Misfits

Part 6

Posted: July 2003
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose

*****

Haldir's silver-blond hair had flared into molten fire under twilight's dramatic glow, and Melpomaen ran his fingers through it admiringly. He had taken out the slender braids, but the tangle of passion-mussed tresses spread over the pillow did not lend an air of seductiveness. Carnal heat brought out innocence in Haldir, left him open and transparent in a way that denied his usual air of cold distance. It was a metamorphosis that Melpomaen found fascinating, both in its outward unfurling and in its slow, but certain, reversal. Haldir's cycle was a closed circled – from cocoon to butterfly to cocoon once again.

His gaze swept over the pale, powerful body that lay against the soft sheets in languorous, post-ecstatic bliss. Nude, Haldir was not an elven anomaly of bulk and exaggerated musculature. A more slender physique would have only given him the appearance of a scarecrow in his Galadhrim uniform; viewing the whole of him, Melpomaen saw that his build was proportionate to his height. It occurred to him that if Haldir's unspoken wishes were granted, the effect would be far more absurd than the present reality.

Their lovemaking had been slower and gentler, though they still had not dared ultimate completion. It was not what Melpomaen had imagined in his solitary dreams, while, at the same time, it went beyond those dreams. There was little in the way of fluidity; inexperienced hands sought to pleasure unfamiliar flesh, and each new discovery was made in the wake of awkward pauses and adjustments of limbs and positions. He could pleasure himself more quickly and surely, as he was certain that Haldir could do likewise, but the act of touching and being touched by another granted fulfillment deeper than orgasm. It was a rush of thought and emotion, and Melpomaen knew that he would rather have this than the certainty of self-knowledge.

He tried to convey this through hands and lips and tongue, tried to say in the language of touch what he could not put into words. He could have chosen to interpret the soft light in Haldir's eyes as understanding, but Melpomaen knew the language of lovers was failing him. They were not lovers. They were two people who came together in carnal rapture because that was easier than the other things that lovers did. It was quicker and more gratifying. It was less nerve wracking, and it allowed each of them to maintain their own fantasies. Melpomaen did not know if he cared for Haldir, or only for the peaceful vulnerability their lovemaking granted Haldir. He didn't know if Haldir dreamt of his touch, or only of being touched. Flesh could not convey what was a mystery to the heart.

"Are you sleepy?" he asked softly.

Haldir smiled, shook his head. "No. Are you?"

"No." Melpomaen sighed, traced a finger along the line of Haldir's jaw. "When will your brother be home?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know he was going out."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters," Melpomaen said. "What is it like?"

Haldir shrugged against the pillow. "Sometimes it's nice; sometimes they're a nuisance. Living with Rumil is like living with two different people, and Orophin… well, sometimes I suspect Orophin joined the Galadhrim for no better reason than that Rumil and I did." His eyes met Melpomaen's briefly, gauging the younger elf's face for interest. Melpomaen smiled, and Haldir shifted comfortably against him. "Being in command doesn't do much for family dynamics, either."

"No, I wouldn't think so."

"I try to keep them out of my rotation, but…," Haldir gestured vaguely, "that's just not always possible. Sometimes I think I should just get my own place."

"They'd still be your family."

"Yes." The word came out clipped and tight, not a sentimental agreement but an admission of something that could be coped with but not cured. A small frown knit Melpomaen's brow, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Haldir's cheek.

"Are you sure you're not tired?" Haldir asked, and Melpomaen smiled, shaking his head.

"Again?" He asked, and Haldir tapped his tongue against his upper lip, shifting his eyes to the right in an incongruous yet endearing expression of shyness.

*****

Haldir closed his eyes, and sank into Melpomaen's kiss. He was amazed at how easy it was to touch Melpomaen and let himself be touched. He'd always preferred to maintain his personal space, and had never been affectionate or demonstrative with others. The only embraces he readily tolerated in his daily life were those from his brothers, either Rumil's sudden hugs of overflowing enthusiasm or Orophin's shy hugs of adoring hero worship. When they'd been younger he'd held both of them to comfort, but he himself had only vague memories of being similarly held. His position among the Galadhrim demanded that he keep himself aloof; his position in the eyes of all others demanded the same, if only for the sake of his pride.

With Melpomaen it was different. Haldir saw the same curiosity in the eyes of the younger elf that he saw in the eyes of others, but it was not hard-edged curiosity, a morbid urge to see his differences made plain. Melpomaen was all tousled hair and wide, bright eyes, questing hands that explored the unfamiliar terrain of thick biceps, broad shoulders, taut pectorals, and abdominal ridges as if they were a new and paradisiacal land. Those hands constantly returned to travel between shoulders and hips as if to measure that exaggerated distance, width tapering to narrowness in an inverted triangle that was not unusual in and of its self, but only in its scale compared to others.

Melpomaen was different, too, and though Haldir didn't want to admit it, that was a great relief. Haldir was accustomed to seeing the bodies of warriors, archers, and swordsmen posed in varying attitudes of alertness or moving in the balletic violence of combat. He knew what those bodies looked like in uniform and casual dress, on duty and in repose, and even nude, bathing in clear pools of forest water. Melpomaen had not the lean muscled build of an archer, nor the lithe sparseness of form developed by one who had turned his body into a weapon. There was strength there, and definition, but it was obvious that his lifestyle was a sedentary one. Slender was the word that best described him, slender waist and slim hips and thighs, well formed yet soft when not flexed in the heat of passion. It was obvious that Melpomaen could never go the distance with a trained defender of the Wood, and Haldir felt a sneaking sense of relief at this. They were too different to be compared, either favorably or unfavorably.

