Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil-galad/Elrond
Summary: The High King is after a very special present for his birthday. PWP.
Warnings: Light bondage
It didn't happen very often. Most people wouldn't know when it did, unless they knew the High King very well. It always happened at a ball, planned far in advance. Seating plans, guest accommodations, everything down to the tiniest detail was arranged and organized to facilitate a single seduction, which invariably went off without a hitch. Elrond had known months ahead of time that his lover and king was after a large quarry in honor of his 2400th birthday. But, as had become tradition in their long years together, only Ereinion Gil-galad knew the identity of his intended catch. Elrond wouldn't know until the night of the ball.
Elrond reserved the right to decline involvement or refuse permission once he knew his lover's target. It had been their agreement from the start, and Ereinion's plans were designed to be aborted at a moment's notice, but Elrond had never actually used his out, not even when their trysts teetered on the edge of unethical. The delicious anticipation, the erotic thrill of the forbidden, always made the risk worthwhile.
The Lord of Imladris waited until Ereinion's attendants left before slipping inside the king's chambers, already dressed in his own formal attire. He found his lover sitting on a fine, cushioned chair before a mirrored dresser, idly brushing a lock of hair. From head to toe, he looked every bit the High King he was. The black and blue robes of office, intricately embroidered with gold and trimmed in misty grey, accentuated the elder elf's sapphire eyes and almost-black hair. The royal blue cape, glittering with gold thread, sapphires, and diamonds, hung loosely about his shoulders, giving him a regal look even in repose. The jeweled, gold crown which rested upon his brow glowed in the candlelight and gave an ethereal cast to the king's reflection.
Elrond moved quietly to his lover, wrapping his arms around the elder elf's shoulders and catching his gaze in the mirror. "So, are you going to tell me who it is now?" he murmured in Ereinion's ear. "I've been patient all day..." His tone held a hint of a wheedle in it.
The king smiled a relaxed smile, leaning back in his lover's arms. "Mmm, you have to guess this time. But I'll give you a hint. He's blonde."
"Well, that narrows the list somewhat, but you invited half of Lothlorien and a good chunk of Mirkwood..."
"He's of noble blood."
"So is everyone else here."
"From a house of princes."
"Ereinion..." Elrond pouted.
"The Golden Flower, to be exact."
"Ereinion!" Elrond's voice, once chiding, now held the unmistakable color of shock, and his face reflected the same as he pulled away from his lover. "You wouldn't dare!" He knew he would.
Ereinion was grinning now. "I told you I wasn't certain if I could pull it off."
"You may as well go for the whole cake of lembas and seduce the Lady Galadriel!"
"Ai, no. I have too much respect for her as a ruler. Her husband, however..."
Elrond couldn't ascertain whether or not his lord and king was joking, so he erred on the side of caution and assumed he wasn't. "Lord Celeborn is quite handsome, but I hardly think sleeping with him will endear either of us to the ladies closest to him!"
He chuckled. "Which brings us to the topic of another blonde, hmm? Admit it, love; you're fond of Galadriel's daughter, aren't you?"
Elrond found himself backpedaling to save his dignity. "I've never denied the fact that I find the Lady Celebrian quite beautiful and intelligent."
"That wasn't my question, meleth-nin," he chided gently as he stood, "but this topic of conversation could easily fill hours on end, and we've not the time to even scratch the surface." He turned to Elrond, holding the healer's hands in his own. "So, will you be joining me tonight?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Elrond purred, tilting his face up for a kiss which was promptly bestowed.
Ereinion Gil-galad smiled triumphantly. "Excellent. Let me tell you what I've got in mind..."
The birthday celebration began with a feast and entertainment. The High King sat at a large table on a raised dais, with Elrond his heir at his right hand and the esteemed Lady Galadriel at his left. The other elven rulers and their families also sat at the front table, and Erestor and Glorfindel sat beside Elrond'. By all rights, the pair should have been at one of the long tables on the lower level, designated for lesser nobles and members of the various rulers' entourages, but Ereinion hadn't wanted Elrond to be the sole representative of Rivendell at his table, and so he bent the rules.
