Part 2 - Pursuit – or Who Seduces Whom?

Posted: April 2004
Title: More Lessons
Author: Khylaren

*****

Galathil waited until Lindir took a seat at the breakfast table before taking his own right next to the minstrel.

"Maur aur, Lindir."

Lindir looked up from his plate and gave Galathil a faint smile. "Maur aur, Prince Galathil. How fare you this morning?"

Galathil smiled and took a drink from his juice. "Well enough. How goes it with you?"
He watched Lindir's slender fingers as they spread butter on a soft roll, watched as he brought the roll to his lips and took a hungry bite. Honestly, he did not know which he found more erotic: the way Lindir's fingers curled around the roll, or the way his lips wrapped around the soft bread. He found himself suddenly envious of a simple breakfast roll.

Lindir swallowed and glanced at him. "I am well," he answered quietly, his voice low and musical. His tongue flicked out to catch a stray smear of butter on the edge of his mouth.

You are wicked, Galathil thought, biting back a groan as he looked away. He was not certain, but he wondered if Lindir's action had been deliberate. Deliberate or not, it certainly had an affect on his anatomy. He dropped his napkin into his lap to hide the evidence of his growing arousal.

"I was wondering," Lindir said, reaching across Galathil for the honey, "if you were free this afternoon." He drizzled the honey over the remainder of his roll.

Galathil swallowed hard as drops of honey spilled over Lindir's fingers. "Why do you ask?" He wanted to grab those fingers and suck the honey from them right there. He managed to meet Lindir's gray-blue eyes without blushing. He lost the battle when Lindir brought his honey-smeared fingers to his own lips and licked them like a hungry kitten. "I – uh…" he stammered, unable to look away. "I have to go!" He bolted from the table without a backward glance.

Lindir watched him disappear through the doors and chuckled softly.

"You really are wicked, meldir," a familiar voice purred softly in his ear. "I have not seen Galathil so undone so quickly since I first met him."

Lindir turned his head, smiling up at Erestor. "He is quite the innocent, despite your tutoring, mellonen vrûn."

Erestor smiled faintly and took Galathil's recently abandoned seat. "Aye," he agreed. "That he is. In a way, it is refreshing." He reached for a roll and poured a generous amount of honey on it without spilling a drop. "He wants you," he said abruptly, glancing at Lindir.

"Does he?" Lindir mused, smiling wickedly. "I could not tell, to be sure. The way he bolted just now gave me some doubts."

The Noldo chuckled softly. "You were no different when I first met you, mellonen vrûn." He took a bite from his roll and chewed it with relish, following it with a long drink of tea. He wiped his mouth delicately with his napkin and glanced at Lindir again. "Will you seduce him?"

"Or allow myself to be seduced?" Lindir finished for him, his smile widening. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Erestor shrewdly. "Tell me, my old tutor, which would you prefer?"

Erestor smiled and shook his head. "No, I will not interfere. Do as you will, Lindir nín. I will be only an observer in this chase."

Lindir's eyes narrowed a moment. "And reap the benefits from it, I am certain."

"Aye," Erestor replied smoothly. "Though to be honest, the thought of having both of you in my bed does have its appeal."

The minstrel rose from his seat, bending down to press his lips against Erestor's ear. "Then perhaps you should have kept me there when you had the chance, melethron vrûn." His tongue flicked against the delicate point of Erestor's ear. "Good day to you, my Lord."

Erestor sighed and watched Lindir depart before turning to finish his breakfast.

~ * ~

Galathil leaned his forehead against the wall, resisting the urge to bang his head against it. The Hall of Fire was blessedly empty; there was no one to witness his embarrassment.

He was hopeless. Lindir had turned him into a stammering youth in less than five minutes. How could he possibly think that he had a chance of seducing the innocent-seeming minstrel when he could not hold a simple conversation? His mind kept replaying the image of Lindir's pink tongue licking the honey from his fingers, and he felt himself grow hard beneath his leggings.

It was far too easy to imagine that tongue licking something else.

