhouette against the colorless sky. Uncovered by jagged winds. Winter secrets. He took a drag and twisted his mouth in an approximation of a cruel grin, and the smoke escaped.
He was bitter. Brittle. Too long under the falcon's gaze. Flint eyes and dark corners. Viggo had folded himself into the spaces, roosted in dusty chairs and waited... for something. Lij wasn't sure what exactly he wanted, only that his skin prickled and tightened every time Viggo's focus shifted to him.
Shift: Elijah
Lij knew he was cold, he had to be. It was below freezing. But he couldn't feel it, couldn't feel anything. Except Viggo's eyes. He could feel him now, but couldn't pick him out from the black shadow of the building. His skin heated and he rubbed an icy hand across his face.
The difference was darkly exotic.
An idea sparked and he flicked his cigarette towards the cabin. Turning his back, he yanked his shirt over his head. Shoes were kicked off, one knocking a tree branch, snow sheeting to the ground. Pants were pushed down, bare skin breathing in the cold. Back on his knees, Lij grabbed handfuls of snow and scrubbed it across his body. Hasty claws scratching in the wake. He wanted to wrap himself in this nothing, force it into his skin. Make the peace a part of his cells. Carry it with him, to the source of the heat touching him.
Shift: Viggo
Now he remembers.
He traces the memory with warm hands. White shapes pressed into red flesh. Fingers across ribs, thumbs under hips. Palm flat against sharp jaw. Fading, replaced and remembered. But he wants more than remembering. Viggo wants eternity. Forever in this alien skin. He presses the words, his name, Lij's name into collarbones and shoulder blades. Whispered fragments locked into strands of hair, tendons taught and muscles shaking. Cold and hot and wet.
Lifted and carried and pressed. Against chilled concrete in a heated garage. Brisk. Rubbing. Veins glowing in a negative under translucent skin. Viggo talks to them in low, reverent tones. Pushing the blood to the heart with his voice. To the heart and around and down.
To sudden length.
He writes on Elijah's skin with his fingers. Words and shapes. Chords of song. He pushes the letters of words he can't say inside. Twists them. Angles them. Hears them fly off Elijah's tongue. Tears at his clothes one-handed. Hears a rip and a moan. Feels the turn. Drops cotton on cotton on cement and kneels. With one hand he paints inside.
Pictures.
The other hand slips fingers-first into his mouth, then himself and he paints Elijah's portrait. Tandem motion and the air clings to his skin. Pulling. Pushing, Lij lays on the cotton. Eyes gone black, searching but not focusing. Empty mouth open, not breathing, just... tasting the sharp air. Lij starts to draw his knees up and arches when Viggo pushes them back down. When Viggo straddles him, he throws his arms wide, jagged nails scraping at the cement. A husky wail rips out of Lij when Viggo sinks down, seats himself on Lij's hips. Rocks back and forth, the motion in words and images between them. Leans back and grits his teeth at the proper pressure. Heart pounds and he paints Lij's chest. Elijah thrusts up once. Twice. And freezes in air. On pause. Before breaking and shuddering to the ground.
Now, he can't forget.