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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.

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Chapter Seven

The early morning sun roused Gildor from his reverie, his head still resting on Glorfindel’s shoulder. Strong arms held him close, and he could not recall a better morning, at least not in a very, very long time. He turned his head to look at his lover, remembering the whispered words which had seen him off to reverie. He was still not sure if it had been real, or just his deepest wishes manifesting.

But right now, it did not matter. He could steal these moments to watch Glorfindel in reverie, all the faint lines smoothed from his handsome face. He truly was the epitome of an elven warrior - strong, bold, and relentless. He very nearly had to smother a small giggle at how relentless Glorfindel could be. He was liable to spend the next turning of the moon on his back, or on his knees, and the thought sent a tingle of warmth through him. In the meantime, he would keep up his pretense of needing more time, and see what other admissions he could coax from Glorfindel.

He thought about how he had tried to wake Glorfindel - was it only yesterday morning? It felt like it had been longer somehow. He was not eager to repeat that experience, and it was so pleasantly warm, under the covers, pressed against Glorfindel. He found himself unwilling to expend the effort to move at all.

At last he sighed. Unless he planned to just wait here, still, until Glorfindel woke up, he would need to do something. As gently as he could, he began trying to extricate himself from the warrior’s grip, which was a more difficult task than it seemed. Even in sleep, Glorfindel seemed to notice that his prize was wriggling away and his grip tightened as he pulled Gildor close.

After a few moments of surrender, Gildor tried again, feeling Glorfindel’s arms loosen, and then suddenly it was like a repeat of the previous morning, and he ended up beneath Glorfindel, held captive, the blond warrior wide awake and staring down at him.

“This is going to become a habit with you, isn’t it?” he asked, but he played along and tried to get free while Glorfindel smirked at him.

“Good morning, mîr nín,” he said, letting his weight do the job of holding Gildor down. Gildor struggled, and the only thing he managed was to part his legs so that Glorfindel was more comfortable. He could feel the warrior’s hot erection poking into his thigh, and he wriggled to have it resting in a better place, like alongside his own cock. His thoughts of prolonging the minor deception fluttered out of his head. He wanted Glorfindel again, wanted that feeling of being filled and possessed by him.

“Good morning to you, aníra nín,” he replied, managing at least the pretence of a conversation. He could feel Glorfindel’s cock next to his own, and his needy little moan was not in the least bit contrived. “Has the moon waxed and waned three times already? I must have been very tired, to have taken so long a reverie.” His grin was cheeky, and grew wider when Glorfindel growled.

“You are impossible, do you know that?” Glorfindel sounded more amused than angered, and perhaps there was even a bit of approval in his voice.

Gildor attempted a shrug, thwarted by the greater weight of the elf atop him. “You would not have me any other way,” he said.

It only took one look into Glorfindel’s eyes to see he had managed to hit home with his words. Glorfindel would never be satisfied with an elf who simply acquiesced. He wanted a lover who would challenge him, intrigue him, and delight him. This much Gildor had known. He had not realised, until this very moment, he was the elf who filled all of Glorfindel’s needs. He might well want to be filled and possessed by the blond warrior, but Glorfindel had an equally strong need to possess him, to fill him until there was nothing left but pure sensation, until neither knew where the other began or ended. In this game, they were equals, perfectly matched and ideally suited.

“So,” said Glorfindel eventually, “you were toying with me?” As he spoke, he moved a hand up over Gildor’s side, tickling at his ribs so that he writhed and giggled. Once he had found that spot, Glorfindel made it an aim of his to torment, until Gildor was breathless and weak, begging for it to stop. The hand stilled, just the threat of those teasing fingertips resting on Gildor’s waist.

“What have you to say for yourself?” Glorfindel asked, smiling. Gildor bit his lip and gave him a pleading look.

Glorfindel laughed at his expression. “Do you wish for more, mîr nín?” Gildor shook his head quickly, struggling to escape. “Then speak.”

With a helpless sigh, Gildor replied the only way he could. “You make a splendid toy, Glor--”

He was cut off by an undignified squeak as Glorfindel went right back to tickling him. “Ai!” he cried out, laughing. “I am sorry! I am sorry!”

At last, when it was over, Glorfindel regarded him a little more seriously. “Perhaps, since you clearly can not be trusted, I should be the one to decide if your body is recovered enough.” Just the allusion to having Glorfindel inside him was enough to make Gildor moan and attempt to arch up. Glorfindel was so hard! He must want it, just as much.

“I am not sure you are quite as recovered as you claim,” he said then, and Gildor began to protest, looking up into Glorfindel’s eyes, but the warrior spoke over him. “I do not doubt your desire, pen bain, only your,” his lips quirked, “capacity.”

“And to which capacity do you refer?” He arched a brow, striving to appear composed, while he ached to be taken again by his glorious lover. “My capacity to endure tickling? Or my ability to ignore that rather eager bit of your anatomy which is currently prodding me most invitingly?” He widened his eyes in an effort to look innocent. “I think I have demonstrated my capacity to accommodate you.”

