Yours For A Song
Title: Yours For A Song 7/9
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Fandom: Tolkien
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Can I choose to proclaim, rather than disclaim? Hear ye, Hear ye--they are not mine!
Timeline: Present day is Imladris Third Age, years 1973-1975. All flashbacks are in Gondolin First Age, years 505-510.
Warning: AU, angst, sex, kink that some might consider non-con, h/c, romance, sap and cookies…though not necessarily in that order.
Beta: Chaotic_Binky and Erviniae…simply the best.
Dedication: To Chaotic_Binky, Erviniae, and Weepingnaiad…my own archipelago of lovelies (for no writer is an island) who keep my tiny pond of our fandom silly, fun, and refreshingly kinky.
Author's Note: Hello, my name is Hare and I am a hopeless romantic. Seriously, I have exploded the sap-o-meter on this one! You are thusly warned, and I am resolved of any consequences should you choose to read. I am grateful to whoever put together the Elf Fetish website and name generator. Special thanks to Svengalliedhare, my niece and poetess extraordinaire for the songs and poem found within but the eagles and swans are all mine! Though I didn’t plan it this story is connected in a vaguely cosmic parallel universe way to several of my other Erestor/Glorfindel tales. Caveat lector!
Summary: What happens when Erestor discovers his well ordered, fully planned life is nothing of the sort?
Chapter 7
Imladris, III 1975
Weeks and months lingered on. Gandalf’s visit ended quickly and Arda continued its trek through Ilúvatar’s musical heavens; and Erestor, an unwilling passenger, continued to suffer. Anor rose and set, Ithil filled and disappeared, and he continued to rage. Evil consumed Middle Earth, as always, yet this threat had raised its ugly head and demanded attention. And Imladris would respond with Glorfindel in command but not until the obligatory festivities concluded. Indeed, another newest year had arrived with its Mereth Tui celebrations and special events, and still the bitterness continued to consume him, such that he refused any assignment from Lady Celebrían this year.
And ever present his second shadow…Glorfindel. Nothing Erestor did seemed to affect him. He smiled lovingly, remained placid no matter the wrath Erestor spit at him, yet there had not been another gift since early autumn.
He understood the tactic and acknowledged Glorfindel’s mastery of such. Unable to prevent it, his countenance, though acidic, slipped toward anguish. The rage, bitterness and suffering that should be consuming him on this day, exactly one year after the worst moment of his life, were muted. They paled in comparison to the desperation that consumed him now. Why had Glorfindel stopped leaving gifts? Was Glorfindel finished with his pursuit?
Erestor stepped outside to clear his head and tilted his face to the lightly snowing sky. He opened his mouth allowing the flakes to melt on his tongue and tasted the earth, the sky, and the unique song of each. He desperately wanted to sing again, but those who are dead inside do not compose music.
Shaking his robes, Erestor moved back indoors. Cloistered in his office, deliberately separated from all others, his emotions continued to slice through him riotously. And he reminded himself that even though he had received no further presents for many months, Glorfindel continued to force himself into his life, and insisted Erestor should be celebrating their survival, not ignoring it. In addition, Lord Elrond, his lady, and his sons persisted in hounding him albeit gently. They cajoled and soothed but ultimately he would drive them away unable to concede to their wishes that he allow Glorfindel his say.
It was during these ruminations that Glorfindel stepped silently into Erestor’s office, a daily visit but late today, hence his unrest. Erestor knew immediately when he entered, as an annoying thread of awareness existed between them. Yet he startled when Glorfindel began his soft speech.
“I did come to love her. She is the sole memory of brightness in my life since you and I were parted, and I will never speak badly of her. But you, Erestor, are my life, the reason for my existence. Why do you continue this madness? No matter that we briefly separated, for it was but a fleeting moment compared to our life spans…YOU are my forever. You always were and always will be.
“I know I have handled this poorly and you are loathe to listen to me, but I beg you for just one evening. Let us sit, and --.”
