Whisper

Whisper

Posted: June 22, 2007
Title: Whisper
Author: LK
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing
Warnings: Slashy SEX, which means graphic depictions of sex between two males
Challenge: Daily Drabble - prompt: Whisper
Timeline: Imladris, Third Age, long before the Fellowship
Author's Notes: For Di who asked for a more...er... assertive Erestor

Summary: Erestor wants something.

*****

Erestor stood at the top of the staircase that led into the house from the main courtyard. He was dressed in his formal day robes of deepest crimson, the onyx gems decorating the edges of his sleeves and high tunic collar flashed in the sunlight. Try as they may, however, they could hardly outshine Erestor's ebony tresses. As usual, Elrond's Chief Counselor adorned his hair with as few braids as possible while still managing to denote his rank, as decorum required. Erestor was an Elf who did not need the trappings of his office to command respect . . . or fear.

He and Elrond had just welcomed a delegation of dwarves who had come to Imladris to negotiate a trade agreement of grain, and other crops, for precious metals. Erestor's attention, however, was not on the stout, hairy dignitaries being led to their rooms by his assistant. His attention was on the courtyard itself, his gray eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the activity there.

As Captain of Imladris's armed forces, Glorfindel had been present when the delegation arrived, accompanied by one of his units to provide a proper honor guard for their guests. Or at least that was what had been intended. Unfortunately, this was not the Captain's finest compliment of warriors. This group had some of their realm's newest recruits, and thereby the youngest. These young Ellyn had experienced great difficulty in controlling their laughter when the dwarves had dismounted their horses, which were more like hearty ponies. Although the dignitaries had politely pretended not to notice, the young Elves' sniggers and fake coughing meant to hide their mirth had not escaped Glorfindel's notice. [Ellyn ' male Elf, pl.]

It went without saying that nothing *ever* escaped Erestor's notice, so the Counselor hung back from following Elrond and the others into the Last Homely House. If he had been asked, he would have stated his reason for remaining to observe what was going on was that Elrond would want to know the discipline Glorfindel meted out. In truth, he had a far different agenda for observing Glorfindel's reaction.

As he watched, he could tell Glorfindel was waiting until he was certain their guests were well out of earshot before turning from his position in front of the line of warriors. Slowly, he approached the two young soldiers, his expression grim. Erestor was pleased to notice that the amused smirks on the young Elves' faces quickly vanished.

Erestor watched, spellbound as Glorfindel proceeded to (as the Balrog Slayer colorfully referred to it) "rip them a new one."

The way Glorfindel moved, the cadence of his voice and the strength and power of his reprimand, had Erestor enthralled. Glorfindel was so masterful! He dripped masculinity and virility and it made Erestor's mouth water.

And caused his member to instantly harden.

Erestor's breath hitched slightly and he had to struggle to hide the way he was panting from just watching Glorfindel make the two troublemakers shrink into themselves until they were practically cowering.

Oh! How Erestor longed to master the masterful Captain!

By the time Glorfindel barked the word, "Dismissed!" and his warriors had made a grateful exit, Erestor was nearly mad with need. Canting his head low, he stared at the object of his lust.

As if feeling the intensity of the eyes boring into his back, Glorfindel turned, his gaze moving up the stairs to where Erestor stood, the tension in the dark Elf's body clearly visible.

Erestor knew the heat of his gaze was like an open book onto what he wanted. He could feel how his cheeks were flushed with his desire and his chest was heaving as if he had run a great distance. Regardless that the pulsating evidence of his lust was hidden beneath his robes, there was no possible way Glorfindel could misinterpret what he saw.

But Glorfindel showed not even the mildest indication that he understood the fire blazing within Erestor's eyes. Even if he did, he appeared completely uninterested. After a moment, he blithely turned and began to saunter slowly toward the barracks and, presumably, his office. Glorfindel seemed to have not a care in the world as he walked the path toward the long, low building, which was deserted at this time of day with its residents either on patrol, in training or on leave.

Not willing to surrender the hunt so easily, Erestor instantly moved to follow him, reaching the bottom of the stairs so swiftly it was as if he leapt over the steps as a great cat might, landing soundlessly. Stealthily he pursued his quarry, careful not to loose sight of him through the tree-lined path. As he moved, he could hear the rush of his blood pounding in his ears and feel it throbbing in the straining flesh between his legs.

Watching them, an outside observer might have been reminded of the way a panther stalks its prey.

Glorfindel seemed completely unaware that he was being pursued. In fact, he was whistling a merry tune by the time he pushed the door to his office open and entered the sun-filled room.
Erestor entered the shadow of the empty barracks and silently prowled down the corridor, slowly making his way to the shaft of sunlight streaming through the open office door and onto the hardwood floor. He willed his ragged breathing to silence lest he alert his quarry to his presence. His movements were so careful, even he could not hear the soft swish his silk robes usually made.

Carefully peering around the edge of the doorframe, Erestor could see that his intended target was standing at his desk with his back to the door. For a moment, he indulged himself and let his eyes roam over the body that so enticed him. His gaze followed the silken fall of golden hair streaming over broad shoulders, down a powerful back to the taut round globes, so deliciously accentuated by his brown leather leggings, and on to long muscular legs. When he thought of parting those shapely mounds and of what lay beyond just waiting to be claimed, Erestor's pulsating shaft twitched in anticipation.