Now Glorfindel’s lips twitched, and he shifted, as if to move his cock away from Gildor. “I did not mean to prod you, at least not yet.”

“I was not complaining!” He arched to maintain contact, foiled by the weight of his lover, and he huffed an exasperated sigh. “You are a most vexatious elf. First you make love to me until I can hardly remember my name, and then you tease me by withholding yourself. Fine, then. We shall go bathe.” He peered at Glorfindel from under dark lashes, to see what effect his words were having. It was very difficult not to smile.

Despite his words, Glorfindel seemed quite comfortable, and when he smiled, Gildor felt his heart flip… just a little. “I do not think we are late this morning,” Glorfindel said. “And there is much I can have without the need to ‘prod’ you.”

As soon as he had finished speaking, Glorfindel seemed to stretch lazily, his face ending much closer to Gildor’s. “You were made to be kissed. I think I told you that.”

Gildor swallowed, then nodded slightly. “Well, I --” and his sentence was cut off by Glorfindel’s warm lips as they brushed against his.

If he was made to be kissed, then Glorfindel was made to kiss him. He had not realised the nuance that could be conveyed by a kiss, until Glorfindel demonstrated it so ably. He was tender, but insistent, and thorough in his explorations, and Gildor yielded gladly. If a kiss could speak, this one said many things, and all of them warmed the heart.

His hands stole up to cup Glorfindel’s face, his thumbs tracing the planes and angles to match touch to vision. It was perhaps not as encompassing, but he did feel filled, and yet still eager for more. He managed an ardent whisper, one hand sliding into his lover’s golden curls. “Glorfindel…”

To his surprise, Glorfindel’s head moved down suddenly, the weight lifted from him. He blinked, his hands still tangled in his lover’s hair. It was all he could see, but Glorfindel made no attempt to touch or to kiss.

“I know that look you are wearing,” Glorfindel said quietly, “and if I see it, I will be buried in you before the half hour is out.” Glorfindel moved slightly, and a wet tongue flicked out at Gildor’s left nipple, making him gasp. “I can’t get enough of you,” Glorfindel confessed, and moved again, this time it was his right nipple, and Gildor lowered his hands to Glorfindel’s shoulders.

“Then look at me,” he said. Glorfindel slowly raised his head, and their gazes caught. Gildor bit his lip for a moment, seeing that intention in his lover again, and he wanted it more than anything. “I can’t get enough of you,” he pointed out. “So I think we’re even.”

He could see the very moment when Glorfindel recognized his certainty, when he knew Glorfindel would have him. He felt a flutter deep in his belly, along with a surge of wild joy. Glorfindel’s confession gave him the reassurance he needed. When his lover chuckled, he broke into a smile. “But why must I wait for a half hour?”

“Because, bain nín, I am busy exploring you.” Glorfindel’s tongue dragged over his right nipple again, and he felt his cock twitch hard. “I find myself frequently distracted by the pleasure of sinking my cock into you, and I am missing out on all these other treats.”

He bit his lip again, his eyes widening while his fingers tightened on his lover’s strong shoulders. “Well, then. I suppose I should leave you to it.” Glorfindel’s delighted burst of laughter tickled against his skin.

Warm fingers wrapped around his cock, prompting a sudden moan, but Glorfindel’s hand did not move, the rough pad of a thumb sweeping over the head. “Perhaps I should restrain this again,” Glorfindel murmured. “Your body was so sweet and trembling around me last night.”

Gildor definitely did not feel as enthusiastic about that prospect as Glorfindel, but he lifted his hips and pressed into that firm grip all the same. The warrior moved back up his body though without reaching for the restraint, which rested on the bedside table still.

“Or maybe I should see how long it takes for you to come with my cock in you,” Glorfindel suggested, and Gildor gulped. “I think you would too, without me touching you at all.” Glorfindel’s lips were touching his ear, and the warrior let go of a little growl of appreciation. It was the sexiest sound Gildor had ever heard, and he shivered.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Glorfindel persisted, and Gildor found himself nodding in agreement.

“Yes, I will, I swear it.” He would say anything to have Glorfindel take him again, and his hand reached out blindly to the bedside table for the oil, fingertips pressing on the lengths of satin Glorfindel had used to bind his wrists the night before, and he whimpered in need.

Glorfindel looked at him, and his eyes followed Gildor’s hand. “Do you want me to use those? I will admit, I do enjoy seeing you captive beneath me. You yield even more sweetly, I think.”

“Not if it would take too long,” he admitted. “Mostly, I want you in me.” His ingenuous response was a surprise even to himself, but it was the truth. He wanted to feel Glorfindel moving inside him, touching him in ways he never expected to be touched. He wanted to feel hot, and sweaty, and to wonder, just at the very last moment, before he came, if he would come apart from the sheer power of his release. He wanted to come back to himself and feel Glorfindel still moving, so deep, and so strong, and he wanted to watch his lover falter just before he too let go.

