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The Lost and the Hidden City	By : pip & BronxWench Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2742 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We do not own Middle Earth, any of Tolkien's world or characters. We make no money from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-two
“I’m not afraid,” he whispered, but his heart beat so hard as fingers trailed through his hair. “How did you get in?”
“Does it matter? I’ve found you, my beautiful Noldo love. I will keep you safe, I promise.”
There was nothing but love in the quiet words, and yet he knew his lover spoke to a shade, someone in the past. He did not know how to reply, past the sudden thickness in his throat. He was quite sure the beating of his heart was loud enough to be audible in the still of the room, even above the strained sound of his breath.
Gildor was frozen, aware there was no threat in Glorfindel at the moment, and he did not dare to disturb anything. Too afraid to even tremble, he focused on his breathing. In contrast, Glorfindel was not still at all, and the warrior’s large hands roamed over his skin, sweeping over his chest and stomach possessively.
The less he reacted, the more ardent Glorfindel seemed to become, until his lover’s lips were teasing at his ear - a nip of teeth that made Gildor whimper quietly. Glorfindel made a low sound in his throat, of pleasure, his hands becoming bolder, more purposeful. Gildor drew in a breath, understanding what would happen if he did nothing.
“Áva malatya melindo,” he whispered urgently. Glorfindel stilled, his breath warm on Gildor’s neck.
“Melindonya,” he repeated in wonder, his hands beginning to move again. For all that this was a different Glorfindel, his touch felt the same. “Intyë? Gildor…” He heard Glorfindel wet his fingers with his mouth, then felt those same fingers seeking a more intimate touch. Gildor hissed and tried to move away.
“Melindonya, don’t fight me,” Glorfindel said, then hesitated. “Or are you a trick?”
Hearing Glorfindel say those words was terrifying for it heralded a change, it would make this dream the same as all the others. Gildor relaxed, pressing his back against Glorfindel’s chest in an attempt to seem eager and submissive. “Ahh, yes,” Glorfindel said in pleasure, the intimate touch beginning again, and this time Gildor did not resist, though his heart felt like a block of frozen marble.
He tried to tell himself it was only Glorfindel, who had touched and known his body many times before. He tried to tell himself that as long as Glorfindel believed in this dream, then he would not be hurt, and it was all true. But he was still desperately afraid.
Fear translated into his body’s lack of arousal, and he stilled in a fresh wave of terror. Glorfindel’s questing hand would reach lower, and find him lacking. What reaction it would provoke was something he could only guess at, and his breathing stuttered.
“You are so sweet,” Glorfindel purred, approving, breath hot against his cheek. “I have dreamed of this, melindonya, so many nights. You, yielding and perfect beneath me.”
And with those words, he felt himself thaw. This dream was a wish, something Glorfindel had wanted so long ago, something which had given the warrior purpose. It was affirmation of the desire Glorfindel had confessed, and the knowledge eased him. He could feel his body responding to his lover’s touch, and Glorfindel gave a low growl of approval. “Open for me, mîr nín. Let me love you.”
It felt like a dream of his own, and if he pretended it was no more than that, he could respond as Glorfindel wanted. His pulse quickened, and his cock filled. The moan of desire which slipped past his lips was not feigned as thick fingers teased him into relaxing, and he trembled against the strong arm holding him so close.
“Melinyet,” he whispered. In the safety of this dream, he could say such things aloud. “Ma melityen?” It sounded right, in the language of their youth.
“Have I given you cause to doubt how I feel?” Glorfindel was so hot, so large as he sought entry. “Samit melmenya, tenn’oio.”
Although the words gave him reassurance, and also stoked his desire, there was a reason Gildor had sought to retire early rather than indulging Glorfindel with more of their games, and he felt it now as he was breached. With so little lubrication too, there was actually pain, and Gildor froze, his hands gripping tight on the warrior’s forearm, which had somehow wound itself around his body like a restriction.
“Glorfindel,” he whispered, then catching his breath in response to the soreness, unable to help jerking away a little, even though his own cock was hard against his thigh now. It was too much.
“Avá levöar,” Glorfindel whispered back urgently, “please, it feels so good…”
Gildor didn’t need the words, didn’t need to hear the pleasure in his beloved’s voice, or the insistent way Glorfindel continued; Gildor’s body relaxed just as Glorfindel wanted. They had been lovers too long now, it was instinctive, and yet the little moan Glorfindel gave was different. For the Glorfindel in the dream, this was the first time, and despite the danger Gildor felt his heart fill with tenderness.
