Part 4 - Caught in the Middle

Posted: May 2004
Author: Khylaren

*****

Galathil woke from his reverie feeling rested and refreshed. His eyes focused slowly and he became gradually aware of the warmth of Lindir's body spooned behind his.

"Sleep well?" Lindir asked softly.

He rolled to his other side so he could see the minstrel's face. Lindir's expression was thoughtful, though a smile curved his full lips.

"Why?" Galathil asked quietly, his gaze intent on Lindir's face.

Lindir's smile grew wider for a moment. "Why what, Galathil?"

He hesitated a moment and, instead of answering, he shook his head. "I was supposed to seduce you, not the other way around."

The minstrel laughed, a low, musical sound. "You are young and inexperienced yet, Galathil." His laughter faded and his voice dropped low. "I imagine you wished to do to me what I have done to you?"

Galathil blushed and looked away. "Aye," he whispered. "Just so." He felt Lindir's fingers touch his chin, turning his face towards him again.

"It would never be so," Lindir told him seriously. "For I have not yielded to another since Master Erestor, and I will not again. That role will never be mine again." He lifted an eyebrow, his gaze sliding slowly over Galathil's body. "As yours will never truly be that of a master."

The Prince stiffened, jerking his head away from Lindir's touch. "How say you so?" He pulled himself into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around his legs, glaring angrily at the minstrel. Quicker than he could have thought, Lindir knocked him flat, capturing his wrists with the strength of his hands and pinning him with his body.

"I know so," Lindir breathed in a low growl, grinding his hips slowly against Galathil's already rising arousal. "You enjoy this far too much, ernilen, to ever wish to relinquish it. To be held, thus, at my mercy. To be taken, used, loved, shaken and spent or left burning with need. A firm hand drives your lust, and well I can see it." He bent his head, nipping lightly at Galathil's lips, before smiling hungrily at the Prince. "Lord Erestor saw it." He rocked his hips forward again, wringing a low groan from Galathil's lips. "Perhaps your Adar knew it, as well."

Galathil's eyes flew open in anger at Lindir's words and he bucked beneath him, trying to throw the minstrel off. "Get off me," he snarled, even as his body betrayed him with his desire, his legs parting further, bringing their bodies into closer contact.

Lindir captured his lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering the depths of Galathil's mouth. He kissed him ruthlessly, relentlessly, hungrily, until Galathil moaned, the will to fight abruptly leaving him.

The minstrel drew back, his breathing a little more than ragged, and regarded the prince beneath him with glittering eyes.

"Erestor does not know what he has in you, or he would not allow you out of his sight," Lindir whispered. "If you were mine, I would not let you dally with others."

"I am not yours," Galathil answered weakly, though his hips rose to meet Lindir's in a silent entreaty.

Lindir smiled wickedly and bent his head, biting the soft flesh of Galathil's neck lightly. "Not yet, ernilen vain," he whispered, licking the skin he had just assaulted with his teeth. "Not yet." He moved lower, keeping a tight hold on Galathil's wrists. His teeth grazed a taut nipple before he drew it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue until the prince cried out beneath him.

"I would make you mine, Galathil," Lindir murmured, turning his attention to the other nipple, laving it gently with his tongue. "I would love you until you fell asleep in my arms and then wake you to a new day with more of the same." His tongue moved lower, sliding across the taut skin of Galathil's stomach, circling the indentation in the middle with slow, and teasing flicks. "Your skin would carry the marks of my possession, and your passions would burn for me alone." His tongue plunged into the center of the indentation, mimicking the act of passion he spoke of, making Galathil writhe beneath him.

While his heart denied Lindir's words, Galathil could not deny the affect they had on him. He whimpered softly as Lindir's tongue swept over the tip of his shaft and lapped at the moisture there. His wrists ached from being gripped so tightly, but he was only marginally aware of his discomfort as Lindir's mouth moved over him, swallowing his length whole. He cried out, arching beneath the minstrel, surrendering to his body's desires wantonly.

Lindir tasted him greedily, flicking his tongue over the velvet hardness in his mouth, Galathil's soft keening moans filling his ears like the sweetest music. His hands released their grip on Galathil's wrists to slide down his body, coming to a rest on the Prince's narrow hips. His fingers splayed wide, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh where Galathil's leg met his groin, palms cupping the sides of his thighs.

