Control

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Glorfindel makes a wish.
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, fetishism in a strange sort of way, angst
Dedication: For my sister Kellie, who says I'm the most perverse person she knows.
Sequel to "Ambiguity"

*****

It was raining again, but here in Erestor's rooms it didn't matter. The windows stood open, filling the air with the fresh smell of wet earth. The trees were in full blossom, and here and there amidst the riot of pink and white could be seen the first few bursts of pale green. Glorfindel could hear the east wind shaking the newly flexible branches, and knew that outside he would see a blizzard-like flurry of small flowers if the sun were shining. In the morning white petals would lie bruised and crumpled in the mud, wet and bedraggled on the dewy grass. Only a few more days, and all the spring tree blossoms would be gone.

Tonight Erestor sat in the functional blonde wood chair that stood near his wardrobe, not garbed in white silk bed pants but fully dressed in his ceremonial robes instead. About his neck was the rarely worn medallion inscribed with his seal, and on his right index finger was the signet ring that normally resided in the top drawer of his office desk. Beneath the robes, Glorfindel knew, Erestor wore his most formal white silk shirt along with black trousers that had been freshly pressed. The boots he wore were shined to a high, reflective gloss, and though Glorfindel could not see the tops he knew that these were not his usual pair, but the high silver grommeted pair reserved for special functions.

He knew these things because he'd asked Erestor to wear this for him, more out of curiosity then for any other reason. After the morning patrol he had bathed, eaten, and gone to Erestor's office as had become his habit. Glorfindel had learned that the advisor was not likely to drop his business during these visits, but neither would he ignore him. Sometimes he could be… distracted, but most of the time he could not be. He could, however, always be counted upon to listen and talk, usually doing more of the former than the latter.

Glorfindel had come to crave those moments when Erestor would look up from his work, eyes and attention solely on him. Those brief, wonderful moments when all else faded into the background. Erestor was his in the mornings and during the nights, but in between he was his own, self contained being. Erestor defended his borders with a species of passive tenacity that rivaled any defense Glorfindel's warriors might devise, defended those blocks of time and bits of space as if they were crucial to the outcome of some dimly seen conflict. Capturing his full, undivided attention was not the same as capturing the flag, but it was still something that Glorfindel treasured.

"I love the way you look in your robes." He had remarked, apropos of nothing, and Erestor had raised his eyes from the correspondence he had been working on to fix Glorfindel with a quizzical stare. That had been all the encouragement Glorfindel had needed, though he had no idea of where he was going. He only knew that he had gotten… somewhere.

"Would you wear that for me? Tonight?"

"Pardon?" Erestor politely asked, head tilted to one side. He regarded Glorfindel speculatively, and the warrior could see the wheels turning.

"I like your ceremonial robes best. The ones you only wear for the most formal occasions. Tell me what you wear under those."

"The same thing I wear under my vestments every day, only more so." He answered slowly, dark eyes still holding Glorfindel's gaze. "Why?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "Why wear anything at all under them? They are long enough at hem and cuffs, high enough at the collar that no one would know."

Erestor pursed his lips. "I meant why do you wish me to dress so tonight."

"I already told you. I love the way you look in them."

He could see the consideration on Erestor's face, watched as the adviser turned the request over in his mind. Then he nodded, a brief, abbreviated gesture, before returning to the letter he had been working on. Glorfindel had said nothing further on the topic.

The medallion and signet ring had been Erestor's additions, and Glorfindel found that he approved of them. He also approved of the careful design of blue black braids, artfully arranged as if for a formal dinner with the Lady of The Wood herself. He approved of the graceful yet authoritative pose Erestor assumed in his chair, the upward tilt of his chin, and the familiar knowing look in his eye. Glorfindel approached him slowly, sank to his knees before him, and Erestor gazed down into the warrior's eyes levelly.

