Possession

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Summary: At this point I suppose I should break down and call this a series since insofar as I know there is no word for a sequel to a sequel. This follows Tricks of Memory and By Dawn's Light. If anyone has any ideas on what this series should be called, I'm taking suggestions. I suck at titling and usually just tag the first thing I think of on the header line to get it over with.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or settings, and I am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this work.
Warnings: Romance, angst
Notes: Part three of this series (?) is brought to you today by Angelou, Morgana, Alex, Mayhem and Rune Dancer. If you like it extend your thanks to them, and if you don't send your complaints to me. Creative criticism and commentary is always welcome.

*****

He liked having Glorfindel in his rooms. As much as he enjoyed stretching languorously in the warrior's whimsically carved bed, Erestor was most comfortable waking in the familiar comfort of his own. His bed, his wardrobe and chair, his mirror, desk, vanity table, and bureau. His choice in colors and design, his domain. And his Glorfindel, reclining on the simple quilt of dark blues, greens and white covering his sheets and un-embroidered pillows.

Here Glorfindel became leonine, a great blonde cat incongruously placed in a nearly monastic setting. Even in repose he seemed to be pacing, flexing claws in nervousness rather than aggression, and Erestor found that he rather liked him that way. It gave him a comfortable sense of control to have Glorfindel here. Anywhere else it made no difference who touched whom, who was kissed or who bore the other's weight in carnal rapture. Glorfindel possessed an air of confidence and certainty that made him naturally dominant – everywhere but here.

He had several changes of clothes secreted in Glorfindel's wardrobe, undergarments and toiletries along side Glorfindel's in the top drawer of his bureau. It was not something they had discussed. Erestor had simply brought those things, carefully folded and packed in a nondescript box and had put them away while Glorfindel wordlessly watched. It was a small thing, but in another way it was a monumental change. Erestor supposed it was also important to note that there was nothing of Glorfindel here in his own rooms, nothing save for the warrior himself.

The golden head was snuggled in the hollow of his shoulder in a now familiar position, and Erestor gazed into blue eyes glazed with sleep, at the proudly beautiful face now smooth and serene. There were too few mornings on which they could wake slowly in each other arms, and Erestor had learned to make the most of those rare occasions when he awakened first. He loved the way the angling rays of the rising sun turned Glorfindel's hair to golden fire, but he also loved the slow emergence of color that his own west facing room allowed. In this chamber the rising of the sun was not an explosion of light and color, but a slow brightening of shadows, a dispersement of gloom that could be mistaken for mere adjustment of the eyes to darkness. Then, suddenly, he would look down at Glorfindel and see gold, blue, and white and know that day had indeed broken.

He lightly traced a finger over a fair, arched eyebrow, his touch feather light. It didn't matter; he knew that even this gentlest of touches would wake the warrior. It was this moment of waking that Erestor cherished, that briefest of moments when the blue eyes would regain their focus, and blink in confusion as he gazed upwards at a ceiling of cream instead of robin's egg blue. A few bare seconds of tension, vulnerability, before realizing where he was. Then Glorfindel would relax again, sky blue eyes shifting to Erestor's face, smiling, dynamic confidence returned until the next time he awakened in this chamber so different from his own.

Blink. Erestor held his breath as a barely perceptible line appeared between Glorfindel's fair brows, as his lips ever so slightly tightened.

"Good morning, meleth-nin."

*****

The office door had been propped open, and Glorfindel did not announce himself as he entered. Instead he stood in the threshold leaning against the frame, watched as the chief advisor worked. He knew that Erestor was aware of his presence regardless of how intent he seemed to be on the papers before him. There was electricity in the air between them, a crackling intensity created between watcher and watched. The signing of papers and writing of documents had become a sensual act, made so by eyes that had no interest in the task being performed.

"I really must speak to Elrond." Erestor said at last, never raising his eyes from the parchment before him. "It seems that though he has no difficulties in filling the hours of his councilor, he has not nearly enough work to occupy his seneschal."

"Oh, there is plenty to be done, but not nearly so much that I can't find a few spare moments for you."

Erestor's dark eyes held an odd mixture of pleasure and annoyance when he raised them to meet Glorfindel's.

"Really." He said dryly, and Glorfindel answered the non question with wide eyes and a teasing smile.

"Really."

The office was not large, and it was only a matter of a few steps for Glorfindel to cross the room and circle the desk. Erestor followed his progress, eyes flickering to the door adjoining to Elrond's study. It was closed, thank the Valar, but not locked, and Glorfindel was moving towards him with a predatory stealth and speed that made Erestor's heart race. In the sedentary calm of this office, Glorfindel was always too much, too alive, too full of potential energy. The gold of sunlight dancing among dust motes, the known textures of pages and leather bound tomes, the familiar comfort of language all dimmed to insignificance in Glorfindel's presence, leaving Erestor giddy with excitement, nervousness, and steadily diminishing outrage.

