Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: Stars in Shadows Shimmering
Author: caitri
Rating: NC-17 (Language, Sex)
Pairings: Kirk/Éomer/Lothíriel
Word Count: 2,169
Summary: X-over with Lord of the Rings. I’m working on a fic inspired by this prompt. Yet another attempt at PWP. Written for suddenlyswept and kindly beta’d by the ever-awesome gadgetorious.
Disclaimer: I know this may come as a shock, but I am not, amazing as it may seem, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams, Paramount or Bad Robot. Just so you know. With apologies also to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and Karl Urban while I’m at it.

Stars in Shadows Shimmering

Her husband looks at her like she’s out of her mind when she suggests it.

“Is not a single Rohir enough for you, my little sun maiden?” he asks.

“Jim is no Rohir,” Lothíriel points out with her implacable logic. “And well you know that you are enough for me, but I know that I am not enough for you. Not so long as the Rodorbeorn is among us yet.”

Éomer looks away at that. “He will leave soon enough,” he says. “At Lughnasadh, or so Gandalf Stormcrow said.”

“That is two weeks thence,” Lothíriel says softly. “And when he leaves, he will be gone forever. And I would not—I would not leave the rift between you two unhealed before that day.”

He frowns, and she smiles a little. She knows she has already won. The King of the Mark is an intense man, passionate and brave, and though she’s known him only a few months, she loves him deeply. And she knows that as much as he may love her—and he does, truly and deeply—he also loves his Man from the Stars, James T. Kirk.


Jim takes less convincing. This surprises her, somehow—she knows that the people from the Stars are strange indeed, in both ways and talk, but his eagerness to bed the Rohir was frequently talked of among the Rohirrim. While she knew he would be eager to return to Éomer’s bed, she wasn’t quite as sure he’d be as willing with her in it as well.

“You’re okay with this?” he asks in his odd clipped way.

“Aye,” she says. Indeed, a part of her is eager for it, for the Rodorbeorn is a handsome man, as well as gentle and amiable to his friends. He was ever kind to her, from the moment they first met, by the stream on the plains of Pelennor. She admires him for this, despite his strange ways.

“Éomer, too?” Jim asks.

“Aye,” she says again.



He comes to their rooms that night. She wears the gown she wore her wedding night: it’s a sheer, white thing, low-cut, and even in the dim light from the candles throughout the room it reveals the clear outlines of her body.

There’s a series of raps on the heavy door, and Éomer, clad in a wine-colored short tunic and brown breeches, opens it. There is Jim Kirk, clad in a dark blue tunic that brings out the brilliance of his eyes, and black breeches. His cheeks are pink and bare; he has shaved for the occasion in the odd way of his people. He looks young and boyish and beautiful.

He holds a wine sack in one hand. “I thought we might need this,” he says, holding it up.

Éomer pours three cups and hands one to each of them.

The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering. …

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Her husband recites the stanzas from the old ballad of Beren and Luthien as she and Jim drink, before taking a sip from his own goblet. When their cups are empty, Jim sets his down heavily, and to her surprise, reaches for Lothíriel herself.

His mouth is warm, tasting sweet from the wine, and his cheek is soft against hers. He pulls at her bottom lip with his teeth playfully as his hands dance over her body, coming up to clasp at her breasts. His palms are warm through the flimsy fabric of her gown, and she moans into his mouth.

Lovemaking is yet new to her—she’s only been married a month—but she already takes fierce delight in her husband’s touch. When Éomer stands behind her, nuzzling at her neck affectionately, she leans back into his embrace with a happy sigh. His beard is soft against her skin as his lips leave a warm trail from her ear to her shoulder. His hands trail down her sides, pulling at the waist of her gown—pulling the cloth up so that first her legs, then her thighs are bared. The cool air is a shock to her warm flesh, or maybe it’s just the excitement of the men with her—either way, she trembles, feeling weak to the knees, but her husband holds her upright.

“Taste her, my gúthwinë,” Éomer urges, even as Jim’s lips leave hers. He exhales warm breath through the fabric of her gown, leaving a hot, taunting trail until he reaches the place between her legs, naked to his gaze and touch. He looks up at her as he falls gracefully to his knees, face inches from her most intimate place.

“Lothíriel?” he asks, and she’s already spreading her legs, allowing him easier access. His mouth is on her then, unbelievably warm and soft, and she’s pulling his head closer to her even as he’s hoisting one of her legs over his shoulder so that he might plunder her further.

“She tastes like honey, doesn’t she, Jim,” Éomer murmurs. His hands are toying with her breasts, tweaking her nipples into tender hardness, and she can feel his own burgeoning desire hard against her buttocks. She whimpers as Jim’s clever tongue finds the pearl between her legs. She feels like molten gold as she presses herself against her husband, rubbing herself against him helplessly as Jim steadily brings her to the moment of joy.