"Is this what you wanted, Glorfindel?" He asked, his tone bland and disinterested. He touched Glorfindel's cheek lightly with the back of his hand, the raised design of the ring slipping coolly across pale skin, and Glorfindel swallowed, licked his dry lips.

"Is this what you want?" He finally managed, and saw the dark eyes go distant, inward turning.

"What do you mean?"

"Is this how you want to be with me." Glorfindel took a deep breath, clearly struggling to find words. "Is this what will make this right for you?"

Erestor sighed and rose, hands pulling lightly at Glorfindel's arms. He did not pull Glorfindel to his feet; the more slender counselor could not have done so if he had wished to. Nevertheless, Glorfindel rose, was pulled tightly against the velvet draped body, kissed.

"I did not know anything was wrong, meleth-nin." He pressed his lips to Glorfindel's once more when the warrior tried to respond, tightened his arms around the warrior's back. Glorfindel allowed himself to be led towards the bed, still locked in Erestor's embrace. In a way it reminded him of the first time he had lain with Erestor, of how Erestor had held him afterwards while he lay exhausted, head cradled in the hollow of the advisor's shoulder. Warm, good.

"Do you want your package unwrapped?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and Glorfindel smiled as he was pushed down to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Only partially." Glorfindel said as he leaned forward to grip the heavy material close to the hem. Erestor hissed in a sharp breath as the warrior's cheek pressed between his thighs, and Glorfindel obligingly rubbed his face against the soft velvet. Hands caught in his hair, tightened and loosened their grip, tangled and pulled as Glorfindel pushed the cloth upward. Finally he drew back, held the hem above Erestor's waist with one hand while he worked the silver buttons of the dress trousers with the other.

The cloth was luxuriantly soft against his face, heavy and hot where it pooled haphazardly over his head. Flesh was freed, and Glorfindel's lips parted to allow rock hard insistence to fill his mouth as velvet caressed his forehead and cheek. One of Erestor's hands was clamped on the back of his neck, the other clenched on his shoulder. Instead of struggling in his grip Glorfindel held onto the dark elf's hips, feeling the textures of smooth skin and linen against his palms, of velvet draping the backs of his hands.

Then it became unnecessary even to move as Erestor's hands slid upwards, holding his head in a gentle but firm grip. Held in place, Glorfindel relaxed his throat so that Erestor could thrust into him, touching the back of his throat with each incursion. He closed his eyes, allowing the reflexive tears to flow freely as he hollowed his cheeks, sucked and swirled his tongue, gave himself up to Erestor's manipulation.

When at last he came, Glorfindel tightened his hold on Erestor's hips, pulling him closer yet. The dark robes had settled over his head, leaving him in heat and darkness, unbearably aroused. Erestor's cries of release rang in his ears as he continued to suck, to swallow, to coax the over sensitized member with skilled lips and tongue until Erestor was pushing at his shoulders. For a moment they became an obscene tangle of velvet and then Glorfindel slipped off the bed, settling back on his heels before Erestor. He looked up at him, expression open and wanting, and was amazed to see an answering warmth in the advisor's usually chilly dark gaze.

"Do you want me now? Like this?" Erestor's voice was shaky, his face flushed. Glorfindel shook his head, reaching to grip a leather clad calf.

"No. You again. Have me." He husked, and Erestor nodded, settling down to the floor in a soft wave of green and burgundy velvet.

*****

"It's not like you to be so distracted."

Erestor glanced sharply at Elrond, but refused to rise to the bait in spite of the bright smile on the half elf's face. Elrond was right. He had not heard a word that the Lord of Imladris had said, and Erestor reflected that it was a good thing that they were merely strolling by the fountain rather than sitting in a council session.

"I'm sorry, my lord, my thoughts have been elsewhere lately. There is no excuse."

"Oh, I think I know where your thoughts have been." Elrond chuckled, and Erestor said nothing, wished for the long, billowing sleeves of his robes so that he could tuck his hands neatly within their folds, hide. Until recently it had been his habit to dress with perfect decorum from morning unto nightfall, but lately he'd begun to change into something less official after work hours. The layers of material no longer felt like a protection; he felt naked in his robes of state, vaguely obscene.

