Ambiguity

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author's Name: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Glorfindel gives Erestor a ring, and Elrond admires Erestor's new piece of jewelry. No, it's not a wedding ring!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or settings in this story, nor am I making any profit from the writing and sharing of this work.
Warnings: Romance, angst, and the gift of a ring. There actually should be a real warning on this one, but it would rather give away the show if I tack it up here. So, I will instead assure you that herein you will find NO pain, bondage, or heavy duty nasty stuff. Think of that as an anti-warning.
Dedication: This installment is dedicated to my friend Tina, the only person in my real life who has greeted my new writing hobby with words of unqualified encouragement. Thanks, Tina!
Notes: This series (?) is continued courtesy of Morgana, Angilou, Angela, Aradiria, Heather, Larian, Pira, Alex, and Tessie. Thanks for the commentary.
Sequel to "Possession"

*****

The soft metal was warmed by his skin; gold gleamed against the darker flesh of his areola. Glorfindel played idly with the hoop, lifting it on the smooth surface of his index fingernail, sending small electric thrills through Erestor's body. The ring had been a good idea, Erestor reflected, though he had balked at first. Still, it was his way to fight the strong warrior by not fighting him, to give way before him so that there could be no issue of power and might for Glorfindel to press home. Erestor did not play games like a rose cheeked maiden slapping away an emboldened suitor's desired caresses; he did not remind Glorfindel of the inequity of their passions.

And hadn't he been intrigued by the slim gold ring Glorfindel had shown him, smooth and unadorned, tasteful as Glorfindel had known would suit him? No patterns of leaves or stars, no engraved lettering or entwined initials. No tiny rubies or even common garnets, though the warrior had often told him that red complimented his skin and hair. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he had been fascinated by its cold loveliness, by the un-ornamented slickness of it, and by its needle slender post. His eyes had fixed on that, on the way the blunt tip would lock neatly, invisibly into the thicker end, and he had known that he would allow it.

He had been fascinated by Glorfindel's shyness, too, the downcast eyes and flutter of lashes as he tentatively asked permission to pierce Erestor's flesh. He had felt a sense of exhilaration as he'd lain, propped up against the pillows watching Glorfindel's sky blue eyes flicker nervously between the few objects lying on the bedside table, Erestor's face, Erestor's chest. Settled silently, passively, hands resting lightly at the sides of his white silk clad thighs, Erestor had evinced far less nervousness than Glorfindel had.

His nipples had become hard pebbles as Glorfindel sat beside him, brought the needle to his chest. His left hand had been hot, each fingertip branding his flesh where they had lain against taut pectoral muscles, nipple straining between index finger and thumb. His cock had been rock hard, straining against the soft fabric that had also been Glorfindel's idea, but for once that was neither his nor the warrior's focal point. It had taken all of Erestor's will power not to lick his lips, not to say a word when Glorfindel paused, shining needle point centimeters from dark flesh, to cast him one last, askance glance. Through half hooded eyes he had responded with nothing but taunting silence, wordlessly asking him if he meant to do this thing or not.

The pain had been sharp and quick. Erestor had not been able to hold back his sudden intake of breath, but beyond that he had made no sound. Glorfindel's mouth had replaced the instant of lancing pain, gently soothing the wounded flesh, and Erestor's throbbing desire had not abated in the least. It did not lapse with the sting of antiseptic, nor with the placement of the ring, not with the weight of gold dragging at injured flesh, nor at the sight of the thin rivulet of blood trickling downwards. Glorfindel's lips and tongue had taken care of that, and then there had been time for other things.

And now he was lying back in Glorfindel's embrace, once again dressed in loose, white silk trousers held by only a draw string at the waist. A strong forearm was locked about his abdomen while Glorfindel's right hand played with the ring, the piercing long since healed so that he felt nothing but those darting charges of excitement as the metal moved within his flesh. Erestor did not have to say anything as he lay there with his head thrown back against Glorfindel's shoulder listening to the flow of Glorfindel's voice without hearing the words. Nothing required of him but the occasional sigh or moan, his half of this gentle, teasing dance that was so slow as to almost be still.

Erestor's body quivered as Glorfindel slipped his hand lower, gripped his aching shaft through pristine silk. Whatever the warrior had been saying had drifted away into soft love words and coaxing endearments as he stroked and fondled, and Erestor arched in his grip, distantly grateful for the strength that easily supported his shoulders arced back into Glorfindel's broad chest. He was beyond knowing or caring about the ruination of yet another pair of bed trousers, beyond anything but the silken bliss of Glorfindel's hand and fingers.

When he reached his climax he made no protest as Glorfindel moved out from behind him, settled him back against the pillows and moved lower to draw the now wet silk down and off. Cat-like he purred, his slender, uncallused fingers lightly flicking the golden ring in Glorfindel's absence as the warrior licked at his belly and softening cock. His body felt liquid, divinely supple, limp and flexible in Glorfindel's grasp, and Erestor's eyelids slipped blissfully closed as he was folded, prepared by careful, oiled hands, taken.

