Nice, Nice, Very Nice by Hare
Summary: Liquor loosened lips. Nice. A promise made. Nice. Shared memories of two lifetimes’. Very nice.
Categories: Erestor's Library Characters: Erestor, Glorfindel
Beta Reader: None
Challenge: Written For...: Glorestor Competition
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Posted at...: Erestor Lovers
Timeline: 4 - Third Age
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Slash
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 7359 Read: 3774 Published: August 18, 2008 Updated: August 18, 2008
Story Notes:
I’m sure many of you recognize this title as coming from Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle.” For some reason it always seemed to me, like a great title for a slash story! I blame my kinky guru for a specific portion of this story…my mind she has warped. Many thanks to the generous and lovely chaotic_binky for doing a quick LOTR canon/fanon check and Zhie’s husband Mark for tips on being hung over!

1. Chapter 1 by Hare

Chapter 1 by Hare
Title: Nice, Nice, Very Nice
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Amateur at work here. No profit has been gained and no infringement of copyright is intended.
Timeline: Third Age 109
Warning: Fairly graphic sexual situations sprinkled with a bit of kink and romantic fluff.
Beta: Ezimachia. The best at line-by-line beta, the best at life long friendship. Mistakes? All mine.
Entry: 2008 Glorestor Challenge
Author's Note: I’m sure many of you recognize this title as coming from Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle.” For some reason it always seemed to me, like a great title for a slash story! I blame my kinky guru for a specific portion of this story…my mind she has warped. Many thanks to the generous and lovely chaotic_binky for doing a quick LOTR canon/fanon check and Zhie’s husband Mark for tips on being hung over!
Summary: Liquor loosened lips. Nice. A promise made. Nice. Shared memories of two lifetimes’. Very nice.

Erestor shot straight up from a deep sleep heart thumping. His bed shuddered from some unknown force and the echoes from a burst of sound reverberated through the room. Someone moved through his quarters. He could feel the intruder but, in his current state, he was powerless to run them out. Immediately he raised an arm that seemed extremely heavy, grabbed his head and exhaled a long, pitiful moan. Undoubtedly his head had been invaded by dark foes from Mordor and they fought him unopposed, victory assured. He hurt everywhere as if he had been repeatedly stomped by an oliphaunt. Thinking was pure torture. Involuntarily another groan heralded his misery. The speaker, now hovering close by, laughed and chattered away in an irritating sing song speech while the thumping in his temples kept beat with the grating crescendo of the interloper’s voice.

Brightness flooded his room. The screech of the metal rings scraping across the drapery rod set his teeth on edge. It sent a powerful surge of agony through his entire body and the brilliant beams of Anor stabbed at his bleary eyes. Every sound increased the ache in his bones. Erestor winced and limply fell back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over his face. For several blissful moments he was deprived of senses and the percussive pounding in his head subsided slightly. And then his refuge was invaded again when the pillow was ripped from his hands, his blankets pulled off, and an elf moved into view.

Even through the blur of sleep-filled eyes and the nearly blinding torture of a wine induced headache he knew this face. Stunning, really, surrounded by lush soft golden hair, and a plump set of lips that continued to emit unwanted sounds. But even the beautiful can be annoying and only one gorgeous idiot would be fool enough to brave his rooms after a long night of drinking.

Fighting pain for breath, Erestor whispered, “Glorfindel, go away.”

He pushed at the blurry face before rolling over and presenting his back to his friend, one hand searching blindly for the bedcovers with the other covering irritated eyes.

Stronger hands grabbed and dragged his legs toward the edge of the bed. Without warning his sleeping pants were roughly pulled off leaving him denuded. With fingers still pressed against an aching head, he instinctively and repeatedly kicked out at Glorfindel. Dimwitted by pain, Erestor even managed to hiss out every insult he could recall. But his feebly flailing extremities were playfully batted away before being gripped and firmly planted back on the bed and the only answer to his slanderous taunting was a wicked chuckle.

Reluctantly Erestor sat up. His legs dangled uselessly off the bed; his palms cradled his chin and with one squinted eye open, he peered upward. Anor’s light silhouetted Glorfindel. He had, over the years, decided that Glorfindel purposefully posed himself in a manner that always accentuated his magnificent physique. It was a pity that this morning, however, Erestor’s mood did not allow for his usual illicit ogling of the brilliant being that stood before him. A true shame. He did notice the fists planted on each hip, a wide broad smile adorning Glorfindel’s face, and eyes that danced with mirth. There was an undercurrent of something, though. Was something amiss? Erestor tried to coerce his vision to clear quickly but Glorfindel blinked and the atmosphere of perceived apprehension vanished.

“Good morning, my friend!”

Erestor clutched at his ears and grunted in reply.