"Come now, who is the paragon of maidenhood who has stolen your heart?" Elrond asked, and Erestor offered him a blandly questioning look.

"Maidenhood?"

"Not a maiden, then?" Elrond raised an eyebrow. "And here I always thought you had higher standards than the rest of us."

Erestor smiled thinly. "I would not let Lady Celebrian hear you say that, my lord."

Elrond laughed merrily. "No, I suppose not, though she must know that I have never questioned her honor." His eyes softened, brown pools warming, turning tender. "I could not have asked for a better lady to have at my side, to raise my children with."

Erestor nodded, saying nothing. He himself had always admired Celebrian, thought that Elrond was fortunate indeed to have her love. There was no need to reply to the half elf's simple declaration of fact, and Erestor was quite content to allow him to continue along these lines rather than returning to his original train of thought.

"Still, Erestor…" Elrond shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I always imagined that if you gave your heart it would be to one who is as close to perfection as can be found here, one whom you would not feel any need to hide."

The dark eyes had become piercing, and Erestor inwardly cursed, knowing that Elrond had not drifted so far from the path as he had hoped.

"I hide nothing, my lord." He said, and caught himself trying to draw his hands into nonexistent sleeves. "Perhaps it is only that there are no eyes to see."

"Indeed." Elrond's tone was doubtful. Erestor met his gaze evenly, a faint smile playing about his lips.

"'Tis a lovely evening, my lord, but I have a few things I need to clear away before the morning. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course." Elrond answered, and Erestor offered him an abbreviated bow, turned towards the house and vanished into the thickening gloom.

*****

He did have a few things to clear away, though nothing that required his urgent attention. Still, he turned his steps towards the small office to make the excuse a reality, however thin the rationalization might be.

It was not his habit to return to his office late in the evening, and the room seemed strange and unfamiliar to him cloaked as it was in unaccustomed shadow. Erestor was swift in lighting the lamps, returning the room to a level of light not too dissimilar from that which would illuminate it on an overcast day. There was no familiar silken weight dragging at his shoulders, swaying about his legs and ankles as he crossed to his desk, no wide sleeves to contend with as he brought forth ink and quill. It had been many long years since such annoyances of dress had hindered his work, and now in their absence he felt out of place.

A brief burst of frustrated anger flared as he withdrew a small container of sealing wax from his desk drawer. No signet ring. It was in his top bureau drawer, nestled snuggly in a pile of black ribbons. He had never forgotten to bring it back with him each morning, but this was not morning however much he might attempt to make it appear so.
What had ever possessed Glorfindel? Erestor wanted to be able to direct his anger at the golden warrior, but he found himself unable to. He had accepted, after all. He had been intrigued by the idea just as he'd been intrigued by the slender ring that still lay smoothly against his chest. He might as well ask what had possessed him.

A momentary image of Glorfindel returning from patrol filled Erestor's mind, and a wide, unguarded smile abruptly brightened his face. Glorfindel, after a hard patrol in particular, rain soaked and splattered with mud. He pictured himself waiting in the barracks office, expression awe struck, and could not restrain a burst of laughter.

-Oooooh, Glorfindel,- he imagined himself saying. –Take me now, on your desk, next to the duty roster and topographical maps. I love it when you're on duty, dressed in leather, soaked to the skin and smelling like a hog.-

He was still snickering softly when he let himself into Elrond's office. He had never had to use the twin to his own ring that Elrond kept, but he supposed he could clean and return it with no one the wiser.

*****

Glorfindel was puzzled to find the lamps and candles lit in Erestor's office, but no Erestor. A moment later a grin spread across his face as he heard a distant chuckle, and with quick, sure strides he crossed to the door that led to Elrond's office.