He drew back, running his tongue slowly along the backside of Galathil's shaft, swirling it teasingly around the head, before taking it deeply into his mouth again. Galathil's answering groan was loud, and he felt the Prince's fingers brush his shoulders almost hesitantly, as if asking permission. Lindir drew back, looking up the line of Galathil's body to his face. The Prince's eyes were closed, his head thrown back, golden hair spilling over the blanket like a molten waterfall. His lips were parted, soft moans escaping them as Lindir's hand took over the duty his mouth had been doing before.

He had meant every word he had spoke to the Prince, he realized, dropping his mouth to suck lightly on Galathil's inner thigh. He would make Galathil his, if he could.

Lindir moved lower, lapping at the soft, round pouch of skin beneath Galathil's length, drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. An answering shudder wracked Galathil's lithe frame, a soft plaintive moan coming from his lips.

Galathil was lost to the sensation's Lindir's skillful caresses elicited. His hands clutched at the minstrel's shoulders tightly as Lindir took him in his mouth again, swallowing his length deeply. He would not last much longer under such treatment – and he realized that he wanted it to; he wanted more.

His hands pushed at Lindir gently, and the minstrel paused in his attentions, looking almost feral as he rolled his eyes up to Galathil's gaze.

"I want to taste you as well," Galathil gasped, struggling to regain some control. "Please." He swallowed hard, gasping again as Lindir let his length slowly slide free from his lips. "Ai!" He shuddered, licking his lips. "Let me put my mouth on you, Lindir."

The minstrel smiled, dropping his head to nuzzle the soft hairs that grew at the base of Galathil's arousal. "If that is what you wish, pen-vaelui," he murmured. His body practically hummed in anticipation as Galathil shifted beneath him, rolling to his side. Lindir moved, lying beside him so that his hips were level with Galathil's shoulders, his own shoulders equal with the Prince's thighs. He felt Galathil's hands come to rest on his legs, parting them slightly, and sighed in pleasure when the Prince's lips brushed the end of his length. His sigh became a full-throated groan as Galathil took his shaft between his lips and swallowed his length whole.

Lindir relished the feel of Galathil's lips and tongue for a moment, before bending to his own task with equal enthusiasm. His hands gripped Galathil's thighs, parting them further, allowing him unrestricted access to the Prince's more sensitive areas. He was more than pleasantly distracted by Galathil's mouth, and for a moment, he could only groan appreciatively as the Prince took him deep into his throat, before he turned his mind to the pleasurable work before him.

Galathil arched, crying out softly when Lindir's mouth left his length, his tongue flickering over the crease of his thigh, before delving between his buttocks. He whimpered at the first, velvet swipe of tongue against his opening, his eyes glazing at the sensation of it. He forgot himself for a moment, lost to the pleasure of the feel of Lindir's tongue pressing against him, circling his opening, before pressing firmly inside.

The breath he had been holding escaped him in an explosive gasp. "Gods, Lindir," he moaned, burying his face between the minstrel's thighs. Never had he felt anything quite as exquisite as the feel of Lindir's tongue working its way inside him. He whimpered, spreading his legs further apart. He could not bear it, yet he never wanted the blissful torture to end.

When Lindir wrapped his hand around Galathil's length and stroked it in opposition of the insistent thrusting of his tongue, the prince was lost. He cried out, arching against Lindir's body, shuddering as his release claimed him and left him utterly spent.

Lindir licked the quivering opening one last time, making Galathil tremble beneath him, before he drew himself up with a satisfied smile. He went to move, to turn and lay front wise beside Galathil, when the Prince surprised him by grabbing his hips and holding him immobile.

"Stay there," Galathil whispered, nuzzling the soft blonde hair that grew at the base of Lindir's arousal. He lifted his head slightly and met the minstrel's gaze with a hungry smile. "I would return the favor."

Nodding, Lindir lay back, his head cushioned by Galathil's thigh. The prince had greatly surprised him by his request, but he was more than happy to comply. A startled moan escaped him as Galathil's tongue teased the crease of his buttocks, before delving between them deeply.