Perhaps it was this that made it easy to allow Melpomaen to lavish attention upon him, hold and caress him, to propel him into bliss and then soothe him into slumber. Certainly, there had been none of his original nervousness when Melpomaen had asked to be taken to Haldir's room. They had joined wordlessly on his simple, unadorned blankets, moving together in sweet harmony and growing passion. Melpomaen had settled into his lap, wrapped a navy blue clad leg about his waist so that they had been pressed together in a lover's embrace, and it had been easy to support the smaller elf's weight atop his folded legs, delicious to feel the rain of butterfly kisses on his cheeks, lips, and chin.

The process of undressing had gone more slowly, and this time it had been Melpomaen's garments that had proven troublesome. Even so, they had managed to remove his robe and tunic, leggings and undergarments, boots and both socks by increments, facilitating their efforts through small movements of arms and legs, minute re-positionings that postponed the fulfillment of their desires, and turned the act of disrobing into its own form of foreplay. Melpomaen's secret flesh became a gift to be carefully unwrapped, and savored in its gradual revelation.

Now, this second time, the necessary hindrance of clothing was gone, and Haldir had only to submerge himself in the rising waves of passion. Melpomaen's hands drove thought away, and Haldir was grateful because he didn't want to talk about his family or his work. He wanted to forget all of that, to be consumed by a need so all encompassing as to render any other thought insignificant; he wanted his world to narrow until there was nothing but himself held in Melpomaen's arms.

Haldir expected to feel Melpomaen's hands trace their familiar course from ball of shoulder to ball of hip, and was surprised to feel lips and tongue following that path instead. He closed his eyes, stretching his body into a pose of perfect openness. This new sensation was teasing, tantalizing, wetly provocative in its avoidance of those parts of him that shivered and trembled in desirous anticipation.

A moment later, Haldir's eyes flashed open as lips moved laterally from hip to navel, as Melpomaen settled between his legs, palms flat at either side of his bowed head. He whimpered, writhed in frantic need, knotting his hands in the blankets as Melpomaen's tongue darted in and out, circled and tapped, kitten-like. The urge to wrap his fingers in dark hair, to push insistently downward, was nearly insupportable. Muscles twitched and jerked in a confusion of contradictory signals, of mind and body screaming at cross-purposes into a tangle of overheated nerve endings. Then, abruptly, the confusion was resolved as lips and tongue moved lower still, settling experimentally over the head of his rigid arousal.

A movement of tongue, careful envelopment into damp heat; Haldir was distantly aware of his own voiced intake of breath as Melpomaen lapped at smooth skin, slowly circled the mushroom cap's ridge, tentatively licking over his weeping slit. Self-control nearly vanished under Melpomaen's unintentional teasing. Haldir's hands buried themselves in brown silk, and it took all of his remaining willpower to keep himself from shoving down and thrusting upward into that enticing darkness.

Daring more, Melpomaen slipped further down, allowing Haldir's shaft to slide further between his parted lips. Somehow, over the pounding of his heart and the ringing of his ears, he could hear Melpomaen's harsh breathing, could feel his left hand trembling upon dancing stomach muscles as his right curled around the base of Haldir's cock. There was a momentary pause as Melpomaen took a hitching breath, lips briefly releasing their hold, and Haldir keened in desperate want. Then he was once again captured in a vise of heat and wet suction. Though unable to take Haldir's entire length, Melpomaen's lips nearly touched the base of his thumb with each downward motion, and that was more than enough for Haldir. Melpomaen concentrated solely on rhythm of motion, on the hollowing of cheeks and seal of lips. His teeth grazed, and he glanced up worriedly, rhythm temporarily broken.

That was the final piece of stimulation needed to drive Haldir over the edge. Melpomaen's eyes were wide and luminous with reflexive tears; his lips formed a soft circle around the purpled head of Haldir's cock. Instinct drove him to thrust his hips upward, and Melpomaen immediately bowed his head once more. For a split second, Haldir saw Melpomaen's eyes grow wider yet before his visage was hidden behind a veil of soft brown hair; then silver-shot darkness thundered behind his closed eyelids as he was overtaken by all-consuming rapture.

The sound of Melpomaen coughing and spluttering barely registered past Haldir's warm, golden haze. He reached out lazily, caught the hand still clutching his hip and pulled Melpomaen down atop him.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine, Haldir." His voice was strained, but there was no hesitance in his needful squirming atop the warrior's body. "Touch me, Haldir. Touch me, please."

Haldir shifted beneath him, snaking an arm between their bodies and closing his hand around Melpomaen's shaft. For a moment they held this awkward posture, and then Haldir parted his thighs, slipping rigid heat between them, closed, pressed. Melpomaen moaned as he began to move, rocking between sweat slick muscle, against secret flesh that was hot and barely giving. Fingertips dug into Haldir's shoulders, even teeth bit into the skin above his collar bone, and Haldir wrapped his arms about his lover, moving in tandem with him until Melpomaen's body stiffened in ecstasy, until he heard the soft rush of breathless endearments pouring forth even as hot liquid coated his smooth inner thighs.

"Stay with me," Haldir whispered into the tangle of Melpomaen's hair, and the younger elf nodded, clutching him tightly as he nuzzled against Haldir's neck.

*****

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