Fear And Jealousy

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author's Name: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The ambassador from Mirkwood arrives, and Glorfie and Erestor try something new.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and settings, nor am I making any profit from the writing and sharing of this work.
Warnings: Romance, angst
Sequel to "Control"

*****

Two weeks had passed since what Erestor thought of as The Desk Incident. Glorfindel had said nothing when he had silently declined to garb himself in heavy velvet for their evenings since then, seeming to have little desire for the sensual worship this costume seemed to provoke in him. As uncomfortable as Erestor had been with it, he now found that he missed it. He could not fault Glorfindel's talents as a lover, but it seemed to him that the passion had evaporated from Glorfindel's touch, that the warrior had curled into himself, into a place where Erestor could not touch him.

They lay intertwined on the quilt, Erestor's dark hair spilling across the warrior's alabaster chest in raven waves. Their love making was finished, their bodies sated. Reverie was far away for Erestor, however, as he nestled close to the form holding him tightly, but not nearly tightly enough. In this new well of interior isolation that he found himself in, he was not sure if it was possible to be held as tightly as he felt he needed to be.

"Glorfindel…" He said hesitantly, and the warrior shifted, turning to settle his chin atop the dark hair.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you…" The words caught in his throat. He paused, licked his lips. "Do you want me?" He said instead, and heard Glorfindel's soft sigh.

"I'm here, aren't I?" The words echoed his own on their first night. It was not a satisfactory response, no more so than it had been when he had said it. It was the only response that could be made, though, because it was not the answer that was wrong. The question was what was wrong, and Erestor felt tears sting his eyes as he considered that.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel." He whispered, jaw tightening as he felt tears slipping down his cheeks.

"For what, melethron nin?"

He said nothing, trembled in Glorfindel's arms. The golden warrior pulled him closer, rocked him gently as he whispered soothing words. Erestor breathed deeply, concentrating on the rhythm of his heart until he was sure that he would not give way to sobbing, until the steady stream of nearly soundless tears had abated.

"Why must you make this so difficult, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked, and there was no accusation in his voice, no anger or frustration. Only patience, frightening in its tenacity, it's surety of closure. Erestor shifted in the warrior's arms, and Glorfindel obligingly loosened his grip.

"You do not understand."

"You are right; I don't understand, lirimaer. Because you will not explain it to me."

*****

The ambassador from Mirkwood was a she-elf, tall and slender with raven hair and dark, sloe eyes. Her name was Elralinde, and Erestor disliked her on sight.

Elralinde was beautiful, slim hipped and small breasted, the very image of perfection in her decorous robes of moss green and snow white. She was taller than average for an elven female, and her shoulders were a bit broader than was common. In thin soled house shoes she could almost look Erestor square in the eye, and that was not something he cared for at all. Her eyes were too dark, too knowing, too obscure in their knowledge. Elralinde always seemed to be thinking about things she was disinclined to speak of, always seemed to be seeing through whomever she was speaking to.

On the second evening of her stay she had danced with Glorfindel in the drawing room after dinner, and they had looked exquisite together. Her darkness to his light had been that of a dark star drawn to the sun, his graceful movements had created a perfect frame for the portrait of secretive elegance Elralinde had been. That evening she had dressed in midnight blue and darkest red, her black hair had flowed unbound almost to the curve of her buttocks. Glorfindel's hand had been behind that veil of hair, resting lightly on her slender waist, alabaster beneath obsidian. It was an image that Erestor could not get out of his mind, however hard he tried.

Afterwards, Glorfindel had made love to him as if he were made of glass. Erestor had felt like glass under the warrior's too gentle touch, his caresses that were neither possessive nor worshipful. Brittle, breakable, painfully transparent. He had spirited Glorfindel away to his rooms, but that night he had seen no difference between cream and robin's egg blue, had taken no comfort from sheets that smelled like baking bread instead of lilac blossoms.

Now he sat before his mirror combing out his hair with unwarranted briskness. Black as a raven's wing, black as the sea at midnight, black as a moonless night. All of these were things Glorfindel had said of his hair, compliments showered on him like rain showering parched earth. Glorfindel had never withheld any endearments from him, had never left unsaid a single compliment on his flowing locks, dark eyes, lips, skin. He knew that Glorfindel thought him beautiful, and though that did not always set well with him it was also a sort of security.