He found the chief advisor of Imladris on his knees rifling through a lower desk drawer. He was holding his hair back to allow the moonlight to more fully illuminate his search, but judging by his swift, frustrated movements this wasn't helping. In spite of this, his efforts were occasionally slowed by small bursts of stifled laughter, and Glorfindel's perplexity not only returned but also increased.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and Erestor looked up so abruptly that he almost hit his head on the edge of Elrond's desk. Instead of fixing him with a venomous glare, Erestor began laughing in earnest. Tears of mirth streamed down his face as he clutched his belly, and Glorfindel stood before him feeling distinctly as if he were missing something crucial.

"Are you going to let me in on whatever it is?" He asked, and Erestor shook his head frantically.

"No, I'm not!" He finally managed, and Glorfindel grinned as he moved to stand over him. The councilor did not seem nearly so tall and formidable in leggings and tunic, laughing uncontrollably on Elrond's office floor, and Glorfindel found that he did not mind being left out of the joke in the least.

"We shall see about that, lirimaer." He breathed, dropping to his knees beside Erestor. In a moment he had the advisor pinned neatly to the floor as his fingers sought out ticklish ribs. Erestor writhed beneath him, laughing and struggling, utterly unable to retain any outward show of dignity under Glorfindel's assault.

"Do you yield?" He asked the breathless form beneath him, and Erestor gasped, hands clutching futilely at Glorfindel's forearms.

"Never!" He replied, bracing himself for another onslaught, but it did not come. Instead, Glorfindel rocked forward to cover Erestor's body with his own, captured Erestor's wrists. His blonde hair obscured the moonlight, turning his eyes black, leaving Erestor to sense his features rather than see them. For a short while they lay thusly, and then Glorfindel lowered his lips to those of the dark elf's in a slow, searing kiss.
It was like tasting wine and fire, a strange and contradictory mix of intoxicating flavor. Now Glorfindel could feel the dance of muscles in arms, shoulders, and wrists, the tension play that was not quite, but almost resistance. He did not tighten his grip but merely maintained as his tongue pushed past the soft barrier of red lips, past the enamel smoothness of teeth. Erestor moaned into his mouth and he shivered, instantly filling with heat.

"Mine, melethron nin." Glorfindel growled as he pulled back from the kiss, leant again to suck at Erestor's full lower lip. He could feel slender wrists twisting slightly in his grasp, could feel the rapid heart beat next to his own, the slight upward pressure as Erestor pushed his shoulders back into the thick pile of the carpet. Soft moans and whimpers met his ears as he traced the tip of his tongue from lip to line of jaw and then upwards to Erestor's earlobe.

"Release me." Erestor whispered, and Glorfindel complied. The councilor's soft hands did not fall to his shoulders, nor did they capture his head in their familiar gentle yet firm grip. Instead they drifted lower to lightly hold above the warrior's hips. His lower body rocked against Glorfindel's in a steady, slow rhythm, barely moving. Then the movement became an action solely of his pelvis as he hooked his ankles about Glorfindel's calves, using his weight to hold the warrior immobile as he maintained the nearly unbearable friction.

So lost were they in each other's touch that they almost did not hear the footsteps in the hall until it was too late. Glorfindel froze as the steps paused outside the door. The distance to the door to Erestor's office was too far to make a hasty retreat, and without thinking he rolled off the dark elf, grabbed him and hauled him under the desk. A squawk of protest met his ears at this rough handling, and Glorfindel swiftly clapped a hand over the chief adviser's mouth, administering a brisk shake when Erestor responded by biting at his palm. Leaning forward, Glorfindel jerked the chair in by one leg, and hastily made sure that the drawer Erestor had been rummaging through was closed.

The soft click of the door opening sounded impossibly loud. Erestor abruptly grew still in Glorfindel's grasp, now completely understanding the warrior's abrupt actions as Elrond entered his study. He held his breath, straining his ears to follow Elrond's progress from the pitch blackness of the desk's foot well. He and Glorfindel had retreated to the furthest corner, and he now sat flush to Glorfindel's body, one of the warrior's arms wrapped about his waist, the other still clamped over his mouth. Erestor gave it another warning nip, and Glorfindel quickly released his grip.