Galathil lifted his forehead from the wall and glanced surreptitiously around him, before sliding his hand beneath the waistband of his leggings. He grasped the hardness he found there, coating his palm with the moisture that leaked from the tip. A soft groan escaped him as he stroked himself, imagining it was Lindir's hand that held him, Lindir's tongue giving him pleasure.

He leaned back against the wall, using his other hand to open the lacings of his leggings, giving him more freedom of movement. His head fell back against the wall and he closed his eyes, giving into the fantasy that Lindir's tongue had started.

Slow, even strokes, just the right speed to give him pleasure without rushing towards the finish. His mind's eye saw Lindir, naked, on his knees before him, his head moving up and down in time with the strokes. His breathing quickened, another low groan escaping him as he pictured Lindir's hand sliding up his tunic, across his stomach and up his chest, long fingers pinching his nipple roughly, just the way he liked.

His mouth fell open as his breathing grew ragged, his quiet moans punctuated by the soft sound of his fist working his flesh. He slipped two fingers into his mouth and wet them, sliding them beneath his tunic to caress his chest, his body beginning to tremble with his impending release.

Warmth and wetness touched his lips and Galathil's eyes flew open as he stared in shock into the gray-blue eyes inches from his own.

"Do not stop," Lindir breathed, his eyes darkening with lust as he ran the tip of his tongue across Galathil's lower lip. "Do not stop."

Galathil closed his eyes, embarrassed and so painfully aroused his whole body seemed to throb with need. "I... I..."

"Let me help you," Lindir murmured, capturing his lower lip with his teeth. Galathil felt Lindir's hand cover his own. "I want to see you come for me." Slowly, Lindir's hand began to stroke him, and Galathil moaned helplessly.

One slender hand pushed him against the wall, sliding up his tunic to touch his chest. Fingertips, calloused from years of playing instruments, brushed across his nipples, pinching them almost painfully. Galathil's legs trembled, his body collapsing against the wall as Lindir touched him without mercy, stroking him, caressing him. Lindir pressed his lips against Galathil's ear, his own breathing far from calm.

"Banwain," Lindir murmured softly, his tongue tracing the outer edge of Galathil's ear. His hand stroked the velvet length of heat between the Prince's legs and he felt the fine tremor that went through the lithe frame. "That is it, my lovely," he crooned, pressing his own body against Galathil's as his fist moved faster. "Come for me. Let me hear you."

Lindir's soft words, combined with his touch, sent Galathil over the edge. With a loud groan, he shuddered, bucking against Lindir as his release spilled from him. His hands clutched the minstrel's shoulders as he struggled to catch his breath, his body twitching with the aftershocks of his release.

Gradually, he became aware that Lindir's talented hands were lacing his leggings, even as the minstrel placed soft kisses against his neck. He pulled away slightly and met Lindir's bemused and heated gaze.

The minstrel smiled, before bending his head and brushing his lips lightly with his own. "That was lovely," he murmured. His hands slid down to Galathil's waist, holding him as he tilted back to look at him.

Galathil felt his cheeks redden under Lindir's intense gaze. "I… hannon chen," he managed.

Lindir chuckled. "You will be late with your practice session with the guard if you do not hurry, though I would recommend that you at least change your leggings." He kissed him again, and Galathil found it difficult to think of anything but the way Lindir's tongue curled and teased against his own.

Smiling, Lindir released him. "I will see you later," he promised. "You had better hurry now. You do not wish to be late."

Lost for words, Galathil could only nod, his legs still trembling as he made his way to his room to change his soiled leggings.

~ * ~

Erestor opened the door to his study just as Galathil raised his hand to knock.

"You are early," Erestor said with a nod. "Good. Come with me."

Confused, Galathil followed Erestor through the halls of the Last Homely House, wondering where they were going. This was not part of the usual routine they had established.

His confusion only grew when they reached Erestor's room and his lover pushed him inside. Erestor had no sooner locked the door than he was pulling Galathil's clothing from his body, tossing the tunic and leggings aside with utter disregard to where they landed.

