Posted: December 2003
Title: I Watch Them
Author: Khylea
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel/Haldir
Rating: NC-17 for graphic descriptions of male/male/male (no, that is not a typo, it's a threeway) sex
Disclaimer: I do not own them...Duh....I think we all know the drill by now. But if I did, they'd have WAY more fun and be doing stuff like this a lot more often. So maybe it's best I don't. The One Ring probably never would have been destroyed if I was writing the story, the elves would all be too busy screwing each other. And Rivendell would have a different name too. Maybe something like "Lord Elrond's Pleasure Palace". I don't make any profit either, yada yada yada....
Timeline: A few hundred years before the war of the ring
Dedication: For Anais, who keeps me writing. :)
Author's Notes: This was written as a "Secret Santa" challenge fic issued by Evamaria (a.k.a. Shirasade). In late November, she set up a website where anyone who was interested in writing a fic for someone else to give to them as a Christmas present could sign up. Each person was to write in with a request of what they would like to read and would have a fic written for them, and then would write one for someone else. My assignment was to write a story where Glorfindel and Erestor are an established couple, and Haldir wants to get in on the action. So if the pairing squicks you out, blame the person who asked for this, CJ (a.k.a. Xris), don't blame me! LOL

Summary: Haldir watches Erestor and Glorfindel together and wants to get in on the action. Pffft. It's a PWP, what kind of summary do you want? Haldir, Glorfindel and Erestor do the horizontal mambo. There's your summary!!! ;-)

*****

I watch them.

I know I should not, I know my actions are highly inappropriate for a Galadhrim March Warden, and I feel like an elfling when I do it, but I cannot help myself. They are so beautiful, so different. Night and day, obsidian and gold, scholar and warrior, shy and bold, one plans his day down to the minute, the other takes life as it comes and deals with it then. They are only alike in two ways, their dedication to the Lord of Imladris and their devotion to each other.

It was Erestor, more than anyone, who helped Glorfindel re-adjust to life on Arda after an age in the Halls of Mandos. It was Erestor who helped the seneschal reconcile his life in Gondolin with his life in Imladris. It was Erestor who helped him deal with the demons of his past, the memories of the Balrog pulling him to his death by his long golden hair. It was Erestor who heard his screams in the night when the nightmares refused to release him from their icy grip. Who would shake him to awareness, dodging the blows of an elf still half in reverie. Who would hold him, rocking him in his lap and singing soft lullabies to him as if he were an elfling, until the dark images would release their grip on his tortured mind and the sobs would abate. It was nothing more than gratitude at first, but from that gratitude, friendship developed, and from friendship, love.

They kept it secret at first, not wanting it to affect their relationships with Lord Elrond, their dedication to their duties, but it was not long before whispers began in the halls of Imladris. Soft whispers, audible only to elven ears, about the long hours they would spend sequestered in Erestor's study, the sparkle in their eyes and the glow in their cheeks when they returned from a ride together. Finally, to dispel further rumors, they revealed their pledges of love, their bond to each other, and under a full moon a day before the summer solstice, made that bond official.

I was not here to witness any of that, but was able to garner most of the details from whispered conversations overheard at night in the Hall of Fire. And even were I to know none of the circumstances surrounding how their love first blossomed, I would have to be as blind as a mortal to see no evidence of it. The gentle touches at the table as we partake of a meal, the smiles and clasping of hands as Glorfindel returns from patrol, the light in their eyes as they first catch sight of one another after an absence.

One would think theirs would not be an equal partnership, that the quiet, shy Erestor would be overwhelmed by Glorfindel's strong, outgoing presence, but it is not so. They each have strengths that compliment the weaknesses of the other, making them more together than the sum of their parts. Though wielding a sword in battle is a memory Erestor's fingers have all but forgotten, his love ensures he never forgets what he learned ages ago, and he is no easy defeat for the Balrog Slayer. And though Glorfindel's idea of organization is to throw all his soiled garments into the same corner of their bedroom, Erestor continues to instruct him on how the paperwork is laid out so the seneschal could take over the running of Imladris if necessary.