"Glorfindel, I do not…" Strong hands gripped his shoulders, turned him and lifted him to his feet, temporarily stunning him to silence. Coherency almost returned a moment later when the quill he'd been using was plucked from his hand and carelessly dropped on the desk top. A blot of dark ink began to spread on the pristine parchment laid out there, and a frustrated hiss escaped Erestor's lips. Before he could give voice to his irritation, however, Glorfindel's mouth was covering his own.

"Forget about your work for just a little bit, lirimaer." Glorfindel whispered, and Erestor could only press closer into his embrace. It was too hot in the tiny office in spite of the open casements, too hot to be wearing even light weight summer robes over his perfectly appropriate white shirt and black trousers. Glorfindel's hands were sliding up and down his back, luxuriating in the smoothness of burgundy and green silk, slipping further to grip his buttocks, to pull Erestor tight against him. Through layers of silk, cotton, and leather he could feel the heat of Glorfindel's arousal, could feel his own answering desire pulsing in rising waves.

Glorfindel turned him in his embrace, shoved the chair aside with a booted foot. Erestor reached for it as one of the legs caught on the edge of the rug, rescuing it before it could crash to the floor. He knew his error when he felt Glorfindel's hand slip to his abdomen, felt Glorfindel grind his hips against him as he hung gracelessly forward, precariously balancing the chair on three legs. His fingers skated uselessly over the smooth wood as Glorfindel swung him to face the desk with one arm, catching the chair and setting it easily aside as he did so.

"The door, Glorfindel!" Erestor gasped, and a soft chuckle from above and behind him greeted his ears.

"Never mind the door."

Ink stained parchment was swept aside, and the surface of the desk was blessedly cool against Erestor's over heated cheek. Glorfindel slid his long robes up over his hips in a quick, sure movement, guided Erestor's hands to hold them in place while he worked the trouser buttons. Briefly he was allowed to lift himself from the desk top so that Glorfindel could push down the troublesome garments, and then he was flat to the desk again.

Distantly he was aware of light streaming in from the open door, knew that he only had to turn his head the slightest bit to see the cool gleam of the hall's wood floor. He had only to raise his head to meet the impartial gaze of the tree nymph statue just beyond the doorway, had only to strain his ears a little to hear the sound of papers rustling in the adjoining room. Instead of doing any of those things, Erestor closed his eyes and gave himself up to Glorfindel's touch.

He moaned into Glorfindel's muffling palm when he reached his climax, nipped gently at the web of flesh between thumb and index finger a few moments later when Glorfindel found bliss deep within him. He trembled as the warrior kissed him gently then cleaned him with a handkerchief which, after a moment of consideration, he dropped into the refuse can instead of re-pocketing. Twenty minutes later when Elrond came in with a fresh stack of paper work, Erestor offered him a bland smile in exchange for the curious look he was given, eyebrow quirked in thinly veiled amusement.

*****

Glorfindel swept the comb through Erestor's raven locks though there was no trace of a knot or tangle. He loved Erestor's hair, so different from his own, loved combing it, touching it, loved the way it fell in shimmering waves nearly to his waist. He loved the way it looked spread out across the pillows, twining against the patterns of flowers and trees sewn onto the borders. He loved the weight of it when he lifted it in his hands, the silken texture of it when Erestor knelt before him, head thrown back against his shoulder, black tresses mingled with blonde falling down Glorfindel's back. He loved Erestor, and it seemed perfectly natural to him that this beauty should be here, the center piece of all of the lesser loveliness he surrounded himself with in his chambers.

In his own rooms, Erestor seemed cold, distant. It was not something that Glorfindel could put his finger on. The rooms themselves were comfortable, and it always seemed to him that they smelled faintly of baking bread. It was good to nestle under the quilt with Erestor there, good to see him move with cool dignity and sureness that he had not completely adopted in Glorfindel's rooms. Still, Glorfindel liked Erestor warmed by the heat of passion, fired from within. He liked him with a rose blush to his face, eyes sparkling with desire, affection, nervousness. He liked him the way he had been earlier in his office, and he loved him the way he was here, in these carefully decorated rooms.

Off to one side in the wardrobe Erestor had hung several sets of robes, along with shirts and trousers. The more ornate hair pins that the advisor preferred nestled companionably with Glorfindel's more sedate ribbons and laces. He had said nothing when Erestor had brought those things, but that night they had made love as if it had been their first time again. Erestor had possessed him under the robin's egg blue ceiling, and it had been all right because Erestor's things were in Glorfindel's bureau and wardrobe, and Glorfindel's Erestor had been nestled under the peach and green coverlet.

*****

Part 4

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