Erestor perused his form in the glass. Slender but not soft, no gentle curve of hip or breast. There was muscle under the layers of clothing, but not the strength that Glorfindel possessed. He was not a swordsmen or archer, nor a rider. He was a scholar, archivist, adviser, and tutor. In Glorfindel's hands he was malleable as a she-elf, easy to hold, to bend, to lift and move. Is that the draw, Erestor wondered, staring intently at his image as if at a stranger. Is that what he wants to see when he looks at me? Or does he see me when he looks at her?

The thought gave him pause. That Glorfindel wanted to see something other than what Erestor saw reflected in the glass was something he knew. At the very least, Glorfindel wanted to be able to pin him down, to be able to say definitively who his lover was. That was what was behind the ring and the robes, the occasional ravishing at his desk and in the library. It was Glorfindel's none too subtle way of saying -This is who you are, and I have you.- The idea that the perhaps Glorfindel did not see his image of Erestor as complete was novel to Erestor, the thought that he might look and want, interiorly mix and match, was profoundly new. A slight frown furrowed his brow as he began to braid his hair, fingers moving quickly to form plaits that were almost, though not quite, those worn by a warrior.

*****

He saw them on the balcony, and his lips tightened. Elralinde leaned out, flowing sleeves caught by the wind as she gestured towards something in the distance, midnight hair tossed like a banner of silk in moonlight. Glorfindel was smiling down at her, though not by much. His stance was casual, forearm resting on the balcony rail, head canted to one side as he listened to her speak. There was that lazy smile, that sparkle of sky blue eyes that indicated feline interest, that Erestor knew meant that he was only listening with half an ear. This was Glorfindel the predator, still half asleep, slowly making up his mind as to whether this morsel was worth waking up for.

Winter cold clutched his heart as he stepped through the doors, approached the couple at the balcony rail. He had no idea what he was going to say, knew only that it seemed necessary to make his presence known. Elralinde turned towards him as he drew closer, sloe eyes warm, limpid, keenly intelligent. She would know what that somnolent look in Glorfindel's eyes meant, Erestor thought, and perhaps she was making up her mind, too.

"Good evening, my lord." She said, her words faintly accented. He could not off hand remember where it was that Elralinde originally hailed from, and at the moment it did not seem important.

"Good evening, lady." Erestor answered, his words a little too clipped, chillier than the situation outwardly warranted. He suddenly wished that Elrond had caught him and Glorfindel on one of the many occasions they had been locked in each others embrace, that he could step to Glorfindel's side and place a possessive hand on the warrior's arm or waist.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but there is an important matter that requires Lord Glorfindel's attention." He glanced at Glorfindel, his eyes expressionless. "Could you spare a few moments?"

"Actually, the hour grows late, and I fear I must rise early tomorrow." He offered Elralinde an apologetic smile. "Can you forgive me, lady, if I must leave your side for the night? ‘Tis a shame to abandon so lovely a flower, but duty calls, and I must answer."

"I understand completely, my lord." She answered, her eyes never leaving his. "I, too, have business in the early hours, and I had hoped to speak with Lord Elrond before retiring for the evening." She curtsied, her movement graceful as a willow bowing in the breeze, and with a last, fleeting smile she turned towards the open doors. Erestor watched as she vanished into the warmth of the house, dark tresses dancing behind her, before turning to Glorfindel.

" An important matter?" Glorfindel asked sardonically, and Erestor felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"Quite important." He answered levelly, grateful for the darkness that hid his blush. "Something you need to take care of immediately."

"And what would that be?"

"Me."

Gentle laughter drifted on the spring flower scented breeze, and Erestor merely stood, hands pulled up into his sleeves, statue-like.

"When you ask me so delicately, meleth nin, how can I refuse?"

*****

"No." Erestor said, wriggling his shoulders back and away from hands that touched too carefully, that slid over his back that was not soft as an elf maid's. "Not like that."

"Then how would you like?" A throaty growl. Glorfindel's hands moved to his backwards flexed shoulders and leaned closer so that their foreheads almost touched. Erestor lowered his eyes, snaked a hand between their bodies to press against the alabaster skin so close to his own.

"Something different."

