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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 Nine
Gildor was quite startled when Glorfindel appeared in his doorway, clearing his throat loudly. He looked up from the map he was annotating, and put his pen down carefully. “Have you come to distract me?” he asked, his smile bright. “I warn you, I’m quite serious about my work.”
“It is time for supper. Did you not hear the chimes?” Glorfindel frowned at him, and he hastened to reach for a cloth for his fingers.
“I did not,” he admitted, somewhat abashed. “I was trying very hard to get the details right. It is important to be precise.” He sighed. Now that Glorfindel was there, in front of him, he found himself feeling warm, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. I’m not too late, am I?”
“If I do not mind dining with an elf who has a smudge of gilt on the tip of his nose, no.” Glorfindel relented just a bit, his frown fading. “I did come by earlier, but you did not see me. Twice.”
He was rubbing at the tip of his nose with his cloth, and he stopped, eyes wide. How could he have been unaware of his lover’s presence? “Twice?” he repeated, still not quite believing he could have been so oblivious.
“Do not fret so, bain nín.” Glorfindel did not seem to notice the other elves in the library as they looked up and smiled at the lovers. “You have nothing to apologise for.” He took the cloth from Gildor’s hand and finished wiping away the smudge on his nose. “But I will confess, I do not like it when you neglect yourself. If I had not come for you, you would have missed supper, and gone to bed without a proper meal.”
For a moment, Gildor allowed Glorfindel to admonish him, but then he took the cloth from Glorfindel’s hand and put it back on the desk.
“I see,” he said carefully. “And if that happened,” he continued, “then I should be living my life very much how I have lived it these last centuries without you.” He raised a brow. “And yet I am still here, not having faded away for neglecting myself.”
To his surprise, Glorfindel actually blushed, as if he had been caught out. In fact, he looked very much like a naughty elfling, and Gildor found himself struggling not to laugh. “I only meant,” Glorfindel began, hesitant.
“I know what you meant,” Gildor informed him, then he did laugh. “But I am hungry now.” And for more than just food. Now that Glorfindel was here, his body felt tingly and aware of his proximity.
Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around Glorfindel and kissed him on the lips. “If you intend to get up to anything tonight, you had better take me to be fed before the kitchens close.” He paused. “Else I shall surely faint in your arms for lack of sustenance!”
At last, with that bit of overacting, Glorfindel seemed to catch on, and he laughed too. “Actually,” he said, a little too smug for Gildor’s liking. “The kitchens are always open to the warriors of Imladris, no matter the time.”
That statement turned out to be quite true, however, and Gildor found himself enjoying a hearty supper to make up for his long day. When he had taken his fill, Glorfindel led him out of the dining hall and back to the nearest of their rooms, which happened to be Glorfindel’s.
Gildor was actually pleased they had wound up in Glorfindel’s room. Perhaps because the warrior was tall, and broad, the staff of Imladris had provided a suitably large bed, and it was well suited for lovemaking. His own bed, while not small, was not quite as imposing, and he often wondered how he had not wound up on the floor when Glorfindel was feeling vigorous.
But for now, his attention was dragged back to the present. Glorfindel wasted no time in securing the door, and he was undressing Gildor with a speed born of practice. Not that he was objecting in the least, of course. He was just as busy working on getting to Glorfindel’s skin. After the day spent without his lover’s company, he was more than ready, a fact which seemed to amuse Glorfindel.
“Wicked elf,” he murmured, as Glorfindel’s hand slid over his arousal teasingly. “I have become far too accustomed to your touch, I think.”
“Tell me you are not complaining.” Glorfindel’s mouth traveled down his ear to the bare column of his throat, coaxing a decidedly wanton whimper from him. “Do you want to have a night alone?”
He yelped as Glorfindel nipped, and then laughed. “I want to be in your bed. Underneath you, crying out your name because it is all I can remember.” His hand found Glorfindel’s thick cock, and his body clenched in anticipation.
Glorfindel made a pleased sound, and Gildor felt those large hands cup his buttocks before he was unexpectedly lifted clear of the floor, causing him to clutch tightly at Glorfindel’s shoulders with an undignified squeak.
“I think that can be arranged,” Glorfindel said, depositing him on the bed carefully. Happily, Glorfindel stayed close, so Gildor went right back to moving his hand up and down his lover’s erection, loving the feel of it with his eyes closed, his other hand reaching up, buried in that gorgeous hair. So he was a little disappointed when Glorfindel pulled his hands away to bind them to the head of the bed again, but he said nothing.
As before, he felt a calmness descend, until Glorfindel produced more of the silken lengths and started on his right knee, binding it out and away from his body, securing that to the bed head as well. Gildor’s heart beat heavily. “What are you doing?” he asked, even though it was quite clear as Glorfindel bound up his other leg in the same fashion, leaving him wide open. And probably quite inviting if the way Glorfindel looked upon him was any indication.