“Touch me,” he said, breathing freely again, smiling with his eyes closed when Glorfindel obeyed him, one large rough hand curling around him. It was not quite the same, Gildor realised with a burst of pleasure. This Glorfindel was assured, yes, but not familiar, and that realisation somehow made his blood burn all the more.
The pain was still there, on the edges, but it was dwarfed by the bliss he felt.
“I love how you feel inside me,” he said, and was answered with a fervent kiss to his neck. One thing hadn’t changed at all, and that was obvious - Gildor knew he would come first, and quickly. His face burned with embarrassment afresh, but Glorfindel was so big. He’d barely begun to move, and yet he touched Gildor in all the right places, pressed against them, it was impossible to resist.
It was so clearly new for Glorfindel, or at least this Glorfindel, reaching out from so long ago in a dream. The pure delight the warrior took in their lovemaking was heady indeed, and he could only marvel at the way it felt new for him as well. He still felt embarrassed by the way he could not control his own response, but that sensation paled in comparison to the joy in Glorfindel.
“I will not last,” he confided, breathless with the way the warrior’s large hand engulfed him, and bewitched him. He barely registered the pain of each thrust, powerful and yet tender, much like the elf who moved him so inexorably to his pinnacle. He was feverish, his skin slick and moist, and he groaned as Glorfindel moved, deep within him.
Glorfindel nuzzled his ear. “Then do not try,” he growled. “Give yourself over to me.”
It took no more than the heated words, permission granted, and he felt himself tighten around Glorfindel’s magnificent cock. His own cock jerked in Glorfindel’s hot palm, and he smelled his own seed as it spilled over thick fingers, smearing against his belly. He was sure he cried out, hearing the night birds answer as a breeze soothed his damp brow. Glorfindel stilled within him, but he neither knew nor cared if the warrior had found his own completion.
“More now, céva melindonya,” Glorfindel said, beginning to move again, and Gildor could not even give a response. His body felt heavy and loose in Glorfindel’s embrace, though the warrior’s strength was such he probably didn’t even notice the difference.
“All of the tension in you is gone,” Glorfindel said. “I can feel it.”
It was true. Gildor could not even summon up the fear anymore. He was somewhere he was always meant to be, giving pleasure to Glorfindel, and he finally voiced a quiet moan that was more of a gentle mewl than anything. True to form, Glorfindel teased him, only now he was not a nightingale. To this Glorfindel, he was something else...
“Vinimëoinya,” Glorfindel said, and Gildor pulled a face, wriggling a little, but that just amused his lover all the more. “Stay, kitten,” he admonished, just enough force behind the taunt to make Gildor freeze, remembering that Glorfindel was dreaming, and that at any moment he might decide Gildor was his enemy.
“I did not know you were so well behaved,” Glorfindel noted after a few leisurely movements. It seemed as if he could keep up the slow lovemaking all night. “Had I forbidden you to walk abroad, making your maps, perhaps I would have an easier job keeping you safe than following you around in secret.”
Gildor’s heart jumped a little. “You follow me?” he asked faintly, having had no idea of Glorfindel’s dedication. But he should have known. Glorfindel was nothing if not obsessive, and he knew that. He trembled at the demands upon his body, and found himself making more of those helpless sounds of exhausted pleasure.
“Of course. Do you think it is an accident that those wild bands of orcs do not trouble you overmuch?” A hint of pride crept in as Glorfindel’s movements became harder, more forceful. Gildor whimpered but took it, feeling that his lover was close now. “I am not always there to protect you, but I have despatched your enemies before now, and I will do it again!”
Gildor did not know what to say, but Glorfindel was not interested in conversation any longer. It occurred to him he would be even more sore in the morning than he had been when he went to his reverie. Lost in a dream as he was, Glorfindel had no recollection of their earlier activities. Gildor was past feeling it now, but morning would be another thing altogether.
“Do not be fretful, vinimëoinya. I know you like to make your maps,” Glorfindel said. Gildor was content to let Glorfindel interpret his silence in that manner. “I will not forbid it.”
And there it was again, Glorfindel’s possessive need to control him, to rein him in. He did not dare speak up now, but he would not let this go unremarked when Glorfindel was himself. “Well then.” He managed to keep his tone light. “I should be very flattered, then, to have such a powerful protector. I will have to find a way to thank you.”
“Oh, but you have, my talkative kitten. Now, still your tongue, and let me enjoy you. You are so sweet and tender.” Glorfindel’s pace remained leisurely, though, and Gildor began to despair the warrior would ever reach his pinnacle. Certainly, at this rate, it would be close to dawn.
