Meadow

fearghas

Anxiety coiled around his lungs, constricting each breath tighter and tighter until he was absolutely certain that he would suffocate if Varanduil didn't say something. Whether he regretted it or hated it or enjoyed it. Whether he wanted to move forward from this moment as if Fearghas hadn't laid every inch of himself - both the parts that he was accustomed to showing and those wild dark parts of himself that he rarely visited - before Varanduil in the heat of their passion. As if even now, every fiber of his being wasn't crying out for him to take his golden brother back into an embrace.

Varanduil's flinch away from him, as if scalded by the very fact that they were touching, nearly served as enough of an answer for him. If it weren't for the fact that Fearghas needed his brother to understand how he felt, he might have taken this small, unconscious gesture as an indication of the truth. That V regretted what had come to pass between them, and that his choice lay at Cullen's feet, rather than Fearghas' own mottled hooves.

The golden figure of his brother twitches beneath his touch, and the spotted boy hardens his heart for the rejection that he knows is coming. For the I'm sorry, and the buts, and the excuses. He knows without a doubt that his tastes are unconventional. Unusual, in men, even among a band of brothers like the Lagoon. And in truth, he had never before acted on those impulses as he had with Varanduil.

He'd never felt so compelled to reach for it before.

Each new detail that trickles into his mind is a further nail into the coffin of his dreams and he watches with wide-eyed. frozen fear. The way V shuddered in revulsion when Fearghas touched him - thud. Varanduil's glassy-eyed stare as he came to understand what had happened, and what they had done - thud. The way he choked as Fearghas's spilled his guts, clearly too stricken to even form words - thud.

By the time that his golden brother scrambles to his feet the spotted stallion is a quivering mess of shame and fear. Shame for what he'd done to V and fear that by giving into his base nature that he'd forever destroyed that hopeful, bubbly feeling that he associated with his brother. You aren't saying you… liked it? V asked, and it was all that Fearghas could do to nod silently, ready and waiting for the backlash of revulsion that was sure to follow. His spotted throat constricted tightly as he swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother. It was only a matter of time now, he thought. Only a matter of time before Varanduil severed their connection forever and sent him spiraling into the darkness.

Instead, V began to shout endearments at him. Baffled and caught off guard, he barely managed to sputter an incredulous, "what d'ye mean?" in response. Before the words had even died on his mottled lips, his golden brother is pressing close again and any conscious defense Fearghas had been building to offer as a rebuttal to Varanduil's outlandish claim of perfection dissipates.

He can't focus on anything except V. The earlier fear has broadened his brother's pupils, shrinking the delicious warm chocolate of his irises to thin disks, threaded through with warm honey and he can't look away. If he looks away then the warm bubble of hope that wells in Fearghas's chest will surely pop, and so he only stares hungrily - forehead to forehead - as Varanduil winds down in his arguements.

"We both are, I think." He whispers into the space between them, some part of him still holding its breath for the but. Chuckling softly and without lifting his head, he nods. "I am. Are you?" He breathes in again slowly, trying to force his fear-stiffened lips into the words he really wants to ask. "Are you okay with - with this? With me? I didn't make ye do something ye didna want, did I?"

stallion . 4 years . 16.1 hands . smoky black blanket . loveinspired . credit