bold is used for emphasis
Chapter 2:
Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A.
Sídhiel was irritated that Gildor had left without waking her, but the unique sights of this land were intriguing and she found she was enjoying the journey. Sídhiel gaped at the large cypress and black gum trees with their knees protruding through the spongy ground, all the various ferns clogging the swamp floor, the tangle of vines hanging down to snag her hair, the bromeliads and orchids clinging to the tree trunks, as well as the pitcher plants and sundews that actually ate insects! In all her years of travel, Sídhiel had yet to encounter such an exotic place that seemed so teeming with life, yet was eerily silent, missing the birdcalls and animal noises that she was accustomed to.
“Damn this swamp! By the fires of Mordor, when I find you, Gildor Inglorion, I am going to strangle you!” Sídhiel was covered in muck and mire from her head to her toes, and her clothes were not just filthy but also shredded to rags. She was angry and frustrated because Gildor had not only left her at the campsite, but had also blocked his link with her. To top off her truly rotten day, she was now hopelessly lost. After finding a bit of fairly solid land, she dropped down onto a fallen log and took some lembas and water from her pack. After wandering the entire day, exhaustion and frustration overtook her and she broke down in tears. With growing fear, she realized that she was truly alone for she could not feel any intelligence nearby to ask for help. Well, at least I know there will not be yrch or other foul beasts near me this night.
After eating some of the lembas, Sídhiel finally gathered her wits about her, knowing that no help would be forthcoming unless she could clear her mind and concentrate. While trying to settle her riotous emotions and clear her mind of all distractions, she slid from the log to the springy ground and sat cross-legged. She learned long ago that her gift was useless unless her own emotions were quiescent. Beginning to breathe slowly and evenly she closed her eyes, gradually increasing the depth and length of each cycle of her lungs.
Once calmed, Sídhiel opened her mind and began to sense the emotions that were around her. Unfortunately, she felt no real comprehension, mostly perceiving small rodents whose emotions were only dichromatic: fear and hunger. Pushing herself deeper and stretching out farther, she hoped to discern a higher order intelligence; one that might be able to aid her.
After scanning for far longer and farther than she had attempted ever before, Sídhiel finally felt a faint spark of recognition. She targeted the spark and focused all her energy in that direction. It was definitely an animal, but at this distance, she could neither identify it nor commune with it. Centering herself, she sent a small nucleus of energy to her target, spiraling a thin web-like line behind it. With this link in place, she should be able to track the animal.
Unfortunately, this effort depleted her already over-taxed energy stores, and Sídhiel succumbed to a deep sleep almost instantly.
Maglor delighted in the press of a warm body against his own again. This particular body was especially enticing, for Gildor fit next to him as though he had been created solely for Maglor. “Your radiance has not dimmed, sweet one. Even after all these millennia, your light still draws me as the moth to the flame.”
Gildor leaned into the arms surrounding him, as his lips were claimed in a bruising, desperate kiss. Desire coursed through his veins as long forgotten memories resurfaced. Hearing that rich, honeyed voice, wrapping him in its sensual embrace, did things to Gildor’s body and emotions that he was not prepared for. He felt himself slipping away, falling into those same primitive emotions and desires that had overwhelmed him so long ago. He could not stop the tidal wave that was roaring through him, nor did he truly wish to.
Feeling strong hands tangling in his hair and pulling his head back, Gildor moaned loudly. Maglor could not resist the temptation the flesh of Gildor’s neck presented to him, so he leaned down and sucked hard, bringing blood up to mark the blond as his, once again. Knowing that he was being obviously marked, further enflamed Gildor, and he could not suppress a shiver as those lips closed over his skin.