Nor is there inequity in their lovemaking. Though he is reserved and soft-spoken when talking with others, and though mere mention of some of the foolish things he did in his youth is enough to color his cheeks, Erestor gives as good as he gets. He is unafraid to stand up for what he believes in, and when Elrond makes a decision he does not agree with, he will stand eye to eye with his lord and tell him how he feels. And more often than not, Elrond will defer to the advice of his chief counselor. Anyone who has seen him sitting in the library, quietly transcribing a book, would hardly believe this is the same elf who often gives his mate bruises and bite marks from the intensity of their passion.

Their love is a rare thing, of a rare intensity, seldom seen even among elves. Though I have never lacked for bed mates, I have never felt for or inspired in another the kind of devotion the chief counselor and the Seneschal of Imladris feel for each other. Perhaps that is why I am so drawn to them; they show me glimpses of a relationship I can only dream of. Perhaps that is why I watch them, why I hide myself in the bushes as they give themselves to each other near the base of the waterfall, my hand stealing down into my leggings to stroke my arousal. Why I squeeze and pull on the hard flesh, imagining their hands on me, as I time my release to coincide with theirs. Why I look longingly at what I will never have.

I watch them.

*****

He watches us, thinking he is unseen, but I am not yet so old that I do not see the glimmer of his silver hair in the bushes as he spies on us. That I do not hear his soft moans as he strokes himself, that I do not smell the sharp tang of his release. And even if I did not, the longing glances he shoots our way in the halls of Imladris, the glances he tries so hard to hide, give him away as surely as if he stood from the balcony and shouted his desire to the entire valley. He is envious, Haldir of Lorien is. Envious of the love Erestor and I feel for each other.

If only he understood that love did not come without a price. He was not here to see all the nights I woke screaming from nightmares, the nights I would shake for hours under my covers, dreaming again of my death in Gondolin. He did not see the bruises I left on my mate when he woke me from a nightmare, my hands wildly flailing, as I fought the Balrog again and again and again. He did not see how Erestor would give up the comfort of his own bed to hold me in the armchair next to the fire, singing soft songs to me in Quenya, because only the high tongue seemed to get through my shattered memories.

Others have often told me how fortunate I am to have been given another chance at life, and I suppose they are right. But they do not know at what price that life was given, and I shall never tell them. I wish no sympathy, no pity from them. But they do not understand. They do not know the difficulty of resolving two lifetimes of memories, the anguish I still feel at not being able to save my people, my king, in Gondolin. The confusion I first felt at waking up in a body, in a mind, that was not mine. But more than anything, they do not see how I would have descended into madness were it not for the enduring love of my dear Erestor. How his kindness, his gentle support, his tender touches, were all that kept me going. All that convinced me to rise from bed each morning and face another difficult day attempting to meld two lifetimes into one coherent life.

Perhaps that is why I feel no anger, no resentment, at Haldir invading our private time. I know Erestor knows he is there as well, and my normally prudish counselor does not mind showing a bit more of himself, literally and figuratively, than he normally does to others. We both know I am his, and he is mine. I could leave my dark beauty alone with him for hours, for days, and nothing would happen that would betray our love. As he knows I would do for him.

That does not mean we do not look at others, that we do not find others attractive. His eyes glazed over like a maiden when Celeborn visited us a few decades ago, and I admit to more than a casual glance at the king of Mirkwood. But though we look at others, and on occasion share our bodies with other than our mate, that does not lessen the strength of our bond. Perhaps that is why Haldir's voyeurism amuses me more than anything else. He watches us, perhaps tries to discover what it is that draws us to each other, instead of cultivating his own relationships. He is certainly attractive enough, and were he to put as much effort into finding his own love as he does into watching mine, he would be long since mated. But perhaps he finds it more fulfilling just to watch.

