Tricks Of Memory

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Glorfindel acts on his new feelings for Erestor. Erestor is a bit taken aback, but takes to it fairly well after a bit.
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or setting in this story, and I am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this tale.
Warnings: First time, romance, some angst. I think that covers everything.
Author's Notes: This is my first stab at writing Glorfindel/Erestor. My motivations for doing so are lousy. I've developed a strange attraction to both characters, and I've discovered that there is very little in the way of Erestor sex out there. I've set myself to remedying this, and I hope I'll do a decent job of it. Please feel free to e-mail me with comments or creative criticism. In a way, this feels like writing my first fan fic all over again.
I might write a part two in order to give a little more meat to this. At this point it's pretty much PWP, which is something I'm not usually prone to doing. It's going to drive me nuts that I've got two characters who crawled into bed with each other apparently because it just suddenly struck them as a good idea, albeit with a little angst for good measure. If everyone thinks it sucks or if no one cares what happens or why it happens, I might be able to leave it as is. If anyone wants to see it developed, I almost certainly will write another part or two.

*****

The western windows were not shuttered against the rain, and Glorfindel leaned against the wide casement sill. The spring air was rich with the scent of mud and new greenery, cool against the skin of his face and hands. It was not quite a lover's touch yet, this softness of fertile breezes that carried the faintest smell of hard buds preparing to unfurl, but the elf lord knew that would come soon enough. He tilted his face skyward as if drinking in the warmth of the hidden sun, listening to the rain continue its ancient, staccato dance.

He had returned from the morning patrol soaked to the skin. In spite of the cool water dripping steadily down the back of his cloak and his blonde hair plastered colorlessly against his head he had not been displeased. Like all elves, Glorfindel could feel the changes in the earth in his blood and flesh, could feel the inexorable turning towards fullness heralded by gloomy skies and rains that shifted between gentle and torrential. In the yard of the Last Homely House he knew he would find the twins playing in the yard with their baby sister, also soaked, and though he was not of an age to frolic in the puddles he could not deny the stirrings in his heart. This was a vibrancy that denied violence and death, that decried the necessity for such things as morning patrols and the hunting of orcs. The trinity in mud behind the Last Homely House epitomized the season so much better, and Glorfindel wished, as he had so often in the past, that a time might come when evil necessity could pass away forever

That time was not yet, however, not even for those who had no duty to defend the elven haven. Lord Elrond and Erestor had spent their morning closeted with Lord Celeborn's representatives from Lothlorien, slowly and painfully working their way through some manner of agreement with King Thranduil. The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had served as ambassadors and go-betweens for the two elven leaders since before Glorfindel had come into the Lord of Imladris' service, and most of the time Glorfindel found the relationship between Thranduil and Elrond tiresome at best. His patience did not extend nearly as far as would be needed to handle those two, and gazing out at the rain swept scenery he reflected that this was probably another reason why he was in charge of the haven's defense rather than diplomatic relations.

"You seem lost in thought."

Glorfindel glanced up at the sound of the chief advisor's voice. Erestor stood in the room's arched entrance, a somewhat tired smile curving his lips.

"Did matters go well with Thranduil's representatives?" He asked, and Erestor shrugged eloquently.

"As well as can be expected. And how did you fare?"

"The woods are quiet." He returned to his view of the yard, stepping companionably to one side as Erestor joined him. "One could almost forget the danger that lies around us."

"Almost." There was an odd tone to the councilor's voice, and Glorfindel glanced at him sharply. Erestor's dark eyes were fixed on the forming puddles. "Thranduil seeks aide, though he's at great pains to avoid admitting it."

"That is the purpose of this? Not to complain of some imagined offense?"

"Aye. It is likely that Elrond will send what aide he can, though that will likely not be much. When next we meet with Mirkwood ambassadors we will be hearing of how the Lord of Imladris sends only token assistance to his Sindar cousins, how he shows blatant disrespect for their king while attempting to fool others into believing him tolerant. And so it goes."

"How hopeful of you." Glorfindel said sarcastically, and Erestor smirked.

"You know how this will play as well as I do. However, there is no other course."

Glorfindel said nothing, eyes fixed on the advisor's profile. There was none of the playfulness in him that he had seen in the twins, none of the bright interior glow that he himself had been feeling in the wake of spring. He reached to lightly stroke the black raven's wing of hair braided back elaborately from Erestor's face, offering what comfort he could. Erestor offered him a smile in return as he stepped lightly back and away.

