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The Lost and the Hidden City	By : pip & BronxWench Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2741 -:- 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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Authors' Note: Our first collaboration! We hope you enjoy...

The Lost and the Hidden City

Chapter One
All along he had been aware there was something different about Glorfindel. There was a kind of brooding about him, behind the jokes and the bravado. It was this that made Gildor stay behind in the Hall of Fire, until the last of their companions had left. The minstrels’ instruments lay abandoned on chairs, and Gildor lounged back on a settee, watching his old friend.
Glorfindel stood before the fire, goblet in his hand, contemplating the flames as if to ensure they did not leap out at him. It made Gildor think of the sacrifice Glorfindel had made, and yet he was far more curious about home. Glorfindel had been back there.
“I missed you, over these long centuries. As you have seen, this world has changed so much the old maps mean nothing.” Glorfindel startled at his words, and his ready smile was just a little too quick, aided no doubt by the miruvor he had consumed.
“I had not noticed. The changes, that is.” Glorfindel’s smile did not reach his eyes, and his fingers tightened around his goblet. “I missed you as well, you know.” The long years settled into the tightness around his eyes as the warrior returned to his contemplation of the fire.
It was clear Glorfindel would make Gildor drag the words from him, despite the miruvor. “I am surprised you have not marked them. I did not think you would overlook the advantages of knowing where trouble might lurk.” He laughed to take any sting from his words. “I am no tactician to be offering advice. It just seemed curious how this world changes. I do not remember such a thing happening when I was younger.”
Having spoken, Gildor closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushions. He was relaxed. It was not only Glorfindel who had indulged in the liquor of Imladris.
“When we were young,” Glorfindel said, and Gildor could hear the smirk in his voice. “When we were young nothing did change. The elves were settled, and we did not dream of this place.” As he spoke he moved, and Gildor felt Glorfindel settle on the cushioned seat next to him. Gildor could feel the heat of the warrior’s thigh, not quite touching his, a kind of yearning, tickling sensation.
“More recent things...” Glorfindel mused. “I forget...” He sounded uncharacteristically uncertain, but then suddenly a heavy warm palm came to rest upon Gildor’s leg. He snapped his eyes open, looking down as Glorfindel squeezed his leg. When he looked up, he had the impression that Glorfindel was looking for some kind of confirmation.
“Whatever it is, you have only to ask.” He was not accustomed to seeing Glorfindel like this, off balance and unsure. Even in their youth, Glorfindel had led with such bravado, and had laughed away the bruises and scrapes which followed.
And now he found he had lost the trick of reading the true meaning in Glorfindel’s eyes. “Is it so hard, to be here?” The hand on his thigh grew warmer, or was it his own blood heating in response to a touch long desired? Gildor let his hand fall, striving for careless ease, to cover Glorfindel’s hand. Let the touch be interpreted as whatever Glorfindel needed it to be, friendship for certain, and more for the asking.
“I chose to return,” Glorfindel said, with some certainty. Perhaps the look he had given Glorfindel was carelessly inviting, but suddenly there were warm lips upon his, generous and strong. Gildor gasped but did not protest, and after all - how could he? Glorfindel was the one that got away, and now he was back.
Gildor encouraged him, reciprocating until he sensed Glorfindel become suddenly confident, pushing him back into the soft cushions. His left hand was trapped between them, and his right still held his glass. Gildor felt blindly at the side of the settee for the floor to put it down, leaning back further all the time, which must have seemed like wanton encouragement, but Gildor found he did not care.
He had a sudden evocative glimpse of his cries echoing through the Hall of Fire as Glorfindel seduced him, out in the open where anyone might come upon them, perhaps even Elrond’s children. When Glorfindel’s lips moved to his jaw he began to speak, thinking to encourage Glorfindel to hold off long enough for them to retire, but then was silenced when Glorfindel’s lips brushed over his adam’s apple, breath hot and wet, causing a shiver to run through him.
It was ridiculous, an elf of his age and stature, to be found entwined with a lover in this oh so public space like an overeager elfling. Yet Gildor could not seem to think past those soft lips, drifting lower now to savor the hollow of his throat. “Ai, Valar,” he groaned, his leggings growing uncomfortably tight. Glorfindel seemed to know every spot which would inflame him, and deft fingers loosened his tunic at the throat to open Gildor to further explorations.