Soundlessly, he crept into the room and softly pushed the door closed behind him, thankful that the custodians assigned to the barracks oiled the hinges regularly.

As the door swung slowly toward its home, Erestor gathered himself, coiling his body to be ready to pounce when the time was right.

The latch closed with a soft snick, making Glorfindel stiffen and move to turn toward the sound. Before he could, though, a wall of heat crashed into him from behind, slamming him bent over his desk with his arms stretched out in front of him, his wrists pinned tightly to the desk in one hand by surprisingly strong fingers.

"You have something I want." Erestor's voice was a low whisper. His hot breath caressed the pointed tip of Glorfindel's ear, making him shiver.

"Oh? And do you always just take what you want?" Glorfindel demanded through gritted teeth as he felt Erestor's free hand move to the front of his leggings and tug determinedly at the lacings. Glorfindel was trying his best to struggle free, but the angle was wrong and without the use of his arms, he could not gain enough leverage to throw the other Elf off.

"Yes," Erestor said triumphantly as he quickly succeeded in dropping the other Elf's leggings to pool about his ankles, "I do!"

Whether it was the friction caused by Erestor fumbling with his garments or intrigue at the situation, Erestor was delighted to find that Glorfindel was already nearly as hard as he was.

Trying to ignore the rising heat in his own groin, Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest being handled in such a familiar manner without so much as a "May I?" but at that moment, a slick finger entered his tight passage and he was left gasping instead. He did not even have time to adjust to the digit, let alone wonder what Erestor was using for lubricant or where he had gotten it, before the Advisor inserted a second finger. Glorfindel cried out as Erestor quickly and unerringly found his mark and pushed a finger up against the gland deep inside the Balrog Slayer's body, causing golden stars to explode beneath his eyelids.
Erestor was bent over him, breathing harshly and pressing his turgid length against the back of Glorfindel's thigh as he quickly scissored his fingers within the Golden Elf's passage, massaging his prostate whenever he rotated the digits. Glorfindel could feel the heat of the other Elf's body pressing into him, the hard shaft rubbing up against him, desperate for friction and some sort of relief from the throbbing ache. He was hardly immune to such sensations, but when combined with the sharp scent of Erestor's arousal, it was simply too intoxicating to resist. His own arousal twitched and he groaned loudly, needing something to rub himself against to assuage his own weeping shaft.

After only a perfunctory preparation, the fingers disappeared. There was the soft sound of fabric being quickly and impatiently moved aside before Glorfindel felt the blunt tip of Erestor's erection pressing into him.

There was no slow and gentle invasion. With one powerful push, Erestor was fully seated to the hilt, making Glorfindel gasp again. Barely sparing Glorfindel time to adjust or himself a sigh of relief at finally being sheathed in the tight velvety glove, Erestor began to move. One thrust, then two and Glorfindel knew he was in for the pounding of his life.

When it was obvious Glorfindel would not resist him any further, Erestor released his wrists and stood up to clasp Glorfindel's hips with both hands. With each powerful thrust, Glorfindel's pleasure spot was struck. Over and over, bolts of pleasure shot through his body. Grunts and moans filled the air and soon, Erestor's hips were slamming so hard into Glorfindel, the desk beneath them began to scrape along the floor with every forward thrust.

Giving up any pretense at all of not being a willing participant, Glorfindel reached a hand down between his legs and began stroking himself. He used the pearly drops that had been steadily leaking from the plum-colored head to slick his shaft and he began pumping his fist as furiously as Erestor was pounding into him from behind.

They both held back for as long as they could, but neither could sustain such a punishing pace for long. With a deep, resonating cry, Glorfindel came. So great was his pleasure that hot jets spurted seemingly forever.

When Glorfindel's cry began to echo through the room, Erestor pumped his hips faster still, stroking the tight channel until Glorfindel's climax made his passage clench. The pulsing heat about him was simply too much and with a loud groan, Erestor spilled himself deep within Glorfindel's body before collapsing on the spent Captain.

They lay there for several moments, both still shuddering occasionally in the wake of their mutual releases as their softening shafts continued to twitch. When the pleasurable aftershocks were over and Erestor's member finally slipped from Glorfindel's body, the Counselor sighed with disappointment at the loss and pushed himself up again.

Glorfindel breathed his own sigh and said, "I hate that moment, too."

"Did I hurt you, meleth?" Erestor asked softly as he assisted Glorfindel up. The Elf had been very thoroughly pounded into the desk and was stiff as a result. [meleth ' love]

"Nay," Glorfindel responded, turning to look at his husband with a rueful smile. "At least no more than I wanted you to."

"I love to watch you bellowing at your soldiers," Erestor said, his voice a husky whisper. "You are so . . . commanding."

"And you simply must master me in turn," he replied with a smile.

Erestor looked slightly abashed, but Glorfindel would have none of it.

"I so very much love when you take me . . . I love when you are masterful," he whispered into the delicate shell of Erestor's ear. "I particularly love it when you terrorize my wayward warriors for good measure after I have reamed them. It stirs my blood . . . and incites my lust."

Erestor lifted an eyebrow as he gazed into his husband's twinkling eyes. "Indeed?" he said with a smirk. "I believe we have two such miscreants lurking about today."

"We do," Glorfindel said with a grin, finishing lacing up his leggings, but leaving the knot loose for easy access. "What of Elrond and the dwarven delegation?"

Erestor gave him a cheeky grin. "They will have to find their own Balrog Slayer to master."

*****

THE END

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