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I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine by NelyafinweFeanorion

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Author's Chapter Notes:

Things progress for Fingon and Maedhros. 




Right. If he was going to actually sleep he needed to put as much space between them as he could. Maedhros shifted back to his edge of the bed, missing the warmth of Fingon in his arms. Falling asleep with Fingon in his embrace was a bad idea, he knew that. A part of him regretted Fingon's distance but he was gratified at how Fingon had taken his words to heart and was doing exactly what Maedhros had told him he needed to do to protect himself.

He didn't let go of Fingon's hand though. It was an anchor for him, the warmth reminding him of why he was doing this, why they were doing this. He concentrated on his breathing, in and out, slow and deep. He would try.

He could hear Fingon's steady breathing next to him as the minutes ticked by. He listened carefully and he smiled to himself when he heard the tell-tale snore that signaled that Fingon was asleep. He loved that sound. He treasured the trust it represented but it was endearing on its own, a tiny imperfection in this otherwise flawless person laying next to him.

The light was dim but he could make out the outline of Fingon's profile as he slept. Maedhros watched him, no closer to sleep himself. He was exhausted--Fingon had been right about that. He hadn't taken any time to steal a few hours of sleep during the day; he was needed at Beleriand, Erestor taking these few days before the holiday off so Maedhros could take part of the weekend and the days up to Christmas away from the store himself.

He turned to look at the clock, Fingon's fingers slipping out of his. It was just not that easy to fall asleep. He was too restless; he didn't want to toss and turn and disturb Fingon in the process. Maedhros stared at the ceiling, the minutes dragging by. Hadn't he said something to Fingon the other day about having a drink before bed, to settle him down? Maybe that would help, he thought.

He got up as silently as he could and made his way downstairs. He scanned the wine rack but it seemed wasteful to open a whole bottle just for him to have a glass or two. He drifted into the dining room and looked over the selection on the sideboard. Maedhros wrinkled his nose at the rum and vodka--not what he was looking for.

There it was. He remembered this bottle. His father had remarked on it the last time he was here, remembering when he had bought it--on his last trip to Scotland a few years ago. Maedhros couldn't figure out how it had ended up here instead of at the Tirion house but no matter. It would serve his purpose tonight. He poured a generous tumbler full of the Scotch and leaned against the sideboard as he drank it, the warmth washing through him as he did. He poured a second one a few minutes later and downed it.

He felt more relaxed and even a bit drowsy now. He yawned as he put the bottle back in its place. Maedhros made his way to the kitchen to rinse his glass out. He looked at the clock; one thirty in the morning. It was time to go back to bed.

He felt a little fuzzy as he went up the steps, the rapid double shot of alcohol kicking in now. He made it to his bed and slid under the covers as quietly as he could. Fingon was still in the same position, the little snores more intermittent but no less adorable.

He took a few deep breaths as he stared at the ceiling, his eyes closing on their own now. He was asleep a few minutes later.

__________________________________________

 

Fingon wasn't sure what woke him up but he was cold--he noticed that right away. Likely due to the fact that he had no covers on him anymore, he thought, as he groggily came into awareness. There were sounds coming from Maedhros' side of the bed--small moans and garbled words. He quickly turned his attention to him, coming to a half-seated position.

The covers were tightly wound around Maedhros and he appeared to be struggling against them, his head tossing from side to side, the indistinct words and moans getting louder as he did so. Fingon's hand involuntarily reached to pull the sheets away from him but he stopped it just in time. He was witnessing one of the nightmares, he knew it. He had promised Maedhros he would stay back, would not interfere and let the ordeal run its course.

It was harder than he expected to do that.

Maedhros was becoming more agitated, resulting in the sheets tightening around him even more. Fingon longed to do something, anything, but he just bit his lip and sat, leaning against the headboard on the far side of the bed, his arms tightly clenched around his drawn-up knees.

It felt wrong, to be here. He had forced himself into this most personal struggle of Maedhros' and he felt like a voyeur, witnessing something so private.

He shook his head. He was being stupid--if he was going to share Maedhros' companionship, his bed, his life, then he needed to deal with this. Wasn't that the point, the very reason he came up with this plan? He clenched his fists and continued to chew his lip, waiting for this to end. If Maedhros could handle this, night after night, so could he. But it broke his heart to see him like this and feel so helpless.

It was getting worse now. Maedhros' struggles were becoming more violent and the sheets were finally loosening their hold as his movements became wilder, more desperate.

He was startled and involuntarily drew back even further when Maedhros surged up to a seated position and shook the remainder of the covers off with a strangled cry. His eyes opened and he looked as startled as Fingon felt. Fingon tried to relax and compose his features into a calm expression, belatedly realizing it was so dark that Maedhros would likely only see his outline and be alarmed by that even.

Maedhros looked around, his head whipping to the sides rapidly, his breathing erratic. He seemed to be awake but Fingon wasn't about to reach out to him, not yet. He had to be sure.

