He has a beautiful neck, pale and slender. If I close my eyes I can imagine how it would feel under my fingers; maybe not quite as soft as it looks, but still smooth. I can almost fancy that it would be cool - his skin is so pale, how could it be warm? But then he flushes sometimes, blood under the skin turning that pale skin a warm pink. It flushes like that when he's embarrassed, or excited. He would look like that during sex, his skin warm and soft, his hands grasping at the sheets, his body writhing and arching.
I can see my hands wrapping around his neck, my fingers almost shocking in their coarseness against his pale skin, and a fist of need punches my gut. I watch him lean backwards slightly, resting the back of his head against Dominic's shoulder, and Dominic, in response, dips his head, a smile on his face. They don't speak, but then they don't need to. He kisses Dominic's cheek, and Dominic's hand comes up to softly stroke his throat, and his fingers don't look coarse. He looks up, catches me staring, and his expression is triumphant. I glance down, and my hands are clenched into fists.
If Sean moved his fingers just - so - he could make Elijah gasp and tip his head back, revealing all the long length of his neck. And then Sean would run his hands through thick dark hair, pulling Elijah's head back even further, scraping his teeth across the white flesh until Elijah was almost sobbing his need. Sean would pull back and run his thumbs across the red marks he had created before kissing them gently, and finally, finally giving Elijah the release he craved. And later he would watch as Elijah unconsciously rubbed at his neck, and he would smile.
Billy liked to creep up behind Elijah and drape himself across his fellow hobbit, delighting in the always-startled laughter it produced. He liked to wrap his hands around Elijah's neck, crossing his thumbs at the front, stroking along the strong lines of Elijah's jaw, which always made him groan softly and tilt his head backwards, his head resting on Billy's chest. And then Billy would step backwards and, lifting the dark soft curls would gently kiss the back of Elijah's neck; a kiss full of promise for what was to come. Then with a final caress, he would walk away.
Viggo raised the camera to his eye, peering through the shutter, and the artist in him lost itself in admiration for what he saw. Elijah, giggling, had agreed to pose in the nude, but now that the camera was on him, embarrassment had faded. He had obediently let himself be folded into the pose Viggo wanted, sitting sideways to the camera, one knee raised, hands tucked underneath as he gazed into the distance. Viggo watched Elijah’s head move until it was resting on his raised knee, and Viggo found himself putting down the camera and stepping forwards, leaning down and resting his lips against the silky paleness of neck and shoulder.
Sam couldn't hold back a laugh of delight and relief mixed as Frodo finally emerged from under the water, spluttering and grinning, shaking his head so that the droplets of water fell around him, the sun striking through them and making a rainbow of light. Frodo raised his hands and pushed his hair back from his face, and the rainbow faded, his hair so black that in the intense light it was almost blue. There was only so much a hobbit could take, and before Sam quite knew what he was doing, he was in the water, clothes and all, licking the drops of water from Frodo's chest and neck.
Frodo fought back a gasp of fear as strong fingers encircled his neck, squeezing just tightly enough to make him dizzy. With a courage that would have made every single one of his ancestors proud, he raised his head as much as he could, and looked his tormentor directly in the eye. He felt the orc trace a talon down his neck, and from the stinging, knew that blood had been drawn, but he didn't flinch. If I have to die, then let me make an ending fit for a Baggins. Maybe Sam would get home safely, and in that way, some small part of him would live, too.
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