*****

He watches us covertly, thinking he is unobserved, but we know when he is there. Though I see him there now, I was not the one to notice him first. I have been a warrior in ages past, but my senses have been slightly dulled by my most recent battles being only with quills and scrolls and visiting diplomats. No, it was my golden warrior who first noticed him lurking in the bushes as we made love in the clearing.

I wanted to call to him right then, to indicate our awareness of his presence and demand he leave immediately, but Glorfindel had shaken his head slightly and smiled. "Let him see what love should be, Erestor," he had whispered into my ear. "Let him see that it is more than how many bed-mates he can have in a year." I had nodded hesitantly, none too pleased about revealing myself to Haldir, but willing to go along with what my mate wanted. Whether he truly wanted to show Haldir what love was meant to be, or was just taking the opportunity to exhibit that side of himself that enjoys being watched, I do not know, but when he bent over me and took my throbbing arousal into his mouth, I found I no longer cared. Valar knows I have never been able to refuse him any desire he might have, regardless.

Glorfindel believes he was brought back from the Halls of Mandos to serve as Elrond's seneschal, to serve the son of the child he saved in Gondolin, but I often wonder if the Valar also had my happiness in mind. Were it not for the terrible nightmares, the awful memories I helped him with the first few decades back in Arda, I never would have approached him on my own.

Others have told me they find me attractive, but until my golden beauty said it to me, I do not believe I ever truly accepted the words. Among a people known for their loveliness, I always felt plain and ordinary. My nose always seemed a little too long, my ears a little too round, my hair having none of the rich golden hues of Thranduil or his sons, or even the clear silver of Celeborn.

I did not mind soothing him through his nightmares, indeed, some part of me enjoyed being needed, enjoyed my role as comforter and protector. But I must admit to a bit of worry when he finally began to tame the demons of his past life. Would he still need me? Would he still allow me to hold him? To touch his glorious body? To stroke his silky hair?

I was despondent that day when he came to me and took my hand in his in a warrior's grip, saying that he appreciated all I had done for him, but that he felt he could make it on his own from then on. That he did not want me to forsake the comfort of my bed just to comfort him, to wake him from a nightmare.

But I was more than a little surprised when he smiled slightly, almost shyly, and told me that he would certainly welcome my company at other times of the day, however. At first I thought it was nothing more than gratitude, or perhaps shame. Shame at his own weakness, shame at how he, the legendary Balrog Slayer of Gondolin, had broken down and sobbed like an elfling in my arms. Or even fear. Fear that I would take advantage of the weakened state I had seen him in, and shame him by revealing that weakness to others that he respected. Perhaps he continued to spend time with me out of a sense of obligation, until he saw my attentions had been given with no requirements for reciprocation. I never asked him, and now it is unimportant. Now he stays because he loves me, because of who I am, not for what I did for him so many years ago.

I may not have the sharp warrior's eyes I had in my youth, but I am far from blind. I see his beauty, I see how others stare at him, maiden and warrior alike. But he forsakes the attentions of others, choosing to give his heart to me instead. Whether I am deserving of that honor, I do not know. All I know is that I love him, that I feel as if a part of my soul is missing when we are apart, that I would surely die of a broken heart were he to be taken from me.

Which is perhaps why Haldir's actions do not bother me as much as they would were I less sure of Glorfindel's love. It took many a year, but finally I believe he loves me with all his heart and soul, finally believe he would not forsake me for another. I have nothing to be ashamed of, either of my own body, or of anything I do with Glorfindel. If Haldir wants to watch us, and my mate does not mind, why should I? Perhaps we should just let him watch.

