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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-three
He blinked owlishly at the warrior, muzzy from not enough sleep. “What more do you want?” He knew he sounded peevish, but really, he had been hoping to sleep a bit longer. He shifted slightly, and winced as he was reminded how well used he had been the night before. Valar, he had not thought he could take so much!
“What more? Ai, Gildor, what have I done? How did I get here?” Glorfindel’s hand cupped his cheek, the warrior’s lips twisted with remorse.
“I would assume you walked on your own good feet,” Gildor said. “Judging by the breeze, you managed to get through the window. I suppose having you arrange for the locks was a bit hopeful of me, since they weren’t much of a deterrent for you.”
“I walked…” Glorfindel’s voice trailed off, his distress not mitigated in the slightest by Gildor’s words. “Did I hurt you? Please tell me I did not hurt you.”
Gildor sighed. “You did not harm me.” He watched Glorfindel’s face, saw the warrior note his choice of words. “But after our earlier lovemaking, I can honestly say it did hurt, just a bit when you decided we needed to make love again. And again.” For all that he was half under the warrior, he was able to wriggle his arm free, and he stroked Glorfindel’s cheek as his ire faded. “You were magnificent, actually. I think you cannot help but be so. And before you ask, I will insist I gave consent.”
Glorfindel seemed to have trouble keeping up, though at least the look of panic had gone from his eyes. Gildor smiled. “You consented…?” Glorfindel repeated, dumbfounded. “But I do not remember.”
Nodding, Gildor considered. “Well, that makes sense. You were dreaming, after all. You believed yourself in Gondolin. When I told you we were lovers, you were so openly delighted,” he paused, grinning, winding Glorfindel up on purpose. “Well, I just couldn’t resist you.”
Although he was having a little fun with the warrior, Gildor determined there was nothing to gain from describing his fear in the night, when Glorfindel had first slipped into his bed. Glorfindel rolled away, onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“I dreamed of you often back then,” he confessed. “And now you say my dream has come true, but I am cheated of it!”
Laughing, Gildor patted Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Perhaps I will let you replay it later. When I have recovered,” he added pointedly. Glorfindel growled, a deep rumble in his chest. Gildor ignored it. “For now, I am going to get a little more sleep before I bathe.”
He snuggled close, and Glorfindel automatically slid an arm around him. It felt marvellous. “You let some things slip last night,” Gildor continued quietly, with a gentle yawn, already drifting back off. “We will talk about them later.”
“What things?” Glorfindel questioned. When he didn’t get an answer, he didn’t press the matter, and Gildor dozed for another hour or so.
When he awoke for the second time, feeling much more refreshed, he was still in Glorfindel’s warm embrace, and the warrior was watching him, almost as if waiting for him to stir.
“Good morning,” Gildor said, stretching to the best of his ability within the confines of Glorfindel’s strong arms. He offered up a smile. “It is still morning, I trust?”
Glorfindel nodded, not in any hurry to release him. “It is. I thought perhaps, now that you are awake, we could bathe and then find some breakfast?”
His stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and he laughed. “I think I am starting to become more like you, aníra nín. Listen to how I roar.” He stretched again. “But first, a bath, I think. You will have to bear with me if I walk slowly.”
Glorfindel made a small noise, sounding thoroughly frustrated. “I would remember it, if I could. It is very unfair, you know.” He seemed to hesitate, and then went on quickly. “Perhaps, if the baths are quiet, you could tell me what it was you learned last night? What I let slip?”
Gildor looked at his blond lover, seeing the fine line between Glorfindel’s brows, anxiety warring with concern in those blue eyes. He could not torment his lover, really. “Do not look so worried. It is not so dreadful that it needs a frown. But you are going to have to make do with one of my robes again, I fear, since I am quite sure you arrived in nothing more than your own glory.”
It was impossible not to laugh at the expressions which chased across Glorfindel’s face: relief, delight, and then dismay. “Do you think the guards…”
“I am quite sure,” Gildor said, and stretched to kiss his lover. “I wonder what nickname you have earned.”
Carefully, he slid off the bed and went to get the robes for their bath, tossing the same robe to Glorfindel as he had worn before, so long ago. He turned, expecting to be entertained by Glorfindel bursting out of it, but was disappointed to find the warrior had employed a large towel, wrapping it around his middle.
The baths were quiet, but not entirely empty, and Gildor laughed at Glorfindel’s sullen expression when he realised he would have to wait even longer to find out what he had said the night before.
After a hearty breakfast, they took some private time before returning to the library for the rest of the morning. Since Glorfindel had already declared that he felt as if he had been having sex all night, even if he couldn’t remember it, they sat at Glorfindel’s small table, instead of gravitating towards the bed as they might otherwise do.
