gosh darn the little bean

In Sickness and in Health

easterlingwanderer:

The man coughs again when Khamûl comes back and tries to smile at his beloved. He attempts at sitting Up, slowly, wincing. He smiles at the broth then, nodding slowly.

“Help… me?” He asks, voice rough. Then he sighs. “… willow bark tea. Honey. Good for this. ” he explains. He tries to get the mug but his hand shook too much.

“Oh. Oh, yes, good, I can-- I can make some of that for you. It helps?”

As he shuffles some pillows and helps to sit Rahal up enough to drink without choking, he realizes what it is that makes this so terrifying: he doesn’t know how to do anything without someone telling him what he should do. Rahal gives him the chance to pretend he has independence, letting him make little decisions about how long he sleeps or what he eats, but it is still Rahal who has to guide him to do anything.

If he gets too sick to guide him, then what? “I was going to look to see what books you have here about- about herbs or different remedies and-- and that sort of thing. To help.”

#easterlingwanderer #AU that is yet to be named #trimmed away the ask to keep it from being so long ;o;

In Sickness and in Health

easterlingwanderer:

The man smiles feebly. “No elves not… needed.” A pause. “… not now. I…” He starts coughing again, his whole body rattling and almost chokes, struggling for breath. Then he closes his eyes exhausted. His breath is… weird, hissing.

Khamûl is deathly still, staring with a furrowed brow and held breath. Rahal is clearly not well, but he can’t tell why or what or how to help. Broth and water can’t make this better, can it?

Fidgeting a moment, he leans in to press a kiss to his beloved’s brow before he stands and hurries away. Water and broth, and then looking again for a book. There were books on herbs, perhaps there are herbs he can use.

After doing his best to prepare some broth, he returns with a tray to balance the light ‘meal’ only to find Rahal in the same exact spot he’d left him. It’s unsettling, and he chews on his lip as he leans over him. “Rahal? Rahal, I brought you some broth... I think...”

@easterlingwanderer

Tut is a rare day when Khamûl is the first to wake. But it is today. The Wanderer is still in bed, sleeping. But something is... off. His breathing is laboured and he radiates heat. He coughs in his sleep a dry, rattling sound.

Khamûl enjoys that brief moment in the morning when he first wakes and gets the pleasure of choosing whether to stay awake or if he should roll over and sleep more. It’s a purely indulgent thing, a choice he hasn’t had the option of making for centuries, and now he relishes having it.

Except before he can truly decide, he hears a rasping in bed with him and turns with a sleepy frown to see what is going on. Usually his Rahal wakes long before him and has already started his day, so it is odd enough to even have him there at all. Then he catches sight of his lover, a bit pale, a sheen of sweat, a pained twist to his features…

He sits up, the choice of laziness removed. Rahal isn’t well. Which leads to another realization that he has no idea how to care for someone sick. It wasn’t ever a concern in Mordor! He reaches for the other, then pauses, then bites his lip and stands and stumbles from bed to pace anxiously. What is the correct thing to do for a sick person? How sick is he? Is it dangerous? Is it fatal? Should he wake him or let him try to rest?

Choking back a panicked whine, he does the only thing he can possibly think to do: he heads to the bookshelf and starts scanning titles for something that seems helpful.

easterlingwanderer:

The Wanderer smiles, the flood of relief so strong it comes to Khamûl like a wave. He nods weakly and tries to speak though it comes as a whispers.

“… water. Broth. Head hurts” he murmurs before starting to cough harshly, each cough sending a spike of pain in his temples. He moans feebly and closes his eyes.

He is burning and clearly quite ill.

“Water, broth, right, yes, I can-- I can do that.” Probably. He hadn’t had much practice cooking yet. Broth was simple, though, water and stuff in it and boiling, that made broth, right? He could do broth. “I-- I don’t know about your head, though, what should-- books. There should be a book about hurting heads, yes? I’ll look for books. Should I go for the Elves?”

He doesn’t really like the Elves, and they terrify him, but they have helped before. They might help again. They seem to like Rahal well enough, far more than they like him, and they’ll probably want to keep Rahal healthy? It’d be worth their looks and their murmuring and their insults if it could make Rahal better...

Tut is a rare day when Khamûl is the first to wake. But it is today. The Wanderer is still in bed, sleeping. But something is... off. His breathing is laboured and he radiates heat. He coughs in his sleep a dry, rattling sound.

Khamûl enjoys that brief moment in the morning when he first wakes and gets the pleasure of choosing whether to stay awake or if he should roll over and sleep more. It’s a purely indulgent thing, a choice he hasn’t had the option of making for centuries, and now he relishes having it.