*****

The practice had gone on for so long, no one remembered who had first suggested it, Galadriel or Celeborn from Lothlorien, or Elrond or one of his advisors from Imladris. All anyone remembered was that a handful of border guards from Imladris would switch places with a handful of wardens from Lorien, would live in the other realm for several years. Each side would benefit, learning more intimate intelligence reports of Orc activities, sparring and sharpening their skills with elves who, due to the long separation of their realms, had developed a slightly different fighting style than their neighbors across the mountains.

Though most were resistant to leaving the comfort of their homes, the companionship of their friends, there were few who would argue the exchange program was not beneficial to both sides. Even Haldir, though he had in the beginning been one of the loudest opponents of losing a half dozen of his trained warriors for others "greener than a yearling shoot" in his words, had seen the new knowledge his marchwarden's returned with, and when the time came to fulfill his duty, started the long journey for Imladris without complaint.

He had felt uneasy at first, the open air buildings, the huge courtyards, making him feel vulnerable and exposed. But as the weeks and months went on, and he experienced the level of discipline expected of Glorfindel's warriors, he revised his opinion of Imladris.

Glorfindel treated each new batch of wardens as if they were elflings, just learning the ways of battle, starting them on the most basic of exercises. Though there were many who mumbled under their breath about him being too harsh, or condescending toward experienced guardians, there were few who did not appreciate his teachings by the time they returned to Lorien. It was far too easy to fall into bad habits on the borders when days would pass and the most threat you might see is a coney trying to steal your lembas. But the seneschal expected everyone to fight to the limit of their ability, and bruises and cuts were not an uncommon occurrence if he felt they were not taking a training exercise seriously.

Haldir began to watch him, first out of curiosity, then out of genuine fascination, the same day he had given the young Marchwarden a gash on the sword arm. Haldir was fast, but not quite fast enough to dodge the blow, and Glorfindel's blade had laid open his arm from wrist to elbow. Rather than stopping the exercise like Haldir had expected, Glorfindel had charged him, barking at him to switch to his other hand, that in battle the enemy is not going to stop just because you are injured.

Haldir had fought desperately, using his weaker arm, not able to make any headway against the powerful golden warrior. The others had watched the intensity of the exercise, seen the fire in Glorfindel's eyes, the way he appeared to be all too happy to inflict another wound on Haldir if the Marchwarden fought one whit below his ability. They had fought until Haldir's breath came hard, his hair plastered to his sweat damp forehead. Suddenly stepping back from the battle, Glorfindel bowed slightly to Haldir, throwing an arm around his shoulders and helping him into the house so Elrond could see to his wound. All those who had just witnessed the ferocity of Glorfindel's attack found it hard to believe afterward that the same elf could laugh about the mistakes he had made during the exercise when he was Haldir's age, could be the same elf who later found an injured bird and carried it back into the house so gently not a feather was ruffled. But none became more fascinated with him than Haldir.

Haldir had followed him that night, his arm heavily bandaged, as he made his way out into the garden for a midnight rendezvous with his mate. He had hidden behind a bush and watched as those same hands that had seemed intent on taking his life only a few hours before, now gently cupped the soft skin of his love's face. How those lips that had shouted sharp orders to him, now whispered the sweetest endearments in a delicately pointed ear. How that body, hardened from battle, could gently, carefully mold against Erestor's, pressing ever so gently into the front of the counselor's formal robes.

And as Haldir watched, fascinated with the change he had seen come over Glorfindel, an equally stunning change came over Erestor. No longer the shy, quiet scholar, he kissed with the intensity of any warrior, the soft uncalloused hands suddenly growing hot and demanding in need. The mask of indifference that served him well in dealings with outsiders suddenly dropped, revealing an elf of passion and fire. And when they finally tumbled onto the grass, half naked and nearly out of their minds with desire, it was the counselor who did the taking, the seneschal who submitted to him.

How many nights had he watched them together, pleasuring himself to the sounds of their lovemaking? More than he could count, feeling more and more ashamed each time, but drawn to them, with a strange fascination he could not seem to control.