Erestor waived a dismissive hand at Glorfindel, and yawned at the same time. He knew Glorfindel spoke of his wife and this was a topic he would never welcome.
“Remove yourself from my presence, hideous being. Cook has promised a delightful meal before the dance, and I find your presence nauseating.”
Erestor presented a cruel mocking smile though his words tasted bitter and his heart beat wildly at being so close to Glorfindel. His fëa cried out for completion, and it took all his strength not to run to his former lover and beg him to explain away all the hurt and confusion. But he could not open his mouth except to continually insult Glorfindel’s appearance, could not elucidate this weakness.
Glorfindel paled at the insult but as always he remained calm and poised. He executed a respectable bow and uttered, “As you wish.”
As he bent, Erestor glimpsed a brief flash and his ever present curiosity; especially where Glorfindel was concerned, forced his eyes to peer more closely. The gasp surprised him so that he could not prevent it and the raspy breath tore from his lips. For when Glorfindel had bowed, a gold chain slipped from beneath his jacket, and at the end swayed Erestor’s ring. The ring now lay perfectly over Glorfindel’s heart.
In time slowed by high emotions, he realized Glorfindel followed his sight. Glorfindel reached for it and lifted it to his face. Erestor could not tear his vision away and tracked the ring as Glorfindel placed it upon his lips and kissed it. Erestor closed his eyes tightly.
“You may shut your eyes, my love, but I will always be here. My home is anywhere you are.”
Yet when Erestor dared look, Glorfindel had indeed gone. Frustrated, he laid his head on the desk, his hands clinched, his appetite fled. And tonight he must appear, per a direct order from Lord Elrond, at an event, another celebration to welcome the newest year. Until now he had purposefully stayed away from all public gatherings, cowardice playing a large part in that. Hoping to avoid Glorfindel, who would certainly be in attendance this evening.
~o0o~
Erestor tried to ignore the rumblings and tight knot that gripped his belly and instead forged ahead readying for the dance. He had forgone any dinner, unable to bear another moment near Glorfindel. Inside he knew he tread dangerous waters and was close to suffocating beneath the waves that crashed upon him. He could maintain the aloof façade, but it bore a hefty price and he needed something to distract his mind from Glorfindel. A diversion, something or someone to help him regain a measure of balance in his life, to mask his present behavior and if luck shone upon him mayhap he could actually begin to forget.
Shaking with hysterical mirth, he laughed out loud. Not for a single day would he ever be successful at putting Glorfindel from his mind. He knew a lover would only acutely remind him of what he so desperately desired yet would never have. Nay, he could not pretend forever. But, because he suffered, Glorfindel would too, perfect harmonious despair. And that is exactly as he wanted it.
~o0o~
The riotous sounds of gaiety pierced him well before he reached the celebration. Elves dressed in bright swirling costumes of yellow, gold, ivory and cream declared the renewal of Anor’s dominance. He remained in black, from head to toe.
It appeared much wine had flowed as many were draped over their companions or reclined upon divans. He cut a path straight through the madness and into the Hall of Fire. Here a multitude of couples circled around the floor in graceful dance while hired musicians droned out the same tired songs. Already the entire scene irritated him, and he absconded a large bottle of wine and a glass from a young serving elf, who thought to protest but when he saw Erestor’s face he startled, executed a respectful dip of the head, and retreated quickly.
Erestor smiled at the elf’s reaction while he unpopped the cork. His grin widened as he inhaled the sweet fragrance of his bliss for the evening. Surely there would be no other way to survive tonight but mildly inebriated.
He felt the gaze bore into him before he saw Glorfindel, and as he leisurely spun to survey the room, he immediately spied the Elda. Glorfindel commanded a group of adoring warriors who hung upon his every word, yet he had eyes only for Erestor.