Galathil rolled, pushing Lindir on his back and shifted position, coming to kneel between the minstrel's thighs. He glanced up briefly, smiling at the look of hunger and need on Lindir's face, before returning to his exploration. His hands cupped the smooth cheeks of the minstrel's buttocks, lifting them higher as he nuzzled the soft pouch of skin that nestled below Lindir's length. His tongue flicked out, tracing the sensitive flesh, before sliding lower, earning himself a soft, pleading groan for his efforts. He smiled against the heat of Lindir's skin, before his tongue swept out again, this time brushing over the small, puckered opening between the minstrel's buttocks.

Lindir moaned, his head falling back, his body alternately tensing and going utterly limp as Galathil tasted him, circling the silky skin with the tip of his tongue. He used his thumbs to spread Lindir before him, opening him to his gaze and touch. Lindir cried out softly, stiffening beneath him as he pressed into him, feeling the muscles flutter and clench around his tongue. Galathil warmed to his task, pushing deeper, thrusting his tongue into Lindir's heat until the minstrel began to whimper softly.

Galathil shifted his hold on Lindir's hips, raising them higher to give him better access. His tongue stiffened, thrusting deeper, and Lindir arched beneath him, uttering a plaintive wail.

"Ai, Galathil, please…" Lindir realized he was pleading and did not care.

The minstrel's needful words pleased Galathil, as did the trembling of Lindir's fair limbs. He slid one hand over Lindir's hip and across the flat of his stomach, brushing teasingly close to the hard length of flesh that wept for attention. He withdrew his tongue completely, only to thrust it forward again as deeply as he could, and Lindir bucked against him.

Holding him tightly with one arm across his hips, Galathil worked his tongue in a maddening rhythm until Lindir was arching, gasping, and pleading for him to touch him. With a feeling of triumph, he ran his fingers over Lindir's length, pushing his tongue into his body as far as it could go. With a shuddering cry, Lindir came, nearly throwing Galathil off of his body with the force of his climax.

Lindir fell back against the blanket, feeling as if he had just run several leagues with a party of orcs at his heels. He was trembling, twitching every so often from the aftermath of his release, and it was all he could do to simply catch his breath. He felt Galathil move, felt his body slide along side him, and turned his head to look at the prince with a glazed expression.

Galathil smiled smugly at him, before dropping a kiss against his open mouth.

"You… look entirely too pleased with yourself, ernilen," Lindir managed weakly.

"I am," the prince agreed, looking down at Lindir's spent form approvingly. "I like seeing you like this." He bent to taste Lindir's mouth once more, slow and lingering. When he drew back, he gave the minstrel a thoughtful look. "I could get used to seeing you this way."

His words brought Lindir slowly out of his pleasant reverie. He rose up on one elbow and regarded the prince steadily. "What are you saying, Galathil?" he asked quietly.

Galathil frowned and looked away. "I do not know," he answered, after a long moment of silence. "I – I need to think about this." He rose to his feet gracefully and began to dress, pulling his clothing on without looking at Lindir.

Lindir watched him expressionlessly for a moment, before he rose as well.

They did not speak as they rode back to the Last Homely House, though Lindir caught Galathil looking at him with a thoughtful frown more than once, as if he were trying to puzzle something out. They parted at the stables, and Lindir could tell that Galathil was uncertain how to make his leave taking. The confusion on his fair face was understandable, Lindir thought. After all, how does one leave a lover to go knowingly into the bed of another? What does one say at such a moment?

Lindir caught Galathil's arm and drew him close for a moment, kissing him gently. "Go, ernilen. I am certain Erestor is wondering where you are." There was no reproof, no censure in his soft words.

Nonetheless, Galathil flinched as though struck, and turned away.

"I am sorry, Lindir," he said quietly. "I…"

Lindir stopped him before he could say anything further, placing his fingers against Galathil's lips. "No apologies, ernilen. I had a wonderful afternoon and I thank you for it. I am not asking for anything you cannot give me."

Galathil nodded slowly, and offered him a faint smile. "I did as well. Thank you." He turned then, and left Lindir standing by the stables, watching him go.

A smile curled Lindir's lips and he turned, whistling a cheerful tune as he made his way to his quarters.

~ * ~

Galathil lay back against Erestor's chest, closing his eyes as his lover poured water over his hair, rinsing it clean.