And now here he was again, hiding behind a tree, watching them as they lounged together in a meadow in the forest. Glorfindel leaned against a tree stump, his mate relaxing back against his chest. Erestor sighed softly as the golden-haired warrior undid his intricate braids, gently combing his calloused fingers through the silky ebony locks. Glorfindel leaned forward, whispering something in Erestor's ear that caused the counselor to chuckle softly and nod.

"Are you planning on secretly watching us all night again, Haldir? Or are you going to reveal yourself this time?" Glorfindel's voice finally rang out clearly in the silence of the night.

Two sets of eyes, brown and blue, turned toward Haldir, making him press more firmly into the bushes behind him. He contemplated running, but had seen enough of Glorfindel's quickness during training exercises and knew he could never outrun the older elf.

Quicker than Haldir could react, Glorfindel had lifted his mate off his lap and risen to his feet. With another quick lunge he had crossed the small clearing and grasped the arm of the startled Marchwarden. His eyes bored into Haldir's with an intensity that made the Galadhrim shiver. "Is spying on the private times of others accepted behavior in Lorien, Haldir?" Glorfindel asked, tightening his grip on the squirming elf. Haldir flinched as the powerful fingers dug into his arm, feeling his fingertips grow numb. "I asked you a question, Galadhrim." Glorfindel's voice was low and harsh with threat, and Haldir quickly shook his head, not meeting the seneschal's hard stare. "I did not think your Lord and Lady would tolerate such behavior." Glorfindel continued, bodily dragging Haldir back into the clearing with him. "Perhaps we should inform them of the behavior of their Marchwarden, what do you think, Erestor?"

The counselor leaned back on one elbow on the soft grass, contemplating. "Perhaps we should. I know you would certainly want to be informed if one of your border guards exhibited such deviant behavior." His voice held the same severity as Glorfindel's, but had Haldir happened to meet his eyes at that moment, he would have seen the wicked gleam in them as he exchanged glances with his mate.

Glorfindel nodded. "Indeed I would, Erestor. Indeed I would."

Haldir blanched, imagining the look on his Lord and Lady's face were such information revealed to them. Suddenly the anger flared in him and he yanked his arm free. "And perhaps Lord Elrond would like to hear how you choose rather public places for your trysts." He snapped, glaring at Glorfindel.

The blonde smiled, cupping Haldir's face in his palm. "Our bedroom is hardly public, young one, and yet you watch us even there. Do you think we are blind? Do you think you are hidden? Do you not think we can see you, hear your moans as you touch yourself, smell your seed as you find your pleasure?"

Haldir flushed, looking away in shame. He had no answer to give the other; it was true he had at times climbed the tree outside their bedroom, with the pretense of finding some place quiet to meditate. But now he realized he had not been as hidden as he thought. They had been aware of his presence at least some of the time, and from the way Glorfindel was talking, perhaps all the time. Why had they waited so long to say anything?

Before Haldir could say anything, Erestor rose smoothly to his feet. Approaching the flustered Marchwarden, he laid a hand on Haldir's back. "Perhaps he would like to join in?" He turned Haldir around to face him. "Is that why you watch, Galadhrim? You are envious of us? You would like to join in?" As he spoke, his hand traveled down the hard muscles of Haldir's chest, finally coming to rest on his bulging arousal. "So you would, it would appear." He grasped Glorfindel's hand and laid it next to his on the bulge in Haldir's leggings.

The seneschal smiled, joining Erestor in slowly moving his fingers up and down the hard shaft, his smile widening at the soft moans escaping the silver-haired elf. Pulling Haldir back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around the Galadhrim's chest, holding his arms still. Erestor smiled, wider this time, reaching for the ties on Haldir's leggings and ever so gently, ever so slowly, untying them.