“Now will you tell me?” Glorfindel asked directly. He was curious, and earnest, and so beautiful Gildor sighed. He looked to the empty bed that neither of them had slept in.
“I will tell you, as long as I can have my usual morning treat afterwards,” he bargained.
“Deal,” Glorfindel said with no hesitation at all. In fact, he licked his lips, and Gildor could not help laughing. Belatedly, he realised he should have argued to have his way first, then tell, but it was too late now.
“It is a small matter,” he began. “I just wanted to talk to you about your habit of following me, in secret, when I venture out to make maps.”
“I don’t--oh!” Glorfindel blushed, his cheeks a wonderful shade of pink. “I did do that, did I not? It was far more dangerous in the lands around Gondolin, at least back then, and you were always so oblivious to the dangers. Or so I believed. I tried very hard to make sure you would never know, and to be honest, I enjoyed protecting you.”
“You do it still, you know.”
“Oh, no, that is entirely false.” Glorfindel folded strong arms over his broad chest. “I have not followed you at all here. I have been kept busy training the guard, and patrolling the wild lands beyond our valley.”
“You might not hunt orcs to ensure my safety, but you do seek to protect me, sometimes even from myself, I think.” He reached out to touch Glorfindel’s arm, marvelling at the heat which infused the warrior, and radiated out from his golden skin. “You decide for me what is safest, but look at last night. I fastened all my locks, and closed my door against intruders, only to find you in my bed anyway.”
Glorfindel looked distressed. “How else do I keep you safe?”
“You trust me to know what is best for me, sometimes. You trust me to be wise enough to accept certain risks, in the knowledge I am capable of handling them.” Gildor leaned forward, his touch straying higher, to one tense shoulder. “I will not be sent away at night like a helpless child. I trust you, melethron. I know you will not harm me.”
“You have more faith in me than I do in myself,” Glorfindel admitted. Then a twinkle lit his eyes. “So, does this mean you will not require me to be trussed up any longer? Should I return the rope to Elrond?”
Gildor sniffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I require you to be trussed up, for my pleasure. You are my treat, after all, when you are at my mercy for a change.”
“Indeed, hérince, of course you like me helpless, so you can have your wicked way with me.” Glorfindel’s voice was a wonderful rumble, and Gildor could not help but laugh. “Who am I to deny the great cartographer a chance to map me?”
“Oh, Glorfindel,” Gildor said, standing up and shaking his head. “I do not need to map you.” He held out his hand as the warrior got to his feet and led him to the bed. “After our time together, I already know you so well.”
“You do?” Glorfindel asked, encouraging as Gildor began to shed the layers of his clothing. He turned to gaze into his lover’s eyes.
“Of course, meleth nín,” he said. “I know your highs and lows.” He stepped closer. “I know the expanse of your heart, and I know the ages you have lived.” He reached out to touch, nudging Glorfindel’s tunic from his shoulder. “How they have shaped you, mahtar melindonya.”
Glorfindel seemed enchanted, merely staring back until he appeared to realise he was falling behind. He blinked and hurriedly got on with removing his own clothing as Gildor sat on the side of the bed to watch.
When he patted the bed beside him, Glorfindel joined him there. “I know the texture of your skin,” Gildor continued, enjoying himself, following his words with his touch. “I know the heat and taste of your lips, and all of those secret places.”
“The way your hair makes a golden halo for you in the sunlight,” he said with a sigh. Glorfindel laughed as Gildor pulled him down so they were lying side-by-side on the bed.
“If you already know me so well,” he said, his hands exploring Gildor in turn, “then what are you doing with me now?”
“I am claiming my prize.” He reached out to the bedside table for the oil. “And you are it.”
Glorfindel’s eyes darkened, though the amused smile didn’t leave his lips. At least not until Gildor was preparing him, whereupon he bit his lip and gasped, but did not protest at all.
“Map you,” Gildor said again. “Glorfindel, I could draw you in the dark,” he teased deliberately. “With my eyes closed.”
“I have fallen in love with an elf who draws me in the dark,” Glorfindel murmured. He reached up to grasp the rails of his headboard, offering himself to Gildor. “Close your eyes, and show me.”
Gildor smiled, and shook his head. “Do you think that will affect me in the least?” He closed his eyes, but his touch never faltered, not even when he finished coating his own cock with the oil. He set it on the bedside table unerringly, hearing the slight breaths Glorfindel could not suppress, and the soft hiss of skin against the sheets as Glorfindel shifted his weight. He could see, in his mind’s eye, the colour rising in Glorfindel’s cheeks as he stroked himself, and in a fit of mischief, he slid his hand over the crown slowly.