"Did you have a good day, ernilen?" Erestor asked, pouring a large amount of soap in his hands and rubbing them against Galathil's chest.

"Yes," Galathil answered softly, nearly purring with pleasure as Erestor's skillful hands caressed him even as they cleaned him. "I went for a ride with Lindir."

Erestor's hands stilled for a moment, before resuming their task. Galathil waited for his lover to speak, to question or chide he did not know which, but Erestor remained silent. Finally Galathil broke the silence.

"Are you angry with me, Erestor?" When his lover still did not speak, Galathil turned in his arms, pulling back slightly to see his face. The Noldo's expression was mild, pleasant, and unreadable. They could have been discussing the weather for all the interest shown in his lovely features.

"Erestor?"

His lover sighed, rinsing his hands of the soap residue and drying them quickly on a nearby towel. "I am not angry, Galathil. Why would you think that?"

Galathil bit his lip.

Erestor sighed again, reaching for the comb on the ledge of the tub and running it through Galathil's hair. "I told you before, melethron, that I wanted you to be certain of your heart. I want you to explore and discover the pleasures that life can hold before you make your choice. I would not have you bind yourself to me until you know that it is what you want."

"It is what I want, Erestor," Galathil interjected earnestly. "More than anything."

The dark-haired elf tilted his head slightly, smiling in a faintly mocking manner. "Is it, melethron? How long did it take Lindir to get you where he wanted you? Hmm?" He shook his head as Galathil opened his mouth to explain, or perhaps protest. "It matters not, Galathil. Though you say you love me, and I do not doubt that you indeed have strong feelings for me, as I do for you, I do not believe it is the kind of love that will last until the end of time. Your desire for Lindir has told me that well enough."

"But you told me I should…" Galathil began, halting confusedly. "I do not understand."

Erestor put the comb away and drew Galathil close in his embrace, resting his chin on the prince's hair. "You are young, Galathil. Well past your majority, aye, but young nevertheless. Until you met me, your experiences in love and passion were limited, am I correct?"

"Aye," Galathil whispered, laying his hands on Erestor's arms and leaning against his lover with a sigh.

"I am your lover," Erestor continued, placing a gentle kiss on his brow. "But I do not believe, when all is said and done, that we will be bound. You will come to understand that our relationship is based on the physical, not the emotional. I think you think you love me, because no one has given you the things that I have given you, ernilen. I think that one day, someone will come into your life who will open your eyes to what love truly is. And, while passion is indeed an important aspect of love, it is not all encompassing. There are other things equally important, if not more so, than physical pleasure."

Galathil shifted in Erestor's arms, turning his head to look up at the older elf. "What do you want, Erestor?" he asked softly.

The Noldo smiled at him, his hold loosening slightly. "I want you to be happy, ernilen. That is all I truly want."

The prince shook his head stubbornly. "No, I mean, what do you want for yourself?" He blinked and looked away. "Would you want me?"

~ * ~

Erestor hesitated, torn between speaking his heart, his truest dreams and desires, or telling the prince what he thought he should hear. He remembered his words to Thranduil, his promise, and knew he had to speak the absolute truth.

"Aye," he replied finally, his arms tightening once more. "I would."

Galathil turned fully in his arms, straddling his hips and looked Erestor firmly in the eyes. Erestor was startled to see the strength of resolution he saw in their blue depths.

"What do you want me to do, melethron?" Galathil said quietly. "Tell me the truth, not just what you believe is best for me. No more games."

Erestor shifted and glanced away a moment before replying. "I still believe you should taste the world, ernilen, before you settle your heart on me." He looked back and met Galathil's gaze evenly. "I swore to your father I would not hurt you, that I would not break your heart. Please do as I ask, Galathil." His hands stroked the prince's back soothingly, sliding over the bare wet skin with ease. "I cannot be so selfish as to keep you for myself when you have so much yet to learn of this world and all it has to hold. No matter how much I may want to."

Galathil tilted his head, and Erestor saw the challenge in his eyes. "And if I fall in love with another? If I chose another to be my mate?"

Ignoring the pang in his heart at Galathil's words, Erestor replied evenly, "Then I will wish you all the happiness you deserve, ernilen vain."

*****

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