Haldir bit his bottom lip as his leggings were suddenly yanked down to his ankles, his straining erection springing free as soon as it was loosed from the snug fabric. Erestor nodded approvingly before once again trailing his fingertips up and down the hard column of flesh. When Haldir's groans grew louder, more needy, he increased the pace, then grasped the elf's arousal, squeezing firmly. His other hand traveled lower, cupping the marchwarden's soft, fleshy sacs, rubbing and gently squeezing them.

"Oh Valar!" Haldir groaned, collapsing back against the hard warrior's body behind him.

"Do you like that, Haldir?" Erestor whispered softly, releasing his erection and kneeling in front of him, softly blowing on the tip of his shaft. Haldir jerked at the sensation, but managed to nod. "Perhaps you would like to feel my mouth on you, young one?" Haldir quickly nodded again.

"Please...." He groaned, shivering at the feel of Glorfindel's hands undoing the clasps on his tunic, slipping a hand inside. He quickly divested the Marchwarden of the last of his clothes, and Haldir stood, naked and shivering in the cool autumn air.

"Since he asks so nicely, I feel we should oblige him, do you not think so, my love?" Erestor asked, bringing his mouth closer and closer to the hot flesh.

"Politeness is a virtue, Erestor. Perhaps we should reward him for possessing it."

Erestor reached up, holding Haldir's hips steady as he moved closer and closer to his arousal. His eyes never left the marchwarden's, which were wide and nearly black with desire. After a moment, he flicked his tongue across the tip of Haldir's shaft, tasting the salty pre-come already gathering there. Haldir jerked again, harder this time, his eyes closing in agony, unable to control his moans at the counselor's actions. Instead of giving him the delicious friction that his body so craved, Erestor was barely touching him at all, only gently flicking his tongue across the very tip. Instead of satisfying his craving for touch, the soft licks were only making the ache in his body more pronounced.

"Does he taste good, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked softly, laying soft kisses on Haldir's neck and shoulders, holding his arms firmly against his chest. Erestor stood and softly kissed his mate, allowing him to taste the marchwarden's seed on his tongue. "Oh, indeed he does. I would imagine he feels good as well." Biting the back of Haldir's neck hard enough to leave an imprint of his teeth, he again whispered in the sharply pointed ear. "Do you want us, Haldir? Do you want us to take you? To ride you like an animal? To make you scream for mercy and beg for your release?"

Haldir opened his mouth, but his tongue felt swollen to three times its normal size, and when he tried to form words, all that came out was a soft grunt. So instead he nodded vigorously. Erestor cupped his face in his soft, uncalloused hand, looking deeply into his eyes. "Are you certain, Haldir? We do not require you to do this as payment for not revealing your improprieties in spying on us. We shall only take you if you want us to." With a nod from Erestor to Glorfindel, Haldir suddenly felt the firm grasp on his arms release.

"If you do not wish this, leave now, Marchwarden." Glorfindel said, running his fingertips through Haldir's silky hair.

Haldir finally forced his swollen tongue to form words. "I want."

"Very well." Erestor said, stepping closer and kissing him deeply again. "And which of us would you like to take you? Would you like me? Or would you like him?" He trailed his fingertips across Haldir's lips. "Perhaps you wonder how different we are in lovemaking. You wonder if a scholar such as myself can possess enough passion to bring you to your climax? Would I be too gentle, too careful?" His hand traveled higher, stroking through the soft silver hair. "Or perhaps you are afraid he would be too much for you? That he would be rough with you, that he would hurt you, give you as much pain as he did pleasure." His hand again traveled lower, stroking Haldir's bare chest, circling around each nipple. "Or perhaps you enjoy pain." He whispered into a sharply pointed ear.

Haldir shivered again as Glorfindel moved away, going to his pack and rummaging through it. When he returned with a small vial of massage oil, Haldir swallowed hard, his throat suddenly going dry. Erestor watched the direction of his gaze with a smile, then gently turned Haldir's face back to face him. "So you do want him. Go with him then." With a soft kiss on Haldir's lips Erestor gently pushed him toward his mate.