Gildor knew Glorfindel assumed an intimacy between them which had not existed, save in Gildor’s heart. He took advantage now, and he knew it, but it was Glorfindel, so close and so tender, and he had been lonely for so very long. The passing pleasures of a brief flirtation, the embrace of a lover he knew would leave Imladris at the moon’s height, these were all he had allowed himself. He would not risk his heart again, but here he was, doing that very thing. He reached up with his free hand and tangled his fingers in the silk of Glorfindel’s hair.
Gildor had known blond lovers, but none of them were like Glorfindel. They were moonlight and starlight - Glorfindel was like the sun, his hair falling in loose curls that caressed Gildor’s fingers. Sometimes, he had wondered if that was where Glorfindel got his nature.
Now his own tunic was open, and yet instead of feeling Glorfindel’s touch, Gildor could only watch as the warrior straightened up a little and divested himself of his own tunic. That golden hair was present on his chest, leading Gildor’s gaze downward, and against his will he wondered… the thought made something in him twitch eagerly, and he felt his cock thickening, pressing insistently into Glorfindel’s thigh.
To his credit, Glorfindel didn’t even look down, though he could surely feel it. “Will you have it now, or take me back to your room where I can reacquaint myself properly?” Glorfindel asked. Gildor remembered his deceit by omission then, and for the moment that overshadowed even Glorfindel’s arrogance.
“Why are you so sure you would be reacquainting yourself?” Gildor was briefly proud of the steady voice he managed. “You have always been so certain you could have any elf for the asking. I suppose it is an easy assumption, to think you had your way with me as well. But what if I was the one you never noticed?” He felt a small thrill run through him. “What if you were the one who got away?”
Glorfindel frowned, just the faintest suggestion of a crease in his forehead. “Why would I not have noticed you? You are as beautiful now as you were then.” The frown faded, replaced by a familiar smirk. “Come, and lead the way to your room.”
“Maybe I did not want to be just another conquest.” Gildor felt the golden curls slide from his fingers, and he found himself trapped by cerulean eyes, the exact shade of a summer afternoon. “Maybe I wanted it to mean something.” And now he was too close to the truth. He laughed, hoping to distract Glorfindel. “Come. Let me lead the way.”
To his surprise, Glorfindel got up from the settee and set him free, pausing only to scoop up his discarded tunic, scrunching it in his hand. “So you wish to roleplay a first time between us?” he teased merrily. “For my own part, it may as well be true. We shall see if your acting talents are up to the task!”
Gildor could not help smiling at Glorfindel’s gentle teasing; it was impossible not to be infected by it, and he got up too, leading the way out of the Hall of Fire to his rooms quickly, even though he was sure he looked quite ridiculous with his clothes in disarray and his leggings obscenely tented out in front of him. Thankfully, they did not encounter anyone on the way, and he smiled when Glorfindel’s hand reached out to hold his as they walked.
When they were inside his door, Glorfindel threw the tunic he carried to one side, onto the floor. He leaned one hand against the door beside Gildor, shutting it and trapping him at the same time. “Now. Where were we?” Glorfindel pondered with obvious delight. Unwilling to be dominated by Glorfindel’s behaviour, Gildor pushed him back and manoeuvred him to over to the bed.
“You were about to judge my acting ability,” Gildor teased, feeling rather wicked as he followed Glorfindel onto the bed, climbing over to straddle him, looking down on him with a grin. “I have to ask. Do you have a problem with your lovers faking it?”
Glorfindel’s smile was as warm as sunlight. “I do not know, actually. I am quite sure no lover of mine has had to fake it.” He wrapped strong hands around Gildor’s hips, lifting his own hips to grind his cock against Gildor. “You see? I am more than capable of pleasing the most discerning lover.” He was flinging himself into the game wholeheartedly, Gildor decided.
“Ah, but you do not know what pleases me,” Gildor replied. “So, will you know if I am truly enjoying myself, or faking it with enough skill to fool you?”
“A challenge I accept.” Glorfindel shifted his grip, and braced his powerful legs in order to tumble Gildor onto his back. He pinned the darker elf beneath him with a wicked chuckle. “I think I like you better like this.”
