Could you possibly please do number 3 for Curufinrod?
3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.
“Kiss me,” Curufin hissed, and tugged Finrod down before he could even respond.
Finrod complied, but the moment Curufin drew away for air he pressed a hand to his lover’s chest. “What do you want?” he asked, soft but deadly.
“You,” Curufin growled, grabbing Finrod’s wrist and pulling him back until their breathing mingled. “Must there always be an ulterior motive?”
“With you, yes,” Finrod said, deliberately turning his lips away. With us, yes, he thought ruefully, for he knew he was using Curvo as much as Curvo was using him.
Curufin licked a stripe up Finrod’s cheek, making him yelp and flinch away, but that strong grip on his arm didn’t let him go far.
“If there must, then let it be this: I am tired and I am lonely and I am certainly not going to turn to my idiot brother asking to let me forget, just for tonight.” He spoke the words defiantly, but Finrod felt the tremble in his fingers, the ache oozing out of his fëa. He was being sincere, so far as he could.
Finrod let Curufin tug him back into a tight embrace, but still kept his mouth out of reach for kissing. “And your idiot son?”
Curvo’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Tyelpë deserves better than to see me like this again,” he said shortly. “Will you kneel to me or not, you snake?”
In one fluid motion, Finrod sank to his knees, tugging Curvo forward by the waist. “Certainly, my jewel,” he purred, “if thou shalt worship me as thy king.”
“Fuck you,” Curufin choked out, but Finrod knew that he’d be begging for a royal pardon by the end of the night.