Erestor lifted the bottle in a mock toast and gulped half the contents, then poured more into the glass and emptied it quickly. He could not tear his vision from Glorfindel’s ruined hand as it swung through the air to emphasize the story he told. Tried hard not to imagine that hand on him again, stroking his…
“Chief counselor.”
Blushing guilty heat, he turned and greeted Lady Aevar, who stood behind him with a sleepy Melpomaen in her arms. Elladan approached with Faelon, who appeared already in slumber.
She smiled fondly at him. “It is good to see you tonight, and I regret we cannot stay as I have always enjoyed our dances, Erestor.”
“As have I, my lady. But tonight you miss nothing for I will stay where I am, watching and drinking our lord’s fine vintages.”
Erestor remained stoic, determined to attend to this duty as directed by Elrond, but nothing further.
He did not miss the frown that appeared on Melpomaen’s face. And his answer appeared to fluster Lady Aevar. She wished him a good evening before she sped past. Melpomaen’s small hand reached out and brushed his arm, a fleeting gesture. Erestor flinched away and moved further to the side when the now glaring Elladan passed, to prevent any further touches.
But the quick caress of a fingertip against the nape of his neck startled a yelp from his lips and he turned on the offender, still shuddering from the slivers of pleasure that stroke had caused.
“Glorfindel!” he hissed and tread backwards.
“My love.” The blue eyes sparkled at him.
“Stop saying that!”
“Why? It is the truth. You are my love!” Glorfindel’s tone was fierce, passionate.
“Open your ears, detestable monstrosity. Your words mean nothing as your actions have spoken clearly. Move away, stay away and find another idiot who will believe your lies!”
Like a sleek panther, Glorfindel stalked forward. He seemed leaner, more menacing. Erestor met Glorfindel’s eyes and they raged at him, yet a calm relaxed smile belied the look.
“Is it action you desire, my love?”
And in one quick motion, Glorfindel clamped forceful arms around him and his tongue stroked strongly past Erestor’s lips before he swiftly pulled away. Erestor gasped at the heat, the living heat of those lips even while his now damp mouth cooled in the air. Glorfindel’s maddening sensual fingers, taking liberties not afforded, grazed his temple, skimmed his cheek, and as they passed down one side of Erestor's face, brushing the outside edge of his lips, desire slammed to the surface. The evidence of his weakness angered Erestor and he startled into action.
Erestor’s gaze snapped around frantically, and he crossed his arms in front of himself shaking from the unwanted contact, banking down the need that had sprung loose. He spied his escape and found his voice.
“Counselor!” Erestor cried and rushed past Glorfindel toward Berengardh.
He gulped the final bit of wine and rid himself of the bottle and glass before he swooped down upon Berengardh, gathered her into his arms and moved them to the dancing space.
“Chief counselor!” she laughed. “You have only been here for a short time and already you are --.”
“Happy.” He cut her off and then his lips suckled that sensitive juncture where neck meets shoulder. Berengardh shook slightly before she stiffened noticeably, yet he continued and ran his tongue up towards her mouth, tasting her.
“You know this can never be, chief counselor,” her stilted voice low and hollow.
“Erestor,” he breathed the word into her hair. “For tonight, I prefer a less formal title.”
“You will regret this in the morning for you love another and you always shall.”
“Aye, but who is it you love, Berengardh? I have seen the way you gaze upon me when you think I am unaware. You desire me. You want me, and I am here. Let us explore together.”
He ran his hands lightly across her back, felt her responding shiver and he smiled wickedly. Until she stepped away from him and he glimpsed her bitter, hard eyes.
“Never did I guess you as cruel.”
Suddenly the room turned icy cold yet his body flushed hot in shame, and the wine caused his head to pound. Misery coursed through him and his knees weakened. Erestor dropped his eyes to the floor as all her words finally registered in his mind.
“Oh, Berengardh please forgive me,” he whispered.
It was the counselor who now gathered him into her arms for a comforting embrace. “Let me accompany you back to your quarters.”
