Touch and feel
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,589
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,589
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Touch and feel
Author: Fishy ( fishyz9@yahoo.com )
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel (although it could fit anyone)
Rating: PG, AU,
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Erestor’s description of his relationship as they play a game.
Notes: Un-beta’d, slash M/M.
Touch and Feel.
This was one of his favourite games, we lay now in the dark, our sight obscured by the night. Our love making had finished, he had worshiped my body and had taken me to higher planes of pleasure before we spiralled into oblivion with only each other to hold onto. As he did every night, and quite frequently during the day also. But as passionate as my lover is there is nothing he likes to do more than hold me, much to my delight. His arms are strong and muscular and hold me tightly to his chest, I am his, his one and only and I revel in being possessed by him.
I can feel him now behind me, with his loving, almost childish smile upon his face as he plays his game. His larger frame domineers my smaller one and near envelopes me, just as I like it. In any other circumstance, in any other room, I am the intimidating presence. But in this room, in this bed, and in his arms, I am but his purring kitten, ready to yield and submit to his every wish, and he loves me for it. If I were to have any doubt of his love he knows I would not let him dominate or own my body so, so it is that I give myself, bare with no shields to him. And he loves me eternally for it, for it is only I that sees his tears, it is only I that knows his secret quirks, it is only I he will heel for. And so it is with these truths laid bare to only each other that such trust is bore between us, a complete and utter knowing of each other, a sweet sense of warmth in being owned by another.
I had always considering being so bare to another a vulnerability, but it is strength, I never knew that my whole person could feel so reaffirmed and known to myself, it took my willingness to concede and let his mind and heart explore mine own. Such sweet, sweet bliss is born from my submission, not the submission of my body, which admittedly is equally enchanting, but the submission of my will, of my resistance.
Now he is playing his game, still with his content smile. He knows I am not yet lost in reverie, he knows this because I feel the deep rumble in his chest vibrate against my back when I quiver as his fingers pass over my tickle spots, as he calls them. This is his game, after the wild passionate creature that is my lover dissipates, the sweet loving, almost shy elf that I adore beyond all comprehension comes out to play, to coax smiles from my lips. He can not see the smile upon my lips through the cloak of night but he feels it, he feels me smile. His fingers brush my lips to feel my smile, and another deep rumble comes from him, vibrating through me sending small tendrils of renascent pleasure through me as I playfully bite his finger, before kissing it lovingly of course.
His soft palms continue their exploration, and as often as he hands had lain upon my person, to an extent of knowing my physical form better than myself, every touch seems new to him. I love him for that, I love that he makes me feel undiscovered to him, as if I am a new found treasure thought to be only a myth. When he comes upon a certain patch of skin or soft curve of my body that he takes fancy to, he will pay homage to it. He will press the soft lips that have such power and persuasion over me to his new discovery, even if he had serenaded the part of my body many times before with his appraising dextrous lips.
The tips of his fingers trail small circles upon my flesh, again the childish innocent and free loving part of him that is mine alone to look upon reveals himself as he draws shapes upon me. Each time he had finished his new piece of art, myself being the canvas, he would stop momentarily to give me chance to guess his latest depiction upon my flesh. So in tune with his hands upon my body am I that I can always guess the tree, horse or other small creature that displays his sweetness upon myself. My answer though would not be verbal, that is the one rule of the game, only touch and feel are allowed. It is only in the sweet oblivion of this blinding night that every formality is dashed away, so my answer he would have to again feel, to search. He would feel my head nod, he would again touch my lips to feel me mouth the name of the creature so expertly sketched upon me with invisible ink by grown hands but with an eternally young sense of being and love.
It had been a squirrel he had drawn last, he had laughed silently at the smug smile that he sensed upon my lips at guessing that one particularly difficult drawing. He knew I had guessed his next creation before he had even finished, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably at the two horses on my shoulder, one mounted upon the other, I love his silliness and he knows this, forever striving to crack my facade with his uncanny ability and succeeding every time. He peers over me and gathers me close in his arms as a child would its most beloved bear, I can feel his smile now, I need not use my fingers I know that it is there. His shoulders shake along with mine, and still I am gathered in his arms as he pulls forth me forearm. He lays it next to his own as his larger hand cocoons my smaller one he stretches my arm so that the soft flesh of the underside faces the cool night air. He reaches over me with his other arm, completely enveloping me as he does so to draw upon the underside. Though this time he does not draw some small creature or obscene depiction of fornication, as he is so fond of. This time he writes an inscription, and this one time I break the one rule of our game and whisper.
“I love you to.”
And then I feel it, as he kisses me so softly, yet will all the zeal and perfection that is my lover I feel it. I feel the undeniable, the infallible truth that all is well, and forever will be. And I know that when this world comes to its end and if existence were to ever unravel itself we would survive, and together, we will lay between two stars to reflect upon our love to whomever may look upon us.