Another soft click as the door to Erestor's office was opened. Erestor's heart sank as he remembered lamps and candles lit and left, cheerfully illuminating a now empty room. Anxiety began to turn to panic a moment later when the darkness began to steadily lift with each lamp that Elrond lit. Now he could discern Glorfindel's tense features, and the glare he bestowed on the golden Eldar was one to freeze demons. The warrior responded with a barely perceptible shrug, and Erestor felt a sudden urge to throttle him.

Feet clad in house shoes and white socks appeared at one side, and Erestor drew his legs up further until they were nearly under his chin. Glorfindel's were already at his sides, knees at his shoulders, and as he pressed backwards he couldn't help but notice that the warrior had not lost interest in their earlier activities. Wiggling spitefully, Erestor was quite gratified when the grip around his waist abruptly tightened.

Then the chair was being pulled back, and both of them held their breath. Trouser clad legs came into view, and to their mutual horror the Lord of Imladris proceeded to sit. Giddy butterflies danced in Erestor's stomach as Elrond scooted in, and he found himself suddenly and hysterically grateful for the size of Elrond's desk.

Shoes were kicked off, and one of them landed against Erestor's thigh. Glorfindel slowly leaned forward, hooking the shoe with one finger and carefully setting it by its partner. His forehead came within an inch of touching Elrond's knee as he completed this operation, and Erestor turned his cheek to avoid a brown clad leg.

Minutes passed like hours. At first they had been in darkness as Elrond's body blocked the light, but with the passage of time their eyes adjusted. In the part of Erestor's mind that was still functioning coherently he noted that the maids had not bothered to properly clean the carpet under here in quite a while. There also seemed to be some manner of lettering carved awkwardly into the fine mahogany under the desk top, and though he could not make it out he guessed this was the work of the twins. The hems of Elrond's trousers were looking rather frayed, and he also thought it was time for the Lord of Imladris to purchase a new pair of house shoes.

His mind would have continued along this train as a necessary distraction from attempting to murder the seneschal behind him if it had not been for the seneschal's wandering hands. Glorfindel slid his arm out from around Erestor's waist, slipped them about the backs of his thighs, pulled them back and apart. The adviser's eyes immediately darted to Elrond's legs, expecting some sudden and unexpected shift in position, but there was nothing. Consternation turned to shock a moment later when the warrior began rubbing his palm in slow circles at the seam of his leggings.

Erestor lay unmoving in Glorfindel's grip, not daring to move. The steady motion was having the desired effect, much to Erestor's chagrin, but he was as effectively caught as if the warrior had bound him in chains. He tried to turn his face away as Glorfindel began nudging aside his braids with chin and lips, but there was no where to turn to. Searing lips touched his neck, and when they moved to his sensitive ears he was utterly lost.

Sanity briefly reasserted itself when Glorfindel unlaced his leggings, but there was nothing he could do. Struggling to keep his breathing even and quiet, he bit at his lower lip as the Eldar began to stroke him. He did not bring his legs together when Glorfindel released him, nor did he object when the warrior once again clasped a hand over his mouth. Eyes rolled back, he fought to maintain utter stillness, not to buck into the warm circle of Glorfindel's hand. His climax was close, and the warrior was not teasing him. Glorfindel's tongue played over the tip of his ear, and Erestor canted his head at an impossibly awkward angle to facilitate the movement. With a swift, abbreviated lunge the warrior captured his prize between soft lips, and Erestor bit down hard on the webbing between thumb and forefinger as he came.

To Glorfindel's credit he did not cry out as the skin was broken, nor did he loosen his grip. Erestor lay against him, thighs quivering with the effort of remaining in position, feeling as if he were on the verge of suffocation. There did not seem to be nearly enough oxygen in the dark foot well, certainly not enough to retain consciousness without gasping and clawing for it.