When it has come, her husband brings her to their bed, kissing her sweetly as he pulls the gown over her head. “I love you so much, my sun maiden, my Lothíriel,” he says, laying her naked body down into the bed atop the soft furs. It is summer and the air is warm, but the fur coverlet feels delicious on her naked skin, and she sinks into it bonelessly.

“I love you too, my husband,” she murmurs back contentedly. Éomer’s eyes glow with affection as he runs a possessive, bronzed hand over her back.

Jim sits on the edge of the bed, looking at them with a tender smile as he dries his mouth off with his sleeve. “You two are so beautiful together,” he says. He looks envious, and her heart aches a little for him, for he does love her husband. She can’t fault him for that, nor can she fault her husband’s affection for him—the two men are so very different, like night and day. Begrudging the one or the other would be like envying the sea for its waves: so much a part of one another as to be indistinguishable.

She is worried what will happen to her King when his gúthwinë does leave.

“I want to watch you two together,” Jim says. He smiles at her, a blue glance. “Please.”

Éomer is already stripping away his clothing. Her pulse leaps as she admires the beauty of the man: the flat planes of his chest and stomach, the gentle roundness of his buttocks, the heavy, straining manhood that juts from his thighs eagerly. He climbs atop the bed, settling between her legs. She sits up as well, leaning back and opening herself to him. He slides in easily, thick and heavy, and she makes a soft keening sound as he moves slowly inside her—so unbelievably slowly.

Beside her, Jim makes a rough sound. He’s removing his own clothing hastily. His skin is pale even in the candlelight, his expression hungry as he watches them together. His own manhood strains with need, and his fingers dance along it as he watches them. He smiles slightly when he sees her watching him, subtly changing his posture so that she can get a better view of what he’s doing over her husband’s shoulder. Her eyelids flutter as she struggles to focus on watching him even as Éomer slowly and insistently drives her to the place of joy once more.

Jim’s fingers dance over the head of his manhood, taking a bit of the seeping moisture from the slit of it and rubbing it around the head. “Fuck, you two,” he murmurs, and she’s not sure whether his words are a description or a request. Either way, Éomer’s pace increases, and suddenly she’s filled with her own burning, inner heat as she reaches the apex of desire, he following shortly thereafter.

They lay joined a moment more, the only sound Jim’s harsh breathing as he touches himself roughly.

Éomer kisses her gently. “Would you like to try him, my love?” he whispers.

“Aye,” she hears herself say, as if from a distance, and then Éomer is gone, Jim in his place.

The Rodorbeorn looks at her affectionately in the low light, and places a gently kiss just below her navel. “You’re a remarkable woman, Lothíriel,” he murmurs, and then he’s entering her as well. By now she is raw and sore, taken apart with love, but nonetheless there is that heat in her yet that must be quenched. Jim is rougher in his need, hips rolling and pumping as he moves within her. She knows he will leave marks on the morrow, and she doesn’t care as she watches various emotions flutter across his face: concentration as he works on driving her to that sweet edge once more; a smug smile of pride when she reaches that place; and finally a delighted relief as reaches his own climax, even as she hurtles to joy once more.

They collapse on the bed, breathing harshly. Éomer presses against her, kissing her damp neck, arms reaching out to embrace both of them as they fall into a warm, contented doze.


She awakes some time later. Éomer and Jim are moving together, swallowing their murmurs of joy. Her husband sits back on his heels, the other man facing him, legs bent close to his body as they fit to each other tightly. They move slowly, carefully, as if hesitant to let this moment pass by too quickly. Her husband’s face is transfigured with affection and desire—so similar to what she sees when they make love, but different too. More naked in his need, somehow vulnerable. She feels a familiar fire heating up within her, and moves her hand to the place between her thighs, index finger toying with her pearl.

She comes a moment before they do. She watches both of their faces in that moment—Jim, whose expression is one of fierce delight, and something like pain, and her husband’s, which is a dark echo of his. The two men kiss once more.

“Oh, my gúthwinë,” Éomer murmurs.

Jim says nothing, just holds him close, and they linger that way for a long moment, shadows in the dark.


She wakes once more in the night, Jim’s mouth on her pearl once more. She has no sooner returned to consciousness than she is climaxing, and then Jim rolls them both onto their sides. His excitement is hard against the soft flesh of her buttocks, and her husband is entering her once more. The three of them move in tandem—slowly, almost maddeningly.

“Faster,” she demands with a harshness that surprises herself. “I—need—you!” She’s not sure who she means, but Éomer makes a harsh cry as he comes, and she can feel the hot wetness on her back as Jim joins him in ecstasy.


They awake together in the tender hour before dawn. Éomer takes Jim once more, the Rodorbeorn on his hands and knees before him, his mouth once more on Lothíriel. This isn’t practiced love—it is rough, wanton, and over too soon.

Afterwards, Jim dresses quickly, before he kisses them both goodbye.

“I won’t forget you,” he murmurs. “Either of you.” His eyes are dark yet unreadable to her, though her husband seems to see something in his look, for he nods. And then Jim’s gone into what little remains of the night.