Maedhros caught sight of Fingon and his shoulders sagged and he exhaled. "I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands.

That was Fingon's signal to move. He was at Maedhros' side instantly, his arms tentatively reaching around him. He made no sign of resistance so Fingon strengthened his grip. "It's ok. You're ok," he repeated over and over, gently rocking Maedhros in his arms.

Maedhros sighed and his arms went around Fingon in turn, his head sliding down to rest on Fingon's chest. He was still breathing quickly and Fingon rubbed gentle circles on his back, his voice continuing to murmur reassurances. He wasn't sure what he was even saying, just repeating "You're ok," over and over until the words seemed to lose their meaning and become just sounds, even to him. Still he said them, breathing them into Maedhros' hair, knowing it wasn't the words themselves that mattered but his actions and his presence.

Maedhros' breathing slowly settled and Fingon felt a little of the rigidity go out of him. He kept up the murmured words, the soft touch, intermittently placing breathless kisses in his hair, just letting Maedhros know he was there.

He was astonished by the fact that Maedhros had actually fallen asleep in the first place. Awed and humbled by that show of trust. He brushed another kiss, on Maedhros' forehead this time.

He looked up at Fingon. "I'm sorry," Maedhros said again.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry for," Fingon whispered to him. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Maedhros' voice was very low, his words barely audible.

"Of course you didn't. You told me what to do--well, more accurately what not to do--and I did exactly what you said." His hand moved up to smooth the hair away from Maedhros' eyes. "We got through it. We can do this, Maedhros." He smiled down at him. "We did it."

The arms around Fingon tightened and Maedhros buried his head in his chest, as Fingon continued to stroke his hair. They stayed that way, arms around each other, as the minutes went by.

"I didn't think I could do it," Maedhros confided, his words muffled by Fingon's shirt.

"You did though. You got to sleep."

"I couldn't sleep earlier. I went downstairs and had a drink," Maedhros said. "Well, maybe more than one."

So he hadn't been able to do it on his own, Fingon realized, a twinge of disappointment welling up in him. He pushed the feeling away. He was being unfair. He had wanted Maedhros to sleep, he had wanted them to experience this, to go through it together. All of those things had happened--he was not in a position to complain about how that was accomplished. It was much better than the scenario he had agonized over, where the nightmare would come after their first sexual encounter. At least they had avoided that.

It was probably not a good idea to make drinking a habit for falling asleep, despite their earlier jokes about Maedhros doing just that, Fingon decided. It could likely be a trigger for the nightmares.

They could do better. Now that they had gone through this, with none of the contexts that they had each dreaded, it should be easier the next time. He knew there would be a next time, based on what Maedhros had told him, but he would be even better prepared to face it when it inevitably occurred.

"Drinking may not be the best method to get you to sleep, in the long-run," Fingon said, his eyes meeting Maedhros', a small smile on his lips. "Even if it does make you so much more talkative." His smile grew.

"You're right," Maedhros admitted. "I was just grasping at something to help." He rested his head against Fingon's chest again.

Fingon looked at the clock. It was four twenty-three. "Do you think you can go back to sleep? Do you ever got more than one in a night?"

Maedhros shook his head. "No, that's never happened. It's rarely ever been two nights in a row even. It sometimes used to be, at first, but . . ." his words cut off abruptly before continuing again, his voice a little hoarser as he spoke again. "No, it shouldn't happen again tonight."

Fingon nodded, forgetting Maedhros couldn't see him do so. "Do you think you could go back to sleep?"

"I can try."

"Come on then," Fingon said, pulling him down onto the pillows. "If it isn't going to happen again then you can stay close to me." He could feel Maedhros stiffen in his arms. "Maedhros. You just told me it's never happened twice in one night. Relax. I've got this."

He didn't relax. He looked up at Fingon, the anxiety present in his voice as he spoke. "But what if it does? I know it hasn't but that doesn't mean it can't happen this time."

"Hey," Fingon said, stroking his hair again, the repetitive movements calming him as well, as he searched for the right words. "It hasn't happened before. Odds are it won't. What did I tell you about worrying about things that might happen? Don't do that to yourself, Maedhros. Please." He kissed his forehead. "Just relax and get some rest. I'll be right here. If it makes you feel better I'll stay awake, ok?" His arms tightened around Maedhros. "It'll be ok."

Maedhros wasn't going to let it go that easily. "But you need to sleep," he objected.

"Actually, no, I don't. I've got nothing to do all day. I can take a nap when I get home, if I'm tired. I've gone on less sleep than this working on projects. Don't worry about me."

"You'll stay awake?" Maedhros asked.

"I promise you I will," Fingon replied.

Maedhros shifted position. "Are you ok like this?" Fingon asked.

"I was just wondering if I could hold you instead?" His head came up to look at Fingon. "Not that I don't like this, really I do but . . ."

"It would be easier if you didn't have someone confining you?" Fingon finished for him.

Maedhros finally relaxed against him. "Yes," he exhaled. "That's it exactly."