“I see that you are your usual erudite self. What would your fellow counselors say if they saw you now? Tsk, tsk, Erestor, this is a bad display of form. Everyone else roused hours ago to begin the cleaning. Weddings are a messy business you know! Yet here you are sleeping away the day after a night of drunken debauchery!”

Rubbing fists into weary eyes, Erestor rose to the bait. “Debauchery?”

Glorfindel chuckled lewdly. “Aye, no wine was safe from your clutches last night. Shameless. Absolutely horrifying how you abused those defenseless vintages. Without so much as a by your leave you cleaved them to your chest before draining them dry. Lord Elrond was quite upset when he found his precious bottle of ll 3320 Lindon fireweed wine empty and clutched between your knees.”

Heat bloomed in his cheeks for he had a vague memory of this. Lord Elrond’s scowling face close to his, possibly admonishing him yet Erestor had understood not a word. And Lady Celebrían’s broad smiling face, peering over her lord’s shoulder as she pulled her new husband away for a dance.

Head down, he pressed the heels of shaking hands against his temples and reluctantly asked, “Tell me I did not make a complete fool of myself, Glorfindel.”

There was a long period of silence during which Erestor despaired. Before his friend’s laughing answer eased his worry.

“Nay. You did not. A promise, however, was made, and I am here to collect upon it. So up, out of bed and dress swiftly. At thirty minutes past the hour I will expect you in the courtyard ready to travel. Your time begins now, Erestor. Yet, be warned. If I am forced to return and retrieve you I shall remove you no matter your state of dress!”

The door to his room slammed shut, the bed shuddered again, and the pain, renewed, reverberated through his head.

Erestor’s lips twitched. Trust Glorfindel to force him to make due on a promise said in a fit of drunkenness. A promise? He thought upon it, ignoring the agony, yet could not remember uttering a pledge to his friend. In honesty, he could not retrieve a single memory of speaking with Glorfindel once the celebration began.

He did, however, recall a vow made to himself centuries earlier. More care when imbibing liquor! He had no constitution for drinking any potent liquid. After two goblets he would begin to lose focus on conversations and if he dared a third the entire night was lost to him. Last eve, though, marked a truly special occasion as Lord Elrond sealed his marital bond to Lady Celebrían. The vintages brought forth were intriguing and Erestor had not been able to resist. After all, he considered himself a connoisseur of the bouquets and was quite renowned for his knowledge of the wines of Middle Earth. And when he spied the ll 3320 Lindon fireweed he knew all was lost for this wine was on the top of his list for tasting.

A wave of nausea gripped him as he rose. He swayed slightly but kept his feet as the feelings passed. When he once again opened his eyes, he noted a tray on the desk. Loudly he smacked dry lips together, unstuck a thick tongue from the roof of his mouth, and moved forward.

Glorfindel…a friend since childhood, his one true companion and the unknowing keeper of his heart had brought him food and drink to break his fast.

Slowly he made his way to the feast, walking stiffly and awkward. His entire backside was strained and sore and he felt as if he had spent the entire night dancing. Cautiously he swallowed some water and felt his rolling stomach immediately rebel. Had he danced? Oh Valar, he hoped not for he lacked any dancing skills.

Unhurriedly he fed himself and pushed that thought from his mind. Content once he had managed to consume a piece of toasted bread he contemplated the closet. It seemed so far away. He glanced longingly at his bed but he dare not tarry for Glorfindel was ever true to his word and would drag him from the room kicking and screaming. No matter that he was Lord Elrond’s chief counselor!

Every movement tortured his body and he cursed Glorfindel under his breath. Yet something was amiss with his friend, and he knew it was important that he honor this unknown promise. Glorfindel’s fleeting look, as brief as it was, definitely heralded a potential problem and he could not dismiss the undercurrent of tension he felt.

~o0o~

By the time he made his way down the stairs and out the door, Erestor finally felt well enough to join the population of Imladris. He even managed to not wince when Anor’s rays hit him full force.

Glorfindel stood with the horses at the far end of the court. His hair now pulled back into riding braids and he was dressed in casual clothes for an outing. The torment in Erestor’s head had lessened to a dull throb until he heard Glorfindel whistling. The shrill tune caused a flash of pain to spark behind his eyes and they watered profusely. He blinked furiously and his vision cleared swiftly as did any lingering discomfort. There before him was his reward for not harming his friend earlier, a fantastic view of one of Glorfindel’s best assets. His large frame gracefully bent over as he checked the shoes of their mounts, pulling out any foreign objects, and occasionally interrupting his whistle with a soothing word for the horses. After a short moment of peering unashamedly, Erestor moved forward to hail his friend.

Glorfindel noticed his approach and greeted him with a smug grin.

“How is your head?”

Erestor reached up and felt around. “Still perched atop my neck.”