And that was how they had ended once more with Glorfindel propped up against a mound of lilac scented pillows, Erestor atop him, back to chest. This time was different, however, for though Glorfindel was buried deeply within him, Erestor's hands were knotted in the coverlet at his sides while Glorfindel toyed with his ring, stroked and touched him everywhere except for where he needed to be touched. Glorfindel could just barely reach the tips of his ears with his tongue, could just barely maintain the ceaseless licks and nips that were propelling him towards bliss, and Erestor shuddered atop him, moaned, moved his hips as much as he was able.

"Please, Glorfindel…" He gasped, cried out at the electric burst of pleasure as Glorfindel tugged gently at the ring. Writhed, inasmuch as he was able to.

"No, melethron nin." Glorfindel's voice was strained, hoarse, wavering on the outer edges of control. "I want you to come for me like this."

And he knew that Glorfindel meant it, so he let himself escape into the pleasure being allowed him. Let himself feel the waves of building ecstasy, not enough and too much all at the same time. He did not let himself think about the bruises his backwards arched shoulders were undoubtedly creating on Glorfindel's chest as he lay with head thrown back and turned so that Glorfindel could suck the sensitive points of his ears. Ignored the tension in his thigh muscles as he set his feet flat on each side of Glorfindel's thighs, lifted and lowered himself as much as he was able. Felt the sensual flow of foreplay become love making, of hands tantalizing his inner thighs, abdomen, chest.

When completion came it was as if he was overcome by a tidal wave of sensation, all encompassing yet paradoxically hollow. It did not leave him any less wanting, but over sensitized instead, desirous beyond bearing though the pinnacle had been reached. He whimpered, body flexing and spasming in reaction, too exhausted to climb for a higher a peak even though he was near to sobbing in only partially fulfilled ecstasy.

Then Glorfindel was tightening his arms about his waist, lifting him, pushing him forward onto hands and knees. Erestor trembled, muscles weak, barely able to support himself as Glorfindel released his own passion, vented his own frustrated desire within Erestor's shivering body. He would have collapsed onto the sheets if Glorfindel had not held him up as he reached his climax, had not pulled him back into his lap as he slipped from Erestor afterwards.

"You are cruel." Erestor panted, turning his face into Glorfindel's throat, and the warrior held him close, nuzzled his hair.

"Not at all, lirimaer." He whispered, trailing a hand down Erestor's chest. "I have not finished with you yet. Think you that I would leave you so?"

Erestor made no reply, clung to Glorfindel as he was lowered onto the sheets. His eyes slipped closed as Glorfindel began teasing him to full arousal once more, hands and mouth reawakening partially thwarted desire.

A moan of purest bliss past Erestor's lips as Glorfindel settled over him, took his throbbing erection in hand and slowly slipped it inside of himself. He did not have to move, did not have to do anything but lie still as Glorfindel lifted and lowered himself on powerful thighs, increasing in speed and rhythm, flexing interior muscles in counterpoint. This time there was no teasing or waiting, nothing but swiftly building ecstasy that ended in an explosion of silent white light and star shine.

"Different enough for you, lirimaer?" Glorfindel whispered down to Erestor's spent, panting form, and the dark elf could only nod in reply.

*****

Pale, dawn light flooded the room, pink tinged like a drop of blood diluted in water. Erestor watched Glorfindel dress as had become his habit, no longer feigning sleep as he did so. Propped up on his elbow, he watched his sleeping lion become an awakened warrior, watched keen eyed as he chose greens and grays that were crisper, newer than what he usually wore for patrol. Watched as he arranged his braids in a slightly more intricate design that usual.

"After lunch?" He asked, his tone nonchalant, and Glorfindel nodded.

"Of course, if you're not too busy."

"I don't think I will be."

"Well, then." He turned towards the door, and Erestor's lips compressed, his expression tense and anxious as he battled within himself. Glorfindel's hand touched the door handle.

"Glorfindel." He bit his lip, schooled himself to seamlessness as the warrior glanced back at him.

"Hmm?"

"I will be anxious for your return. I love you."

Glorfindel licked his lips, eyes wide and shocked. "I love you, too, Erestor." He paused for a moment as if meaning to say more, then nodded briefly, turned, left.

*****

Part 7

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