Pulling back to survey his handiwork, Maglor again marveled at how responsive Gildor was to his touch; his normally light grey eyes had darkened with desire, and his fair skin was flushed pink. The slightly open mouth presented too tempting a vision and he had to claim those soft lips again. Licking and nibbling the kiss swollen flesh, he thrust his tongue into the sweet cavern and reclaimed every bit of it. Finally, needing to breathe and regain some semblance of control, Maglor tilted his head back, but would not release Gildor from his embrace. “Gods! It has been far too long. I need you… desperately. Come.”
Feeling those words uttered with such feeling… for him… Gildor was lost, unable to refuse anything. They walked toward the hut, and Maglor could not let go; he needed the reassurance that the body next to him was real and not just another dream.
They walked through the door of the hut and Maglor kicked the door closed with his heel. He continued to push Gildor forward, until he was standing by a pile of furs before the fireplace. “You have too many clothes on pen valthen nín. Let me remedy this.” Gildor shivered as his tunic and undershirt were quickly removed and he stood there before Maglor’s hungry gaze. “You are still so fair…” Strong hands were caressing first his arms, and then his back, as Maglor paced around him. “The years have been kind to you. I see but few scars…” A wet finger traced the faint silvery line on his side and stroked up to lightly brush one pink nipple.
The touch sent sparks through Gildor’s frame and he gasped. “Please…” he begged, but was unsure of what he asked for.
“So responsive. You have ever been my measure of a bed partner. Were you even aware of that?” Gildor had no chance to respond; his mouth was claimed and his body was pulled against Maglor’s own. The surfeit of sensations overwhelmed Gildor as his mouth was plundered. His back, side, and arms were caressed by strong calloused hands, which seemed to be in more places, than two hands could be; his nipples and chest brushed against Maglor’s rough tunic.
Gildor’s moans so enflamed Maglor that he had to pull away from the heated skin pressed against him. Trying to slow the firestorm overtaking him, he pulled off his own tunic and linen undershirt, hoping the air would cool his ardor. With Gildor standing there so compliant, simply waiting for whatever Maglor deemed to give him, his eyes half-lidded, lips kiss swollen and panting heavily, nothing could make Maglor’s desire wane. Thinking of what was to come, the dark elf quickly grabbed a vial of oil and set it on the hearth.
Maglor embraced Gildor and the skin-to-skin contact only enhanced the sensations flooding Gildor. “I want to taste you, pen valthen nín. Lie down.” As Gildor lay down on the furs, Maglor quickly got down onto his knees and began unlacing the blond’s leggings. “You are as beautiful as ever!” As Maglor began to slide the leggings down Gildor’s legs, he tasted the newly bared skin with his tongue, following the leggings down and past Gildor’s ankles.
As Maglor made his way up strong calves and began to nip and lick at the sensitive skin behind his knees, Gildor groaned in appreciation. His knees spread and he completely exposed himself to Maglor’s gaze. “Impatient are we, my wanton beauty?” Maglor chuckled, but could not resist the open invitation. As he slid his tongue slowly over the fair skin, he drank in the sweet salty flavor and inhaled deeply of the scent of Gildor. It had been millennia since last he was in this position, but the essence was burned into his very fëa.
Reaching under Gildor, he grasped the firm globes of his ass and slightly lifted the blond elf to his mouth. As he completely engulfed his raging arousal, a sweet cry escaped the Gildor’s lips, making Maglor more determined than ever, to make this a mind blowing experience for his regained lover.
All coherence fled Gildor, and he could only lay back and revel in the joy given to him. As he tried to thrust up into the hot, wet cavern, his ass was firmly grasped in one hand while another pressed him down into the furs. Maglor felt the tremors from the elf beneath him and he began to increase the suction whilst slowing his speed. The blond thrashed his head and tightly gripped the furs to keep his hands from forcing the dark elf to speed up. As the fire began to build, and Gildor’s orbs tightened with impending release, he was reduced to babbling. Maglor smiled around the turgid length and began to hum as he sucked and dipped his tongue in the weeping slit. That was all it took to send his lover into oblivion. He came with a harsh cry, squirting his essence down the dark elf’s willing throat.