“Just one thing missing,” Glorfindel said without answering him, and Gildor wished he could stop his body from responding when Glorfindel handled his cock, making him hard so he could take the final binding.
When it was all done, and he saw Glorfindel covering his fingers with oil, he heard himself give a long, loud yearning moan. He tried to move, and could not. Only his lower legs could move, but that strangely made him feel more helpless.
“They hear you, you know, my guards,” Glorfindel told him, smiling slightly, surely only teasing. “In the night, here, with me.”
The first touch of his lover’s penetrating fingers usually made him moan, but he swallowed it deliberately in light of this new information. Surely, Glorfindel was only jesting? “They do?” he asked, and while he was sure it wasn’t true, it was all too easy to imagine his cries echoing through Imladris in the night.
Glorfindel pressed in further, thick fingers finding all the most inviting spots. He bit back the needy whimpers as he watched Glorfindel. The warrior’s concentration was absolute, his face lit with a marvellous desire as he guided him into relaxing. He wanted to tell Glorfindel how beautiful he was, but he was reluctant to even whisper.
“They do,” Glorfindel said after a time, and crooked his finger. He was helpless to stop his soft cry of pleasure. “They call you Dúlinnor, you know. They’re quite right. You are my nightingale, and I find your song sweet to my ears.”
He looked up at his lover, helpless and exposed, and the opinion of the guards seemed far less urgent. He pondered what it meant that they heard him in the night. Did they hear the love and desire in his voice? Did his joy make them smile in approval? Surely they would not judge him harshly just for loving. What elf would?
What was important was the way Glorfindel sounded so completely possessive. His nightingale. He would not have it any other way, and the realisation removed another layer of reserve. He had always been the most circumspect of elves, but now he wanted to cry out loudly enough for all of Imladris to hear. Glorfindel moved his finger and he did not hesitate to moan this time.
“There is the song I love,” Glorfindel said, and looked up. “Bain nín. When you look at me like that, I can hardly restrain myself. Tonight, I will not have to. I will have you as often as I wish, and you will sing for me each time.”
He moaned again, desire mixed with a touch of apprehension. He did have limitations, no matter how much he would want to be taken all night long. Glorfindel banished his fears with a gentle kiss.
“Easy, to start, mîr nín. Like this.” He felt his lover ease into him, and he gasped with the pleasure of it.
He marvelled at how Glorfindel could still feel so impossibly big every time, but he did. It was all Gildor could think about for a moment as he felt the way his body had to stretch to accommodate it. “Valar,” he whispered, “every single time.” It drew a moan from deep in his chest, and to his satisfaction, he didn’t sound at all like a nightingale.
“Just like the first,” Glorfindel replied, and Gildor blinked. He glanced around him at the bindings that held him still and open, flexed his biceps to no avail. “Ai,” he said on a shiver, loving it to be so helpless despite himself. “Not exactly.” Glorfindel chuckled in response, and Gildor was sure there was a note of pure evil in it.
Slowly, Glorfindel pulled back, and he felt every second of it before the warrior thrust back in. This time the sound he made was higher, and it ended on a desperate hum as he pressed his lips together. “No,” he said, resolute, but then Glorfindel did it again, and again, until he could not help himself.
His lover’s hands were beneath his buttocks, holding his body at the perfect angle, and when he chanced to look, Glorfindel was watching the place where they were joined, and then he sighed. “I wish you could see this,” Glorfindel said, then bit his lip and moved again. This time he hit that perfect spot, and a wave of heat raced through him. As he moaned, to his chagrin, he was sure he could hear it echoing off the walls.
In his flustered state, he was sure he heard a few chuckles from the hall, and the whisper of booted feet over the flagstones. In some ways, it was harder to be exposed in this manner, heard but not seen. He could only try to imagine what the guards were thinking, what pictures their minds painted of the activities behind the stout door. Such thoughts would have made him squirm, if it were possible.
His cock was hard enough to ache, and it bounced against his belly as Glorfindel moved. He longed for a bit of friction, until he remembered he was bound there as well. There would be no release until Glorfindel was satisfied. From the look of things, that would not be any time soon.
“Tell me how we look,” he said, desperate to take his mind off the growing heat in his belly.
Glorfindel gave a wicked chuckle. “I’m not a bard. I could not possibly find the words to tell you. But I will tell you this much. You are mine.”
The words were what he needed to find what should have been release. He cried out - how could he not? But there was no peace from this, only a yearning, a longing for completion and the feel of his lover moving within him.