Taking the shaking hand, Glorfindel led him to the center of the clearing, grasping his shoulders and gently lowering him to the grass. Turning Haldir onto his side, facing away from him, Glorfindel pulled the Marchwarden against his chest, holding him tightly. He upended the open bottle, liberally coating his fingers with oil, before stroking the soft globes of Haldir's backside. Haldir tensed as a sword-calloused hand slid between his cheeks, carefully stroking the tight opening. "Have you done this before, Haldir?" Glorfindel whispered into his neck, still stroking the flesh, not penetrating as of yet.

"Yes...." Haldir breathed, his breath coming harder as he felt Glorfindel's erection grow against his back. "....but it has been a while."

"I will not hurt you, I promise." Glorfindel whispered, gently pressing against the opening. "Relax....take me inside...." He pressed a little harder, and suddenly the muscle relaxed, and he was able to slide a finger inside. He moved in and out, first slowly, then quicker as Haldir's breath began to come in quick pants. Once the tight passage relaxed enough to allow easy movement, he added a second finger, then a third, ever so gently, ever so slowly, readying Haldir for the invasion of his arousal. "Are you ready for me, beautiful one? Do you want to feel me inside of you?" Haldir nodded, his eyes tightly closed at the overwhelming sensations shooting through his body with every stroke of the seneschal's long fingers inside of him.

Glorfindel reached between their bodies and pushed his leggings down to his feet, coating his erection liberally in oil. Lifting Haldir's leg, he slid between his thighs, pressing against the now slightly loosened entrance. He slid in, slowly and carefully, bit by bit, until he was fully sheathed within the almost overly tight passage. He fought for his own control as Haldir tensed, squeezing on him even harder.

Haldir's breath came in quick pants, squeezing his eyes shut against the stinging pain, and when Glorfindel began to slowly move within him, gasped again as it felt as if he was being ripped apart. It had been a while, a long while. He was usually the one doing the taking. "Relax, Haldir." Erestor whispered in his ear, running his hands up and down Haldir's chest, taking the now flagging erection into his palm and gently stroking it. "It will only hurt if you are tense."

Glorfindel rolled to his back, taking Haldir with him, and the Galadhrim suddenly relaxed as the new position caused the pain to lessen considerably. Again Glorfindel began to move, slowly and gently, softly caressing Haldir's chest, pinching and gently pulling on his nipples.

After a time the discomfort gradually faded, and the pleasure began to build. Haldir jerked, his eyes flying open in surprise as he felt wet heat on his leaking shaft. Erestor had taken him in again, and was now sliding the entire length in and out of his mouth. He found himself lifting more upright at the new sensation and nearly screamed in pleasure when the new posture caused the tip of Glorfindel's shaft to press into the pleasure gland within him.

Glorfindel smiled, holding him in the same position while he thrust harder and faster, his climax fast approaching. He glanced up at his mate and was nearly undone by the look in his beloved's eyes. Erestor was still sucking on Haldir's hard shaft, but his eyes were closed, his hand inside his leggings, stroking himself to the rhythm of his love pounding into the Marchwarden.

With a few more hard thrusts, Glorfindel came, arching his back as he released his seed into Haldir, an almost animalistic growl emanating from his lips. Haldir reached his climax a moment later, squeezing on Glorfindel so hard the seneschal could not withdraw his softening member. The sound of the other two finding their climaxes drew Erestor's from him, and for a time, the sound of three elven voices filled the woods, crying their releases to the stars above.

Finally they all collapsed together in a heap, the coolness of the night forgotten as they breathed hard, stroking whatever sweat-dampened body happened to be nearest. For several minutes nothing was said, until finally Glorfindel trailed his hand down Haldir's back, gently squeezing his back side. "So have you learned your lesson, Marchwarden? Will you continue to watch us?"

Haldir glanced up at the seneschal, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "No, I do believe participating is much more enjoyable." Three voices laughed in unison at his words.

*****

THE END

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