With a wicked smile, he took the reins and swung up into the saddle. He let Glorfindel lead. When Ilúvatar had sung the song called temptation surely Glorfindel had been the inspiration. This was a perfect angle for admiring his friend’s body, ramrod straight back, trim torso, and narrow firm buttocks that swayed with the horse’s gait.

He released a frustrated sigh. He had spent his life admiring that which was forever out of his reach, continually drawn to Glorfindel’s dangerous and aggressive beauty. Erestor’s all encompassing passion for Glorfindel had developed when they were mere elflings.

Their nanas were close so it naturally followed that they would be play companions. As their childhood fell away a new awareness arrived leading to awkward stolen kisses. One they had dared while in the back of Glorfindel’s kitchen only to be caught and chased away by Cook wielding her spoon. Late while sharing nights at each other’s homes, they had dropped their leggings, and eyed the other’s burgeoning erections. Nervous giggling always ensued, not quite desire, they had been too young for that, but it felt so forbidden…a shadowy secret. Alas, even then Glorfindel had been a free spirit and highly desired by others. He would have never been content with just Erestor.

Their ongoing friendship figured prominently in his life now. Since Glorfindel had died and been reborn, he felt they existed on borrowed time. His pessimistic mind waited for one of the Valar to arrive, admit a mistake had been made and snatch Glorfindel back to the Halls of Waiting. Never to be released.

Erestor fidgeted, hated when he interrupted a perfectly good day with dark thoughts. Firmly he fixed his gaze on Glorfindel and thought on this promise he had allegedly made. It intrigued him that it was so important to Glorfindel. Soon, he knew those shadows in the back of his friend’s eyes would be revealed and Erestor would chase them away. He felt it. In the meantime, he would enjoy the view and the rhythm of the horse’s movement beneath him which added a thrill to his voyeuristic bliss.

Erestor, entranced, initially failed to notice that his friend had shifted in his saddle and watched him. Glorfindel loudly cleared his throat.

Erestor shook himself out of the enchantment, spied the cryptic smirk on Glorfindel’s face, and immediately felt his own flush with embarrassment.

“Idril and Tuor’s wedding.” Glorfindel simply stated and added nothing further.

Erestor waited for Glorfindel to continue. Instead his friend remained twisted around looking at him with a strange quirky grin.

“What?” Erestor truly was at a loss.

“I always wondered why you insisted on walking a few steps behind me. Everywhere! If I slowed down you slowed down, consistently maintaining the same distance. I decided it was another of your many quirks, so I forgot about it until their wedding. You spent that night with your hands clutched around a decanter of curly fern cordial. Besotted, your tongue loosened. Until finally you confessed that I, Glorfindel, possessed the most magnificently tight buttocks, the sweetest bum, in all Middle Earth. Admittedly, it was not your most poetic moment though you were very enthusiastic.”

Erestor tottered in his seat barely able to speak above a whisper, “Nay.”

Still grinning Glorfindel responded. “Oh, aye. That is a direct quote from your drunken mouth. Do not deny it, Erestor, for I know if you think on it you will admit to those words.”

Stunned into silence Erestor could not respond. The words, were his, he knew this. And though stated millennia earlier they still rang true.

Glorfindel turned and urged his stallion forward. Erestor startled into action firmly nudged his mount onward while hailing his friend. He must apologize no matter that Glorfindel seemed oddly amused by his ill-spoken words.

“Glorfindel, I am so very sor--.”

But Glorfindel cut off the apology when he called out.

“Come, my friend. The afternoon continues to wile away and we are not yet to our destination.” He spurred his horse and rode forth swiftly. Erestor had no choice but to follow.

~o0o~

He recognized the area they headed toward. It was a small secluded bower near a calm, slow running section of the Bruinen, a site both he and Glorfindel had marked as their own. It reminded them of a childhood hide away they had shared in Valinor. That location too was secret and sacred. Erestor looked forward to the day he could return to the Undying Lands and gaze upon it once more. This place was always a balm to his moods and by the time they arrived some of the sting from Glorfindel’s pronouncement had faded. Yet, a tiny pang of anxiety remained.

Though he stayed quiet throughout the ride, Glorfindel did not. He spoke excessively about last night’s festivities, all of which Erestor could not recollect. Once again, he firmly chided himself for his lack of control. Glorfindel continued chattering even as they arrived at the tiny glen, dismounted, cared for the horses, and unloaded a sack overflowing with provisions.

Glorfindel spread a saddle blanket on the ground and gestured Erestor to sit with him. Amazed, he looked at the variety of edibles, all his favorites. A small bottle partially hidden amongst the food caught his attention. He peered closely and gasped.

“Alfirin ale, Glorfindel!” Erestor could not help but shout his glee. “Truly, it has been centuries. This has not been made since Gil-galad’s reign. What a brilliant gift. How can I thank you?”