The dark elf continued to suck lightly at the softening arousal, licking it clean of its tangy essence. He looked up into half lidded grey eyes and quickly slid up the sweaty skin to take the pink lips in a gentle, loving kiss. Maglor was surprised at the fervor with which his kiss was returned, seeing how thoroughly sated the blond was. “You are still the fairest, melethron. My heart has ever been in your keeping from that first glimpse of you. Can I make love to you as I did that first night, those many ages ago, when I claimed your virginity?” As he waited for Gildor’s response, he began licking and nibbling the blond’s chin and neck, while his hand stroked the firm planes and valleys of the body beneath him. Maglor’s arousal, hot and throbbing, pressed into his lover’s side, but he would be patient, for he desired to worship the blond and remind him that he had always been well loved in his hands.
Gildor was boneless and awash in a sea of pleasant emotions. He was lying beneath the ellon that had consumed him, from the first time he had ever laid eyes on the second son of Fëanor. The tenderness and devotion he experienced surprised him. Maglor was a consummate, if demanding, lover and the blond had always followed wherever he led. “Meleth nín, take me. Remind my body to whom it belongs.”
At those utterances, Maglor began to caress, to savor, and to worship at the altar of his heart’s desire. He had thought himself truly lost from ever knowing such exquisite delights again, so he was determined that he would revel in the repast before him.
First came the feast for the eyes… Gildor lay there, bared to Maglor’s heated gaze; his normally light grey eyes dark as a storm tossed sea beneath half-closed lids. His golden hair spread beneath him in a wild mass of honeyed wheat. Luscious pink kiss swollen lips tested the dark elf’s self control as he fought to keep from leaning in and seizing the soft flesh in yet another blistering kiss. The edges of his lips curled in a slight sultry smile, leading the eye to follow the sweep of a cheekbone up to a gracefully pointed ear tip. From the top of the ear, Maglor’s gaze swept across lightly arched brows to a perfectly straight nose, which he could not resist, and dropped a light kiss upon.
From the perfect face to the perfect form, Maglor delighted in the delicate column of pale flesh as Gildor arched his back and bared his now thoroughly marked skin. Moving to follow the strong line of a shoulder down the well-muscled upper arm, the dark elf was amazed at how much larger his lover’s shoulders, arms, and chest were, than when he last viewed them. It was obvious that Gildor was most comfortable wielding a long sword by the definition of his muscles. Eyes never ceasing, the son of Fëanor continued to delight in the banquet before him.
As his hands twitched from the effort of restraint, Maglor’s dark eyes continued to peruse the perfect torso, from the steel swathed in silk of his pectorals, to the hills and valleys of his abdomen. Forcing his eyes to pass by the reawakening shaft, the dark elf’s gaze shifted down long lean legs, honed by millennia of battle and horse riding, to finish at bare feet.
Maglor breathed deeply in anticipation, for now his hands could travel the trail his eyes had just traversed. Starting with firm caresses, his strong calloused hands massaged Gildor’s feet, eliciting soft sighs from him. As the dark elf moved his ministrations slowly up the blond’s limbs, Gildor was torn between complete relaxation and extreme anticipation. When Maglor’s hands kneaded his thighs, Gildor spread his legs in invitation. “Ah, velui nín, always eager, but I shall not rush this feast. Each course is meant to be savored.”
Gildor groaned as his shaft was summarily bypassed in favor of his abdomen and sides. “Turn over, ind nín. I intend to sample all of you.” Beginning at his buttocks, Maglor firmly massaged and caressed every inch of the blond’s back, wresting moans of delight from his lips. As the dark elf’s control faltered, he covered the blond’s body with his own and gently ground his arousal between the firm globes beneath him.