*****

He didn't know why he hadn't removed the ring before going to the baths. It was not locked into his flesh; a simple manipulation of the latch would allow it to slip free. He'd become accustomed to its weight, though, comfortable with it. Pleased to have it against his skin, hidden under the layers of proper clothing like a darkly shining secret. Erestor liked the constant reminder, the sense of otherness this uncharacteristic ornament gave him while he went about his work, talked with Elrond, sat in on meetings of varying levels of significance. He liked being reminded of Glorfindel, of sky blue eyes that were questioning and uncertain instead of bright and utterly sure.

For a moment he had not understood the brief look of shock that had crossed Elrond's face as he had settled himself into the water and glanced across at his chief advisor. Erestor had raised a questioning eyebrow, and a moment later had added a grin when he realized the direction that Elrond's eyes had taken. He would not have chosen to reveal his private business, but his forgetfulness had made concealment impossible. Best to brazen it out, see if Elrond's sense of decorum was strong enough to overcome his innate curiosity.

It had been, but Erestor knew that Elrond could be like a bloodhound when his curiosity was piqued. The Lord of Imladris knew he had a lover, but not whom that lover was. Perhaps if the revelation had not been so indiscreet, so glaringly out of character, Elrond would not have thought further of it. As it was, this would prey on him. Erestor laughed, the merry sound echoing in the bath chamber after Elrond left.

–‘Tis a shame,- Erestor thought, -that the object of his fascination is his counselor. He could use some counsel now in how to procure delicate information subtly and inoffensively.- A bright smile lit his fair face as he rose from the water. This was going to be entertaining, indeed.

*****

"So, Elrond knows something is going on?" Glorfindel asked as he lay supine on the quilt gazing up into Erestor's face.

"He's never known me to wear jewelry in the past." Erestor said dryly, and the warrior chuckled. "Does this bother you?"

"No, not ‘bother' per se…" Glorfindel replied, and was dismayed to see Erestor's dark eyes grow cold, distant.

"Not per se?"

"I'm not ashamed of you, Erestor." He shifted beneath the counselor's smaller frame, unwilling to simply push him off and aside. "I just would not have chosen to share our relationship quite like this, or to make a game of it."

"Mmmm." Erestor bowed his head, kissed Glorfindel's lips almost chastely. "Well, allow me to correct myself. Elrond knows something is going on as concerns me, but not whom the involvement is with. So, we still have a few shreds of discretion left to us."

"I thought you would be the one to be upset if something like this were to happen." Glorfindel said, and Erestor sighed.

"I'm not well pleased, either, to be honest. There's nothing to be done about it now, though. I'm afraid I do not have much in the way of plausible deniability here."

"So, then, what does a diplomat say when he is in such a position?"

"As little as possible."

*****

Glorfindel watched Erestor sleep, dark eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. He was nude, lying atop the soft coverlet, and Glorfindel found himself confounded by the contradiction he saw before him. Erestor's body was slender and strong, but not powerfully muscled as his own was. Glorfindel knew that he could move that body as he wished, could lift and position it, turn him and bend him, spoon his form to his own stronger body or push him away. Erestor relaxed, allowed himself to be touched howsoever Glorfindel wished to touch him, and Glorfindel never felt that he had gained anything over the cool, collected councilor who was always in control of himself, even when lost in the heat of ecstasy.

His eyes drifted to the gold ring that pierced Erestor's nipple, and a small line appeared between his fair brows. Even that had not brought any epiphany of trust, vulnerability. He had been frightened and more excited than he'd ever been in his long, long life when he'd held the needle poised near the dark protuberance of eager flesh, but Erestor's dark eyes had revealed nothing but lust and challenge. Neither helping nor hindering, Erestor had lain there asking him with half lidded eyes if he really had the courage to do what he wanted.

There had not been a night like the one on which he had taken Erestor for the first time again. On that night he had seen more than that disconcerting look of speculation and enquiry on the councilor's face. There had been wonder and awe on that night, nervousness and tremors of excitement mixed with uncertainty. He had imagined holding Erestor close in his arms for nights to come, holding him and loving him, having him and cherishing him. Erestor, however, did not seem to want to be cherished. Glorfindel could not tell what it was that Erestor did want.

In sleep Erestor's face was that of an angel. Gold kissed, smooth, serene and pure. Glorfindel found himself captivated by the contrast of dark hair to pale skin and lips so red as to almost be shocking. Cherry lips, they were, and that was no poet's exaggeration. Glorfindel found himself staring at that face, trying to discern the difference between sleeping and waking, the breaking of peace into shards of complicated thought and machination.

*****

Part 5

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