Nodding his head, Glorfindel acknowledged the praise. “Share a drink with me.”

“Gladly!” Erestor enthusiastically unwrapped the casing, pulled out the cork, and handed the bottle to Glorfindel who shook his head.

“Nay. The first swig is yours but go slowly for we have but one tiny bottle and this is the last. Let us savor it.”

Glorfindel’s gaze felt heavy upon him as he swallowed that first blissful mouthful. “Ahhhhh…pure perfection! I cannot imagine how you found it, Glorfindel!” He passed the container to his friend.

Glorfindel took the ale from his hands with a wistful expression. “The truth of the matter is much less heroic. I have kept this bottle safe since the begetting day of my rebirth. That, my friend, was the last occasion we shared this most fine liquor.”

Erestor sobered a bit. The first year of Glorfindel’s return had truly been a nightmare. Plagued with black moods, violent dreams and strange twitches, he had refused all care. No healer was allowed to touch him, nor would he tolerate Erestor being near. In desperation, Erestor had planned a small begetting day celebration, just the two of them alone in his rooms and was utterly surprised when Glorfindel had accepted. He remembered clearly that they had shared a simple supper and Erestor had secured, for a hefty price, seven bottles of the prized Alfirin ale. All other details of the evening were lost for he had, in his relief, consumed three bottles! He did remember the next day as it marked Glorfindel’s miraculous change for the better.

“So long ago but it was a happy occasion for you were returned to me.”

Glorfindel lifted the bottle. “To great friends!” And then he tilted it, bringing it slowly to his lips, lips that he wetted with a long sensual swipe of his tongue. He stopped before drinking, eyes locked on Erestor’s.

“That night your edicts were simple yet poetic. A mouth that promises paradise, you declared.” Glorfindel took a long pull from the container and sighed as he released the now empty bottle from his mouth.

Erestor fell onto his back and brought hands up to cover his eyes. He could not breathe through the confusion and distress. But Glorfindel was not finished with him for he lay down beside Erestor, close and intimate; the words flowed hot into Erestor’s ear.

“My majority celebration, you and I, together as always and defying our parents. We stole away for a swim in the sea. But we had another companion that night. Do you recall?”

Erestor numbly nodded his head, for the memories were secure.

“Barley sugar stout, the strongest most potent batch, and we had two full tankards. Stripping off and gulping stout with every step, we were naked and drunk by the time we dove into the water. Laughing and carefree we sang and talked and exchanged crude stories. You highlighted our outing with a statement I have never forgotten. As I exited the water you stared at me with an obscene smile before you pointed at my cock and declared its name Manwë because it deserved sacred worship and you would gladly fall to your knees in its service.”

Erestor, grabbed his ears, groaned with torment and rolled away from Glorfindel. He rose to his knees before Glorfindel’s hands stopped him and held him in place. They gently rubbed his shoulders holding him securely but tenderly.

“Please, Glorfindel. Say you can forgive me these thoughtless words.” He would have prolonged his pleas yet Glorfindel seemed to hear him not for he continued on with another tale.

“Gondolin covered in snow and ice with thousands of lights chasing away the darkness, another of our numerous winter celebrations in full regal. Were we not always searching for ways to deny the fright we felt as we awaited the inevitable arrival of Morgoth? Even now I wonder at our naivety. How did we convince ourselves that hiding away was the solution to the evil that sought us? Yet, there we were. I minded not, for I had my best friend and a strong house of family supporting me. Every year with the first snowfall you voiced your longing for evermind nog and bannock. As elflings we had drunk many a glass and eaten many a cake and you craved them once more. Imagine my delight when Cook found several old family recipes tucked in a newly rediscovered book.

The joy on your face was my reward as well as the firm hug you gifted me. Of course, my true gift occurred later that evening for when the guests had all retired, you and I were left alone. Sitting by the fire, its light filling the room with a warm glow, you waxed imaginatively about my eyes. You said they were the most brilliant sea blue and they made you yearn to set sail in their depths. And you prayed that this was sea longing for you would gladly answer its call and willingly dwell there forever.”

Erestor shrugged free from him, stood and walked a short distance away. He presented his back to Glorfindel and wrapped taut arms around his agitated body to halt the shaking. He wanted this torture to end but Glorfindel seemed determined to bring it to some unknown conclusion. All these things were true, though he could not restore direct memories of his declarations, he knew the words were absolutely from thoughts he had previously about his friend. Through his ruminations, he heard Glorfindel sigh before beginning again.

