Resurrection 38

Resurrection

Part 38

Posted: January 26, 2007
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Lindir gives himself to Thranduil; Glorfindel and Erestor appreciate what they have.

*****

Lindir watched as Thranduil laid their packs down and walked the short distance to where he stood by the bed. Far below them, the lives of the Greenwood Elves went on as always: the cooks prepared a welcoming meal; livestock was tended; gardens were tilled; water was gathered from the river; and elflings recited their lessons in a small glade on the other side of a creek.

They were alone high in the trees with Anor's light softly filtering through the boughs, and Manwë's breath gently creating a soft rustling sound among them. It was the most peaceful moment he could recall in his life. He had always lived in cities, bustling with activity, amongst stone and buildings. There, in the trees, life seemed to have a different quality - a slower pace - and it set his heart at ease.

Thranduil slowly removed his tunic and undershirt, and the slow revealing of the king's body took Lindir's breath away. Regal in stature, yet predatory in motion, Thranduil was an imposing figure, much as Lindir imagined the king’s father had been. Lindir could see the change in his good friend turned lover: since the war, Thranduil seemed more commanding, more awesome than he had been as a prince. Perhaps it was duty, or perhaps it was what he had seen and been through; whatever it was, Thranduil was no longer a handsome prince, he had been transformed into a wise and powerful king.

He was distractedly loosening the clasps on his tunic as he watched Thranduil take the few steps that would bring them together. Closing his eyes, he felt his king's hands upon his shoulders and his breath upon his ear.

"Let me," Thranduil murmured, covering Lindir's hands with his own and gently moving them away. He unwrapped his lover like a precious gift, slowly revealing the minstrel's pale, ivory skin. He was so soft, he smelled so good, like the fresh heather that grew on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. Slowly, he explored Lindir's flesh with his mouth, starting at his left ear then moving down his neck to where his shoulder joined, then across to the other side and back up to the Noldo's right ear. All the while, his lover trembled slightly and sighed; Thranduil thought it was a most beautiful sound, as if air itself could suddenly sing. He slipped the tunic from Lindir's shoulders, casually tossing it upon the foot of the bed. Now that his lover's torso was bared, his hands joined in the exploration, caressing shoulders, arms, and chest.

Lindir began to moan quietly, arching into Thranduil's touch, reveling in the feeling of being savored, as he once had been long ago. "Talk to me," he whispered.

"I love you," Thranduil replied. "All of you. I love your beauty: your soft skin; your pale hair that reminds me of the light of a harvest moon; your eyes that are like liquid pools of clear water; your lips that are softer than the petals of the youngest flower. I love your voice that causes gooseflesh to rise on my skin and warmth to flood my heart. But most of all, I love your spirit and your generous heart, your gentleness, your kindness, your selfless nature. You temper me and make me a better king, you are teaching me what it is to be truly kind and wise."

Lindir wrapped his arms around Thranduil's neck and held him close. "I never thought I would love again," he murmured. "I did not believe I could be brave enough or strong enough to take the risk. But loving you requires no bravery; it only requires recognition of what I once saw in you long ago. What I knew then in part, I know now in total. I do love you, Thranduil, and I swear to you, I will love no other as long as I live."

Thranduil took Lindir's face in his hands. "Then I am blessed among all the Firstborn." He kissed his lover deeply, gently sliding Lindir's leggings over his hips and off his legs, and then lowering him to the bed.

Lindir lay on his back, looking up at Thranduil, watching him slowly remove his breeches. The way his lover's body moved, muscles coiling, flexing, and stretching, powerful and undeniably sensual, caused his desire to flare bright. He opened his legs as his lover mounted the bed and lay down atop him. Wrapping his legs high over Thranduil's hips, he moaned softly, turning his head as his lover's lips caressed the curve of his ear before focusing attention on the point. He rolled his hips upward, grinding his arousal against that of his king's, desire rising quickly between them as their bodies moved together.

Thranduil released Lindir's ear and gazed into the Noldo's deepening blue eyes. As purely beautiful as Lindir was, he was also wanton, and it drove him mad. Lovemaking had been such a subdued experience for him once he was married, and it was not something he and his wife had done often. While he had cared for her, he had not really desired her, not like this, and he knew she had felt the same way about him. Now he was with one he really wanted, the one he had wanted all along, and to see that desire returned in Lindir's eyes, in the way his minstrel's body moved, it nearly drove him to the brink.

Lindir arched beneath Thranduil, raking his fingernails over the king's firm, round backside and up the length of his back. "Take me, please take me," he whispered.

"As you wish, my treasure," Thranduil replied huskily.

"I am no elleth," Lindir replied. "You need not handle me as if I were apt to break."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, a sensual grin curving his lips. "Truly? Well then, I am most glad you said so." He reached across the bed and retrieved a small, clay jar from a low table. Setting it on the floor beside the bed, he then reached up and pulled Lindir's hands over his head. "Do not move," he said in a deep husky voice, and then he slipped from between Lindir's legs, grasped the insides of the minstrel's thighs, and pushed them apart.