The meal was served, a tastefully varied selection of dishes from each elvish realm. There was something to satisfy each guest's tastes, from the strictly vegetarian Sindar to the fish-eating Teleri. Entertainment ranged from the performance of music to the exhibition of dance to the staging of acrobatic feats. Rather than tailor the celebration to his own likes, which to say the truth would probably bore most everyone else, Ereinion had labored to ensure the jubilee had something for literally everyone, especially his intended lover. The royal treasurer balked at the sheer amount of gold Ereinion had spent on drink alone, seeking out and buying every bottle he could of the rare cordial that Glorfindel enjoyed so much. Ereinion had watched the blond lord take his first sip, and the surprised and delighted sparkle in his eyes warmed the king's heart.
The serving-elves kept everyone's goblets full throughout the meal and the presentation of gifts, and when the tables were cleared and the guests adjourned for an hour's recess prior to the ball proper, more than one wine-roused elf could be seen exchanging kisses and gropes from some of Lindon Hall's more hospitable waitstaff. Elrond had lured Glorfindel to Ereinion's private garden, and Elena, Lindon Hall's blind bardess, had captured Erestor's undivided attention with her exotic combination of wit, intelligence, and not-entirely-elvish beauty. Everything was going perfectly, Ereinion thought to himself as he moved through the groups of well-wishers.
He gestured to two of his personal guard as he reached his walled garden. "Don't allow anyone in," he told them when they approached. "I don't care to be disturbed until it's time for the ball." The guards nodded, taking their place outside the gate once the king stepped inside.
"He's at it again," one of the guards, Naryatari, observed. The other, Araton, only chuckled.
The lush garden, separated from the outside world by high stone walls, was rumored to be a captured piece of High King Gil-galad's original homeland, and indeed it was. It was here that a pair of stout, shady annalcar grew, the last of the gift-trees that once grew freely in old Beleriand. Their seedless, burgundy fruits, once a staple in Eldarin diet, were prized as rare delicacies. There were other plants also, herbs and flowers whose ancestors, in seed form, had been collected and dried during the evacuation of the Old Land at the end of the First Age. Once these plants had been just as rare as the annalcar, but through careful cultivation many of these species now thrived outside the King's Garden, in places as far as Imladris and Caras Galadhon.
But it was the annalca trees that Ereinion felt closest to. He remembered eating the peachlike fruit as a small child in Hithlum, climbing taller annalcar at the Havens, making sailing charms for Cirdan's boats from the large, star-shaped leaves. He still made sailing charms. He still climbed the trees. He still ate the fruit. These trees were his. When others were packing clothes, weapons, small treasures, he'd collected and dried dozens of the knotlike seed-pods that grew on the smooth bark. In the end, only a handful ever sprouted. Of those, only these two grew to full maturation. Every ten years or so, they would put out seed-pods. Some would be ground into powerful medicine. Some would be boiled for rich burgundy dye. And some would be carefully watered and fed in the hope that another annalca would sprout.
Ereinion selected three ripe fruits from a low-hanging bough, cradling them in one hand as he approached Elrond and Glorfindel, who were standing close together near a curtain of hanging ivy. Elrond had walked in the garden for many centuries, but this was the first time Glorfindel had ever seen this closely guarded treasure. Ereinion could sense the sadness in the reincarnated elf's eyes, the longing for a place not unlike this one, and yet beyond the sadness there was hope, gratefulness. It warmed Ereinion's heart to see that light.
"Mae govannen," he greeted softly as he approached. Elrond smiled and immediately moved to kiss him; for the sake of not offending some of the more modest guests, they had refrained from displays of affection during dinner. Ereinion kissed back briefly before offering the fruit he'd brought with him. Elrond took one with a smile, and Glorfindel accepted another with carefully contained excitement. The king smiled as he took a bite of his own sweet, fleshy snack. "So, how do you like my little hideaway?" he asked the golden-haired elf.
"It's..." He couldn't seem to find a word descriptive enough. "It's wonderful," he replied reverently, his gaze drifting to his surroundings once more. "I had heard stories of this place, but never had I imagined it would be so like the Old Land." He looked down at the familiar fruit in his hand. "And I never dreamed I would eat one of these again..." He brought the fruit to his lips and took a bite, purring lowly at the tangy-sweet taste. Elrond seemed surprised when his seneschal tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Ereinion, on the other hand, was insufferably pleased.
"I'm glad you like it here," he said after giving Glorfindel a moment to recover. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small gold key on a blue tassel. He held it up so Glorfindel could see. "Because I'm giving you the key."
Glorfindel coughed and stared at the High King, at first shocked, then curious, and finally amused. "I am flattered, my lord king, but I'm afraid I must ask: what's the catch?" His eyes sparkled with mirth; he was not new to the ways of the court.