The end.
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel (although it could fit anyone)
Rating: PG, AU,
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Erestor’s description of his relationship as they play a game.
Notes: Un-beta’d, slash M/M.
Touch and Feel.
This was one of his favourite games, we lay now in the dark, our sight obscured by the night. Our love making had finished, he had worshiped my body and had taken me to higher planes of pleasure before we spiralled into oblivion with only each other to hold onto. As he did every night, and quite frequently during the day also. But as passionate as my lover is there is nothing he likes to do more than hold me, much to my delight. His arms are strong and muscular and hold me tightly to his chest, I am his, his one and only and I revel in being possessed by him.
I can feel him now behind me, with his loving, almost childish smile upon his face as he plays his game. His larger frame domineers my smaller one and near envelopes me, just as I like it. In any other circumstance, in any other room, I am the intimidating presence. But in this room, in this bed, and in his arms, I am but his purring kitten, ready to yield and submit to his every wish, and he loves me for it. If I were to have any doubt of his love he knows I would not let him dominate or own my body so, so it is that I give myself, bare with no shields to him. And he loves me eternally for it, for it is only I that sees his tears, it is only I that knows his secret quirks, it is only I he will heel for. And so it is with these truths laid bare to only each other that such trust is bore between us, a complete and utter knowing of each other, a sweet sense of warmth in being owned by another.
I had always considering being so bare to another a vulnerability, but it is strength, I never knew that my whole person could feel so reaffirmed and known to myself, it took my willingness to concede and let his mind and heart explore mine own. Such sweet, sweet bliss is born from my submission, not the submission of my body, which admittedly is equally enchanting, but the submission of my will, of my resistance.
Now he is playing his game, still with his content smile. He knows I am not yet lost in reverie, he knows this because I feel the deep rumble in his chest vibrate against my back when I quiver as his fingers pass over my tickle spots, as he calls them. This is his game, after the wild passionate creature that is my lover dissipates, the sweet loving, almost shy elf that I adore beyond all comprehension comes out to play, to coax smiles from my lips. He can not see the smile upon my lips through the cloak of night but he feels it, he feels me smile. His fingers brush my lips to feel my smile, and another deep rumble comes from him, vibrating through me sending small tendrils of renascent pleasure through me as I playfully bite his finger, before kissing it lovingly of course.
His soft palms continue their exploration, and as often as he hands had lain upon my person, to an extent of knowing my physical form better than myself, every touch seems new to him. I love him for that, I love that he makes me feel undiscovered to him, as if I am a new found treasure thought to be only a myth. When he comes upon a certain patch of skin or soft curve of my body that he takes fancy to, he will pay homage to it. He will press the soft lips that have such power and persuasion over me to his new discovery, even if he had serenaded the part of my body many times before with his appraising dextrous lips.
The tips of his fingers trail small circles upon my flesh, again the childish innocent and free loving part of him that is mine alone to look upon reveals himself as he draws shapes upon me. Each time he had finished his new piece of art, myself being the canvas, he would stop momentarily to give me chance to guess his latest depiction upon my flesh. So in tune with his hands upon my body am I that I can always guess the tree, horse or other small creature that displays his sweetness upon myself. My answer though would not be verbal, that is the one rule of the game, only touch and feel are allowed. It is only in the sweet oblivion of this blinding night that every formality is dashed away, so my answer he would have to again feel, to search. He would feel my head nod, he would again touch my lips to feel me mouth the name of the creature so expertly sketched upon me with invisible ink by grown hands but with an eternally young sense of being and love.
It had been a squirrel he had drawn last, he had laughed silently at the smug smile that he sensed upon my lips at guessing that one particularly difficult drawing. He knew I had guessed his next creation before he had even finished, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably at the two horses on my shoulder, one mounted upon the other, I love his silliness and he knows this, forever striving to crack my facade with his uncanny ability and succeeding every time. He peers over me and gathers me close in his arms as a child would its most beloved bear, I can feel his smile now, I need not use my fingers I know that it is there. His shoulders shake along with mine, and still I am gathered in his arms as he pulls forth me forearm. He lays it next to his own as his larger hand cocoons my smaller one he stretches my arm so that the soft flesh of the underside faces the cool night air. He reaches over me with his other arm, completely enveloping me as he does so to draw upon the underside. Though this time he does not draw some small creature or obscene depiction of fornication, as he is so fond of. This time he writes an inscription, and this one time I break the one rule of our game and whisper.
“I love you to.”
And then I feel it, as he kisses me so softly, yet will all the zeal and perfection that is my lover I feel it. I feel the undeniable, the infallible truth that all is well, and forever will be. And I know that when this world comes to its end and if existence were to ever unravel itself we would survive, and together, we will lay between two stars to reflect upon our love to whomever may look upon us.
The end.