"I'm sorry, Glorfindel. It seems I'm poor company this afternoon."

"Not at all." Glorfindel replied. "Would you care to come with me to find some dinner?"

"I'd like to, but really, I can't. Elrond and I dined officially with Lord Celeborn's representatives, and now I must spend my remaining time until supper being entertaining for them. Elrond will be wanting to be rescued from their dubious company shortly."

Glorfindel accepted the excuse with a nod, and was once more rewarded with a fleeting smile as Erestor left him alone by the window.

*****

He lay in the darkness of his bedchamber, unable to drift into reverie. It had been a long day for him, a tiring day though he had wished to spend it in somnolent laziness. While Erestor had been set to entertaining their guests, Elrond had asked Glorfindel to spend the remainder of his day working out how many fighters could be spared from Imladris' forces, and what equipment and supplies they would need. Instead of idling by windows or sprawling in bed, the seneschal had found himself drawing up and checking lists and making military arrangements. It shouldn't have felt like an imposition; such matters were his job to deal with, and he'd had forewarning from Erestor. Even so, it had left him oddly exhausted and annoyed in a way that the drenching rain had not, and now that darkness had fallen rest was eluding him.

It was not the way of elves to sleep closed eyed, but Glorfindel let his eyelids slide shut, veiling himself doubly in darkness. He'd felt distracted since beginning his work after dinner, but not distracted from his work. Instead it had seemed that the task set before him was the distraction, something tritely meaningless that was taking him away from some much more crucial matter. The seneschal had focused on the business Elrond had set for him with grim tenacity, all of his not inconsiderable self discipline coming into play as he considered the needs and purpose of the small regiment he needed to assemble and send to Mirkwood. He had not allowed himself to think of that nagging at the back of his thoughts then, but now in the solitude of his chambers he allowed his mind to drift.

Dark hair. Soft like silk against his fingertips, eyes richly brown, liquid darkness filled with both warmth and worry. Glorfindel's eyes flew open as the image formed, as he saw his hand reaching towards the soft plait of Erestor's blue black hair. His heart beat drowned out the rain's rhythm as he lay staring at the unseen ceiling.

*****

Erestor said nothing, and his face gave nothing away. Glorfindel had joined him in the library after supper, and though that once would have been an odd occurrence it was now something he was warily accustoming himself to. The business with the Lothlorien elves had concluded a week ago; the group of soldiers barely large enough to be called a regiment sent to Mirkwood. It would be yet another month before the cries of outrage from King Thranduil would be heard, and Erestor would have liked to have spent the intervening time enjoying the spring season. But now there was this.

He and Glorfindel had been friends in an off hand manner, speaking to one another mostly over meals, during official meetings, and briefly on the occasions when their paths crossed while going about their separate businesses. It was a friendship in the loosest sense of the word, and could have been better termed mutual admiration and respect. Now, however, it seemed that Glorfindel sought him out. Erestor wryly reflected that Glorfindel had spent more time in the library and chief advisor's office in the last week than he had in the last century. Usually Glorfindel came bearing a plate of something to share that was sure to make crumbs, and evincing interest in a variety of reading material. Erestor found this alarming in a way that he could not quite put his finger on, but he had long since given up his objections to the crumbly, sticky pastries.

This evening's treats were flaky, honey glazed, and coated with minced nuts. Erestor lifted one from the tray, resigned to the knowledge that he would have to wash his hands thoroughly before touching another book or scroll.

"This," Glorfindel said, waving his pastry descriptively as he held a scroll with his free hand, "is inaccurate. I was there, Erestor, and it didn't happen this way."

Erestor watched the fall of parchment thin crumbs and sighed. "'Tis written by humans. Often the later documenting of historical fact is inaccurate in human writings."

"Then what's the point of keeping it?" Glorfindel glared disgustedly at the page, and Erestor could not help but smile.

"Those are not saved so much for historical knowledge as sociological understanding. Elrond has collected a series of human written books documenting the same events written from the time those events occurred to the present day. Often the variance in the reporting between first and last is wildly different."