It took a moment, but Gildor recalled one night, when he had simply closed around Glorfindel, unable to help himself. He had to think a bit, to properly recollect how it had felt, and then he tried to reproduce it, a rolling contraction of his passage around his lover’s thick cock. Glorfindel groaned, and pressed deeper, and he dared a small huff as he tried it again.
Then, again, Glorfindel groaned and thrust deep, turning his body in some slight way so that his bodyweight pinned Gildor effectively to the bed. After that, Glorfindel did not move at all.
“What game is this?” he asked, his voice low in Gildor’s ear.
Now the contractions of his body were not conscious and deliberate, but unstudied as he panicked at Glorfindel’s changed tone of voice. “G-game?” he repeated, fearing the warrior would accuse him of feigning again. He shivered, while Glorfindel almost growled in his ear, his hot breath there was a tease.
“I had not thought you as experienced as this,” Glorfindel considered. “Who else do you tempt, little mapmaker?”
“Tempt?” Really, he had to stop echoing Glorfindel’s words back at him, but Gildor was too afraid to think. He tried to think back to those times, so long ago to him now. He’d wanted Glorfindel, but had he taken any other lovers then? The only love affair he could remember had been that of new land to explore. “No one!”
“Hmm…” was Glorfindel’s answer, and there was a strange kind of warmth about it as he resumed the slow movement of before. Gildor felt his fear diminish, to be replaced by sudden anger.
“Not that it is any of your business,” he said, resentful, feeling angrier still when Glorfindel laughed.
“I was only teasing,” he said, “do not growl so!”
He was growling. Gildor stopped and drew in a breath. “It’s only fair,” Glorfindel pointed out, “since you teased me first with those little squeezes.”
“I suppose you have a point,” he conceded, but even he could hear the reluctance in his voice. “But I am an elf grown, and it should not be anyone’s business but mine.” He decided he liked his Glorfindel better than this dream version. His Glorfindel was possessive, but not quite so smug about it.
“I would not mind if all of Gondolin knew you were my lover.” Glorfindel spoke with perfect sincerity, his marvellous blue eyes wide and guileless in the moonlight. “I think many would envy me, Inglorion.”
Gildor felt his cheeks get warm, and knew he was blushing like a maiden.
“And there is my sweet virgin again. Have I told you how much I like your blushes, and the way your eyes get wide if you are startled out of whatever thoughts have carried you away?” Glorfindel smoothed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the touch gentle and tender. “And now I find you have a roar after all, kitten. In a moment, will I be treated to your claws?”
“You are an infuriating tease,” Gildor retorted. “I may be the kitten to your lion, but even kittens grow up eventually.” He tried a glare, and earned another of Glorfindel’s rich chuckles. He let out a little scream, well muffled in the warm expanse of Glorfindel’s broad chest.
The teases were having the desired effect, or so he assumed. Without his noticing, Glorfindel’s movements had shifted again, becoming deeper, harder, and he felt a small tremble run through the warrior. If he was tender, he no longer noticed. Each sure thrust filled him beyond all understanding, and touched him as never before. This was a dream Glorfindel had before his fall, before he had travelled to Mandos’ Hall. How had he never noticed this before?
Again there was that little tremble of sensation, and Gildor encouraged it as much as he could, stretching and moaning. “Give it to me,” he whispered, as a demand. He was not sure if Glorfindel even heard him now, but when the warrior found release Gildor almost felt like it was his own.
He was pulled into a close cuddly embrace, and here Glorfindel seemed almost like himself. “What shall we do now?” Glorfindel queried, and Gildor’s eyes were already sliding closed.
“We sleep,” he said pointedly, “and you can go back to your own bed or stay here with me.” There was silence. He blinked and looked up, just as Glorfindel let out a quiet snore. Well, that answered the question then.
Glorfindel’s arms around him were like a prison he could not escape, and the warrior’s impressive biceps were hard beneath his head. Gildor yawned and managed to move enough to drag a soft pillow between them to rest upon. Then he slept too, until he was awoken in the morning by Glorfindel shaking him, distress evident on his face.

To be continued...

Authors' Notes:
Thank you for reading... we hope you're enjoying it. Welcome to all readers who have followed us here! And Happy Valentine's Day to all <333

Translations (Quenya):
Áva malatya melindo – Don't hurt your lover
Melindonya – my lover
Intyë – yourself
mîr nín – my treasure (Sindarin)
Melinyet – I love you
Ma melityen – Do you love me?
Samit melmenya, tenn’oio – You have my love, forever
Avá levöar – Don't move away
céva melindonya – my new lover
Vinimëoinya – my kitten (literally 'my baby cat')
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The Lost and the Hidden City