Gildor thrashed, as much as he was able to. His head shook from side to side, and his hands twisted in their binding. His toes scrunched and his legs kicked out, but it changed nothing. “Glorfindel…” he moaned, desperate, and he consciously tightened his body in an attempt to make it stop, but only made it worse. The maddening torment continued until Glorfindel chose to change it, adjusting the angle until Gildor felt the heat subside, just a little.
He breathed heavily, trying to centre himself, and still Glorfindel continued to move back and forth within him. He felt as though he were suspended in a moment of excruciating need and endless pleasure. “Well, that was quite naughty of you, mîr nín,” Glorfindel said tenderly, not quite chastising him.
“Glorfindel, please!” he begged, and his only response was several hard and fast movements that made him cry out. It was still blissful pleasure, and Gildor couldn’t resent it, but he wondered if his lover was close. He felt hot again, pressure building up, and he knew his body was responding the same way as before, coaxing it from Glorfindel in little rushing flexes of his internal muscle.
Before there could be an end to it, Glorfindel pulled out of him, only to sit back on his heels and palm more of the oil onto his erection. Gildor groaned in dismay, and then pleaded all over again when Glorfindel switched to squeezing his cock, his hand slippery and warm with the oil he had used.
“Ai, I cannot,” he cried out, and he felt what should have been release, the waves of pleasure wracking him although there was no satisfaction. “Wicked, wicked elf,” he managed to gasp. His cock was as hard as ever, and he tried his best to glare up at Glorfindel.
“Are you complaining, bain nín?” The amusement in his lover’s voice should have been infuriating, but Glorfindel was stroking his cock again, and everything else ceased to matter. He could not writhe, not precisely, but he tossed his head and curled his toes in helpless abandon.
“I do not care who hears me,” he said. He panted as Glorfindel’s thumb slid over the tender flesh beneath the head of his cock. “I cannot endure this.” He let his head fall back, and let out a hopeful moan.
“Ah, so you are willing to sing for us all? Very good,” Glorfindel said, nodding decisively. He stroked Gildor a bit faster, until he was biting his lip. “I can’t quite hear you, little nightingale.”
Surrendering, Gildor vocalised his pleasure as if that would stop it from endlessly building in him, but it did not. To his dismay, Glorfindel leaned over and entered him again, and this time he had the experience of feeling Glorfindel’s weight bearing him down, that friction generated by their bodies, centred on his cock.
Still he moaned. Now he had begun, he could not go back to being quiet, and the room rang with his cries as Glorfindel slipped hands under his shoulders to hold him close, the warrior’s tongue tracing the shape of his ear as he turned his head.
When he heard Glorfindel moan quietly into his ear, he shivered, and his cries changed, becoming pleas for Glorfindel to find release. One of his lover’s hands travelled down between their bodies, and at the thought of being teased further, Gildor wriggled helplessly, a sob bursting from him.
Only Glorfindel did not tease him, and he felt that hand release him from the restriction there just before the point where his desperate need would have become pain, and his body surged in joy as he spent in ecstasy between them, crying out Glorfindel’s name. After that he was dazed and barely functioning, but he knew Glorfindel gave him a few more deep thrusts before he came too, only then pulling away and going about the task of untying him.
He felt Glorfindel ease his legs down, rubbing them tenderly before freeing his hands. His wrists and arms were rubbed with the same loving care, and he felt a surge of unbridled love and joy for Glorfindel. He had nothing left but this sweet lassitude, and a desire to be held. His wish was granted moments later, when Glorfindel lay down beside him, to gather him close.
“Did they all hear me?” he murmured, smiling into Glorfindel’s warm chest. He could feel his lover’s hand stroking down his back, strong and soothing.
“If they did, all they heard is what I heard.” Glorfindel’s voice was quiet. “They heard an elf cry out in joy and pleasure, and they knew how very lucky I am to be so well loved.”
He felt his cheeks grow warm, and tears sprang to his eyes. “Did they?” he asked, almost inaudible. Glorfindel heard him anyway, and there was a small hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“I hope I am well loved, in any event.”
“Foolish elf.” He snuggled closer, stifling a giggle. “Of course you are well loved.” He slid his arms around Glorfindel. “Even by me.”
Gildor had only to wait, and sure enough, after a minute or two…
“Wait,” Glorfindel said. “Even?”
Again, he had to stifle his laughter. “Especially,” he corrected, and then the two lovers finally relaxed. Gildor listened to Glorfindel’s breathing until it slowed, until the arms that held him became warm and heavy. He hoped, after tonight’s activities, Glorfindel could rest and his dreams would be his own.

To be contined...

Authors' Note: Thank you for reading – we hope you're enjoying it! Please leave a comment to encourage us! Until next time... keep well :)

Translations:
bain nín – my beauty
Dúlinnor – nightingale
mîr nín – my treasure
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The Lost and the Hidden City