Chapter V: Warriors' Comfort
Glorfindel, Chief of the House of the Golden Flower, one of the most trusted of Turgon's captains, was gifted by an occasional ability of foreseeing what was to come. Yet never had he been caught so unawares as he had been a few minutes ago. He could still feel himself lulled into the vast and deep green ocean of the Elfling's orbs. Then, as much as he had tried to fight it, he had been unable to contain the flow of his mind and found himself trapped into the moving shadows of an uncertain future. His trance had been abruptly shattered by the arrival of the Guardian of the Great Gate and he was still dizzy of what he had seen or heard, feeling as if his mind and body were separated from each other.
As they came to a halt, the golden-haired warrior blinked once, trying to clear his sight and deeply breathing in the spicy fresh scent of the place. He was surprised to find that Ecthelion had brought them to a small river that ran through the forest. Turning an interrogative gaze in his lover's direction he met eyes that seemed filled with a demanding lust.
"We are in dire need for a bath," explained the raven-haired Elf that had felt the unspoken question. Ecthelion then approached his still lover, feeling more than seeing the silent shiver of anticipation that ran the length of the broad back. He made quick work of the clasps holding the heavy armor to the strong body. Stepping aside, he let Glorfindel divest himself of his tunic and, without a word, mimicked the flaxen-haired Elf's gestures, anchoring his grey eyes into clearer ones. Once naked, they faced each other, beautiful and ethereal, confident in their strength and might. They were bathed in the silvery moonlight that filtered through the dense leaves of the trees and seemed to caress their soft skins almost lovingly. For a long moment, neither of them moved, as if mesmerized by the vision that greeted their sights.
Ecthelion was the first to recover his wits and, gesturing to his lover to follow him, he entered the smooth flow of the river.
The woods were silent, as nature seemed to slumber in the darkness of the night. Birds had stopped singing a long time ago and the only sounds that pierced the silence were the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the clear crystalline flow of water against the rocks of the stream.
But appearances were deceiving, for neither trees nor animals slept. Alert, they stood guard under Ithil's benevolent gaze, watching over the two beings in the small clearing as they would have the most perfect treasure. Mayhap, they were. Firstborns were dear to Nature as their hearts were dedicated to the wholeness of all beings on Arda and its soul quivered in harmony with their songs, sharing mysteries and secrets of old times.
They stood guard, ready to cry in alarm if any foes came to threaten the harmony of the instant. But in the moonlight none came to disturb them and the hours flew peacefully. The old souls of the forest had no eye to see what happened so they did not see the games of the shadows on the lithe bodies displayed in love-making. But they heard their cries as both reached completion and they felt their blissful contentment as they collapsed on the ground. They shook their leaves, warmed by the beauty of Elven love.
The golden-haired warrior closed his eyes, letting his body submit to the tumultuous flow of sensations that coursed through him in a maddening current . He could feel his lover's hands on him, grasping his hips to ensure their frail balance as they rocked together rhythmically. The strong hold on his tender flesh would have been painful if he had not been too far gone to notice anything beyond his rising need for completion.
One of Ecthelion's hands left his waist and smoothed down his broad back, tracing quickly the path of protuberant vertebrae.Pushing the golden mane aside, he claimed the nape of the graceful neck. His mouth bit into the pale translucent flesh, sucking hungrily to the point of bruising the fair skin. At the same time, he shifted the pace of his thrusts, embedding himself deeper in his lover's velvety heat and tearing a throaty moan from his beloved.
Glorfindel bit his lips in an attempt to muffle any sound that might escape him, aware that they should be silent lest they were noticed by a dutiful sentry. His knuckles paled as he clutched forcefully at the soft fabric of the cloak he was kneeling upon. He crossed his arms and leaned his brow against them, his hair making a golden shining curtain around his face. He tried to will himself to silence but the feeling of his lover's hot hardness sliding skillfully within the length of his tight channel, filling him and stretching him to the point of comfortable fullness was driving him mad, making it difficult to suppress his ecstatic moans.
The simple shadow of his dark-haired lover as Glorfindel felt him pump against his supple body only served to heighten the mind-shattering pleasure he was experiencing. Rarely was he taken thus, on his hands and knees, unable to see Ecthelion's face, allow his hands to roam over his glorious body, or anything else outside of being under the weight of his lover's assaults.He could not do anything but feel...And it gave a new dimension to their coupling that left him breathless and aroused as he had not been in a very long time.
There was nothing gentle in Ecthelion at this very moment. Their joining was a wild violent race toward ecstasy, a furious coupling born of the dangers of battle and the bliss of survival. His long-time lover rode him as if his very life depended on this, displaying an inflamed desire that seldom animated the usually placid warrior.
They were equals in life as they were in their relationship. Ecthelion was a tender skilled lover but sometimes Glorfindel did regret the flame they had once upon a time shared in the fair Valinor. So never did he protest when the raven-haired Elf's darker side emerged in the aftermath of battles for he liked the fierce passion that transcended their lovemaking. While attentive and gentle most times, Ecthelion was the opposite now, demanding for his love's entire submission. And the golden-haired Elf was only too eager to comply.
It fascinated him. The possessiveness...The arrogance...They were parts of his lover that he had never expected but that he had come to crave and need as much as Ecthelion did. For it was in those wild, yet too rare moments, that his lover loosened the tight rein he held on his emotions and needs and only in those precious instances did Glorfindel feel that his raven-haired lover was giving himself to him, hiding nor retaining his mind and emotions.