Fingon removed his arms from around him and moved down to nestle his head underneath Maedhros' chin, resting his hand gently against his chest. "This better?" he asked.

"Thank you," Maedhros whispered. He murmured something else that Fingon couldn't quite catch as he circled his arms around him. Fingon tilted his face up and touched his lips to Maedhros' neck softly.

Maedhros bent his head down and met his mouth with his own. It was soft and slow, all the tenderness he couldn't put into words. When he pulled away he rested his head on Fingon's with a small exhalation.

Fingon felt his chest rise and fall, slow and steady, until Maedhros finally, astoundingly, went to sleep.

The hours to daylight passed quickly to Fingon, content as he was in Maedhros' arms again. Tonight had been a breakthrough. He had been right--they could do this. He felt much more confident now that he knew what to expect. He could handle this. Maedhros had said it wasn't an every night occurrence. They had both managed to get some sleep and if they continued like this it was highly unlikely that Fingon was ever going to have a Tyelko moment and find himself with a broken nose.

It might still be hard for Maedhros to sleep anywhere other than his own room at Formenos and Fingon understood that. He was content to keep sleeping here, as long as he could. That would have to change once he started his internship though. Taking the train to Tirion every day could be a bit of a hassle. But they would have weekends and maybe a night mid-week, here and there.

He frowned. It would be difficult to have only one or two nights a week after a winter break where they spent so many nights together. Fingon had no intention of changing their plan. They would both be stuck at their parents' places over the holiday but he had two weeks after that before his internship started and he'd be damned if he didn't spend those nights here. If Maedhros was ok with that, he amended. He burrowed closer to Maedhros. Fingon didn't think he would have too many objections.

Maybe he just needed to buy a car.

He was thinking about the travel times and the emancipation from train schedules that a car would give him when he felt Maedhros begin to stir.

"Mmmph." Maedhros made an unintelligible sound as he shifted against Fingon. His eyes opened slowly, a look of surprise momentarily in them as he caught sight of Fingon.

"Good morning," Fingon said, resting his chin on Maedhros' chest as he smiled up at him. "Did you forget I was here?"

"No, it just surprised me to realize I was actually waking up to you in my arms. I've thought about doing that so many times," Maedhros mumbled, then his eyes opened wide as he realized he had said that out loud.

Fingon put a finger on his lips. "I like hearing that. I've been looking forward to it too." He shifted up until his face was level with Maedhros'. "This also." He moved to touch Maedhros' lips with his own.

It started soft and slow, but they were both soon completely awake and aroused. Fingon swung his leg over Maedhros' knee, his thigh wedged between Maedhros' legs. His tongue swept through Maedhros' mouth and he was gratified to hear him make a small sound of pleasure at the sensation.

Maedhros' hands were under his shirt, tracing lines of heat along his back, his shoulders, down his sides. He slipped his own hands under Maedhros' t-shirt, running them up the smooth skin of his abdomen, following the curve of his pectorals, tracing small circles around his nipples. Another muffled sigh escaped Maedhros at his touch and his hands tightened at Fingon's waist.

Fingon could feel the surge of heat in his groin, the answering firmness against his leg as it lay across Maedhros. He trailed his lips down Maedhros' neck, savoring the sensation and the small sounds he was drawing out of him.

Fingon had longed for this contact; wanted it, craved it. He had held off--building trust was far more important than transient physical pleasure. But that trust was finally there now. For both of them. They had proven it to each other this night. They could keep moving forward. His fear of a nightmare subsequently marring an encounter did not seem quite as pressing anymore.

Fingon sat up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side of the bed, then leaned on his arm and looked down at Maedhros. His fiery hair was spread across the pillow, framing his face, his skin flushed and warm.

"What time is it?" Maedhros asked, his voice deeper than usual.

Fingon eyed the clock. "Half past seven. Store opens at 10?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Then we've got plenty of time," Fingon said, lowering his mouth to Maedhros' lips again, the pressure more intense and firm as Maedhros responded in kind.

"Time for what?" Maedhros asked, as he pulled back, one eyebrow raised.

Fingon tugged at his shirt and Maedhros obligingly sat up and removed it, pulling Fingon down on top of him again once it was off, their bare chests sliding over each other as they resumed exploring each others bodies.

"For this," Fingon whispered, his lips leisurely trailing down Maedhros' neck, across his chest and then even more slowly down his abdomen. He stopped, just above the waistband of Maedhros' pajama pants and looked up at him. "Is this ok? Do you want me to keep going? I want this, Maedhros, but only if you do."

Maedhros looked at him, a softness in his eyes that Fingon hadn't seen before. He wanted to see it again and again, he decided. Maedhros reached out and stroked the side of Fingon's face. "Are you sure?" he asked Fingon in turn.

"I've been sure for awhile now," Fingon admitted, feeling the heat on his face but keeping his eyes on Maedhros. He would not look away, not now. "But I can stop, if you're not ready."

"Don't stop," Maedhros whispered, so Fingon didn't.




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