"Hmm." Glorfindel responded, taking another bite from his pastry. More crumbs fell, and the seneschal absently shook them off of the scroll. "They have neither our immortality nor our memory; what once was might as well have been totally other as far as it affects the humans of this time."

Erestor nodded, his expression growing quizzical as he heard the contemplative tone creep into Glorfindel's voice. "That is so."

"Perhaps it's true."

"I don't think I understand you."

Glorfindel raised his eyes, sky blue meeting chocolate brown with an intensity that stunned Erestor. "If the past is not remembered, and if it has no bearing on the present, then perhaps the past is whatever we want it to be. Perhaps we can simply start where we wish matters had left off, continue as if things had been as we wanted."

"Philosophy?" Erestor asked shakily, and Glorfindel began to respond, reaching to set aside the scroll as he finished his pastry. Unthinking, Erestor reached to grab his hand, catching the sticky fingers mere inches from the ancient scroll. His startled words of rebuke were cut off as Glorfindel deftly captured his wrist. The delicate parchment slid to the floor, and all thought of its age and value left Erestor's mind as the seneschal raised his captive hand, licked at the honey coating his fingers.

"Glorfindel…" His voice was unsteady, his hand shook in the warrior's grasp, yet he could not move. It felt as if he were frozen in place, or that he was a voyeur watching this unlikely scene, staring in shock as the seneschal lapped at the chief councilor's trembling fingers.

"Would that be so terrible, Erestor?" Breath on his palm, hot and insistent in contrast to the downcast eyes. "To be like the humans who remember their history as they will?"

Glorfindel drew Erestor's index finger into his mouth, and Erestor pulled back with a surprised gasp. His mind was spinning, and the coolness of air on damp skin did nothing to calm the disconnected, lightning jag speed of his incoherent thoughts. Rising to his feet he set his book on the table out of habit. Glorfindel stared upwards at him, calmly waiting but with no hint of pleading in his posture or expression. Erestor wanted to say something, but for the first time in his long life he found himself at a loss for words. Instead of speaking he turned, feet carrying him towards the door seemingly of their own volition.

*****

He laid in the darkness, blankets pulled to his chin though he knew that he would not sleep. His hands lay on his chest, the left curled in a loose fist about his right index finger. The skin there tingled with remembered heat and wetness that had mimed an action as ancient as the elves. Though he had barely registered it at the time, the flesh of his hand remembered the angel touch of golden hair falling forward over his fingers, the warmth of Glorfindel's hand holding his own, the smooth satin of Glorfindel's cheek against his middle finger. Erestor had been too shocked to feel any of it too deeply at the time, but now that memory had awakened it seemed to him that his right hand was ablaze with shameful pleasure.

Glorfindel had looked sensual, beautiful in a way that Erestor had not thought of before. He thought of downcast, golden lashes and smooth white cheeks hollowed around his honeyed finger, lips softened yet still firm. The candle light had turned Glorfindel's hair into gold fire, the warrior braids at his temples had seemed less the coiffure of a warrior and had become silken cords begging to be touched. He wished he had stayed, had run his finger tips over those plaits, over the slender eyebrows, along the curve of in drawn cheeks and over the high promontories butterfly touched by blonde eyelashes.

Knowing that this explained Glorfindel's sudden interest in his company did not stop him from wondering what it would feel like to be enfolded in strong arms, hardened from using sword and bow. Erestor knew what it was like to hold, to feel the warm softness of female flesh against him and to hear the loving words of elven maidens whispered in the darkness. Love was no alien concept to him, nor even physical attraction. He himself had gladly taken the role of pursuer in those relationships. To be pursued was something new, something that he found disturbing and exciting, provoking and charming. Lying in the darkness, Erestor could not decide if he should be furious or flattered. He could think of quite a few cuttingly eloquent phrases he could use on the overly confident, arrogant seneschal but found that he had no desire to voice any of them.

*****

The rain began again towards the beginning of the third hour after Last Watch, and Glorfindel almost did not hear the soft tap at his door. He had not bothered lying down to sleep, had not even bothered to put out the lights. Instead he sat in silence, gazing into the fireplace in an outward display of complete serenity. He sat, watching the dance of flames, listening to the sound of wind in trees only just beginning to flower, tasting the faint flavor memory of honey and salt.