“The War of the Last Alliance and one night mere weeks before the final battle you wanted to speak of firsts. Emboldened by an old flagon of stonecrop sour you listed every first you could think of…the first time you pleasured yourself, your first lover, your first injury, your first book, the first time you realized not everyone loved you, your first fight which was of course with me, and your first counseling dilemma. Then you suddenly changed to speaking of your favorites…food and drink until you settled on the topic of my hair. The first time you had seen it lighted by the trees. But you interrupted that thought to tell me of the time when Anor first shone upon us. You knew and declared that I was Anor’s earthly satellite for each strand of my hair had Anor ensnared within. Then you decided my hair was like a crown of brilliant color outshining all the silmarils. Finally you calmed a bit, reached out to touch it, and stated that once a strand had brushed against you and it was akin to being caressed by the wind…tranquil yet sensual.

Look at me, Erestor.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed the command and turned. Glorfindel, with no hint of humor, gazed at him with peaceful understanding. That simple expression buoyed Erestor and a thrilling idea dawned and took hold.

“My favorite memory, though, occurred when you spoke to me of my hands. Tell me what you said to me that evening.”

Erestor revived those memories clearly for the event had occurred just weeks before the traumatic Fall of Gondolin and Glorfindel’s death. He took a deep shaky breath.

“Soldiers from every House were summoned by King Turgon and gathered to fellowship and enjoy hired entertainment. That night my drink of choice had been a special blend of fragrant cream sherry. But, of course, my true joy that evening was watching you, and you were a sight to behold. Severely dressed from head to toe in black, you were the center of all activity. In a room overflowing with seasoned warriors you were a menacing predator surrounded by a flock of bleating sheep. Every drink you took, every gesture you made, drew my eyes to your hands. Big, capable, killing instruments I had seen on many deadly occasions wrapped around a sword. And then Ecthelion’s young daughter raced through the room crying for ‘Her Glorfindel.’ I can still hear her gleeful screeches as she evaded her minders to run to you. You deftly caught her has she leapt into your arms and you ran a hand through her hair and cupped her chin. I watched those same lethal hands, with such unforced grace, executing a gentle caress as skillfully as any healer.”

“Aye, those were the very words you said to me.” Glorfindel smiled brightly and took a step toward Erestor.

Erestor stopped, breathless, he had confessed all, yet there was more. He needed to know now. “Tell me, my friend. Tell me what I said to you last night.”

Glorfindel’s grin did not waiver. “For years your declarations were about my physical attributes. I desired, nay, needed to know what you felt exceeded just an appetite for a quick tumble. I needed it to be more…,” he hesitated, “More. And until sure of your motives I was willing to wait. Forever if necessary for your friendship has always been my touchstone, solid and alive and dependable. I was content but hopeful. And then last night your words were different…so solemn, so heartfelt, yet said in a drunken state. I have not taunted you for expressing these wild declarations throughout our lives. Never did it enter my mind to scoff at your theatrics for you were and are less a coward than I. You, at least, with the courage of drink were able to vocalize your desires. I was silent until now. You promised those words said last night would be uttered again, today.”

He spread his arms wide. “And here we stand, Erestor, sober in the glaring light of day.”

Glorfindel halted, inhaled heavily and asked, “So you do love me then?”

Without hesitation Erestor breathily admitted. “Always. Forever.”

Their relationship, long in the making, had survived actual life and death situations. Erestor knew they would survive this change for they had been involved well before this moment. Yet it was new and frightening. Love, the beautiful simplicity of it finally named, the truth of their feelings dulling all that came before. Long they stared at each other as the shadows vanished and Anor’s rays sizzled between them.

Glorfindel broke first and strode forth. He kicked Erestor’s legs wide apart and moved between his thighs. They came together brutally, teeth clashing into a frantically rough kiss. Erestor tasted the tang of copper, as his lips were forcefully parted and Glorfindel aggressively drove his tongue inside. The scents of Glorfindel - sweat and saddle leather and steel - swirled around him and he knew he was starved for this. This taste of what he had always thought forbidden. A shiver of fear ran up his spine at the sound of his tunic ripping as it was torn from his body. All the aggression and danger of this hard, dark fighting elf focused on him, grinding against him with thrusts so powerful he only kept his feet by the desperate grip he had on Glorfindel’s hips.

Glorfindel barked out a panted shouted before pushing Erestor away to arms length. “Nay!”

He stroked light touches along Erestor’s neck and shoulders. “Slowly, slowly, for I crave this never ends.”

Erestor barely registered the words for the vulnerability on Glorfindel’s face startled him and he involuntarily shifted away. But just as quickly, a smile of pure arrogance and mischief returned. Glorfindel reached out, caught Erestor, dragged him back and pressed them hard together. The heat, burning from Glorfindel, singed him as their bodies met.

Holding tight, Erestor played his hands across the broad and muscular back and roamed down to the backside he had admired and lusted for all these millennia. Satisfying joy filled him and he spoke words of reassurance to Glorfindel.

“We shall never be finished.”