Lindir curled his fingers around the smooth wood of the headboard, looking down at his lover. Thranduil lay between his legs, the king's warm breath fanning his now aching arousal, his midnight blue gaze fixing Lindir to the spot. A feral grin curved his lover's lips, and then he was engulfed in the Sinda's wet embrace. Lindir gasped and groaned, arching his back as Thranduil took him in deep. "Oh, Valar," he moaned, his desire immediately reaching a fevered pitch under the relentless assault on his arousal. "Oh, yes, yes," he breathed, fighting to thrust into the king's mouth, but being held fast to the soft bed.

He ached for Thranduil's large hands, his powerful arms, shoulders, and back; his king was so strong, so wildly and naturally sensual, and so unlike Glorfindel in his feral nature. He knew now what it felt like to be possessed in addition to being truly loved. He belonged to Thranduil now, and the king belonged to him. A strangled cry erupted from his lips as he spilled down the king's throat and his body went limp. Trembling, he felt Thranduil's warm tongue lap at his slackening length, then soft lips made their way up his stomach and chest, finally finding his mouth and kissing him deeply. He moaned into the kiss, tasting himself on Thranduil's tongue; then he gasped as the king released his mouth and his body was breached by two oiled fingers.

"My minstrel," Thranduil purred. "I shall hear you sing a song of a different sort this day."

"I am yours," Lindir breathed, arching and undulating against his king.

"Indeed you are, and I shall never give you cause to forget it."

"I could never," Lindir murmured, then another choked cry escaped him as he arched off the bed. "Oh, please, please, I am begging you. Do not make me wait any longer."

Thranduil gathered Lindir's long legs in his arms and pushed inside him in one smooth, unceasing motion, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt in the minstrel's body. The heartbreaking cry that escaped Lindir's lips caused his heart to race. It was the kind of cry that straddled the line between excruciating pleasure and exquisite pain. It was a cry of surrender.

Thranduil began to move inside him, delving deep, opening him wide, and Lindir fisted the king's hair, assaulting his mouth, as if he were trying to take all of Thranduil inside him and hold him there. He felt the kings' thighs push against the back of his own and Thranduil pulled his legs higher. Then in one quick, smooth move, Thranduil scooped him up then sat up, pulling him onto his lap.

"Sweet Elbereth!" Lindir gasped as Thranduil pushed even deeper inside him. He dug his fingers into the king's shoulders as the Sinda struck his mark with each thrust, causing Lindir to arch his back and gasp. He could not cry out, his voice was silenced, his blood turned to liquid heat, and his body began to coil into itself. His arousal, which had lately been drained, was turgid once again and aching to be touched. Thranduil held him in place as he leaned backward, forcing his lover's length deeper inside him. He reached down and grasped his own arousal, pumping it in time with Thranduil's thrusts, dragging himself over the edge, and falling into a warm state of bliss as his desire was spent.

Lindir went limp in his arms; his lover's body covered with a thin sheen of sweat and his skin flushed a beautiful shade of pink. His own climax came quickly after Lindir's; the minstrel's convulsing and tightening body squeezing his own swollen and aching arousal. He drew Lindir closer; his lover felt like a rag doll. Cradling Lindir's head on his shoulder, he mustered the strength to lay him down upon the bed, and then he covered the minstrel's lithe form with his own spent body.

"I love you," he whispered into one perfect ear.

Lindir smiled. "I love you," he replied softly, drawing Thranduil's strong arms closer around him. His eyelids slid closed and he drifted into a state of exhausted, peaceful sleep.

* * * *

Erestor lay on his side, looking at the ring that Glorfindel had placed on his finger. His beloved lay close behind him, their bodies molded against one another in repose. Warm lips caressed his neck and he smiled. For the first time in his entire life, he was completely and utterly at peace. He felt whole. A large, strong hand caressed his hip and he purred in contentment, snuggling back against his lion's powerful form. "I never dared dream," he whispered.

"I tried not to," Glorfindel answered. "But I could not help myself. This feels good, yes? Like home?"

Erestor smiled even wider. "Aye, like home. We are bonded," he murmured.

"We are, finally." Glorfindel kissed Erestor's pale shoulder.

"I have never felt more complete or more proud of anything in my life," Erestor answered softly. "I am the luckiest elf in all of Elvendom."

Glorfindel chuckled. "No, that would be me. It has been a long road, Erestor, and I know it was not easy. There was a lot of pain along the way but every step has been worth it."

Erestor rolled over in his lover's arms. "Each step has been, and now we are where we were always meant to be." He touched Glorfindel's face. "My only regret is that Gildor and Lindir had to be hurt."

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, they were. But they know we love them still; they know they are our dearest friends. They will both find happiness, Erestor. I know it in my heart."

"When do you think we will see them again?"

"I do not know, but I promise you we will, someday."

"I love you, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled. "I love you, Erestor."

*****

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