He rose when he registered the soft sound, barely distinct from the patter of rain drops, and said nothing when he found Erestor standing uncertainly before him. He only stepped back, giving the other elf room to enter, and only his eyes gave away his questions, anxiousness, trepidation. Erestor hovered for a moment, almost as if thinking of fleeing once again, before finally entering the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and the advisor could not conceal a shiver at the sound.

"Glorfindel…" He spoke, but again he could find nothing to say beyond that. The blonde warrior stood too close, the heat of his body was deliciously oppressive, alien and desirable. He met the azure blue eyes steadfastly even as his stomach fluttered, only closing them when the seneschal embraced him, pulled him forward into his kiss.

It was not like kissing a maiden, though not totally dissimilar. At first they could not find a rhythm to the pressure of lips and dance of tongues, both striving for mastery in this act of intimacy. Their tongues battled between joined lips until at last Erestor relaxed into Glorfindel's arms, allowed him entrance to his own wet heat. He felt near to swooning as he was held, hand on waist and at the nape of his neck, as Glorfindel tasted and explored him with slow thoroughness. None of his lovers had done that, none had made him feel as if he were shaking to pieces from the inside out. When their lips parted, Erestor could only stare, slick lips parted and eyes wide.

Glorfindel did not release his hold even as he walked backwards towards the bed. When at last he felt the backs of his knees bump against the firm mattress he pulled the other elf down with him, pulled Erestor on top of him so that he was looking up into chocolate eyes filled with lust, shock, and uncertainty. For a long moment they lay that way, Erestor straddling Glorfindel's body, the warrior's arms about his waist with Erestor supporting himself on hands pressed into the bed at each side of Glorfindel's shoulders. He stared into the Eldar's fair face, stared as if he were a puzzle that might be solved, a mystery to which he had no clues, an alabaster chimera inexplicably rendered possible.

"Why?" He whispered, shifting his position to gently stroke along Glorfindel's jaw line. He did not meet the warrior's gaze as he asked, but instead followed the trail of his fingers with his eyes, watching as they moved upwards to the earlobe and beyond into the golden waves of tousled hair.

"I do not know." He slid his hands up Erestor's back and smiled at the quick glance the movement earned him, the flutter of eyelashes. "Does it matter?"

"Probably." But he did not stop in his exploration of Glorfindel's neck as he spoke the word, did not stop when his hands returned to the warrior's sensitive ear and teased a soft sigh of pleasure from pink, parted lips. He did not move away when Glorfindel's hands moved up the smooth column of his own neck to the black silk of his hair, nor did he voice any objections as his braids were undone. "I've never lain with a male."

"Do you want me?"

Erestor felt heat pool in his loins at the words, at the passion in Glorfindel's face as he spoke those words. "I'm here, aren't I?" His hair hung in a dark, rippled curtain about his face, veiling them both. Glorfindel licked his lips, gazing upwards into a face that was still and beautiful, serious and intent as if in denial of the hardness pressing against Glorfindel's abdomen. He ran his fingers through the raven spirals, saw the liquid eyes narrow in reaction as he accidentally pulled the recently plaited strands.

"But I want you." He growled, and Erestor shifted his weight deliciously atop him. Glorfindel cupped a smooth, golden cheek in his palm, felt more than saw the hesitant nod of the Noldor elf's head.

Erestor found himself on his back with dizzying speed, heart pounding and breath ragged with reaction. Then Glorfindel's mouth was claiming his once more, and even as he opened his lips he strained backwards against the pillows, caught between surrender and panic. Erestor could feel the hot bulge of Glorfindel's erection pressed against him, the pressure of hands and weight of body that could be thought of as either holding or restraining. He pushed upwards against the warrior's strength, and felt no give. When Glorfindel released his mouth he was panting, gasping in either excitement or fear, he knew not which.

"'Tis alright, Erestor." Glorfindel said, lips brushing against his ear. "I will do nothing that you do not want. I promise you."

"I am not a virgin maid." Erestor glared, white teeth showing between red lips, and Glorfindel smiled as he pulled away from him.

"Indeed not." His hand drifted over the elf's pectorals that were thinly covered by a white night shirt, down over the flat plain of his stomach and briefly skimming the heated flesh betwixt his thighs. Erestor moaned, arching upwards into his touch. "You are over dressed." Glorfindel whispered, and Erestor offered no further objections as he was divested of both his shirt and the flowing, loose pants he had chosen for sleep.

