BY : Ruiniel
Category: +Third Age > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 295
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is Tolkien's (I only hope he would forgive me). No money is made from this, nor would it bring any.

I open my eyes, and encompassing white floods my senses. All is infused by it. This is not Aman, not Mandos. Not even the white of the endless snows we have faced on our trek.

"Glorfindel..." a worried, slight and all too familiar voice calls not far from me.

I know the voice. I worship it, I crave it and longed for it so in the drifting darkness.

"...Ilvanya..." I murmur, and it would supposedly not be far fetched for her to be an integral part of my illusions and wanton hallucinations, my dim and distant dreams. And yet, my wife never calls me Glorfindel in these dispersing strains of thought. She only uses my real name in the straight and orderly planes of reality, and in the gravest of situations.

My eyes flutter open and indeed I see her face, her breathtaking eyes and shapely lips, her tousled auburn locks. She looks worried and grieved. Why? She releases a short breath as my hand reaches to touch her cheek.

"Finally, freaking hell," she says in English, lowering her forehead to rest over my chest, seated as she is beside the bed I find myself lying in. I feel both relief and fear and so much of her, struggling and howling for me, needing me close.

And then my memories seep back into the blank canvas of my mind.

An ambush. The borders of Imladris. We were outnumbered. Losses? Nay, no losses. We pushed through them, I threw one of the sentries aside, I...

I recall a sharp pain, but looking to my bared and bandaged chest, I see no blood. It seems the healing rest has acted and relieved me of whatever wounds I have acquired.

"Tell me," I ask, still finding my voice as my hand reaches and caresses her hair; my fingers drift to the nape of her neck, soothing against her skin as she presses her cheek into me. "Remind me... what happened?"

She raises her chin to look at me, and her fingers run through my loose hair, fanned over the pristine white pillow. Despite the current situation there brims the need to feel them over the rest of me.

"Your mission, you were on the trail of a company of orc on the outskirts, remember?" she asks softly, her usual prickly manner abandoned. There is nothing but care and, I notice sadly, desperation there. I feel guilt brimming for the anguish I have caused her.

"I remember..." I close my eyes in a frown.

"There were more of them than anticipated. Argonos would be gone if it wasn't for you, but you... you took a spear for him in the skirmish, and..."

At that her hand reaches to my right side, right below my ribs. "You reached Imladris riding your own horse, but..." she wavers, and her lip trembles slightly. "Lord Elrond worked his magic alright," she forces a smile but I see her throat bobbing, and feel the guilt yet again for being the source of these turbulent feelings in her. For making her worry so.

"I feel well," I tell her reassuringly, and that is the truth of it. "Quite well." My body feels whole and unmarred, though a milky mist still drenches my mind.

She sighs in relief yet again, and I feel her locks brush against my chest and neck as she leans closer, and looks me in the eye. I see the golden flecks of her irises, boring into my own clear ones.

"High Lord Glorfindel, I'll kill you myself if you keep doing this," she jests but I sense the distress lying beyond her clipped voice. I feel it in the broken inflection of her words, the harried beating of her heart.

"Forgive me, Ilvanya," I try, though it is all I manage before I feel the swift and tender warmth of her lips over mine.

"Later," she soothes, so clearly gladdened I am returned to her. "We'll speak of it later," she coos in English yet again.

That we will. For now, I feel a sudden, urgent need to have her close. It is in the emptiness I feel whenever we are apart following our binding. I realize just how much so and my Ilvanya knows my thought, as ever, slowly moving to join my side onto the wide bed. I see we are in one of the chambers used as part of the healing quarters.

I direly missed her comfort, and it so happens we have not been with one another since before my leaving, weeks ago. And I feel her restlessness, her worry and her care, all shrouded around her tense and frail seeming frame. But frail she is not and I grin at the bare truth of this, longingly drawing her closer as her glittering laughter sounds softly in my ear. My hands begin to feather over her, ceasing over her pointed curves, now impishly hardened beneath her robes. Biting my lip I look from under my eyelashes at her, and smiling press her firmly into me even as she protests.

"You crazy elf, we can't do this... here," she wiggles and grins though I know she wants to keep a straight face and a punishing frown. But this form of chastisement never works and my bonded soon surrenders to my touch, allowing me to slowly explore. My searching fingers soon glide between the warmth of her thighs.