Gildor laughed and raised his knees at either side of Glorfindel’s body, placing his feet flat on the mattress. At the same time as he leaned upwards for a kiss, he slid his palms beneath the back of Glorfindel’s waistband to squeeze his buttocks, then moved his hands up in a firm caress over the expanse of the warrior’s back. Glorfindel was well-muscled, his shoulders especially so.
Glorfindel rubbed against him deliberately, and it felt good, all that heat and hardness behind the layers of clothing they still wore. When Glorfindel broke the kiss and made him turn his head, Gildor did not protest, hoping secretly that Glorfindel would continue where he left off in the hall. Instead, Gildor felt teeth nibbling very delicately at the pointed tip of his ear, and he could not keep in the moan.
“That is cheating,” he murmured, his voice softened at the exquisite sensation. It stopped only for Glorfindel to whisper to him, his tickling breath warm and intimate.
“I do not recall you setting any rules. Too late now.”
“I should have known, oh, merciless tease,” Gildor retorted, but it came out more like a purr of longing. “Oh, Eru, right there, you wicked elf.” Pearly teeth were replaced by warm lips, as Glorfindel suckled lightly on his now-rosy eartip. He was quite sure his leggings would give way, unable to contain him for much longer.
Glorfindel’s skin was exquisitely hot beneath his hands, and he took the time to explore the sweep and curve of the warrior’s powerful arms. Arms which wielded a sword as gracefully as a quill, arms he had only ever dreamed would surround him in an embrace. He would not think about the promise of the sword between Glorfindel’s legs, which even now sought to breach his feeble defenses, the leggings straining under his own eager cock.
With a desperate sigh, Gildor grabbed one of Glorfindel’s hands and dragged it down between them. “Touch me, please,” he begged, though he didn’t give Glorfindel much choice in the matter at all. When he felt those strong fingers curl around the shape of his cock through his leggings he drew in a sudden sharp breath.
“You cannot fool me,” Glorfindel said, making sure that his words breezed over Gildor’s ear as his fingers dragged over the swollen bulge in Gildor’s leggings. “You are as eager as an adolescent. This is how much you have missed me.” His hand squeezed. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Gildor found, to his surprise, the words were not a lie. He had missed Glorfindel, even if it had been largely one-sided, all those years ago, when they were young. He yearned into the touch, his hips lifting, and his heart made it seem familiar.
“I think perhaps I have missed you as much,” Glorfindel admitted, and once again, there was a fleeting uncertainty. It was quickly banished, and the warrior chuckled as he ran a strong thumb over the cock he held captive. Gildor hissed in anticipation, and need. “After all, it was a long walk from the Hall of Fire.”
Gildor looked up, astonished, and saw the laughter in Glorfindel’s eyes. “You are wicked, aníra nín. And yes, it was long enough for me to miss you, and the feel of you against me. Now, will you make me wait longer?”
Suddenly Glorfindel knelt straight on the bed, and his hand moved from Gildor’s cock to slap at his thigh. “Undress then!” he ordered, before dragging down the waistband of his own leggings, kicking them off into an untidy heap on the floor. Gildor followed suit, barely managing to fling the last of his clothing away before Glorfindel was covering him again, only now he had the full benefit of Glorfindel’s naked body against his.
For all of his teasing, this really had never happened between them, and it was now Gildor realised the gravity of the situation he had got himself into. He raised his hands to Glorfindel’s shoulders as he felt Glorfindel rubbing against him, making him moan and his body instinctively yield as he stared into the warrior’s eyes.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll never let you leave this bed,” Glorfindel teased. His hand reached to the side, knocking things off the bedside table, then he held up the oil. “Guess who is getting this?”
“Now or later?” Gildor challenged. “If you are wise, it will be me, for now. You have teased me sufficiently, and I will ask that you make good on those wicked hints.” There was laughter in his voice, and joy, and he realised he did want this, more than he had dared to admit to himself. There was no withdrawing now, but he would not have stopped Glorfindel even if he could have done so.
He was no elfling, to tremble so at the touch of another, but Gildor did tremble now. “I have dreamed,” he whispered, and his fingers tightened on Glorfindel’s shoulders.
“What have you dreamed?” Glorfindel’s skin was so warm, and Gildor struggled to find words to explain.
Gildor’s eyes widened at the way the light made a nimbus of pure gold around Glorfindel’s head. “This. You, like the sun itself, warming me.”