His hands locked onto Glorfindel's shoulders in a bruising grip as the fair elf straddled him once more and held his neck in a cradle of interlocked fingers. Erestor shuddered uncontrollably as his rigid member brushed against the soft material of the warrior's leggings, the same leggings he had been wearing earlier in the library. Shudders became tremors as Glorfindel tilted his head from side to side, licking and nipping along the curve of his ears, sucking at the delicate tips with teasing intensity. Erestor's fingers tightened and his arms shook as he found himself mindlessly trying to push Glorfindel away and downward, far beyond caring for the bruises he was sure to leave on the fair flesh, beyond caring about manners, or even about the soft chuckles that rang like silver bells in his sensitive ears.

At last Glorfindel complied with Erestor's forceful efforts, lips gliding along the curve of his throat, tracing over the hard line of his collar bone. Erestor's hands knotted in the fabric of his shirt as he slipped downwards, and the Eldar obligingly allowed it to be pulled over his head, lifting his lips from over heated flesh as the material passed over his face. Their soft moans were nearly identical as flesh made contact with flesh, the hard muscles of Glorfindel's chest pressing against the flatness of Erestor's stomach. Then Erestor was past moaning, was writhing and crying out in unrestrained, maddened desire as Glorfindel fastened his lips around a peaked nipple.

The Noldor elf did not allow him the time that he previously had. Legs locked about Glorfindel's body, pulling even as hands once more latched onto his shoulders. Glorfindel felt his own heat rising, spiraling rapidly beyond control at the frenetic movement beneath him, the moans of desire and frustrated lust that greeted his efforts. There was little finesse in his movements from chest to stomach, only the barest of pauses to flick his tongue into the cup of Erestor's navel. Then he was lapping at the head of Erestor's cock, his hands locked on his hips. The cries that flew from Erestor's lips as he was swallowed into that wet heat were enough to drive all thought from Glorfindel's mind, and for the second time that night the warrior found himself tasting a mixture of sweetness and salt.

Erestor had retained just enough coherency to keep himself from knotting his hands in Glorfindel's hair as the warrior took his entire length to the back of his throat. His hands trembled with self restraint where they lay in the golden flood of hair, touching without gripping or pushing. The warrior held him in place, minimizing the strength of his thrusts, and it seemed to him that he must go mad with desire.

He cried out in dismay when Glorfindel pulled back from him, trembled in the warrior's hold as he lay shivering with unspent desire. Now he reached to grab, to pull Glorfindel back to him, but the warrior moved easily beyond his grasp. Glaring, he pushed himself up on his elbows to meet the other elf's eyes, but the words died in his throat.

Glorfindel was gazing at him with blue eyes gone indigo with desire, and Erestor's watched as he pulled loose the draw string at his waist before divesting himself of his leggings. His undergarments followed, and Erestor was aware of how he must look, staring at the blonde elf slack jawed and wide eyed, but he was helpless to conceal his admiration, desire, and trepidation.

He had the musculature of a swordsman, but none of the bulk common in human fighters; Glorfindel's arms, shoulders, and chest were corded with long muscle, lean and stream lined. His skin was fair, pale as alabaster, and it seemed to him that Glorfindel's pale beauty was like unto the living whiteness of a dove's wing, promising a texture of white silk spread over steel. Broad shoulders and chest led to a narrow waist and slender hips, then to strong thighs of moonsilk steel. The evidence of his desire jutted proudly from between his legs, long and thick, pale as the rest of his flesh, shading to pale rose at the tip. Erestor's gaze drifted from azure eyes down to Glorfindel's rigid, eager member and his mouth went dry, his heart hammered within his chest.

"I swear this will be alright, Erestor." He knelt between Erestor's legs and gently took the Noldor elf's thickness in his grip, stroking it in an even rhythm. The dark elf moaned, head tilting back as he raised his hips, and Glorfindel's breath caught at the sight of his hair pooling on the white pillows, the length of his throat exposed, the pulse visible at the hollow. His eyes did not leave Erestor's body as he reached with his free hand for the top drawer of his bed side table, barely able to control his own desire as he fumbled out a jar of scented oil that he'd been given for massages.