“You have bewitched me. I can wait no longer.” Reaching for the oil, Maglor uncorked it, and drizzled it between Gildor’s cheeks; the cold oil causing him to flinch. “Shhh. You will be warm soon.” Pouring oil into his palm, Maglor laid beside Gildor, his knee holding the blond’s legs apart, as his fingers began to massage and tease the puckered opening. “Look at me, pen valthen nín.” Gildor turned his head and looked into Maglor’s dark eyes. He was pinned by that intense gaze, but he could wish for nothing more than to be taken, consumed, and owned once again.
Maglor leaned in and claimed Gildor’s lips as he eased in a well oiled finger. Long simmering, barely banked desire, swept through the dark elf as he began to prepare the tight passage. “Gods! You are so tight! This shall be so like the first time, melethron.” He poured more oil, added another finger, and carefully began twisting his digits. He would not hurt his lover, and so he would take his time, no matter how costly to his patience. Finally, feeling that the passage was relaxed enough for more deeper thrusting, Maglor began to hunt for the bundle of nerves that would begin his lover’s spiral to oblivion. He knew at once when he had brushed the right spot, for Gildor cried out and thrust against the fingers in him. After more oil and another digit were added, the tight passage was loosened enough, and, if Gildor’s pleas were any indication, Maglor needed to get on with it. “Turn over. I wish to see you as I take you, just as I did that first night.”
Gildor was breathtaking in his desire-fueled daze and Maglor quickly coated himself liberally with oil before placing the blond’s legs over his shoulders and positioning himself at the tight opening. “Please…” Gildor begged. The dark elf pushed in slowly, breathing deeply and barely holding himself in check, as his arousal was painfully squeezed in the clenching sheath. Once he managed to pass the guardian ring, he continued to inch in, carefully, until he was fully housed inside Gildor, who by now, was panting heavily and trying to still his trembling body. It had been so very long since he had been the sheath to anyone, and even longer since he had been Maglor’s. He craved it; needed it, but was now dizzy with pain and pleasure as he felt himself impaled and stretched wider than he ever remembered.
Even in his lust fogged state, Maglor was acutely aware of the needs of the twitching form beneath him. In order to calm and relax Gildor, he grabbed more oil and began to stroke the blond’s arousal. As the dark elf’s caress strengthened and Gildor could focus on his shaft, he finally began to relax. At that subtle cue, Maglor began to move slowly and carefully, gently sliding in and out, searching for the right spot to target. He found it when Gildor cried out and arched into him, and so he aimed for it as he began to increase the length of his strokes. The blond was reaching a crescendo of pleasure as he thrust up into the warm hand fisting him and down onto the shaft that impaled him. “More! Harder… faster!” Maglor obliged, pulling out almost completely and then snapping his hips and rapidly thrusting in to the hilt. As his control faltered and he felt the precipice before him, Maglor continued to pump Gildor’s shaft while leaning down and plundering his mouth. “Come for me. Scream my name.” With two more firm strokes, the blond did just that, his passageway spasming tightly and wrenching Maglor’s climax from him as warm essence shot on to his stomach and filled his body.
Maglor collapsed, but carefully rolled onto his side, as he took the trembling blond with him. They lay there until both heartbeats slowed and they could breathe without gasping. Gildor was boneless and sated, barely able to keep his eyes open, as he was held tightly against his lover’s chest. In moments he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the dark elf’s strong heartbeat.
A single tear slid from beneath Maglor’s tightly closed lids as he thought of how long he had forgone this feeling. He held in his arms, again, the only elf he had ever loved. Listening to the deep, even breathing from the golden ellon in his arms, Maglor relaxed and whispered, “I love you, meleth nín. I do not know why you came to me, but I will always be eternally grateful.” Ignoring their sticky state, he snuggled closer to his beloved and fell into a deep sleep.
Translations:
Iavas – autumn
Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath
Lembas – elven way bread
pen valthen nín – my golden one
fëa – soul
melethron – lover (male)
meleth nín – my love
velui nín – my lovely
ind nín – my heart