"Over there. On the bed," Erestor instructed, removing his own robes with similar haste. "Now!" he snapped when Galathil did not move quick enough to suit him.

Galathil crawled onto the bed, watching his lover toss his robes aside and reach for the vial of oil.

"On your knees, ernilen," Erestor growled. "Hands on the headboard."

Alarm bells rung in Galathil's brain as he complied, gripping the headboard tightly. "Is something wrong?" he asked. A sharp slap to his buttocks made him wince.

"I did not tell you to speak, ernilen," Erestor replied. "The only thing I wish to hear from your lovely mouth are groans as I take you." Galathil's hurt _expression made his own soften slightly. He reached out, caressing the buttock he had just slapped. "Nothing is wrong, melethen," he said softly. "Melin chen."

Galathil nodded, relieved. He turned his head and faced the headboard as Erestor climbed onto the bed behind him. He whimpered slightly when his lover's oiled fingers pressed inside of him, stroking deeply, preparing the way. His hands gripped the headboard even tighter when Erestor entered him, hissing at the familiar and brief pain of being breached by his lover's hard length.

Erestor gripped Galathil's hips with his hands as he buried himself to the root in his lover's tightness. He remained motionless for a long moment, savoring the feel of the heat encasing his length. He shut his eyes, the scene he had witnessed this morning replaying behind closed lids.

Lindir's hand down Galathil's leggings, stroking him, working him towards completion. Galathil's _expression of ecstasy, his low cries of pleasure as his release claimed him. At that moment, Erestor had wanted them both so badly it was all he could do to remain hidden in the alcove, watching.

He felt Galathil tremble beneath his hands and opened his eyes. The prince's head was back, exposing the long line of his throat, and his eyes were closed tightly.

"Melin chen," Erestor repeated, and began to move. He thrust with deliberate slowness, watching Galathil's lithe body sway with the motion of his thrusts. He watched the graceful motion of his lover's throat as he swallowed, moaning softly. His hand moved from its place on Galathil's hip to stroke his back. "Banwain."

Galathil groaned, feeling Erestor fill him completely. He had not expected their coupling to be this slow, this gentle. The way his lover had acted earlier made him think that he would be taken quickly and thoroughly. The unexpected tenderness of it nearly undid him.

Erestor reached forward, leaning his weight against Galathil's back as he found his lover's rigid length. He stroked it, loving the velvet feel of it against his hand, loving the breathless groan Galathil gave with each thrust, each stroke. He felt his lover quiver beneath him, heard the rising urgency of his moans, and thrust deeper, his own release hovering just on the edge.

Galathil cried out his pleasure as his release claimed him, and he heard Erestor's answering moan. His lover thrust deeply one last time before he felt the heat of his seed fill his body. Arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down onto the bed as Erestor spooned his body behind him.

For a while, all that could be heard was the soft sound of their breathing. It was Erestor who finally broke the silence.

"I am sorry, melethen."

Galathil turned his head to gaze at Erestor in a puzzled fashion. "What are you apologizing for? That was wonderful."

Erestor smiled, placing a soft kiss against Galathil's temple. "I watched you and Lindir this morning. It put me in a mood."

"Oh," Galathil said faintly, uncertain what else to say. "I am sorry," he said finally. "I should not want another."

"Nonsense," Erestor replied firmly, giving him a faint smile. "I do not expect that from you. I do not think you are ready to commit yourself to a relationship of that nature. You are young, and inexperienced. I want you to experience more of what life has to hold before you agree to become my mate."

"But I love you, Erestor," Galathil said firmly. "I should not want any others besides you."

"And I love you as well, ernilen. More than I should, more than I thought possible. But, I am not selfish enough to take you for myself alone." Erestor sighed, holding Galathil tightly for a moment. "I would not have you bind yourself to me only to discover that you love another. I wish only to give you the chance to discover what you truly want, before you decide."