He could feel the tension in Erestor's body as he ran his hand lower, cupping and gently kneading the heavy sacs beneath his straining member before drifting to his perineum. In spite of his anxiety, Erestor parted his legs, bending them at the knees as Glorfindel rubbed that small patch of flesh with skilled fingertips, keeping him on the brink with an outward patience that hid his desire to bury himself within the elf's body.

Erestor heard the sound of the jar being opened distantly, smelled the scent of violets without connecting anything to that aroma. When he felt the brush of slick fingers against his opening he flinched, drawing away with a sharp intake of breath before steadying himself once more. Glorfindel began whispering sweet words of comfort and reassurance as he lightly touched this most secret, hidden spot, and Erestor forced himself to stillness, to accept the gentle ministrations of the golden elf kneeling over him, even when the gentle stroking became steady, careful pressure. Then he felt those tight muscles giving in before Glorfindel's cautious insistence, and he could not keep himself from tensing in dismay at his body's treachery.

"Shhh, Erestor, I promise you nothing but pleasure from this." Glorfindel whispered, working his finger slowly within his tightness, and earned a small whimper for a reply. He bowed his head, pressing a kiss to Erestor's sweat slick abdomen, now perfectly still, dipped his head slightly lower and licked at the head of his cock. When he spoke again his words were somewhat muffled by the rod of flesh pressed against his lips, though still intelligible. "You need to relax, sweet one, and then this will not hurt you."

Erestor shivered. He'd fallen back against the mattress once more, and now laid there unable to move, trying to adjust to this new sensation. In spite of what the Eldar said, it did hurt, and he tried to do as he'd been bidden, to relax, to allow Glorfindel access. When he felt lips on his skin it became a little easier, and the wet slickness of Glorfindel's tongue on his cock left him shaking, unsure as to whether he wanted this to be over or if he wanted it to never end. As the tension in his body eased he could feel himself being penetrated more fully, pushed into, invaded, and he trembled on the brink of pleasurable distress.

Then Glorfindel's finger shifted within him, touched something he had never known of or suspected. White light flashed before his eyes, and his hips bucked into the electric contact. The Eldar's lips had curved into a smile against his cock, he could feel hot breath on his sensitive skin. Again came the same curled finger motion, and then again. The burning feeling was forgotten as he began to move with Glorfindel's gentle thrusts, barely hesitating when the warrior added a second finger and then a third. He was distantly aware that he had parted his legs yet further, that he was moaning unrestrainedly, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, but none of that seemed to matter. When Glorfindel finally removed his fingers, he lay gasping and quivering, eyes closed, body sheened with sweat.

Erestor's eyes opened once more when he felt Glorfindel's hands grasping the backs of his knees, lifting and pushing them back against his chest. The fluttering in his stomach was less pronounced, but there was still nervousness in his eyes as the blonde warrior positioned his body, handling him as if he were a doll. Uncertainly he reached forward towards the Eldar, fingers hovering near his pale, smooth chest, and Glorfindel paused, meeting his eyes. With a gentle smile he caught the extended hand, raised it, kissed the palm and then each fingertip. Glorfindel did not break eye contact, nor did he release Erestor's hand as he pressed his oiled length against the previously untried opening.

Erestor held himself in place, forced the tension in his body to uncoil as Glorfindel pressed within him. It hurt, and he gritted his teeth against the pain as he was slowly invaded. The hand holding his tightened as his legs began to tremble. He knew that Glorfindel would not willfully harm him, that the warrior had promised him pleasure of this. It was difficult to hold still, to keep from crying out against this as he was steadily opened and filled by this impossible heat that seemed so much the larger for being inside of him.

Glorfindel bit at his lower lip, exercising all of the control he could muster to keep from plunging into this incredible tightness. He could feel the involuntary clamp of muscles struggling to relax, failing, and then trying yet again. Even thoroughly oiled the strength of those muscles would be enough to make his progress painful for both of them if he forced his way, and so he eased in by slow degrees, timing his forward motion to the erratic flex.

Erestor's face was strained, eyes clenched shut. Sweat beaded his brow, and his mouth had curved downwards in a strained bow. Glorfindel could feel the wavering of the legs that had begun at his sides, but were now involuntarily trying to close against him, to lower, to find stability. He squeezed the hand in his grasp carefully, raised it again to kiss the back.

"Almost there, lovely one." He whispered, and Erestor gave him an abbreviated nod, not trusting his voice. "I promise you that this will get better."