Except before he can truly decide, he hears a rasping in bed with him and turns with a sleepy frown to see what is going on. Usually his Rahal wakes long before him and has already started his day, so it is odd enough to even have him there at all. Then he catches sight of his lover, a bit pale, a sheen of sweat, a pained twist to his features…

He sits up, the choice of laziness removed. Rahal isn’t well. Which leads to another realization that he has no idea how to care for someone sick. It wasn’t ever a concern in Mordor! He reaches for the other, then pauses, then bites his lip and stands and stumbles from bed to pace anxiously. What is the correct thing to do for a sick person? How sick is he? Is it dangerous? Is it fatal? Should he wake him or let him try to rest?

Choking back a panicked whine, he does the only thing he can possibly think to do: he heads to the bookshelf and starts scanning titles for something that seems helpful.

The man coughs again, sniffs and opens his eyes. He is aching all over. Headache. His troath hurts.

Ah.

He feels weak. He doesn’t want to move. He reaches for a hand for Khamûl but doesn’t find him.

He whimpers, trying to say the name of his love. Khamûl. Bean. Khamûl. But it comes as a whispers without strength.

His mind is… different from the usual. It is feverish, not as orderly, and it seems to beseech Khamûl to come closer to him.

#easterlingwanderer #YOUR BEAN IS FREAKING OUT #HE HAS ZERO PRACTICE WITH THIS SHIT #AU that is yet to be named

Khamûl glances over his shoulder at the soft sound from Rahal, only to hurry to his side as he feels the weak draw on his mind. He is absolutely terrified, it’s obvious, as he drops down beside the bed and takes his beloved’s hand in his own.

“I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m right here. I-- I don’t know-- I was looking to see if you had a book about-- nobody really got sick in Mordor that I know of, I mean, not anyone like-- was it me? Did I do something to you? Water! You probably need food and water, right, sick people still need that?”

Tut is a rare day when Khamûl is the first to wake. But it is today. The Wanderer is still in bed, sleeping. But something is... off. His breathing is laboured and he radiates heat. He coughs in his sleep a dry, rattling sound.

Khamûl enjoys that brief moment in the morning when he first wakes and gets the pleasure of choosing whether to stay awake or if he should roll over and sleep more. It’s a purely indulgent thing, a choice he hasn’t had the option of making for centuries, and now he relishes having it.

Except before he can truly decide, he hears a rasping in bed with him and turns with a sleepy frown to see what is going on. Usually his Rahal wakes long before him and has already started his day, so it is odd enough to even have him there at all. Then he catches sight of his lover, a bit pale, a sheen of sweat, a pained twist to his features...

He sits up, the choice of laziness removed. Rahal isn’t well. Which leads to another realization that he has no idea how to care for someone sick. It wasn’t ever a concern in Mordor! He reaches for the other, then pauses, then bites his lip and stands and stumbles from bed to pace anxiously. What is the correct thing to do for a sick person? How sick is he? Is it dangerous? Is it fatal? Should he wake him or let him try to rest?

Choking back a panicked whine, he does the only thing he can possibly think to do: he heads to the bookshelf and starts scanning titles for something that seems helpful.

#AU that is yet to be named #easterlingwanderer

It hadn't really been an issue since leaving his Master's service. Most of his desire as a wraith had been a byproduct of his Master's desires, after all, and on his own he found he was generally ambivalent towards sex. Which struck him with the occasional bout of guilt, knowing his once-lover likely missed that part of their relationship. Until one night, a very interesting dream makes it abundantly clear that Khamûl still very much does have those desires.

The man yawns. Then he blinks awake. There is a buzzing of arousal in his blood, nothing strange or unknown to him but…It isn’t his.He blinks and turns toward Khamûl, still sleeping as the big spoon.He is asleep.And… humping him.The Wanderer considers the situation and then tries to… dislodge himself without waking his partner.

easterlingwanderer:

The man smiles again and nods. He kisses Khamûl’s neck before sitting up and grinning. “Breakfast in bed?” He suggests and caresses his beloved hair.

“You deserve it” he adds, soft and gentle.

“As do you,” he reminds, smiling crookedly up at his husband. It’s still a strange concept to adjust to, that he should be pampered; so much of his life (at least that he can remember) revolved around serving another and ignoring his own needs. It had not been a terrible existence.

Yet now he is permitted-- encouraged, even, to sleep in, to stay seated, to relax and be served. He ought to do more, somehow.

“Breakfast in bed sounds lovely. Can I help prepare it?”

It hadn't really been an issue since leaving his Master's service. Most of his desire as a wraith had been a byproduct of his Master's desires, after all, and on his own he found he was generally ambivalent towards sex. Which struck him with the occasional bout of guilt, knowing his once-lover likely missed that part of their relationship. Until one night, a very interesting dream makes it abundantly clear that Khamûl still very much does have those desires.

The man yawns. Then he blinks awake. There is a buzzing of arousal in his blood, nothing strange or unknown to him but…It isn’t his.He blinks and turns toward Khamûl, still sleeping as the big spoon.He is asleep.And… humping him.The Wanderer considers the situation and then tries to… dislodge himself without waking his partner.

easterlingwanderer:

The man smiles, kissing Bean’s nose.