Galathil looked at his lover a moment, before finally nodding. "I suppose you are wiser than I in this." A playful smile curved his lips. "You are my elder, after all, by several hundred years."

Erestor swatted his buttocks with his hand, scowling. "Never forget it, youngling."

The prince squirmed under the blow, a soft gasp of surprise escaping him. Erestor chuckled and did it again, a little harder than before. "You squirm so delightfully, ernilen," he murmured. "Would you like Lindir to handle you thus?"

Galathil whimpered softly as another stinging blow landed on his buttocks. "Aye," he whispered, feeling himself growing hard against the mattress. He gasped when Erestor's fingers closed around his re-awakened length, stroking it firmly.

"That," Erestor crooned, swatting Galathil's upturned bottom again, "would be a sight to see." He chuckled at the Prince's plaintive moan. "I have not forgotten your promise to me, ernilen. I do believe your bottom needs a good warming."

"Please," Galathil pleaded softly as Erestor's hand continued to tease his length.

"Hand or strap, ernilen?" Erestor demanded, his hand connecting sharply with Galathil's buttocks. His other hand never ceased its merciless movements, pumping the prince's arousal with sure, even strokes.

"Ai! Hand! Hand!" Galathil panted, not wanting to have to move to fetch the strap. He never wanted to move, never wanted the delicious torture of pain and pleasure to end.

"Strap it is then," Erestor replied wickedly, releasing Galathil abruptly. "Go and fetch it, ernilen."

Galathil groaned his disappointment, but did as he was bid, rising from the bed to fetch the soft, leather strap from the storage chest. When he returned, Erestor had dressed in his robes, and was sitting on the divan. Wordlessly he handed his lover the strap and assumed the position across Erestor's lap, feeling both foolish and deliciously naughty as his naked skin rubbed against the velvet of his lover's robes.

"I expect you to not stain these robes, ernilen," Erestor told him mildly, his hands caressing his already warmed buttocks with light touches. "I shall be most displeased if you do."

Galathil shivered at his words and at the sudden loss of Erestor's hands against his skin. Unconsciously, his body tensed for the blow he knew was coming.

"Lift your hips a little," Erestor told him, sliding his hand beneath his stomach to grasp his throbbing length.

He cannot mean to, Galathil thought, gasping as Erestor began to stroke him again. I will not be able to keep from… All rational thought fled as he felt the first stinging blow of the strap against his buttocks. He closed his eyes, a soft whimper escaping him. As Erestor spanked him, his hand continued to slowly pump his length. Galathil struggled not to give into the release that was slowly, inevitably building with each delicious lick of the strap and accompanying stroke. It was a battle that he could not win.

"Erestor," Galathil panted roughly. "Please. I am going to… Ai!" His body arched as his seed spilled from him, coating Erestor's hand and spilling onto his robes. Tears of relief and humiliation sprang from his eyes and he sobbed quietly, feeling his lover stroke his back in gentle, soothing strokes. He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and raised himself up, looking shamefacedly at the stain on Erestor's black robes. "I am sorry," he said softly.

Erestor's fingers gripped his chin and lifted his gaze. His lover was smiling gently at him. "You did fine, melethen. I expected nothing else." His smile broadened as he stroked the side of Galathil's cheek. "In fact, you lasted longer than I thought you would."

Galathil managed a smile, sighing when Erestor kissed him. There was something delightfully decadent about being naked in his lover's lap, feeling the soft brush of his robes against his skin while his lover kissed him senseless.

"Now, go and bathe. Get dressed, and enjoy your afternoon," Erestor told him quietly. "I must change and return to my work."

"Yes, Erestor," Galathil said, rising to his feet to gather his strewn clothing. He paused, leaning down to kiss Erestor softly. "Melin chen."

"Melin chen, ernilen," Erestor replied, pulling at his robes with a sigh of resignation.

"I suppose there is a penalty for mussing your robes?" Galathil asked with a challenging grin.

Erestor looked up at him, his own smile wicked. "Oh yes, ernilen. There is."

*****

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