"There is no one," and indeed I hear no footfalls anywhere in the vicinity, nor any living breath. "I longed for you so, out there, in the wilds," I sigh softly at the feel of her, so slick against my fingers, so real. "Oh...," I search her eyes, "...what is it we have here-"

She buries her face into me, so shyly and wantonly as my senses attune to her rejuvenating scent, and I undo her robe to reveal her. My hand travels over her for a long while, allowing her the freedom to do the same. She aids in removing my own garments and soon they are discarded further until we are all there is.

"Someone's ready," my foreign wife gushes in her foreign tongue as I tease her lower lip between my teeth.

"Mmh...," is all I can offer, strangled by the strain and her dearly missed touch before I pull her to me sharply and lift her thigh, bringing her leg to rest over my hip.

I find her and slowly lead her to me, my hand pressing into the small of her back until we both feel me, firm and unrelenting within her.

"So sweet... Ilvanya..." I lull, feeling her enjoyment, her hand come around my neck, frantically searching down my shoulder then back over my chest as I draw her ever closer and we remain so for a while. I close my eyes and tilt my head back at the feel of her, never ceasing my insistence. My wife whimpers sweetly as I begin to set a regular rhythm, kissing and grasping me in any way she can. She flows as deep and steady as the Bruinen, my lovely one, and in her shivering center I feel how much she had missed this. Us.

I relish watching her face in these moments, staring at me from under her lashes, her lips parted in raw desire. It is not long before we want more, and so I turn with her until she is trapped underneath me. I grin down at her as I change the angle, reveling in her widening eyes and the bright shine of her wet parted lips. I hide my face into the crook of her neck and she mewls, my little wife, muffled and pleading into my ear as I push deeper into her, feeling her squirm and pant while I struggle to keep us motionless and still. And what a struggle it is.

I look into her eyes and smooth her playful curls from her face with one hand even as she trails a finger over the slope of my jaw. "How?" I ask in a hurried whisper, allowing her the time she needs to become accustomed to me.

"Like last time," she manages and I bite her neck gently, feeling myself harden to the point of painfulness as I recall the past moments we went this way. And she feels it also, I hear it in her barely hushed sigh and the beating of her heart as it drums against mine.

And so I give her what she wants, setting the cadenced rhythm which soon takes us both into a different time out of time, a different place, another plane of existence. It is her and I and no one else in this endless space. We are all there is. I rise on my arms after a while and she begins to trail her palms over my chest as I crash into her repeatedly, as angry waves against the shores of a stormy sea; one of my hands steadily grasping her hip, my fingers bruising as they dig into her flesh. My anchor. We feel the light of our bliss slowly building within, and in her eyes I see how it is already coiling inside of her.

My lover reaches and urges me even deeper, and I begin to lose whatever control I may have had, my movements more erratic the louder she calls my name. I lower myself to her and capture her in a tight embrace suckling and kissing her ear, the side of her fine neck, her full red lips.

"Mel-... melin tye-" I manage, unsure what language to use anymore, my waking mind a blank, wanting to tell her how much I love her and how grateful I am to have her, in this and all ways.

But then I feel her overflowing. The spasms she is having spur me on and rob me of my recently regained sense of reason, and I thrust into her with more strength though I feel it hurts her. But she does not wish for me to cease. It is not long before she screams in completion, her body arching into mine, her hips tilting upward to take me, anticipating my spiral into madness for one split of a lifetime. And even I slip away from our reality and into the whirlwind taking me to the highest peaks of fulfillment. And I hold on to her, lest I lose myself in the all engulfing light now blinding my vision. I shudder deeper than the depths of the earth and beyond the Doors of Night it seems I am flung, so far gone is my spirit burning with her fire; and then all I can see are the dark depths of her eyes, all I can feel is the spilling of myself into her with the uncontrollable, primal shivers of life, as we become one again.

I feel her soft kisses on my forehead, slender fingers smoothing golden strands of hair from my face, lips ghosting over my parted ones as she inhales my quick and restless breathing.

"Maybe, just maybe, the whole healing wing didn't get to hear that," Ilvanya jests with her eyes closed even as I kiss her deeply and carelessly, and still sheathed inside of her I shift to nestle her in my arms.

I manage a subdued and weary smile, as defeated as only these moments with her can make me.

She hums softly as I pull the covers over us both. I feel her worry and fretting diminished now, and so I reached my aim. We soon drift into the meandering state of rest beyond the realities of this life, basking in the glow of each other; feeling the calming breeze of the Vale as it travels through the wide arching windows, knowingly feathering over our contentment.

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