He nodded and slumped dejectedly but grateful that Berengardh had not rejected his apology; desperately hoping he had not permanently damaged their relationship.
They walked silently but swiftly and his thoughts swirled. He should have defied Elrond’s order for his emotional outbursts were clearly beyond his control, solitude his only safe bastion. In time too short the warmth of her body left him, and his skin prickled cold from the absence. Efficiently, Berengardh rolled him into bed and under the covers. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave.
“Stay.”
He hated the pleading he heard in his voice, but laid vulnerable and unable to deny the need, for he could not imagine spending this night alone.
She sighed and sat down beside him, his hand in hers. “Chief counselor…Erestor, what am I to do with you? If only Pengolodh were here,” she sighed wistfully. “You always listened to his counsel. But now you refuse to heed those of us who care for you, who adore you. Nay, instead you continue to be stubborn, unreasonable, and miserable. I cannot help you. You must find the strength.”
Berengardh placed a chaste kiss upon his brow, squeezed his hand before releasing it and moved to leave his rooms.
Erestor closed his eyes against the pity he saw in her face and only opened them when he heard the soft *click* of the door closing. Frustrated, he threw his arms out to the side and pounded on the bed. He stopped, confused when the fingers of his right hand brushed against some unknown rough textured object. It appeared to be tied to his bed post.
Slowly, to prevent his head from spinning, Erestor glanced toward the article and what he saw twisted his stomach. Hithlain, secured in an intricate knot clearly designed for binding something together.
It was a knot Glorfindel had once used on him.
His heart thumped madly, and he shivered not wanting to recall the specifics of that night, for he had brought the resulting consequences fully upon himself by allowing unwarranted irrational thoughts to rule his mind. But such lovely repercussions they had been. Unfortunately on this day, in this Age, there was to be no repeat of that happy pleasure.
He lay awake feeling the chill of loneliness seep into the place in his heart that his dying rage left undefended. He ran questing fingers over his lips, while his other hand crawled along the bed covers. And then he felt the slip of paper.
Reluctantly he unfolded it and read the next line of Glorfindel’s poem.
“Haunted by a rope that briefly tied us yet led to the rings that bind us forever…”
He swiftly rolled away onto his side, flung an arm across his eyes and groaned, “Oh, Valar, not this.”
*flashback*
Gondolin, I 507
Erestor flashed a bright smile at the passing duo. This pair had shadowed him the entire evening. All night he had admired the sights when they purposefully struck seductive poses as they moved to the music, and still felt the flush of desire flair from his groin. These two radiated an air of submissiveness that beckoned to him. His mind decided; he threw a heated stare their way and approached the table where they now sat ensconced in a secluded corner of the ballroom. Warily he flit sideways glances around the room but as usual these days Glorfindel remained occupied with others.
Glorfindel, since their glorious night at the Lake of Awakenings had seemingly avoided him. Always busy either in a meeting or training or entertaining some unknown visitor with whom he was not to be disturbed. His behavior could only be described as strange. So Erestor had taken to quietly stalking him, and on the few moments he caught him unaware and alone, Glorfindel seemed moody, pouting even. It had all served to create an atmosphere of insecurity on Erestor’s part. And the tiny ripples of dissatisfaction had risen into a flood of doubts that trickled through his mind continually and led him to his current state of being.
Mostly he thought of Glorfindel with such overwhelming love that he craved and sought the power to protect him from anything that might make him unhappy or hurt. But tonight he was done, finished with the agonizingly jealous and possessive ruminations. This evening his thoughts ran to retribution and revenge. If Glorfindel thought to push him aside then Erestor would provide him with the final reason to do so. And as a bonus he could slake his ever ravenous appetite and chase away the hurt with not one but two gloriously willing bodies.
He slid into the empty seat and purposefully raked his eyes, from head to toe, over both elves. “Is this taken?” he asked unnecessarily.