Ereinion chuckled. "There is no catch. The key is yours, regardless of whether or not you accept my next offer."
"And that is?"
Ereinion's fingers danced down the front of Glorfindel's tunic, caressing his skin through cloth and slipping the key into the blonde's pocket. "Join us tonight, after the ball," he requested softly, the words barely more than breaths across Glorfindel's lips. Elrond's mouth had mysteriously found its way to the blonde's neck, one slender hand at the other's hip.
The surprise in the golden-haired warrior's eyes was plain to see, but it appeared that he was less affected by the proposition and more affected by its implications. "Both of you?" Sleeping with the High King was one thing, and he was flattered by the offer. But sleeping with his friend and lord, being watched, touched, kissed by someone he knew so well and yet didn't view in such terms... The intimacy of the situation was frightening, and Elrond's caresses weren't helping much, either.
The Lord of Rivendell murmured softly into his friend's ear. "I never let Ereinion take lovers without my permission."
Glorfindel shivered at the feeling of warm breath across his ear. "Only you could wield such power..." he commented dryly, trying to distract himself from the tension of the situation.
Ereinion smiled, stealing a chaste kiss from the golden-haired warrior. "Only because I let him... but then again, if I didn't, I'd be worse off for it." He stepped back, removing his shining crown and handing it to Elrond before removing the heavy formal cloak and letting it fall to the grass.
"Erei..." Elrond sounded annoyed but resigned as the king bent down and pulled off his immaculately polished boots. Glorfindel wondered what in Arda the monarch was doing, but he didn't have to wonder long, for the king stepped past him and started to climb up one of the large trees.
"You're going to soil your clothes," Elrond said with a repressed sigh. He knew it was useless to try and talk his lover out of it, and truly told, it didn't really upset him for he knew Ereinion's mind and heart. He made a fuss, however arbitrary, for the sake of the king's counselors.
"It's my party and I'll climb trees if I want to," came the reply from high up in the branches. "Now get up here, both of you."
Glorfindel hid a smirk as he pulled off his own boots and held the fruit in his mouth as he followed his king's order. Elrond did sigh then, and then he set down both his crown and Ereinion's, toed off his boots, unclasped his cloak, and started to climb.
Ereinion had settled himself on a broad bough, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He had gathered into his lap a few pearl-colored, magnolia-sized annalca blossoms, which smelled of something akin to cinnamon and vanilla, and was in the process of harvesting marbled roses from the bushes that climbed up a high trellis. He wielded an ornate heirloom dagger with graceful movements, and once Elrond could see what the king was doing, he realized this was part of the seduction also. He moved with practiced ease to another part of the massive tree, searching for other blossoms to add to the arrangement.
Glorfindel took a seat a polite distance away from Ereinion, watching as the king turned the pile of flowers into a wreath. Elrond came back with a handful of snow-white, silver-sheened blooms -- mature aeglos flowers -- and took a seat beside Glorfindel, handing the lotus-like blossoms one by one to Ereinion, who wove them into the circlet. When he was finished, Ereinion reached over and placed the crown of flowers on Glorfindel's brow, smiling.
Glorfindel blushed as he murmured his thanks. It was true he was relatively young in this life, but he had lived once before and understood the many ways of one elf with another. He'd had many lovers of both genders, mortal and immortal, but the fact remained: this was the first time in a very long time that he'd been so cordially, pleasantly enticed, and he rather liked it.
Ereinion pulled Elrond into his lap, earning a gasp of surprise from the younger elf, and he chuckled as he began to braid the remaining flowers into the peredhel's hair. Glorfindel watched with no small amount of amusement, enjoying both the view and his beloved annalca fruit as his lord and his king shared a moment together. If anyone doubted their love for one another, Glorfindel caught himself thinking, all they had to do was look into their eyes.
It wasn't much longer before the golden-haired warrior found himself in the king's lap as well, juxtaposed with Elrond, one strong arm around his waist as Ereinion held him. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the king's shoulder, and he sighed contentedly at the feel of callused fingertips stroking the edge of his ear. Elrond's fingers, he passively identified. They felt so nice... Surely the wine had gone to his head, but he found his inhibitions not so inhibiting anymore. Yes, probably the wine. Or the flowers. Didn't annalca flowers have mild aphrodisiac qualities? He couldn't remember...