Desire coursed through him as Glorfindel panted in his ear and rhythmically rammed his rigid shaft against Erestor’s thigh. It seemed Glorfindel’s words did not match the hunger of his body. Hips continued to move in a frenzy of need. Fast and wild, Erestor’s heart thundered and he teetered on a knife’s edge of spilling his release when he felt the strapping under Glorfindel’s tunic. Grabbing the hem he stepped back, ignored Glorfindel’s hiss of displeasure, and in one swift movement lifted the shirt up and off.

Glorfindel’s knife was tucked safely under his left shoulder. A wickedly vicious blade, serrated on one edge, long, and deadly sharp with etched writings detailing the deaths of the dark foes Glorfindel had sent to their doom. The handle appeared deceptively innocent with its delicate inlaid gold petals set into a background of dark Huorn skin. A lethal package strapped to Glorfindel’s body whether in sleep or awake and no one wielded the knife except its master.

Until now.

He knew a slightly maniacal grin split his face but a fantastical elation had ensnared him. Their relationship had always been complex and unpredictable and this new development would be no different. With a firm grip he pulled the knife from the baldric. Anor caught the steel and sparked a cascade of rays which highlighted Glorfindel’s shocked expression.

Erestor moved in closer, slipped his free hand beneath Glorfindel’s hair, and firmly gripped the back of his neck. He placed the blade menacingly to the front of Glorfindel’s throat. Holding it steady he spoke sternly.

“Undo your hair, Glorfindel. I tell you now that I prefer it unbound and when you come to me I shall expect it to always be so.”

Glorfindel flashed a menacing look but proceeded to loose his braids. Erestor’s heart raced in his chest. The game was upon them.

“Fluff it up a bit. It lies oddly.” This would be their secret shared, intense and thrilling.
His breath came in short nervous bursts.

Glorfindel complied, but his right eye had developed a tick and it continued to twitch. Running his fingers through golden locks he made a show of pulling out the tangles and knots until apparently tiring of this acquiescence the beginnings of a menacing growl rose from Glorfindel’s gullet. Erestor pressed the knife cruelly upon his throat effectively choking off the sound.

“I have not given you leave to speak. Silence!”

Glorfindel’s mouth contorted and tightened into a stiff thin line but he remained silent.

Erestor glanced downward. “I want you now. Here. Strip off your leggings quickly for if you tarry I will not hesitate to cut them from your body.”

The tension radiating from Glorfindel practically thrummed the air around them. He moved reluctantly but smoothly lifted each leg and tossed his leggings to one side.

Erestor, unable to resist, loosened his grip slightly and raked hungry eyes over Glorfindel. Long golden hair swayed in the breeze brushing across hardened nipples. His chest rose and fell quickly highlighting well defined muscles. Erestor licked his lips nervously and beheld the prize between Glorfindel’s legs. Thick, rigidly erect, and taut against Glorfindel’s belly its promise of ruthless and savage couplings sent a heated shiver through him.

Pain exploded in his right hand and in a flash the knife was gone. Momentarily confused, Erestor struggled against the iron grip that pinned both hands behind his back. His resistance ceased when his chest was violently crushed into Glorfindel’s and the air was forced from him. He gulped in large breaths and as his sight cleared, Glorfindel’s face came into view, close and ominous. Erestor stiffened when the knife, now in Glorfindel’s hand, slid menacingly into the cleft between his buttocks. He dared not tremble for Glorfindel radiated danger.

Glorfindel spoke in a husky voice. “What is this game, Erestor? Is this your desire?”

The knife changed angles and the point teased his opening. He gasped at the sensation both terrified and excited. Their eyes never left each other. Erestor needed Glorfindel to know his cravings but dared not voice them so he pleaded silently. They remained locked in this embrace for many moments before Glorfindel questioned him again.

“Nay? Mayhap this is your yearning?”

Stars burst in Erestor’s vision. Glorfindel had released his hands, seized his hair, and wrenched his head backward. Suddenly he felt the warm blade, heavy with his scent, pressed against his lips.

“Open.” ordered Glorfindel.

He did. And when the knife slid past his lips and over his tongue he groaned in ecstasy. The blade slipped from his mouth as quickly as it had entered.

A gentle thumb stroked his face and rubbed soothingly over his lips. When he dared lift his head and open his eyes it was to find Glorfindel smiling upon him, understanding and contentment apparent.

Glorfindel palmed the knife, placed both hands on Erestor’s shoulders and pushed him down until his knees landed cruelly on the rocky ground. Unerringly, the tip of the knife pressed reassuringly in his ear and Glorfindel roughly yanked Erestor to his groin. Dark pleasure…secret pleasure stabbed through him. The threat filled his erection until it strained painfully against his leggings. Thrilling excitement thrummed through him at the power of Glorfindel and the strength of his grip.