Only the young maid giggled but they both dropped their eyes. A predatory smile split his face. Perfect. An ellon and an elleth his, for at least the night, and it would take both of them to purge the angry lust which pulsed through him.
He drew a lazy finger around the table on a specific course toward his prey.
“I find these,” he waived his free hand toward the celebrating masses, “occasions so very typical and boring. But then you two arrived.”
Erestor’s questing finger finally found its treasures and he drew it lightly across the back of their hands. He noted, with much satisfaction their quick intakes of breath.
“Shall we leave to --?”
A strong hand gripped his and violently jerked it away from the two elves. And then a warm body thumped down into the chair next to his, an arm snaked around him and pressed him close.
“Ruinhigil, Sílaros, leave us.”
The duo hesitated, their eyes frantically flicked between Glorfindel and Erestor. Until Glorfindel leaned forward, his face a twisted snarl of fury and rasped, “Now!” the menacing threat clear in his tone.
They flailed backwards and a frightened gasp escaped them both.
“Yes, my lord,” squeaked Ruinhigil. And the now skittish pair arose, frantically clutched hands and fled.
Glorfindel sprung to his feet in one hard, angry movement. His chair crashed down behind him. He grasped Erestor, dragged him up, and confined him in a hard grip, one arm twisted tightly behind his back.
"Move," he hissed and drove Erestor forward.
Erestor stumbled but walked swiftly, propelled onward. He ignored the looks of surprise on the elves they passed, ignored the shooting flairs of agony in his arm and focused on Glorfindel. He knew Glorfindel had the reputation for an occasional nasty temper yet it had never been directed toward him. His bitter hurt had surely blinded him but he never expected this erratic fury, this violent reaction, this intensive fiery streak of possessiveness. There must be some way to soften the situation.
“Glorfindel,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. "Will you listen to me?"
The only response was irritated growls as Glorfindel pushed him up the stairs, around the first corner and kicked open the doors to his quarters. He shoved Erestor in, turned to fling the doors shut, and in a heartbeat was on Erestor, pinning him to the wall.
Glorfindel kissed him, hard and hungry, with savage dominance. Within moments there was no question of resistance. Erestor’s mouth opened, just as hungry, and the moan deep in his throat echoed his passion.
“Hush!” Glorfindel demanded and there was a finality to his tone that silenced Erestor. Glorfindel pushed him back against the wall and started ripping the clothing from his body.
"Elflings should never play with fire, Erestor!" Glorfindel’s voice was husky and defiant.
Erestor fought him then, frightened at Glorfindel’s wild explosive responses, unprepared for the consequences. He lashed out with swinging fists and squirmed in Glorfindel’s grip desperately searching for an escape route as they struggled through the rooms. But he had been surprised and at a disadvantage since the beginning and Glorfindel’s command of him never wavered.
Erestor’s defiance failed him when he noticed Glorfindel’s outfit. He had dressed for him. Tonight he wore the robe Erestor so admired for its understated brilliance and the way it brought out the sparkle in Glorfindel’s eyes. Eyes that had fascinated him from the beginning – radiantly blue with a continual hint of mirth, suspicion, and ingenuity. Tonight the suspicion had won.
Nude and exposed, it was not difficult for Glorfindel to drive him to his knees. He remained still, head down, regaining his breath when an unusual movement caught his gaze. Cautiously, he dared look at the menacing presence before him, now half-naked, hair escaped from its braids tangled and wild, eyes narrowed and intimidating, yet worse was the long piece of hithlain that Glorfindel swung in rapid circles.
He snapped the rope to a halt, stepped forward and captured Erestor’s head between his thighs. Glorfindel cruelly wrenched Erestor’s arms backwards and bound his wrists together tightly. Erestor cried out in pain but that only seemed to spur Glorfindel to further tighten the binding.
Arms strained and trembling behind his back, knees raw and throbbing, he pled for release.
Erestor took a quick, quivery breath. “Please, Glorfindel. Listen to me.” The words came out choked and breathy.