“Well then you should be careful,” Glorfindel warned, his face serious, and Gildor felt a flicker of concern. “The sun can burn!” And then Glorfindel dipped his head to nibbled at Gildor’s neck in a way that tickled, making him giggle and try to throw the warrior off.
“Stop!” he cried out, and when Glorfindel finally relented, Gildor’s heart was beating fast in anticipation. He didn’t waste any further time, and when one of Glorfindel’s oiled fingers slipped inside him, Gildor moaned loudly, overplaying the part for all he was worth.
Glorfindel laughed. “If you are determined to overact like that, you will wake the whole house!” Gildor did not allow that assessment to put him off, and he writhed in carnal abandon, tossing his head back, sneaking a look from under his lashes to catch the smile on Glorfindel’s face.
“I see you are indifferent to our audience.” Glorfindel teased another finger inside Gildor, and his moan was not feigned this time. “I will not complain. It is a pretty song you sing for me.”
Glorfindel was exactly how Gildor had envisioned--confident and tender, a combination which was disarming and endearing at the same time. It was a heady thing, to be wanted like this. Gildor arched his back, displaying himself prettily, and his moans increased when Glorfindel’s thumbs skated over his nipples.
“These would look lovely with golden rings through them,” Glorfindel murmured, and he dipped his golden head to suckle first one nipple and then the other. Gildor very nearly forgot to breathe.
Glorfindel’s fingers felt thick and heavy inside him, and he realised he could feel the resistance of his own body as they moved in and out. With a yearning sigh, Gildor raised one of his knees, letting it fall to the side of him, and suddenly those fingers were deeper.
“Oh, yes!” he said, biting his lip. He reached down with a hand to touch himself, only for Glorfindel to grab his wrist with his free hand.
“If you must touch, try this one,” Glorfindel suggested, and guided his hand until he willingly curled his fingers around the warrior’s cock. “That will soon be in you,” Glorfindel purred, never ceasing with the internal massage. He was huge and hard, hot skin sliding under his fingers, against his palm. Glorfindel groaned.
Gildor ran his thumb over the crown of Glorfindel’s cock, feeling the silky moisture which had welled up. He sucked in a breath, eager to catch the scent of his lover, and impatient to savor the taste of the fluid he had collected. “I will never be able to take all of this,” he marveled.
It was only partly the game they were playing. In truth, he wondered if he would be able to accommodate Glorfindel without discomfort. Gildor’s lovers had not been so well endowed, had not been larger than life like the warrior who was coaxing the most wanton moans from him.
“I think you will surprise yourself,” Glorfindel replied, and his confidence brought out a smile from Gildor, before he tossed his head and moaned anew. He was sure he would explode from the pleasure of just this touch. Glorfindel’s cock would be sublime, he decided, even if he lost himself to the raw sensations it would invoke.
“Here,” Glorfindel said, reclaiming the oil bottle and upending it into Gildor’s hand, spilling some there. “Get me ready, and we shall see if we still fit together.”
“Still?” Gildor queried, disconcerted, then he remembered. Glorfindel tilted his head in such an adorable way that Gildor couldn’t help smiling again as he did what Glorfindel suggested, using his hand to cover the warrior’s erection.
“One moment you can’t act to save your life, the next you almost have me convinced,” Glorfindel said. “I won’t underestimate you again.” At last Glorfindel’s fingers left his body, and he pulled himself away from Gildor’s slippery hand. “Moment of truth then,” he said with a wink, and Gildor gulped, trying to relax as he felt the head of Glorfindel’s cock pressing hard against him.
Gildor reminded himself to breathe, to not tense as he opened to the relentless pressure. The head alone felt large enough to split him in two, and he swallowed back a cry, his eyes wide. “Ai, Valar,” he whispered.
“You feel as tight as a virgin,” Glorfindel told him, eyes twinkling. “It is a wonder I ever let you out of bed, lendeth nín.” He paused for a moment, letting Gildor catch his breath before he pressed deeper into him.
The pressure gave way to a yearning sensation, a need to be filled completely, and Gildor reached out for Glorfindel, urging the warrior onward. The yearning grew until Gildor thought he must go mad, and then he felt Glorfindel against him, so close he could feel the heat which radiated from his skin. “Oh, yes,” he whispered, and his head fell back, his throat bared in surrender.