“Oh, mîr nín, what you do to me with your words,” Glorfindel murmured, breath hot as he leaned in to nibble the tip of his ear. “You offer me the moon itself, and the stars shine in your eyes. How can I be so blessed, to have you for my own?”

Gildor froze as he felt those teeth on him, and his body trembled. His fingers brushed the bottle of oil, and he knocked it over, unable to do anything but moan and arch upwards as his desire for Glorfindel caught in him all over again. At last, the nibbling stopped, and Gildor stretched out his fingers, righting the oil and picking it up.

He pressed the bottle into Glorfindel’s hand. “I shall have plenty of words later,” he said pointedly, and with his other hand he reached down, capturing Glorfindel’s impressive erection with his palm, tugging on it lightly until he saw Glorfindel’s eyes close in pleasure. “Get distracted,” he said. Then, because he sensed he was being bossy, he added: “Please.”

Glorfindel laughed, deep and rich, and he spilled the oil on his fingers. “Oh, how can I refuse to do your bidding, my fierce beauty?” Gildor did not reply, only let his hand play over Glorfindel’s length, relishing the feel of it in his hand. Soon enough, one of Glorfindel’s fingers was seeking entry inside him, and it was hard, no doubt due to the tension of his body. Gildor drew in a breath and tried to relax.

“Every time,” Glorfindel whispered, serious now. “Just like the first time.”

Gildor looked into his lover’s eyes, and he almost came undone on the spot. He was quite sure no one had ever looked at him in quite this manner, as if he were the rarest of treasures. All at once, he felt himself settle, and the tension bled away. Glorfindel teased him with an oiled finger, and this time, he felt it press in, working past the last of the tightness.

“Easy,” he whispered, shivering a little. “Or to start, anyway. Ai, Iluvatar, I do want you.”

“I know that you do, bain nín.” Glorfindel worked his finger deeper, and Gildor cried out as he felt sweet pleasure wash over him. He clenched around the finger reflexively, and then felt himself relax and open for his lover. “Easy, lendeth nín. At least to start.”

It did become easier, and he was sore, though not as much as he expected to be. It seemed almost as if his body was becoming used to Glorfindel, and that meant, despite everything, they really did ‘fit together’ as Glorfindel had mentioned that first night.

Gildor let his legs sprawl to either side as Glorfindel added a second finger, and he continued to move his hand over the warrior’s erection, every solid inch of it, until his body and mind were a frenzy of lust again. His hips were moving, encouraging, and he moaned quietly with his eyes closed until he realised Glorfindel was hardly moving those fingers and that he was doing all of the work himself.

With a blush of self-awareness, Gildor opened his eyes, and then all at once Glorfindel was kissing him. It was a sweet and tender kiss, not possessive or invasive, and it made him aware of how Glorfindel possessed him below. His fingers, deep inside, and it felt for a moment as if Glorfindel held him in the palm of his hand. Gildor trembled.

Glorfindel’s kisses continued, and gradually his trembling ceased, until the only thing he could register was the sweet, slow waves of pleasure coursing through him. He was almost ready to let go then and there, but he did his best to resist the pull. His efforts were rewarded when Glorfindel withdrew his fingers, and replaced them with his cock.

He could not hold out against the way Glorfindel managed to touch all of him, so deep it beggared belief. But they did fit together, perfectly, and the proof of it was how quickly he succumbed. He tightened around Glorfindel with a helpless cry, and the heat of his release was lost in the fire between them.

Still Glorfindel moved, so hard, demanding, insistent, and even though he had found his own release, Gildor knew his body was still responding. He knew he was still open and welcoming, even as the remaining pleasure was tinged with the slightest pain. He welcomed the pain, wanted it, as if he existed only for the way Glorfindel thrust inside him.

“Gildor…” Glorfindel moaned on a forward movement and a shudder. He opened his eyes, and Glorfindel had his head down. Gildor used his hands to tilt Glorfindel’s face, so he could look into his lover’s eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “Find it in me,” he urged, feeling something fierce come to life in him. “Give it to me. Let me see it.”

Glorfindel moaned again, but he was coming. Gildor could feel it, and there was such a look in his eyes. “Mine,” Glorfindel said, as if unaware of the way he spoke. Yet for all of his possessiveness, that look remained. He seemed helpless and lost as he came, and now it was all the other way around from when Glorfindel’s fingers had been inside him. Now he realised the truth; that it was he who held Glorfindel. Inside his body, in his hands - Glorfindel’s pleasure.

When they were laid beside each other, Gildor brushed stray curls out of Glorfindel’s eyes. He felt affectionate and happy, and very satisfied. He drew in a deep breath while Glorfindel watched him in silence. “Now we bathe,” he said brightly, and Glorfindel groaned. A heavy hand came to rest on his waist, keeping him still.

“In ten minutes,” Glorfindel replied, burying his face in the pillows.

Gildor could not refrain from laughing at his suddenly reluctant lover, but he snuggled close for the requisite ten minutes, until he was able to convince the warrior to face the baths and breakfast.

To be continued....

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The Lost and the Hidden City