He reached between their slowly joining bodies, taking Erestor's cock in hand once more. A soft sound escaped Erestor's lips at the added stimulation coaxing him back to arousal, allowing his body to loosen. The pain was lessening, the feeling fading into discomfort, fullness. The touch on his throbbing shaft seemed more important, the steady rhythmic stroking, the thumb that swirled teasingly over the head taking him back to the higher ground of pleasure. He moaned, arching upwards, and then suddenly Glorfindel was fully within him, sheathed to the hilt.

His moans became cries when Glorfindel began to move within him, each thrust brushing against the small pleasure spot that had only recently been touched. Erestor wrenched his hand from Glorfindel's grip, reaching blindly for the warrior's shoulders as he was slowly ridden, hand and cock moving in delicious counter point. The discomfort had become something in the background - vague, meaningless, irrelevant. Erestor found himself pumping upwards into Glorfindel's thrusts, his body begging to be taken faster and deeper, his cock weeping with near orgasmic pleasure.

Glorfindel knew he could not last long within Erestor's tight, welcoming heat. Pain and nervousness had vanished, and the elf beneath him was urging him on faster, knees once more braced back nearly to his shoulders. He struggled not to give in to the lustful elf's desire, knowing that to take him too forcefully would lead to much discomfort later, but even at this steady, slow rhythm he could feel himself moving helplessly towards completion. Increasing the pace of his hand on Erestor's turgid member, he allowed himself to be taken over by heightening waves of ecstasy.

Erestor cried out, his cock convulsed in Glorfindel's grasp as he reached his completion. His breath came in harsh pants as the after shocks swept through him, as his over sensitized flesh was stimulated further, almost beyond bearing. The muscles in his thighs trembled, and his hands dropped to grip his own knees, holding them up and apart as Glorfindel continued to thrust into him, to rock him, to push him almost past endurance. Then he felt Glorfindel stiffen against him, felt the involuntary contractions of ecstasy attained, heard the animalian cries of release as Glorfindel spilled his seed within his body.

They lay tangled together for several long moments, waiting for their hearts to steady into even rhythms, to catch their breath. A pleasurable shiver swept through Erestor's body as Glorfindel slipped out of him, a twinge of remembered and renewed arousal mixed with a sliver of pain and a faint sense of loss. He did not pull away when Glorfindel gently kissed his cheek, nor did he find himself objecting to their sticky embrace. It was both comforting and comfortable to have his arms about Glorfindel's broad back, to feel his weight and nuzzle in the tangle of his golden hair. Pale peach lips lightly touched his throat, and Erestor smiled as he stroked the Eldar's shoulders.

"We need to clean up." Glorfindel said muzzily, and Erestor nodded, not really wanting to release his hold. Glorfindel, however, was pulling away. With a sigh, he began to push himself up only to wince, stopping in wide eyed surprise at the ache within him. Glorfindel grinned sheepishly, offering him a hand up.

"Let me help you. Least I can do."

Erestor considered freezing him with a look of pure ice, or utilizing his eloquence to formulate an appropriately venomous response. Much earlier in the day he might have done either during one of their chess-like discussions, and received an admiring nod in response. "Point conceded" was what those admiring looks from Glorfindel had meant, though at the time Erestor had no idea of what he'd been playing for. Now he knew, and now he did not feel like making the effort. He felt oddly hollow, unsure of what new ground the game had moved to, or if there was even a game at all now. Wordlessly he allowed Glorfindel to lead him to the bath.

They said little as they washed up, and when they returned to the bed chamber Erestor's lips tightened. His night clothes lay in a pile beside the bed, and he leant to pick them up, aware of Glorfindel's eyes on his nude body in a way he hadn't been while they were making love. There was no reason for his eyes to be stinging, but they stung nevertheless as he snagged up his shirt.

A warm hand clasped his arm, and he glanced back, startled. Dark hair hung forwards, partially concealing his face. Glorfindel gently pushed it back, and his azure eyes were soft, kind.

"Stay?"

Erestor licked his lips, tilted his head to one side.

"Please?"

A ghost of a smile touched his own lips then, a faint smile that was reflected in his eyes. Again without words he let the garment drop to the floor.

*****

Part 2

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Kharessa Bloodrose