Tenderly, Glorfindel took what he offered, hot lips brushing over his neck while one of the warrior’s hands moved to cradle the back of his head. It was only when Glorfindel let him back down that he realised Glorfindel had taken one of the pillows. This he used to raise Gildor’s hips, sliding it beneath him, then encouraging him to raise his other knee and let it fall in the same way as the other.
Gildor could only stare into Glorfindel’s eyes. Like this, he was completely open, and Glorfindel did not press now, he thrust deep, drawing a cry from Gildor’s throat. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t even find it in himself to speak Glorfindel’s name. His muscles twitched automatically, just enough so that he could feel Glorfindel’s length and girth inside him, and then his body relaxed again.
When Glorfindel began to move back and forth it felt like this was how it should always have been between them. There was not a trace of pain or burning now, only incredible pleasure that built in him. Glorfindel leaned upwards, supporting his weight on one hand so that he could take Gildor’s cock into his other.
Gildor could not take his eyes from Glorfindel, the warrior’s strong arm supporting him easily, powerful muscles flexing with each thrust. Gildor rose to meet each thrust, welcoming his lover eagerly, and pressing himself into Glorfindel’s large hand. “Matho nin sui mathog i vagol gîn!” He told himself this was exactly how it would have been and he would never let Glorfindel suspect otherwise.
Then Glorfindel shifted his angle, and Gildor forgot everything except the bliss which swept through him like a storm. “I dhû hen and.”
“I cannot last,” he managed, his breath coming in harsh pants. He could feel heat building, deep within his belly, and his balls felt hot and heavy. “You have undone me, aníra nín.” He could smell the musk of his own arousal, and how close he was to spilling.
Glorfindel did not stop. Instead he adjusted his movements until he was rocking slightly inside Gildor, touching him there, deep, over and over as his hand worked on tugging and squeezing, teasing his climax closer and closer. “Give it to me,” Glorfindel said, his voice harsher than before, and Gildor felt his body leap to obey.
Nonsense sounds came from his lips as he jerked in Glorfindel’s hand. Glorfindel himself had stopped moving for this, as Gildor’s body tightened. It felt as though he was giving a part of himself, all the good things that he was made of, concentrated and rushing out of him in spurts that fell to cover his own chest and stomach, dribbling over Glorfindel’s fingers.
Glorfindel saw it through to the end, and when Gildor relaxed again he resumed his rhythm, the length of his cock rubbing against Gildor’s internal walls, and how could it still be pleasure when he had come? Yet it was… it was. Gildor thought he might weep when he felt Glorfindel begin to lose it, his tempo faltering, coming apart as his cock grew just that little bit bigger. It felt so perfect, and he held Glorfindel close in his arms as he came.
Long minutes passed before either elf could find the presence of mind to move, before Gildor wriggled beneath Glorfindel’s weight. Glorfindel reacted with a start, moving to rest alongside Gildor.
“That is better,” Gildor said. It was true on more levels than one. It was lovely to be out from under Glorfindel’s weight, but it was even more lovely to have been beneath the warrior. Gildor searched his memories and dreams, and as fevered as they had been, they bore little resemblance to the reality of the elf in his arms. But there was a game to finish.
“So, was I convincing?” Gildor’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile. “Or did you see right through me? Be honest, now.” Glorfindel was softening, and he would slip free soon enough, but for now Gildor clung to him.
“Oh, your acting was atrocious,” Glorfindel said, good-naturedly, his hand stroking Gildor’s hair in affection. “But your body cannot lie.”
Gildor swallowed and closed his eyes, ready to have his deception exposed. “As to that,” Glorfindel said. “I’ll need to tell you in the morning.” Gildor’s eyes flew open, and he smiled slowly, nuzzling into Glorfindel’s shoulder.
“Will you have me again, then?” he queried, his heart light because he already knew the answer. Glorfindel leaned in close.
“I’m not planning to wait until the morning,” he murmured. “I want you again, as soon as we’re both able.” Gildor moaned at the thought of it. Perhaps Glorfindel’s reincarnation had gifted him with renewed youth if he already planned to have sex throughout the night. But Gildor had no intention of denying him.

To be continued...

Authors' Note: Thank you for reading, we hope you are enjoying it. Please leave us a comment!
Translations:
aníra nín - my desire
Matho nin sui mathog i vagol gîn - Wield me as you wield a sword
I dhû hen and - You’re in for a long night
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The Lost and the Hidden City