Glorfindel stopped his erratic pacing and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Not tonight! Nay, for once you will close your mouth and hear me!!” his shout echoed through the room and then he started mumbling. “I cannot trust you. You have proven that, but I will change that.”
“You can trust me! Please! It is you who refused to see me. Glorfindel, nay!!”
Any further protests were muffled as Glorfindel forced a crudely torn muzzle between his teeth and tied it securely around his head. Long ragged threads dangled down Erestor’s throat and he choked and gasped until Glorfindel swiped a finger inside his mouth and ripped them from the fabric.
Erestor panicked and threw himself on the ground in a crazed frenzy, desperate to be freed. He rubbed the side of his face against the floor in an effort to displace the gag and worked his wrists up and down to loosen the hithlain, until defeated, he fell still and sobbed.
But Glorfindel was not moved and hauled Erestor back to his knees. He placed a hand on either side of his face. “Your drama will find no audience tonight, Songmaster!”
And he held Erestor there. Forced to face his captor, Erestor willed himself to calmness. There was to be no reprieve and he must try to accept whatever outcome tonight brought. So, he searched Glorfindel’s countenance for some sign of hope and found the turbulent devotion. This was the elf that loved him, who would never harm him. He inhaled a deep breath and relaxed.
Glorfindel blinked, released him, and then circled him like a predator, talking at him the entire time.
“Stupid, incredibly stupid! I swear by the Valar you are a menace to my sanity!
“You propositioned two elves in my full view. Were you serious? OR did you merely intend to catch my attention. Well you have it, Erestor. You have always had it!”
He paced now, back and forth, furious anger pinched his face and his arms flailed. Glorfindel stopped suddenly and sprinted toward his bathing chamber. The clanking of glass heralded his quick return.
In his arms were cradled a multitude of small bottles.
“I thought to please you. To find ways to excite you into our lovemaking, to relax you, to ensure you found immense pleasure the first time, so I shopped. Oh aye, only the best and highest quality for you. Stupid, predictable, Glorfindel wagging his tail begging for a treat from his wary master, willing to go to any length for your comfort!”
A bottle crashed near him and shattered; oil sprayed his legs. Startled, Erestor jumped and turned alarmed eyes to Glorfindel. But Glorfindel ignored him and continued his fury, a humorless smile on his lips.
“Lemon grass!”
He flung another.
“Lilac!”
And another.
“Eglantine!”
And another, and another, and another. He shouted out the names in rapid succession.
“Iris! Asphodel! Elanor! Lissuin!”
Until finally all the bottles were smashed to ruins, and the scents transformed the room into a field of wildflowers, riotous smells blending and clashing.
Glorfindel panted heavily as he leaned down and put his mouth to Erestor’s dry lips, soft and open. He broke the contact but stayed close and whispered.
“Tough as Huorn bark, you are. Never admitting you need anyone, but it is all a lie. You need me.”
And then he pulled back and reached out with his fingers and gently touched Erestor.
“Your mouth. So perfect, beautifully shaped.”
Glorfindel leaned down again, and his mouth grabbed at Erestor--temple, ear, neck--with its own erotic volition, before his rough tongue intruded around the fabric invading Erestor’s mouth, hungry and lewd. Erestor drowned in exhilaration and released a sound, not quite a moan, not quite a sob. Glorfindel chuckled wickedly and leered at him.
“You like it. The loss of control excites you.”
Glorfindel rubbed a finger down Erestor’s erection and immediately it hardened further, jumped to a full-blooded ache. He wished to deny it, yet the truth lay throbbing against his belly and all he could do was pant around the gag.
“It is time you fully understood how it stands between us.” Glorfindel whispered hot into his ear.
He erupted in a burst of aggressive motion, lifted and threw Erestor onto the bed, hands still tied behind his back, and muzzle still in place.
Glorfindel stood to his full height and stepped in close. He bent one knee on the bed, while hands unlaced his breeches and freed his shaft, which sprang forth, erect and dangerous. He reached out, smeared his fingers through the oil dripping down Erestor’s legs and coated his arousal.
He pierced Erestor with a predatory gaze. “All for you.”
Glorfindel stroked himself purposefully, languorously putting on a menacing display.
“Tonight I take you and make you mine.”
Glorfindel stretched sinuously and laid his aggressive weight fully upon Erestor. The shock of Glorfindel's partially naked and blatantly aroused body rutting against his stunned him, made him shudder with arousal. Erestor surged upwards, relieving the pressure on his arms and slid hard flesh against hard flesh, until he teetered on the edge of release. A moan full of longing and desire issued from his throat.
And then Glorfindel’s thumbnails flicked across his nipples, followed by tongue and teeth. Erestor groaned again, each kiss an invitation to writhe. He arched his back in response, begging to be touched. And Glorfindel did touch him, everywhere. His expert tongue tasted and his nose sniffed every patch of skin, making Erestor tremble and gasp as tiny bolts of lightning flowed through him.
When Glorfindel ran the tip of his tongue provocatively down Erestor’s shaft, Erestor panted tiny catches of breath over and over, his climax so near. Unyielding fingers, rough and callused, closed around the base of his cock, and Glorfindel’s exquisite mouth took him deep, with perfect pressure, swirled and teased. His breath came faster and he felt his body tighten, tense and quivering, aching for release.
A slick finger grazed his opening, the sensation both disturbing and exciting. Suddenly it pushed into him and Glorfindel’s delicious mouth moved away. His hips twisted upwards with greed, searching for that warm haven of pleasure. Blinking frustrated tears away, he sought Glorfindel’s eyes, to plead silently while his fingers clutched at the rough bindings biting at his wrists. But Glorfindel’s smile, already beaming down upon him turned to a delightful leer and a wild glint sparked in his eyes. Another large finger drove into Erestor and stilled his racing, ragged breaths. Glorfindel’s fingers, thick and warm, stretched and widened him, and any pain he might have felt was chased away by this violently thrilling dance.
A hand pressed against the back of his head, fingers weaved through his hair and the golden head leaned towards him. A sweet touch of velvet lips was quickly replaced as Glorfindel forced his mouth arrogantly and brutally onto Erestor’s.
In one quick movement, Glorfindel’s fingers and mouth left him. His legs were pushed apart and Glorfindel slithered between them, spreading them wide. Then Erestor blinked, confused when the muzzle was ripped away. He froze when the blunt snub of Glorfindel’s erection nudged his entrance.
“Sing for me, Erestor.”
Glorfindel gripped his hips hard and breached him in one firm thrust.
And sing he did. An involuntary scream tore from his throat, his head tossed from side to side, chest heaving for breath. Every thrum of his vocal cords forced a song from him, stroking excitations of air across a taut bow. His own voice - the cries, the groans, the howls, and the wails – rang strange to his ears, strangled as he struggled with the ripping discomfort. But Glorfindel clearly wanted to hear every variation on this theme, and drove onward.
There was no mistaking the grunts of pleasure and the moans of satisfaction that issued forth from Glorfindel as he began to move: slow shallow strokes that turned to faster, deeper, relentless thrusts. Erestor’s world narrowed to the sounds of flesh striking flesh, to the feel of his own shaft slapping against his belly, stubbornly hard and demanding.
It hurt and burned and he questioned, through a veil of agony and distress if he could ever find pleasure in this torment. He flew on the pain, willed his breathing to deepen, remembered the love and lunged upward meeting and accommodating Glorfindel’s rhythm. His mind obviously gripped by hysteria, filled with trite poetic thoughts that had no place here, tonight. Forever, the misery seemed to last.
Then, in a most glorious amazing moment Glorfindel’s shaft rubbed deep inside, and the thrill of shocking pleasure burst through him. Erestor gasped, the sound lush with arousal as the ecstasy increased. And in the blink of an eye, the pain faded to insignificance and sweet gratification joined them, bound them.
Nothing before had ever felt this right.
Glorfindel’s moans gradually changed to half-cries and breathy whispers. He fell onto Erestor’s chest while his strong penetrating assault continued unmitigated. Glorfindel’s mouth moved hot and soothing against Erestor’s neck.
“Valar!” Glorfindel grunted, and then murmured. “So tight, oh Valar, aye! Do you understand now, my Songmaster?”
His breath seared a path up to Erestor’s mouth.
“You should see yourself, Erestor, like some wild animal, writhing and untamed, my shaft splitting you open. So alluring, magnificent, a work of art. You are beautiful.
“Mine!” One word, a dollop of rich cream on the sweetest dessert.
Glorfindel gusted a searing growl into his ear, stiffened over him, their bodies pressed tight, and a spasm of intense joy crossed his features. The cock, thrust hard inside him throbbed hot, and Erestor’s body, stretched wide by Glorfindel, followed quickly and he came in great straining pulses.
Minutes, hours, days later Glorfindel reached beneath him, with one yank easily loosened the knot, and entwined their hands. He slid their joined hands out from underneath Erestor, and Erestor released a sigh of relief. His body went completely lax with pleasure. They kissed unhesitatingly, Glorfindel’s lips conveyed something wordless with his mouth, and Erestor’s lips wore a brilliant satisfied smile as he basked in the warmth of love.
He did not hear Glorfindel at first, not ready to leave the afterglow but finally the tones of undisguised concern registered in his mind.
“Erestor, look at me.”
The stern voice shook him from his ruminations and he stretched and rolled onto his side. Erestor stroked a leisurely hand through Glorfindel’s blond hair, smoothed back the fine hairs along his brow, soothing him without words.
“Alright?” Glorfindel asked softly, his voice laced with slight uncertainty.
“Nay,” answered Erestor, and a little worried frown wrinkled Glorfindel’s temple.
“It is not alright,” he emphasized the word. “It is fantastic! Wonderful! Brilliant!”
A sound - amused, exasperated, and affectionate – choked from Glorfindel who attacked him and pinned him into submission. When the laughter subsided Erestor gathered Glorfindel into his arms and pulled the covers over them.
The inviting certainty of where he belonged chased him to slumber.
~o0o~
The next morning he awoke with irritating wounds at the corners of his mouth and a deliciously sore ache between his buttocks. But when he lifted his arms to inspect the rope burns on his wrists he gaped at the golden ring that now circled his right index finger.
“Glorfindel, you mad lunatic,” he whispered, his voice breaking into a muffled sob. And then immediately elated, he chuckled at the absurdity of the proposal.
But the laugh caught in his throat when he rolled over and gathered Glorfindel near. For on Glorfindel’s right index finger gleamed a golden ring to match Erestor’s. Reverently, he placed his hand over Glorfindel’s so the rings touched and met, two perfect circles connected forever.
Glorfindel had indeed laid claim to him, completely.
*end flashback*
The sounds ripped from his throat that night still rang in his head, and for a fortnight after he had been unable to sing. And speaking was nigh impossible so sore was his throat. Barely able to sit or walk but satisfied beyond compare his feet sprouted wings for months after, and he floated through life with pure satisfaction for company. From that night forward their communication was never better; their commitment never wavered.
Even now Glorfindel swore his commitment was as strong as ever. If only Erestor would see past the evidence of his abandonment. But could he survive if he actually understood Glorfindel’s reasons? Or handle the intensity of the feelings between them?
Erestor shivered, shaky yet a bit euphoric. He felt it - deep down inside where the truth lived undisturbed - until now. Oh how he craved to hear more of Glorfindel’s confession! To believe that their love still lived and could be salvaged anew.
Parmasambe
Library of Imladris
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