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FIC: In Too Deep [The Rings of Power, Galadriel x Saubrand]
Title: In Too Deep
Author: Omnicat
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: Season one of Amazon’s The Rings of Power... and maybe just a tiny hint of Laws and Customs of the Eldar.
Warnings: Non-explicit fight sex.
Characters & Relationships: Galadriel x Saubrand
Summary: It is not the end. Neither of them will give up what (who) the water gave them. // 150 words
Author’s Note: Enjoy!
In Too Deep
The water is shallow.
When he shoves her and she instinctively clasps his wrist – for while she may not be aware of her body in the vision, she is not unaware of it – they do not sink into the Sundering Sea’s fathomless depths; they roll across the Glanduin’s smooth river rocks.
His weight atop her, hers atop him, fingers around wrists, nails digging into throats. They are an indistinguishable flurry of limbs and water, gasping, splashing, tearing. There is rage in them both, wounded betrayal and a covetous battle-cry: ‘Give that back, ’twas meant to be mine!’
Lips crash (no more cajoling or evasion or near-misses), fabric rucks (their hands clash, but not in opposition), heat sinks into heat (too late, fucking finally), and she pulls him under with her until he brings them both up for air. Though wordless, their oath-of-the-flesh binds all the same.
Neither of them will ever let go.
Author: Omnicat
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: Season one of Amazon’s The Rings of Power... and maybe just a tiny hint of Laws and Customs of the Eldar.
Warnings: Non-explicit fight sex.
Characters & Relationships: Galadriel x Saubrand
Summary: It is not the end. Neither of them will give up what (who) the water gave them. // 150 words
Author’s Note: Enjoy!
In Too Deep
The water is shallow.
When he shoves her and she instinctively clasps his wrist – for while she may not be aware of her body in the vision, she is not unaware of it – they do not sink into the Sundering Sea’s fathomless depths; they roll across the Glanduin’s smooth river rocks.
His weight atop her, hers atop him, fingers around wrists, nails digging into throats. They are an indistinguishable flurry of limbs and water, gasping, splashing, tearing. There is rage in them both, wounded betrayal and a covetous battle-cry: ‘Give that back, ’twas meant to be mine!’
Lips crash (no more cajoling or evasion or near-misses), fabric rucks (their hands clash, but not in opposition), heat sinks into heat (too late, fucking finally), and she pulls him under with her until he brings them both up for air. Though wordless, their oath-of-the-flesh binds all the same.
Neither of them will ever let go.