As his body bent under the delicious sensual assaults, Glorfindel finally gave up all the control he had pretence to, releasing his need to be controlled in the confident hands of his brother in arms. He wanted to be taken deeper, to feel the slick head of his lover's shaft mark him... claim him. He wanted to feel the heat of the raven-haired Elf's desire for him and burn himself in the flame of Ecthelion's passion.
But most of all, he wanted the moment to never end.
Yet all coherent thoughts fled his mind as his lover's strong arm embraced his waist and an elegant hand closed around his swollen length. He grunted in a most inelegant manner when skilled fingers caressed his balls and a teasing thumb played with the tumescent head, gathering the pearly essence leaking from the slit and smearing it on the sensitive flesh in relentless circles. In spite of himself, he pushed into the hand that held him, his body begging silently for more contact, asking for completion while his mind wanted this wild race to last forever.
As if sensing his inward turmoil, Ecthelion straightened himself and changed the pace of his thrusts, slowing down briefly. But the respite was short-lived as, while rotating his hips, he slammed back in the tight passage with strength and skill. His hand never let go of the golden-haired Elf's erection, alternating between soft caress on the sensitive sack and long strong strokes on the hardened length.
Caught between the two sensual assaults, the flaxen-haired warrior felt his grasp on his will slip and he was unable to bite back the moan that came to his lips. He felt like he was on fire, heat spreading in his stomach and his limbs, gathering in his loins as he gave himself completely to his need.
Contracting his inward muscles, he squeezed his lover's hot length, feeling it swell harder in his passage and relishing in the moan that escaped Ecthelion.
In answer, a warm lust-filled voice murmured in his ears while skilled fingers grasped delicately his tight balls, "Come for me, meleth, show me how much you want this..." and suddenly Glorfindel wished he could stare in the depths of his lover's dark orbs.
Losing all restraint, he thrusted back, meeting Ecthelion's motions while moaning helplessly every time the moist skin of his lover's balls came to rest shortly against the hollow of his muscular cheeks. Their breaths were ragged as the furious rising of pleasure left them gasping. All thoughts about the need for silence had left their mind. All that mattered was that dance which was as old as Arda was...the frenetic dance of two bodies united in the same quest for the greatest pleasure. It was not gentle. It was not tender. But at the moment, those had no importance.
Glorfindel blinked briefly and licked lips that had gone dry. Sweat was blinding him, falling in heavy drops into his eyes but he did not care. The only thing that succeeded in piercing the haze of his lust-driven mind was the feeling of Ecthelion's long fingers digging in his hips as he slammed his engorged shaft with more and more strength, seeking to go higher and higher...to reach that point of no return.
He could feel himself warming and knew that he was close...so close that it was painful. The hand on his sex pumped more forcefully, providing the much-needed friction and suddenly the heat in his loins turned into a blazing inferno. He emptied his lungs in a desperate shout, calling out his lover's name as release finally claimed him. His cry was echoed by Ecthelion's as the spasms that wracked his body brought his lover over the edge. He felt the dark-haired Elf tense and erupt in long spurts of hot seed that filled him before they both collapsed onto the ground.
They remained thus for several minutes, their bodies still joined, their legs intimately entwined. No words were spoken. Silent, they struggled for air, listening to the violent beatings of their hearts. Then Glorfindel let himself be cradled in his lover's surprisingly tender arms. After their wild joining, it never ceased to amaze him how such violence and need could switch to soft embraces in a matter of seconds.
As heavy languor soon overwhelmed them, they chose to remain still, content with the deep feeling of intimacy that still hovered around them. A warm hand caressed his moist brow, pushing aside some wayward strands of golden hair and tucking them behind a leaf-shaped ear as Glorfindel leaned into the caress while listening to the steady pace of his lover's heart. His eyelids drifted shut and he let himself slide into a very light slumber.
But, as he closed his eyes, his mind suddenly recalled what he had foreseen in the youth's eyes. So much pain, so many tears. Such a grim future for one so young and so ignorant of life.
Holding him close, Ecthelion felt the unexpected tension in his lover's lithe body and, unconsciously, he tightened his grasp on the slender waist. He knew what bothered Glorfindel, he had recognized the hazy look of his lover's eyes when he had entered the clearing and sought him out. The Valar had deemed fit to bestow his lover with the gift of foresight but there were days when the Warden of the Great Gate thought it much more a curse than a blessing. Gently caressing the velvety skin of his love's hip, he whispered, his voice soft and caring, "What did you see?"
It took Glorfindel several more seconds to find the words. Not that Ecthelion's words surprised him. The raven-haired Elf knew him better than anyone else...sometimes better than he did himself. It was rather that he could not define what he foresaw. He did not really see. It was much more of a feeling, of a warning in his mind. He did not experience visions, but lingering and marking impressions. Sighing, his thoughts plunged into draining memories, he whispered, "Blood... Fire...Pain..."
Ecthelion could not bring himself to answer the grief he heard in the golden warrior's voice, knowing that none of his words would ever comfort his lover. Instead, he gathered his beloved in his arms and his voice rose in the peaceful night, singing an appeasing lullaby of old times.
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