He had no idea how long it was before his heart and breath returned to a normal rhythm, how long before Glorfindel finally released him. He could taste blood, could feel tacky wetness on his lips and chin, and he felt a species of vicious delight at the thought of the bite he'd delivered. He didn't fight when Glorfindel again nudged him to turn his head. Erestor favored him with a venomous scowl when he'd finished lapping the wetness from his face, but the look was mostly wasted in the dark confines of the foot well.

At long last Elrond rose. The lights were not extinguished, but they both heard the click of the main door opening and then closing again. Erestor scrabbled out from under the desk, tugging at the draw string laces of his leggings as he went. Glorfindel quickly followed, and the two of them darted for Erestor's office.

"What in hell did you think you were doing?" Erestor hissed as soon as the door was shut behind them, and Glorfindel stepped back apace before his fury. "Under the desk? I could probably have invented some plausible excuse for our presence in his office, particularly since I'd told him I had work to finish tonight. I could not, however, have come up with a reason for us to be beneath his desk!"

"I just reacted, Erestor. I didn't think he was going to settle in for half the evening."

"I daresay you didn't think at all." Erestor snapped, and Glorfindel's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Please forgive my lack of intellectual acumen, my lord advisor." Glorfindel ground out, and Erestor heaved a frustrated sigh.

"I should not have said that, Glorfindel." He muttered, hand rising to touch his forehead as if a headache were forming there. "I need something to change into."

"We can return to your rooms."

"No, we can't. Elrond saw that all the lights were on in here, and he was probably waiting for me. We can't just turn everything off and leave, nor do we know when he'll be returning or from where."

Glorfindel nodded, saying nothing. His eyes were cold, and Erestor cast him a quick glance, lips compressed.

"I'm sorry, Glorfindel." He said, and was rewarded by a surprised flicker of the warrior's blue eyes. "I am not pleased with this, but I should never have insulted you so unfairly."

Glorfindel began to respond, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Erestor's expression was harried as he hastily hurried to sit at his own desk, quickly attempting to arrange his tunic over his lap.

"Enter." He called, and Elrond pushed the door open. Glorfindel stifled a snicker at Elrond's bemused expression.

"I was wondering where you were, Erestor. A runner came in from Mirkwood with a message from Thranduil, and since you said you were going to be here I thought I'd drop it off for you to go over."

"Urgent, my lord?" Erestor asked, and Glorfindel had to admire the bland casualness of his enquiry. Elrond shrugged, his piercing gaze now drifting between the adviser and the seneschal. His eyes settled briefly on the warrior's bleeding hand, a worried frown creasing his forehead, but he said nothing.

"Not particularly, no. I just thought you might like to have a chance to consider it before we discuss it in the morning. He wants to send his own ambassadors to discuss further deployment of troops to the Mirkwood borders."

"I don't see how that would be possible." Glorfindel cut in, and Elrond nodded.

"I know. But since you two seem to be on... better terms of late, perhaps you could work some of this out?"

Silence held for nearly half a minute, and then Erestor slowly nodded.

"It does not seem to me that there is much to work out. Merely the exact wording for the proper diplomatic version of 'no.'"

"I suppose." Elrond turned, preparing to leave, and then paused in the doorway. "I am curious, Erestor. You were not here a few moments ago, nor were you in your rooms or the library. Where were you?"

"The cellar, my lord." Glorfindel said, and Elrond's eyebrows rose alarmingly as he turned his gaze to the Eldar lord.

"The cellar."

"Aye, we were having a discussion concerning vintage dates, and went to the cellar to settle it."

"I see." Clearly he did not. Elrond shrugged again, and a moment later the door shut behind him. Turning back to Erestor, Glorfindel saw the adviser's head was sunk in his hands, elbows uncharacteristically settled on the desk top.

"Please, Glorfindel, I do love you, but in the future could you let me speak for myself?"

*****

Part 6

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