What seemed like hours or scant minutes later, Ereinion squeezed them both gently. "It's almost time for the ball," he said quietly, his tone soothing so as not to break the moment more than necessary. "We should depart soon."
Glorfindel pulled away first, scooting to a nearby branch. He disliked the loss of warmth, but he would feel it again soon enough, he knew. "When shall I meet you?" he asked, his voice bordering on timid.
"Come to my chambers half an hour after Elrond and I leave," he answered. He reached into his pocket and pressed a palm-sized medallion into the blonde's hand. "If the guards stop you, show them this."
He nodded, glancing down at the round object, which was embossed with the royal seal on one side and Ereinion's personal device on the other. He slipped it into a pocket. "Alright." There was a tremble in his voice that could be arousal or fear, or both.
The king smiled. "And don't forget to dance with us, either," he said warmly, comforting Glorfindel's unease. Once Elrond had shifted off his lap, he swung his legs over the branch and dropped the distance to the ground. The remaining pair smiled to one another and followed in a more conventional manner.
They dressed in companionable silence, but Elrond stole away his lover's crown before Ereinion could put it back on. "Ai, no," he said with a smile. "If we have to wear flowers in our hair, you do too." Glorfindel enthusiastically agreed and short minutes later, roses and aeglos were threaded through the crisscrossing metalwork of the imperial crown and woven into High King's tresses. Pleased with their handiwork, they placed the golden crown once more upon Ereinion's brow, straightened their clothing, and walked arm in arm back to the Grand Hall.
Araton glanced at his female counterpart once the king's party had passed out of earshot. "You got suite duty tonight?"
"Yeah," Naryatari replied.
"Don't stop the blonde."
The ball was a lively cyclone of color and sound and smell. The indescribable aroma of incense permeated the air and caught in the finery of the dancers as they slid across the white marble floor, whirling and dipping with the music of a twenty-three member ensemble. Ereinion danced primarily with Elrond and Glorfindel, though he waltzed with Celebrian, Galadriel, and (surprisingly) Celeborn as well. When they switched partners, Elrond entertained himself with Galadriel's most fair daughter, and Glorfindel accommodated beautiful elves from each of the represented kingdoms. Erestor actually coaxed Elena down from the conducting podium to share a dance with him, and the band played on merrily.
After the last dance was played, Ereinion and Elrond processed out with the usual pomp and circumstance afforded to royalty. The night's revelry had left Glorfindel aroused and pleasantly lightheaded, but he was patient -- unlike Erestor, who was looked quite prepared to carry Elena from the dance hall if she tarried longer than was to his liking. Giddily, Glorfindel wondered if they were hurrying off to make love or converse on topics of philosophical import.
Slowly the minutes ticked past, and Glorfindel had to stop himself from running to the King's Suite. Though he was prepared to be questioned about his business with the king, neither armored guard stopped him. Wondering briefly as to the propriety of barging in, he decided that since Ereinion and Elrond were expecting him, he shouldn't wait to be announced. Instead, he knocked twice, then stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him.
Ereinion lounged on the couch in the anteroom, cradling Elrond in his arms and unbraiding the roses from his hair as the peredhel carefully did the same to him, laying the flowers in an ordered pile on an end table and unplaiting the intricate style put there only hours ago by skilled attendants. Both wore only trousers, their formal garments and boots discarded.
Ereinion looked up at the sound of the door, but Elrond remained focused on his task. "Lock the door, Glorfindel," the king said softly, gesturing to the key in the lock.
The blonde warrior did as he was told, turning the key and removing it, then closing the distance between them and placing the key in Ereinion's outstretched hand. He damned himself for feeling nervous now, although he could not blame himself. Somehow, Ereinion seemed all the more intimidating in repose. No elf who roamed Middle-earth could possibly make loose trousers and unstyled hair look so commanding, so predatory, so incredibly sexual. It was unreal, and yet so much more real than anything Glorfindel had experienced in this lifetime.
Ereinion set the key on the end table, then reached up and removed his prize's floral circlet. He shifted to one side, urging Glorfindel to sit on the wide couch with him, and Elrond reached out and began removing his seneschal's finery.
"You're anxious," the king observed quietly, stroking the Glorfindel's cheek with the back of one finger.
"I don't wish to disappoint you," the golden-haired elf replied in a voice nearing a whisper.
"You won't." Ereinion drew him forward and kissed the warrior's wine-stained lips gently as Elrond's fingers found purchase at a dusky-rose nipple hidden beneath his friend's formal tunic.
Glorfindel's whimper of desire was priceless, and he sank into the king's arms without hesitation. The grin on the Lord of Imladris's face was plain to see, and he slowly divested his golden-haired friend while his lover focused on giving him some of the more memorable kisses of his combined lives. After a while, the Gondolin warrior was purring in pleasure and shifting into Ereinion's experienced caresses.
Elrond had to bow to his king's superior ability to strip people of their inhibitions in such a way that the transition was completely natural. He knew Glorfindel to be vivacious and flirty among those he knew well, but his seneschal remained quite reserved among those unfamiliar to him. The peredhel pressed a warm kiss to the back of one pale shoulder, feeling his friend shiver in a mixture of surprise and delight. He quietly suggested to his king that they continue this in the bedroom. Ereinion agreed readily, and Elrond rolled over the pair, getting to his feet, and helped them stand.
The High King's bed was intricately designed to accommodate Ereinion's tastes in lovemaking. It could support four people with ease. The sturdy mallorn frame was built to withstand heavy use, and the ornate knobs had been reinforced to serve more practical purposes than decoration. Glorfindel gazed with awe at the massive structure, and Ereinion chuckled as he tugged the blonde closer to the blue silk sheets and cotton and feather mattress. Elrond brought up the rear, and the three toppled, laughing, into the bed.
"Still nervous?" Ereinion asked Glorfindel.
"Not very," the balrog-slayer answered with a self-assured smile, taking the initiative and kissing his king deeply. Ereinion purred lowly, laying back on the bed and pulling Glorfindel atop him, enjoying the warrior's attentions. Once more, Elrond was at the blonde's back, occasionally kissing but otherwise remaining apart from the loveplay.
Glorfindel soon discovered that he liked having Elrond where he was, and he reached back to caress the peredhel's thigh. "Are you joining us tonight," he asked, "or just watching?"
Elrond shivered, and Ereinion's eyes sparkled. "I didn't know if you wanted me, since we work so closely together," he said softly. "It would add a great deal of tension to council meetings..."
Glorfindel shifted back against his lord, coming into contact with the hard flesh there. "There's a great deal of tension already, hmm? I don't mind." A soft groan was Elrond's only response.
Ereinion leaned up and purred into Elrond's ear. "Join us, meleth-nin. Don't worry about later; just be with us now. If you're so worried about tension between you and Glorfindel, then I give you permission to seek comfort in his arms."
A gentle nibble and a loud groan later, Glorfindel found himself sandwiched between an impassioned half-elf and a very pleased king. He purred softly, shifting between the two lords. Ereinion was rock-hard against his abdomen, and Elrond's own readiness pressed into his thigh. Glorfindel's own erection throbbed in anticipation, for both leaders were royally endowed.
The two dark-haired elves broke their kiss after several long moments, looking at one another and seeming to communicate without words. Elrond rolled away after a moment to retrieve something, and Ereinion reversed Glorfindel's position, arranging him on his back on the bed. "Close your eyes," Ereinion whispered against the tip of Glorfindel's ear. The golden-haired elf shivered at the resulting sensation and did so. A moment later, he found himself blindfolded.
Glorfindel had not anticipated the excitement he'd feel from such an action. It was nothing new to him, and yet he was certain he would go insane if someone didn't get him out of his pants right now. As if from nowhere, a second set of hands -- Elrond -- lifted his arms and bound his wrists lightly together, securing them to a knob on the headboard. Lips played lightly on his throat and collar, and hands teased bare skin as his trousers were unlaced and slowly removed.
Glorfindel gasped as he felt the unmistakable heat and moisture of a mouth close around the head of his engorged organ. Which one was it?, he wondered. Certainly not the king! -- and yet, he knew not to discount that possibility, for Ereinion Gil-galad was nothing if not unorthodox. A familiar accent whispered in his ear soon gave him his answer.
"This room was built for lovemaking," Elrond purred. "The walls are thick; you can be as loud as you please." He leaned forward, brushing his lips across Glorfindel's for a brief moment before continuing lower to capture a nipple between his teeth.
The blonde elf arched into Elrond's ministrations with a moan, only to cry out as Ereinion began to tease with tongue and lips and just the right amount of suction. The pleasure was intense, more intense than he would have expected from his own experienced body. Something about his royal lover made everything different, unexpected. This wasn't the High King, he thought; this was some incubus who took the form of the High King.
Or, he considered as another breathless moan escaped his lips, perhaps this really was the High King after all.
After several minutes of steady teasing, Elrond pulled away again, taking up a nearby flask. He slowly drizzled warm, fragrant oil onto Glorfindel's chest and abdomen, then slowly massaged it into the sensitive skin, caressing fluttering muscles as he went. Glorfindel shifted and arched beneath him, trying to get closer to the wonderful sensation, and whimpered at the sudden loss of Ereinion's wonderful mouth. The blonde warrior wasn't disappointed for long, however, for the king began to caress his skin also.
"I cannot take much more of this," he pleaded. "The two of you will surely drive me mad!"
"We've barely begun," the king said warmly. "We've all of tonight, and most of tomorrow, to play with you." One large hand moved between Glorfindel's thighs, seeking and finding the puckered opening between his buttocks. Glorfindel purred, immediately spreading his legs and bending his knees to afford Ereinion better access.
Elrond leaned in and nibbled the tip of his blonde friend's ear, passing the flask of oil to his king. "Are you ready for this?" he purred lowly.
"Oh, please don't stop," Glorfindel moaned needfully. Honoring his request, Ereinion slicked his fingers and massaged the aromatic oil into Glorfindel's cleft, bending and kissing the inside of the warrior's thigh as he did so.
Ereinion's thorough preparation left Glorfindel ready to break his bonds and pounce the first male he could get his hands on. He growled in frustration as both elves pulled away, and he could hear them purring and murmuring to one another as they finished undressing. The two dark-haired nobles kissed softly as one liberally anointed the other's member and guided him back to their waiting prize.
Glorfindel pulled his knees up in response and moaned loudly as he was leisurely penetrated. One weight was atop him, the other at his right side, and both made him feel as if he would die without them. He wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, pulling him closer. It must have been Ereinion inside him, he thought; the High King's physique was broader than Elrond's. As if in acknowledgement, Ereinion rocked against his golden-haired lover. Glorfindel cried out softly at the feeling.
Elrond's hand was occupied with Glorfindel's weeping erection, working the hard flesh in time with Ereinion's motions. He watched as his seneschal writhed, purring seductively into his ear as he pressed his own hardness against the blonde's side. He reached up and tugged one end of the scarf that held Glorfindel's wrists in place, letting the knot slip free and releasing the warrior's hands. One hand immediately went to the back of Ereinion's neck; the other slid down his side to grasp Elrond firmly.
They moved together, calling out to one another until the ability to form coherent words fell away, leaving only formless sounds and nonsense babble. Glorfindel, who had been tormented the longest, found his release first, a hard climax that slammed into him with the force of a wave crashing against a cliffside. Ereinion followed him soon thereafter, yelling as his own fulfillment made sparks explode behind his eyes. He took a moment to recover before leaning over and finishing Elrond off with his mouth.
Sated, the three elves rested together, panting and trying to catch their breath, the dark-haired lords curled up on either side of their golden-tressed lover. Elrond untied the blindfold, unfolding the cloth and using it to clean up the sticky mess the three of them had created. Ereinion grabbed one end of the large quilt and folded it over them, keeping them warm as their body temperatures returned to normal. It was a long time before anyone said anything, and it was Glorfindel who broke the silence.
"I don't know what I expected, but this certainly surpassed any expectations I had."
Ereinion chuckled softly. "The night is young. We've barely warmed up."
"If that's the case, my king, then I have a small request."
"Name it."
Mustering a strength that caught the dark-haired elves off-guard, Glorfindel pushed Ereinion to the bed, rolling atop him to pin him down. "Take what you dish out," the blonde demanded heatedly, crushing his lips against the king's.
Elrond laughed delightedly, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his head to better watch the unfolding scene. Perhaps he should've mentioned this to Ereinion earlier in the evening, but his golden-haired seneschal was a study in contradictions: quiet one moment, loud the next. All pretense of a submissive lover was gone from Glorfindel's lithe form, replaced with the catlike sensuality of a very experienced lover.
Elrond started taking mental bets on how long his Ereinion would last under the ministrations of the infamous Golden Flower of Gondolin and Imladris.
The End
Send Ereinion feedback
Visit Ereinion's website
The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made by the authors or the archivist and no disrespect is intented.
Do not post this work elsewhere without the author's consent.