Éomer is quiet in her arms afterwards, but he kisses her, nuzzling her affectionately. “I love you so much,” she tells her husband.

“And I you,” he says, pulling her tightly to him.

A thought occurs to her. “If a child comes of this night—“ She isn’t sure how to finish the sentence, so she doesn’t.

“Then it will be ours,” he finishes for her. “And he will be welcome.”

“Ah,” she says, relieved, “that is well.”

They fall asleep then, the Rohir’s arms tight around her, and she dreams of stars that are blazing flowers in the night of the world.


Author’s Gratuitous Notes

Rohir = singular form of Rohirrim.

Gúthwinë = “Battle-friend” and incidentally the name of Éomer’s sword. It’s a Saxon term for “weapon” and any double entendre is completely on purpose.

Rodorbeorn= “Sky warrior,” the name the Rohirrim give Jim while he is with them.


( 35 comments — Add your .02 )
Page 1 of 2
<<[1] [2] >>
Aug. 24th, 2010 05:54 am (UTC)

Seriously? This is hot and amazing and I love it in ways I cannot even begin to express.
Aug. 24th, 2010 06:02 am (UTC)

I heart you. That is all.
Aug. 24th, 2010 06:06 am (UTC)

Lothiriel, you LUCKY BETCH.
Aug. 24th, 2010 06:19 am (UTC)
Aug. 24th, 2010 07:15 am (UTC)
You used the Tale of Beren and Luthien. You made the story a threesome. It's gorgeous.

Aug. 24th, 2010 11:15 pm (UTC)
*G* Thanks!!!
Aug. 24th, 2010 07:32 am (UTC)
Beren and Luthien? FAVOURITE poem of all time ever. You made me GUH! Also, I'm now changing my name to Lothiriel in the hope that I'll wake up and find Eomer and Jim in my bed :-D
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:15 pm (UTC)
If that works will you lemme know?? ;)
Aug. 24th, 2010 09:52 am (UTC)
MAH .... MAH ... MAH ...

Damn ...

Not just at the sex (though it was awesome!), but I would like to say, the PWP? There was hungry hints of plot to make me want the Big Bang piece EVEN more (and I didn't think it possible :D) Especially the little bits about the child at the end! :')
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:15 pm (UTC)
*looks innocent*
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:16 pm (UTC)
*G*G* Thank you!!!!!
Aug. 24th, 2010 10:54 am (UTC)
Mmmm, so hot and lovely!
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:16 pm (UTC)
Hee, thanks!!
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:14 am (UTC)
Seriously? You could write permutations of this one forever, leaves of the petal of this gorgeous flower-- how he came, how he first was discovered, conversations with Gandalf, battle with Eomer-- all of it-- just all those little episodes unfurling and fragrant and gorgeous and I would treasure each one as much as this one.
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:18 pm (UTC)
Heh, I could do that, or I could finish the story from which these ficlets come in time for the stbb due date. (I just passed the 40k mark and it has 2.5 chapter to go...I think it's going to end up around 60k. My hubby wanted to know last night was it going to be LONGER than LOTR....)

Also, per usual, your lovely comment made my day lovely!!!!!!!!!! :D
Aug. 24th, 2010 12:16 pm (UTC)
ok, remind me never to go into a pwp off against you, because this is awesome!

So lovely and I love a threesome where you get the love and affection between all three people.
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:18 pm (UTC)
Aww, thanks!!! :D
Aug. 24th, 2010 01:28 pm (UTC)
I'm usually not all that keen on crossovers, but this was lovely and hot. Thank you!
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:19 pm (UTC)
Re: :D
Hee, thanks!!

Wait'll you get a load of the mother!fic. That is all. :)
Aug. 24th, 2010 01:34 pm (UTC)
I can be Lothíriel plz? UNF.
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:20 pm (UTC)
You and me both, bb!
Aug. 24th, 2010 01:38 pm (UTC)
I have also started wondering if maybe Bones didn't end up with Eownyn and Faramir. ;-)
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:19 pm (UTC)
...And now I am too.... o_0
Aug. 24th, 2010 04:17 pm (UTC)
Whoa damn. Awesome. :D heh.
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:20 pm (UTC)
Aug. 24th, 2010 04:34 pm (UTC)
Damn it. This is why I need to have only one account...

Oh man, I am so envious of her. Lololololol. *Happy, happy sigh.* And so porny! I'm so proud of you!
Aug. 24th, 2010 05:48 pm (UTC)
Oh this is AMAZING!! *hugs to self* both ridiculously hot AND beautiful! ::sighs::

so, so awesome! ::bows to pwp challenge winner::
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:21 pm (UTC)
Reading your fic now, bb!! We should have these challenges more often! ;)
Page 1 of 2
<<[1] [2] >>
( 35 comments — Add your .02 )

Latest Month

March 2018


Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow