Southern Ventures 4

Southern Ventures

Part 4

Posted: August 1, 2008
Title: Southern Ventures
Series: Favourite Addition

*****

He watched Erestor over the following day or two, looking for an explanation that might make sense. He did not know how he had offended – and was not even sure he had. The obvious, he discarded. Erestor would not be affronted over what had happened naturally and without detriment to either of them, especially as he would gladly have seen to Erestor’s need. It could not be that.

He found his chance when the two of them crossed a river ahead of the drovers prior to camping for the night. The scouts had chosen a site, Glorfindel and Erestor needed only to check the river bed for pitfalls the horses might encounter, then keep guard along with the rest of his command while the horses drank their fill and crossed. He drew Asfaloth aside, along with Erestor and Meren, up the side of a knoll with the vantage he wanted. Here, he could watch the river – and they would be undisturbed.

“Are you angry with me, Erestor?”

Honest surprise crossed his face, reassuringly. “No, why should I be?”

Glorfindel waited until his frustration abated. Erestor was apparently in no hurry for an answer, scanning the banks and surrounds, while Glorfindel checked all the company, and viewed the progress of the caravan until he was satisfied, before answering. “You left, and you hadn’t…” he waved a hand, unwilling to put into words his obvious meaning.

“Yes, that would bother you.” Erestor might have been speaking of the weather, apart from the touch of dryness colouring his tone.

“Well, of course it bothers me! For several reasons,” Glorfindel added more temperately, openly honest.

Suddenly Erestor’s manner lightened, as it did unpredictably in Glorfindel’s company. “Let me guess. It troubles your pride?”

Glorfindel grinned back. He loved this aspect of Erestor, teasing and witty. “Yes! Of course,” he agreed, managing some dignity. “But – what about you?”

“Don’t worry about it, though I’m sure it matters to you. I do understand that.”

“Well then…” Glorfindel wondered why he had the same feeling as always, that Erestor was eluding him, despite the simple answer and his willing responses, “You understand my concern, and why I might wonder if you were angry. You surprised me, leaving.”

“We have plenty of time. There’s no hurry.”

This was Erestor at his most oblique, but he was right. There was no need, no reason, to rush; he would not press for confidences. Erestor and silence went hand in hand, and he could not change that for wishing.

“So you don’t object to my approaching you again?”

“No.” The sphinx’s smile raised questions Glorfindel was learning he would get no answers to; his body was wholly content with the short negative and wanted only to know, ‘When?’ Glorfindel looked at the sun to see how long until evening and then felt like a youth once more, on catching himself in such intemperance.

As they had before, they went aside when Glorfindel’s last rounds were done, the watches arranged, and all settled for the night. He and Erestor lingered to talk with people, sometimes Erestor, sometimes Glorfindel taking part in the conversation. They always made camp before nightfall, mindful of the animals and their husbandry, so despite the size of the caravan it was not overly late by the time they finished the last of their visits, to the drovers and their guards.

The mules and horses were quiet and the camp was settling down to rest, but the woods were filled with the sounds of life. Insects chirruped benignly in bushes. Owls called in startling betrayal of their preferred haunts. The hollow sound of wings on the air, the rush and rustle of a successful predator, the death throes of its fated prey – all were underscored by water, wind and branch making their own harmony of the night. Scarce more than a breeze stirred.

Erestor trod at Glorfindel’s heels, and with every breath Glorfindel felt his desire intensify to be settled, stripped and satisfying himself with holding his own quietly sensuous prey. Certainly Erestor was wary enough tonight for one of the hunted of the forest floor, despite his willing steps. Glorfindel glanced back and saw him in the dim light, casting around among the trees for what he could see, absorbed in the sights and sounds of the land enfolding them in wooded hollows.

They chose their bedding place with the ease of long-time travellers, sorting through the turf to cast aside the cones and nuts and stones that lay amidst the roots, and any loose twigs. Blankets made a mattress fit for a night under the tree-curtained stars, while Ithil played erratic catch-as-catch-can through branch and cloud, supremely confident of victory.

Glorfindel did not bother talking but undressed Erestor with intent interest, and Erestor, reaching a hand up to help, found it moved firmly aside and gave up. He stood before the Elda, stepping out of his leggings, raising his arms for his tunic to be drawn off and then his shirt, standing with eyes veiled as his body was not for Glorfindel’s slow inspection.

When Erestor moved and reached for the fastenings of Glorfindel’s garments, he watched him still, enjoying immensely the sight of him bending to disentangle feet from boots and leggings, rising to unfasten the ties of the white – and dusty – shirt, easing off the front-opening jerkin and sliding it away down his arms. He did not drop Glorfindel’s clothes, but laid them folded to one side, his movements efficient and deliberate in the care he took.

Glorfindel watched amused but then sobered to reach out a hand and trace a line down Erestor’s arm. “What do you want, Erestor?”

Dark eyes met his and escaped. “I thought you wanted me?”

Glorfindel closed his eyes against the same surge of desire that had swept him before, no less intense, knowing that Erestor was in all likelihood in the state of prepared readiness that had so overwhelmed his senses the last time. “Yes, I do. As you very well know. That was not my question.”

Wary, tense and desirable, Erestor stepped up close to him. “What would you have me say?”

Glorfindel took hold of him and kissed him, cutting through prevarication and games. To his surprise, Erestor relaxed against him. He eased the kiss, deepened it, and lingered long over it, until they both simply rested in each other’s arms, wordless and still. Glorfindel asked no more questions. He ran his hands up and down Erestor’s back. “Come. Lay with me.”

Blanket and turf received them kindly, and Erestor felt warm against him. He seized him close; his hands found all ready, as he had before, and this time Erestor had not brought him too close to the brink. Erestor said nothing in protest but he did breathe one word, “Glorfindel…”

“Erestor?” No answer came. He ran a hand down smooth skin and made to turn Erestor on his stomach. “Alright?”

“Yes,” said Erestor, with a slight sigh. “Yes…” And that was all, but his hands reached up, as if grasping for something to hold onto, and settled in the leaf mould about his head and shoulders. He laid his head on one arm.

Glorfindel took his time, running his hands down the line of back and thighs, valley and hills, learning the geography of his traverse, restraining himself from too-intent plunder. He set a light hand to the place that, oiled and inviting, beckoned him. His thumb caressed the divide and then he brought his other hand to bear, displaying what his body sought. And pressed home.

Erestor lifted himself back to meet him, easing the angle of his hips in welcome.

Glorfindel paused and bespoke him softly to ask if he was well and Erestor turned his head to show a faint smile, eyes drowned in lust. Glorfindel thrust, and thrust again, and again Erestor turned away, but this time Glorfindel did not stop, not after having seen that look in his eyes. Slow and fast he rode his prize, his long-awaited and hard-won prize, and revelled in every renewed, hot clasp, every breath he heard Erestor take under him. His hand sought access under them to find Erestor’s erection which he tended with urgent care, but his own body was too close to last much longer and Erestor showed no signs of imminent satisfaction. It was often so with a new lover, but he was too far gone to think…

His thoughts blurred into wordless pleasure. Everything stopped. There was nothing in all the world except the feeling of being inside the spare, muscled body beneath him as he came. Words failed him. He took a few long breaths, enjoying the aftermath of his body’s blissful satisfaction as he looked down at the firm shoulders and strong back before him, the one hand that showed, clenched in the earth.

As his body calmed, he collected himself. Erestor was still in need. Holding him, leaning above him, he had him effectively imprisoned. Good. And his own erection had not subsided quite yet. Even better. This time there would be no dazed lapse and no retreat unrequited. He would not allow it. He shoved lightly against Erestor’s backside and asked again, “You did not answer me before. What of you? What would you have of me?” He moved a little more and felt Erestor respond, clearly very much aroused. “Tell me, Erestor, you must.”

On which, Erestor showed his face from under his fallen hair, pushing it back with one hand, until Glorfindel helped him, drawing the heavy locks out of the way. Erestor made to speak and Glorfindel sank down on his side, luxuriating in how it felt as he slid easily out of his body’s new and favoured home. “Come. No more evasions.”

Erestor looked at him steadily. “Tell me I may – I need you to tell me - ” and then his eyes slid away as though Glorfindel delved too deep, and he looked for all the world as if he wanted to walk away as he had done before.

Glorfindel took expedient hold of his wrist. “You are not leaving this time, you know that?”

Erestor nodded and said stiltedly, “I was not going to.”

Glorfindel let him go, and kissed him. Kissed his neck just below his ear, kissed behind the back of his ear, kissed the nape of his neck… “Well?”

And Erestor, turning sideways in his arms, making it harder to kiss him, said flatly, “Tell me I may also take my pleasure.”

Of all things, Glorfindel had not expected that and without thinking he stilled utterly. Erestor made sharply to withdraw and Glorfindel tightened his arms about him, not letting him go. “You’re alright? You don’t hurt?” He didn’t ask incredulously, as he wished to, if he had heard aright.

“No.”

“Then lay you down, Erestor, and let us see what pleasure I can give you.”

Erestor met his eyes for a moment, closed his own, and nodded.

Glorfindel kissed him lingeringly, as well on his eyelids and cheeks as on his mouth, and with more tenderness than lust set about making thorough love to him. He was in no hurry. His body would likely oblige them, and if not, there were other ways. Let Erestor catch his breath after that odd little confession. Let him enjoy the anticipation. His hardness between them was certainly something Glorfindel was enjoying, and he was pleasing Erestor too, judging by the way he was moving back against him in the give and take of friction.

Glorfindel smiled and kissed him on the lips just as Erestor opened his mouth to take a sharp breath. He moved his hips again, just so, and was again rewarded. He was more than ready to bury himself once more and surely Erestor had waited long enough. He considered the clean-featured face oblivious to the world around them.

“Like this?” Glorfindel slipped down a little. He could easily drive himself inside and he badly wanted to, but he waited and instinct served him well. A headshake came in answer and so Glorfindel let him go. Erestor turned about, blankets scrabbled, hands and knees planted apart.

Glorfindel could not help pausing at the sight of him. He was holding absolutely still apart from a minuscule tremor and the fast rise and fall of his flanks to his breathing. Infected by the other’s intensity, he moved one hand to Erestor’s hip and splayed him open with the other. Nudged himself into position and gave himself over to the sensations of pushing slowly inside, holding the hard pelvis, fingers curved across the soft hollow of his belly. Erestor was all contrasts.

He glanced down and saw himself pulling out and then pressing home. The sight was as erotic as the feel, putting resolutions of tenderness to flight as he barely remembered what he had been asked.

“Erestor, can you feel my hands on you? My body in you? Do you feel me wanting you? Have you any idea how good you feel? How much I have wanted this? You are everything I ever dreamed.” He leaned forward to speak the words in bursts between hard thrusts. Erestor shuddered on a caught-back sob and Glorfindel could feel the other’s frustrated passion, confined though it was to those hitched breaths and the fierce rhythm of his movements.

He groaned and Glorfindel rode him in earnest while Erestor hung his head and cried out sounding almost desperate.

Enough. He timed his words to fall between every beat of flesh on flesh.

“Come – Erestor – now – I’m telling you – I want to see you spend – under me - now.” He made sure of his hold of a hip with one hand – reached forwards with the other… His hand cradled tight balls and squeezed delicately while he thrust. About to clasp the hot, hard erection, he was too late. Erestor found his end silently, shaking as tremor after tremor ran through him, bowed head shrouded in hair.

Glorfindel, breath-taken at the sight and feel of him, drove hard and followed after into spent silence and stillness. He hung exhausted above Erestor’s motionless body, taking in the smells and sight and feel of a moment that would never come again, before reaching for the sweep of black and lifting it aside.

He cupped the averted face with his hand, and inspired, did not ask, ‘Are you alright?’ but said instead, “I enjoyed that, thank you,” his voice lower than usual in the aftermath of passion, and utterly sincere.

Erestor laughed breathlessly and his voice, too, was husky when he replied. “You are most welcome, my lord,” the honorific slipping from him as readily as the words.

Glorfindel eased himself out of Erestor’s body, and slid around and down and opened his arms. Erestor chose to accept the offer and Glorfindel could have all the pleasure of his sweat-sheened body meeting Erestor’s own less than clean skin, laughing at the feel of leaves, twigs and burs that had escaped up onto the blankets and thence stuck to him. Erestor brushed them off, but sank immediately back into the embrace that awaited him, content to say nothing.

Glorfindel allowed the silence. Erestor had granted him far more than he had ever really expected in this dual gift of pleasure accepted and returned. He smoothed the shoulder he could easily reach, and cleared Erestor’s eyes and cheek of the long hair that crept forward constantly like tendrils of honeysuckle in a forest clearing.

He kissed the cheek that was bared to view – the other was cradled against his shoulder and he didn’t disturb him to see more. He lay back with his face to the stars, contentedly holding Erestor.

***

When they roused in the morning Glorfindel’s mouth curved at the sight of Erestor sprawled across the blankets beside him.

“Good morning.”

Erestor gave him a wry smile. “Shall we wash?”

Glorfindel nodded, letting go reluctantly, and got up, bits of him making themselves felt that had worked hard last night. He wondered just how bruised Erestor might be, though he showed no discomfort as they went down to the river.

That day and the next absorbed them in practical fashion without Erestor giving the least hint of a lover’s relationship. The Elda found himself graced by the occasional smile, but those flashes of pleasure and amusement had come his way from the beginning. Glorfindel half-thought Erestor would need persuading all over again, but no…

They camped early on the third day, taking advantage of a handy site. With Anuial due to take the night watch, Glorfindel’s time was his own once his rounds were done. He found Erestor occupied with his Haradic language samples by the light of a very small lantern, shuttered except where a small window shed light on the foreign script. His back was straight, his shirt sat closely about his shoulders, and one leg was crooked under him so that he sat on one ankle. Glorfindel lingered in the shadow of a tree and watched him. Papers propped on his knee, Erestor appeared at home in the woods, intent on his thoughts as a finger traced a word. He copied it into his notes, made an annotation and then moved on to the next sentence.

And then he looked up, straight at Glorfindel. Their eyes met and Glorfindel’s greeting died on his lips. The animated interest and concentration faded as Erestor penned the end of whatever note he was making, and waited for the ink to dry before storing his things in a flat satchel. All hint of the scholar was gone, leaving a poised creature who blew out the candle and rose gracefully to his feet. And so the marked cusp that divided their time together made its appearance, as a mere glance found Erestor walking cat-like by his side in search of privacy.

By day, Glorfindel was used to Erestor arguing their best route or debating the wagons’ necessities after the scouts’ assessment of the leagues ahead, or listening critically to the foot patrols’ reports, whose silent passing and subtle dress made them invisible guardians against potential enemies.

But come nightfall and Ithil’s light, come the end of duties when it was not Glorfindel’s turn to watch, but Anuial’s task to see that all was well, come their choice of bedding-place, Erestor left aside opinion and debate. Sometimes Glorfindel waited only until they were screened from sight before drawing Erestor to him for a first kiss. At the touch, Erestor would hesitate minutely, his eyes veiled with some nameless emotion, before relinquishing himself into the embrace.

When Glorfindel let him go, they would settle on a place for the night and shake out their blankets. Erestor it was who cared more for their comfort, though Glorfindel was without doubt efficient. Erestor would pat the ground for a last check, wide and thorough where the blankets were spread. Satisfied, he would glance up from the ground…

And Glorfindel would gather his lover to his feet, or leave him kneeling. Let him reach for his clothes, let his hands touch and his mouth begin to visit skin starved of attention for all of a day or two. He would look down on that dark head, knowing that whatever else Erestor did, he would end the night on his knees, silently waiting for an act Glorfindel never tired of.

Erestor’s effect on him seemed uncanny. He had never had a lover so skilled at knowing what he wanted, intuitively offering it without needing to be asked, unless by the touch of a hand, or the clasp of an embrace. Then there was the power Erestor handed him. He never took his own pleasure under Glorfindel’s ministrations without his sanction, be it given soon or late. Not once, though early on Glorfindel had given in to the temptation to break that pattern if he could.

With care and gusto, he went about his experiment to evoke from Erestor the satisfaction he deserved without anyone’s say to grant or withhold it. His attentions met with all the success of a lover very much aroused, one who gave himself up, sweating, to his efforts without demur – but when Erestor averted his eyes, Glorfindel knew he had failed.

“Look at me?” He offered a renewed embrace. “Don’t turn away. Not now…”

The pained look that Erestor turned on him owed nothing at all to desire. Glorfindel felt obscurely ashamed, and quickly saw to both their completions. He did not make the experiment a second time – he did not want to see that look in Erestor’s eyes again, ever. He ignored his own flash of angry frustration. Erestor never *said* anything and he should. He should have protested…

And so, in their intimacies, he was left to decide how long to leave Erestor waiting, a power the like of which lay wholly outside his experience. He did not at first relish it, though he could not refuse it. Heady and erotic as a drug, he felt the spell settle over him the moment their duties were done, when he could head into the night to embrace a lover who initiated only what bore on his enormous bodily satisfaction.

The strangeness this evoked grew rather than eased, along with the intensity of their consummations. He felt unaccustomedly helpless, but there seemed little he could do. Erestor seemed entirely self-contained about this strange lack of expectation to have his needs met, and talking about it might only shame him and cause him to withdraw, as he had when they first lay together.

Glorfindel resorted to honest enjoyment tempered with a determination to give pleasure as much as he took it, murmuring in Erestor’s ear, some of it nonsense, some not, telling his feelings, saying what Erestor looked like in the moonlight, detailing in husky passion what his body craved. Until words faded and their bodies knew what to do… apart from a few broken phrases uttered at the end for Erestor’s sake.

And like a slow-working poison, disturbing urges, far stronger than thought, drew him inexorably into relishing that moment of permission. Contrary to all his instincts hitherto, and lying wholly outside his own more straightforward experience, the pleasure he took in this subjugation was a dark thing, insidious and uneasy.

Yet Erestor seemed to enjoy it all when Glorfindel set hand or mouth to him, thoroughly and leisurely, until their breathing was the only sound either of them heard, along with their hearts beating. When he let go with his hand and gave up the sweet kisses, slowly releasing Erestor’s body it was his signal to rise to his knees. Desire never failed to sweep through him as he watched Erestor turn and kneel and let his body speak in wordless invitation:

‘Take your pleasure - take this body and do as you will.. Fill me, use me. My pleasure is yours to order, if you will it. If you do not, I shall not complain.’

Intemperate giving indeed. And yet coupled with an inviolate reserve that made itself felt mostly by a look, a turn of the head – so intangible as to be impossible to breech. When Glorfindel felt frustrated, those were the nights he was nothing but exquisitely painstaking, listening to Erestor’s every breath, noting every shudder of his body, the angle of his head between his shoulders, how he lay – these were Erestor’s words to him, unspoken, even eloquent, once Glorfindel learned the language.

There came a day when the night seemed too far away, the wait too long before they could be close once more. Finding himself alone with Erestor during a halt, Glorfindel took hold of him. Erestor first dropped his gaze and then looked up at him, piercingly.

“Let me go,” he said, and stepped back decisively, not waiting for Glorfindel to decide to release him. And then – “Don’t.”

In that one word, despite the cold surety of the demand, Glorfindel heard something else he could not identify. Wanting to understand, wanting to know more than he had so far gleaned, he asked, “What is it? Are you troubled?”

“The night is yours. Let that be enough…” The words were low and clear. Erestor did not look at him.

“Have I understood you wrongly? You never say anything, Erestor!”

Black eyes narrowed by a frown, mouth close-pressed, hair tossed back – Erestor hesitated. “Glorfindel…” Helplessly he paused, as if the words he sought might come to him. And then, devastatingly, “May I go, my lord?”

Glorfindel, dismayed, stood back, and watched Erestor leave him to attend the afternoon’s business of inspection and travel.

That night he stopped Erestor divesting them of their clothes. There was no lust that could move him. Instead, they lay comfortably in leggings and shirt with their boots off. Quietly he waited expectantly as Erestor propped himself up on his elbows to look at him.

“I won’t have the day filled with the way it takes over,” said Erestor. “I don’t apologize for that. But no, you have not misunderstood… I knew how it would be if I agreed to this.”

He shrugged. “I do not mean to hurt you, and I know I do not have to ask your permission to leave like that. I just –” He seemed not so much uncomfortable as unsure as to what to say and what to leave unsaid.

“You don’t have to explain. Best to avoid the day in any case; I was importunate.”

Erestor answered lightly, and a touch drily, “I am of course flattered, my lord.”

Glorfindel laughed, almost reassured. He ran the back of one hand down the dark fall of Erestor’s hair, aware of affection and admiration as much as desire. Erestor was looking at him as if trying to gauge his mood. He hooked one long lock with his fingers and smoothed it down absently, not trying to bridge the gap between them but soothed by the touch. “If I know you come willing to our bed, that is enough.”

He lay down, leaving Erestor to do as he willed, satisfied that Erestor had at least tried to talk to him, had understood and tried to explain. Instinctively Glorfindel wanted to say – it doesn’t have to be like this! And instinctively knew, that the moment he did, he would have lost. As their conversation lapsed, Erestor seemed glad of it, glancing at him and then lying down beside him.

That night, temperance came easily to Glorfindel. His companion accepted the change with equanimity. The quiet aftermath of their first exchange lasted but a little while. He found that sporadic talk, once started, blended easily with eclectic conversation and silence as the stars turned above them.

Grateful for finding an unfamiliar relief at this abstinence, he began to refrain from indulging in intimacies every time an evening afforded them privacy. Instead, he would sometimes settle for merely resting and talking together. Erestor showed no sign of minding.

Glorfindel sprawled comfortably one such night, with a lazy hand about the other’s waist. He was pondering the elf lying beside him, using the time to get to know him better. During a spirited argument about the best use of different wagon harnesses, they had been citing various of their fellows as examples. Although didactic, Erestor had not disparaged the elves themselves. And the Elda had noticed that he rarely overlooked work well done. The violence he had offered the muleteer was a stark contradiction, echo perhaps of the same anger that had shown itself before to Glorfindel’s surprise.

Lying in the night, holding Erestor, and feeling his breath on his skin mingling with the soft night air, Glorfindel could not help thinking that such talks, and the quiet interludes that fell between them, brought them closer – whereas their sexual enjoyment, while accomplished and ecstatic, fostered no intimacy. The insight was not a comfortable one. No great friend of introspection, he quashed his thoughts. He drew Erestor closer and let the embrace ease him into reverie.

There were times when he felt angry and cheated. He found himself wanting to do more than make love, to break down the screen of seduction and compliance, and he wondered what it would take. He would feel confused and disturbed and then Erestor would smile and say something mundane, and all would be well once more.

All in all, riding with Erestor through the green summer felt good and right. Talking with him, laughing, working with him – all of these, felt right. Yet night’s desires rose up as fast as desert storms out of clear blue skies and seemed to cast as dark a shadow. Afterwards, the day felt strange, as if he had trespassed into an alien world, night’s echoes leaving him discomfited in both.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Erfan Starled