“You don’t have to.” He replies softly. “And this was… very good Bean. You already gave me more than I expected.” He says, sincerely.

He knows that is meant to be reassuring, but it seems almost sad; his Rahal should be expecting at least this much, if not more. Are they not married, after all? And didn’t they do much more together before?

Chewing the inside of his cheek, he presses closer and sighs as they snuggle up. “If you’re sure,” he mumbles, already thinking about how he could try harder to seduce his husband.

#relevant to bean #pebble

trasemc

cats and books!! i love it!

It hadn't really been an issue since leaving his Master's service. Most of his desire as a wraith had been a byproduct of his Master's desires, after all, and on his own he found he was generally ambivalent towards sex. Which struck him with the occasional bout of guilt, knowing his once-lover likely missed that part of their relationship. Until one night, a very interesting dream makes it abundantly clear that Khamûl still very much does have those desires.

The man yawns. Then he blinks awake. There is a buzzing of arousal in his blood, nothing strange or unknown to him but…It isn’t his.He blinks and turns toward Khamûl, still sleeping as the big spoon.He is asleep.And… humping him.The Wanderer considers the situation and then tries to… dislodge himself without waking his partner.

#nsfw #easterlingwanderer #DON'T TALK ABOUT FRUIT MAL #STAY OUT OF THIS #SDJFHSFS #AU that is yet to be named

easterlingwanderer:

The man’s eyes soften and he holds Khamûl close, kissing his eyebrows.

“The act itself is… delicious. I love doing it.” He says, very softly, cuddling the other man.

Khamûl sighs and snuggles in, returning the gentle cuddling. His humiliation and frustration isn’t his fault, after all, and he doesn’t want to upset Rahal. “You do?” he mumbles, keeping his head tucked low. “I mean-- I enjoy pleasing others...? Maybe I’ll adapt to the taste...”

[releasetheprisoners] ... Of course the Lieutenant was off to the side and "overhearing" the conversation going on. Not wanting to startle the frazzled wraith, the Orc merely raised his hand and waved.

Khamûlnoticed movement from the corner of his eye and turned, squinting, to see Gothmog. Oh, dear. Trying not to look absolutely overwhelmed, he waved back.

#oneringindarknessbindthem #he is just fluster

releasetheprisoners:

The Lieutenant shook his head.

“If you have something you need to get out, let it out… You know me : my ear is available.”

Khamûl licked his lips and cleared his throat. He seemed to consider the offer for a few moments. “... people have suddenly felt the need to discuss and offer advice about my... personal life.”

#releasetheprisoners

oneringindarknessbindthem:

Yes? It’s all advice.

WELL. WELL-- well who said I needed advice, hm? I’m perfectly fine without advice, thank you very much. My-- my personal life is fine.

[releasetheprisoners] ... Of course the Lieutenant was off to the side and "overhearing" the conversation going on. Not wanting to startle the frazzled wraith, the Orc merely raised his hand and waved.

Khamûlnoticed movement from the corner of his eye and turned, squinting, to see Gothmog. Oh, dear. Trying not to look absolutely overwhelmed, he waved back.

releasetheprisoners:

By the Eye, Khamûl was not very good at masking discomfort… Just what was he told that had put him so… So… Off?

“Yes. It is very good. But why are you so fidgety?”

“I’m not,” he said, mid-fidget. Then noticed his fidgeting, frowned, and folded his arms behind his back to hide the evidence. “.... not any more than usual, at least.”

#releasetheprisoners

[releasetheprisoners] ... Of course the Lieutenant was off to the side and "overhearing" the conversation going on. Not wanting to startle the frazzled wraith, the Orc merely raised his hand and waved.

Khamûlnoticed movement from the corner of his eye and turned, squinting, to see Gothmog. Oh, dear. Trying not to look absolutely overwhelmed, he waved back.

#releasetheprisoners #real smooth bean #nobody would suspect anything

releasetheprisoners:

“… Well, beyond overhearing a conversation that seemed to involve fruit, nothing much.”

Khamûl stammered and cleared his throat. “Oh. Well. Right, yes, we were just-- uh, discussing-- snacks. Good snacks. Fruit is a good one. A snack. A good snack. ... Fruit.”

[releasetheprisoners] ... Of course the Lieutenant was off to the side and "overhearing" the conversation going on. Not wanting to startle the frazzled wraith, the Orc merely raised his hand and waved.

Khamûlnoticed movement from the corner of his eye and turned, squinting, to see Gothmog. Oh, dear. Trying not to look absolutely overwhelmed, he waved back.

releasetheprisoners

Too late… Gothmog had already taken notice that something had ailed the wraith. So, with a shrug of his shoulders, the Lieutenant approached.

“And how does the day greet you?”