Glorfindel knew exactly what Erestor needed.

With a contented sigh Erestor leaned forward and sucked the large cock into his mouth and down his throat - his reward the moan which roared from Glorfindel and shattered the silence. Glorfindel grabbed the back of his head even more firmly and forced the rhythm…slow and deep, and it took all of Erestor’s skill to not choke on the bulk. It was over in mere seconds as Glorfindel’s hot seed seared his throat and a shout echoed through the trees around them.

Pulled quickly to his feet, he cleaved to Glorfindel for support. His knees were weak and his body screamed out for its own deliverance. Still he managed to find enough energy to swipe a quick lick of Glorfindel’s neck and breath to whisper into his ear.

“That was quickly done.” He said with just a hint of mirth.

Carelessly tossing the knife away, Glorfindel drew Erestor into a merciless kiss, shoved a hand down his leggings and with three strong pulls Erestor discharged his seed and cried out his relief.

As Erestor clung to him, breathing heavily, Glorfindel smirked. “You were saying?”

Together, secure in their embrace, they laughed quietly. While laughing, they fell to their knees, and then onto their sides, neither letting go nor letting the other out of their sight.

Erestor kissed Glorfindel’s shoulder and the small bump that deformed it.

“The large tree near your home. The one your ada told you to stay out of.” Glorfindel nodded. “Yet you chose to ignore him. Foolish.”

Glorfindel snickered. “Aye, but if you recall I paid for my foolishness.”

“I do remember much howling as the healers set the break. And I never saw you climb that tree again.”

Erestor suckled the crook of Glorfindel’s neck leaving a clear mark before moving to the raised skin under his chin.

“Your fault once more.” He licked at the straight line scar and felt Glorfindel’s shiver.

“How was I to know you would be startled into standing? Of course I always knew your head was extremely hard!” retorted Glorfindel.

Glorfindel pulled away and pawed through Erestor’s hair. He snickered.

“You did not get a scar! Remember how profusely I bled and how we cried. I thought I was headed to my doom as my life blood flowed from my chin.”

“It was always drama for us, Glorfindel.”

Erestor put his mouth to further use, nuzzling down Glorfindel’s body touching and tasting exposed skin. He reveled in the sounds Glorfindel made and how his body reacted to the contact.

He stopped when he reached the faint raised scar that ran from Glorfindel’s right nipple down to his belly button. Lightly, he traced the long mark. This he would not speak of for it happened on a dark day in Valinor. Ungoliant after her vile acts had rampaged through their lands adding to her victories. Glorfindel, who like most elves of that time, had little knowledge of warfare and thus had no chance of triumphing over this evil foe foolishly stood his ground as she advanced. The spider, almost as an after thought, had leisurely scraped a chitinous leg across his chest ripping through the tunic rendering Glorfindel unconscious. Erestor had frantically pulled his friend to safety and luckily the wound had not been life threatening.

Reverently he transferred his attention to the circular imperfection on the inside of Glorfindel’s left thigh. He rubbed his cheek against it as he spoke.

“I had never seen an orc as huge nor a weapon as wicked. A horrible battle.”

He smiled against it when Glorfindel ran a reassuring hand through his hair, kissed it and moved on.

Erestor nibbled down to Glorfindel’s toes, tickled him across both feet before proceeding behind. He halted at the scarred over gouge mark in Glorfindel’s left calf.

“Clumsy,” he murmured.

A stilted laugh answered him before Glorfindel countered. “Ice is slippery.”

“I managed to keep my feet and support you after this injury.” Erestor teased only briefly for Glorfindel had carried a heavy heart on the trek across Helcaraxë…grief from lost friends and lost innocence and deadly deeds.

He left a slick trail up the back of Glorfindel’s thighs enjoying the shivers and groans he received in response.

When he reached Glorfindel’s right buttock they both chortled. Erestor kissed the smooth triangular scar.

“When I drink I am only guilty of spouting bad poetry and making crude remarks about your person. When you and Ecthelion drank you both insisted on reaching for the closest weapon followed by raucous dueling. After this wound,” Erestor nipped it smartly, “we learned and removed all blades from whatever room you chose for drinking.”

Glorfindel continued laughing. “A wound on the buttock embarrassed me to no end. Yet if you recall King Turgon seriously considered using me as an example to the soldiers of why one should never handle a weapon when impaired.”

“Oh aye, I remember. I recollect that every soldier prayed nightly to the Valar that he would do just that. They too yearned to gaze upon the sweetest bum on Middle Earth.”

Erestor gently parted Glorfindel’s buttocks, delved deeply with his tongue until he found his prize and suckled on it, effectively cutting off Glorfindel’s chuckling. Erestor was reluctant to move from this place as he indulged in the delightful taste of him, the interesting texture of him, the feel of him heaving beneath the touch.