“As you can see, meleth nín, I am quite ready, and I do believe you are as well,” He laughed at the sweet sound of Glorfindel’s quick intake of air. He reached out, pressing Glorfindel’s thighs apart, and slipping his arms under the warrior’s knees. “I do not even need fingers to know you are aroused, because I can feel the heat of you. But now, I want to feel your heat around me.”
There was resistance, which he expected. But to his credit, Glorfindel took a deep breath and relaxed, and the way was easier as Gildor pressed forward and claimed his prize. Once he was fully seated, he paused, and leaned in to find Glorfindel’s lips, and claim a kiss as well. “You make it far too easy, you know. But I would not let go of those rails, were I you.” He laughed as Glorfindel stilled beneath him, and he could imagine those blue eyes, dark with desire and wide with surprise. “I am sure I can find other ways to truss you if you want to misbehave.”
“I will behave!” Glorfindel said quickly, so urgent that Gildor opened his eyes to look. The warrior had his eyes closed, and his head turned to the side, his lips parted slightly. The way his arms reached back exposed the wonderful curve of his triceps and the hollow of his underarms, leading to the broad shoulders and defined chest with its light dusting of golden hair.
There were two specialised schools within the artist community of Imladris: a community that Gildor was part of to some extent for his work with the maps. Amongst those who painted the most sensual and erotic works, there were those who confined themselves to the female form, citing the lines and curves of the body as being the most pleasing. Another section were far more interested in those elves like Glorfindel, and Gildor understood why.
As he looked upon Glorfindel in that moment, he saw all the shapes contained within the warrior, the body honed into a living work of art, and he was more beautiful than anything Gildor had ever seen. Very suddenly, he realised he did want to draw Glorfindel - for real - even though his talent for life drawing was not as great as some others’.
These thoughts passed through his mind in a flash, and Glorfindel’s body contracted around him as the warrior moaned. “Gildor, please…” Despite his stature, it was a strangely vulnerable sound that made Gildor feel a sudden desperate need to move. To have him make more of those noises.
He drew back slowly at the beginning of each movement, relishing the sensation of Glorfindel’s body pulling at his cock, but snapped forward over and over again in a staccato rhythm, enjoying the moans Glorfindel gave him. But Gildor was hungry for more visuals too, and he moved a hand to Glorfindel’s hard cock, squeezing and pumping him at the same time as he watched himself move in and out of the warrior’s body.
So carried away, he didn’t even realise how close Glorfindel was until he was shooting hot in Gildor’s hand, his moans having changed to wild and longing cries a short while ago. Glorfindel’s stomach muscles rippled, undulating, as Gildor continued to work Glorfindel with his fist, taking him right to the end of his climax, and then there was an ominous loud crack.
Gildor looked up, alarmed, and saw the carved wooden rails of Glorfindel’s headboard splintering in the warrior’s grip.
“Ai, Valar,” he whispered, his hand stilling. Glorfindel was oblivious to the damage, lost in his pleasure. “Quickly, melethron, let go of the bed, and clasp your hands behind your neck for me. Let me see you present yourself for me.” He sighed a little when Glorfindel complied, the splinters falling unnoticed to the sides of the bed.
“So beautiful,” Gildor crooned, and remembered to move again, feeling the delicious heat engulf him. He was careful, though, knowing how it felt when he had spent, and Glorfindel had not. He was momentarily abashed for having lost focus, intent as he was on watching himself, and not paying close enough attention to his lover’s pleasure. But it was just a moment, and it passed as he let himself enjoy the sweet whimpers from the golden warrior.
Glorfindel really was too magnificent, even in this rare and therefore doubly cherished surrender. Really, it was impossible for Gildor to hold back his own release, not when he heard a throaty little moan evolve into his name, breathed like it was a talisman. “Rávonya, my lion,” he groaned, his belly tight with need. He felt Glorfindel tighten around him, and he could hold off no longer. And still, even as he cried out his pleasure, still Glorfindel remained as Gildor had asked, hands clasped behind his neck, broad chest offered up to Gildor.
Spent, he sank forward, onto his lover, feeling the heat of the warrior. “Hold me,” he whispered, and the strong arms were around him before he finished speaking. “Such a prize,” he murmured, feeling loved and sated, safe and happy. Of course, the state of the bed would warrant explanation, but that could come later, when he had dozed a bit. They could bathe, and go to the library, and on the way, see about someone who could replace the headboard for Glorfindel. Something sturdier, he thought, and giggled a little as his eyes closed.

To be continued...

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Translations:
aníra nín – my desire (Sindarin)
melethron – lover (Sindarin)
hérince – little Master (Quenya)
meleth nín – my love (Sindarin)
mahtar melindonya – my warrior lover (Quenya)
Rávonya – my lion (Quenya)
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The Lost and the Hidden City