But, there was one more scar he needed to face.

With a reverent kiss to the site he planned on visiting often, he shifted upward and encountered the first thin, deep mark. His hands moved over Glorfindel’s back feeling the numerous whispy scars that marred him. The memories of the Balrog’s fiery hot whip digging cruelly into Glorfindel’s back setting his clothing on fire before it slipped and tangled into Glorfindel’s hair screamed through his mind. He tried to hold back the sorrow of the memory, but a tiny sob escaped from deep in his chest.

Immediately Glorfindel turned over and pulled him close. Whispering between light kisses he spoke. “Shh, shush. It is over. I am here now. We are here, together. Those battles are our history not our future. Today is for smiles. Come now, smile for me.”

And he did, with no reluctance for today was happiness. What had occurred before, all of it, wondrous or terrifying, had led them here to this splendid moment.

“My turn,” Glorfindel suddenly growled with heated desire lighting his face. He dragged Erestor beneath him.

Glorfindel rolled off Erestor’s leggings, freeing his once again burgeoning erection. Air brushed against his nude form, followed by a questing tongue. That wet tongue blazed a path on his body as Glorfindel’s investigated and tasted every inch and left him shaking with need.

When Glorfindel finally lifted his head to gaze upon Erestor, he appeared perplexed.

“You have no scars, no marks whatsoever. Your skin is unmarred, smooth, and exquisite.”


He reached out and stroked Glorfindel’s face. “There is a reason for that. You were there with me, every day, protecting me, deflecting every blow. But you are wrong I do carry a scar from a wound of the most vicious and lasting kind.”

“Where?” Glorfindel clearly appeared confused.

Capturing Glorfindel’s hand he brought it to his chest. “Here. To my heart on the day you died.”

Strong hands hauled him over and Erestor fell between Glorfindel’s thighs; lean and muscular they pressed around his own, strong and secure. Their lips met in a kiss, heated yet sweet, as their tongues flirted against each other in gentle reassurance. Erestor gasped as the erotic pressure built rushing over and through him. He filled with the pleasure of Glorfindel’s naked aroused body rubbing against his building the heat between them. They moved slowly hard flesh meeting hard flesh, erections bumped and nudged together, smooth and slippery. Gentle thrusts turned desperate as their rhythm shifted to fierce coupling. Their driving need, ferocious and wanton, hurled them towards completion until with mouths locked in a powerful kiss their world shattered into blinding pulses of intense pleasure. The urgency sated, exploring hands soothed ragged breathing, confirming their bond, reassuring their tenderness.

Erestor lay atop Glorfindel, counting the slowing heartbeats of his love. His eyes were closed and a satisfied smile graced his lips. No doubts, no worries for they possessed everything necessary to permanently seal this new life together. He fell towards a light reverie in the company of a whispered, ‘I love you, Erestor.’ His heart utterly and eternally seduced.

~o0o~

He roused a short time later. The air had turned to pleasant coolness, and the solid presence of Glorfindel’s warm body covered one side. Moonless, the night was deep and black interrupted intermittently by the shining orbs of unknown creatures that peered from the cover of the surrounding trees and brush. Stars bright and numerous lit up the sky as joyous in their beauty as his boundless exuberance.

Erestor sensed Glorfindel’s gaze upon him even before his vision cleared from sleep. Glorfindel lay beside him perched on an elbow looking down upon him. One hand luxuriously stroked Erestor, everywhere it could reach. Erestor immediately sought out those blue eyes and gazed at the shadowed face. He saw the question they asked and put out a searching hand. Reaching up he touched the beautiful face of his lover, traced the outline of his strong jaw before skimming the swollen and bruised lips. How to put into words the tenderness of his own feelings? How to describe this wonderful afternoon and his elation at knowing so many delicious days lay ahead of them?

What he did know, finally and to his great satisfaction, was how it felt to fully belong to Glorfindel.

He thought for only a short time before he answered Glorfindel’s unspoken query. “Nice.”

With both eyebrows raised to his hairline, Glorfindel questioned, “Nice?”

Erestor, never once taking his gaze from Glorfindel stretched lazily cataloging all the pleasant aches and pains gained from their frenetic couplings. Slick semen on his belly trickled down between his legs. Smiling gleefully he dragged a finger through their combined seed. Dramatically lifting the finger high he allowed drop after drop to fall into his wide open mouth. And when the last drop had fallen he lathed the finger clean. He reveled in the transformation of Glorfindel, who watched his every move, whose eyes had glazed over, who was panting heavily and who was licking his lips while he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath.

Sly delight filled Erestor. He rolled on top of Glorfindel, rocked his hips forward, and as his mouth descended upon Glorfindel’s he murmured, “Very nice.”

The End.
This story archived at http://parma.littlebalrog.com/viewstory.php?sid=55