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Quicker Than Doubt
Author: keiliss
Beta: red_lasbelin
Email: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Glorfindel/Gil-galad
Warnings: none
Request: Glorfindel/Elf, First time, Glorfindel to be sweet and unsure and dominated by his partner (maybe he's been celibate since Ecthelion?)
Written For: Glori
Whoever submitted this request - thank you! I had huge fun with it and could happily have written much, much more. Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy this.
Glorfindel, formerly of Gondolin, sat on a bench against the wall in a little frequented part of the garden. He had discovered this pretty but secluded corner on one of his first mornings in Lindon and it had quickly become a favored refuge for him.
He currently had his eyes closed and was trying, unsuccessfully, to pretend that the world hadn't changed and that he was still at home, the memories of fire and horror no more than a particularly vivid dream. What he needed more than anything else, he supposed, was time to assimilate the events and experiences of the past six weeks, a chance to adjust to his unexplained and unprecedented return.
For the first few weeks after Lord Namo had sent him out into the world from the coolness and silence of his halls, he had been fortunate to be placed in the care of Cirdan, and the quietly spoken Teleri, no stranger to the inexplicable ways of the Vala, had helped him to accustom himself once more to the unfamiliar familiar, to the noise, confusion and haste of life on Arda.
His arrival in Lindon had turned out to be less taxing and official than they had expected. The king was absent on some business of his own and the formal reception that might have greeted him, since he was an object of huge interest to all, had been postponed.
Now, feeling lost and isolated, he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he found himself completely alone in the world. His former friends and family were all either dead or over the sea in Valinor, no one remained to smooth his adjustment to the confusing new realities of Second Age Lindon.
For most elves this loss and unfamiliarity would have tempered the joy of a unique second chance at life with sorrow .For Glorfindel, however, making new friends, fitting in to a new society, was the stuff of nightmares. The mighty Noldorin war leader, balrog slayer, hero of song and legend unfortunately had one socially overwhelming disability. He was and always had been deeply and painfully shy.
Amongst family and his few close friends, he was known to be a generous, friendly elf, kind hearted to a fault. He had no problems with authority figures or professional situations either. He found it easy to deal with those. There was a right way of doing things and a wrong way and not too much thought or improvisation was needed.
However, in social situations, though he would have dearly loved to appear outgoing and friendly, his brain seemed to simply shut down. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his skin started prickling, his throat seemed to close up, and he withdrew into himself. Because of this he soon earned a completely undeserved reputation for being cold and aloof which, when matched with his unsurpassed good looks, was soon written off as arrogance.
Even amongst those elves he had grown to know over a period of time, he tended to be unsure of himself, his lack of personal confidence causing him to be hesitant and self-effacing. This affliction had even affected his famous friendship with the handsome, extroverted Ecthelion.
Ecthelion was dark haired, gray eyed, witty, and gifted with charm and popularity. Normally Glorfindel would not have managed to put two words together around him but as it happened, Ecthelion had offered to spar with him, to help him master certain finer points of swordsmanship and this was a type of interaction he could handle with comfort.
For his part, having made the right enquiries and deciding that the beautiful, inexperienced elf was worth more than a little effort, Ecthelion put to good use knowledge gained in dealing with a bitterly shy younger sister, and handled the situation in such a way as to put Glorfindel at ease. Thanks to his efforts they were soon inseparable, their relationship developing from friendship to something with the potential to be far more intimate.
However, every time it looked as though things might possibly progress from the stage of hand holding and careful kisses, Glorfindel found himself unable to overcome the little voice which told him that, inexperienced as he was, he would only make a fool of himself.
The same little voice also reminded him that the act Ecthelion was seeking and which he was considering, would require a fair degree of nakedness. This prospect left him feeling more than a little uneasy as Glorfindel, predictably, had a less than glowing opinion of his unclad body.
The proportions, he felt, were probably acceptable, but his skin lacked the desired creamy white tones of song and poetry, he was embarrassed by his too-large, too-pink nipples, and had serious doubts about the size and shape of his elfhood. Rather than try and explain any of this to Ecthelion, who was kindness itself but not a very good listener, he decided that it would be easier to simply avoid intimacy, at least for the time being.
Elves are a patient people. Time is a commodity of which they have an almost limitless supply. They can usually afford to wait, and this is what Ecthelion settled down to do. He was not totally certain what it was that kept Glorfindel from submitting to him but he kept on trying, and remained understanding and accepting in the face of continued refusal. He also kept a very pretty, to say nothing of extremely supple young elleth around who was more than happy to discreetly help to keep his frustrations at a manageable level.
Then Gondolin ran out of time, and with betrayal came fire, dragons, the balrogs of Morgoth, and Ecthelion of the Fountain Court died in defense of that which had already been lost and Glorfindel the Golden fell, entangled with flame and horror, willingly giving his life to protect his princess and her seven year old son.
Glorfindel was drawn back from his memories by a sensation of being watched and turned to see an elf who he was certain he had not met before, leaning against one of the trees. His heart gave a funny little flutter in his chest and he realized that this was some one he would have been unlikely to forget.
He was tall and broad shouldered, large built for one of their kind, with lots of thick, dark hair, very light blue eyes and a face that was not beautiful in the classic elven mold, but was - instead - arresting, interesting. Unforgettable.
Glorfindel felt the familiar gray blanket settling over his brain at the prospect of starting a conversation with a stranger. He cast about frantically for something, anything to say to this elf who stood there, filling the space around him with his presence, and then the generous mouth smiled and words no longer seemed important.
He had a wonderfully charismatic smile, which lit both his face and the heart of whoever it was directed at. It started in his eyes, spreading to his lips, pulling his face slightly to the left and displaying an unexpected dimple.
"I'm truly sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived," he said in a warm, rather deep voice. "I hope your welcome wasn't too chaotic. I left instructions that you weren't to be bothered more than necessary."
At Glorfindel's rather uncertain smile he frowned and then made a gesture of annoyance.
"I have no brains sometimes! I'm sorry, I never introduced myself." He reached out his hand, offering the warriors' grasp. "My name is Ereinion, mostly called Gil-galad. Welcome to Lindon."
Gil-galad - known as Gil to those carefully chosen few he regarded as true friends - didn't allow him to be shy. The King came across as a practical, open, down to earth elf, but beneath the surface he possessed a quick, clear-sighted intelligence and a very sound instinct for the strengths and weaknesses of those around him.
Furthermore he had had an extremely illuminating conversation with Cirdan before he even met Lindon's latest celebrity, and understood that he would need a fair degree of guidance and management.
This was fine with Gil-galad. He liked managing things. It was one of the things at which he excelled. For him, the simplest approach was to immediately take Glorfindel under his wing and into his innermost circle, personally organizing his immersion into his new life.
As part of this objective he introduced him, over the following weeks and under carefully controlled conditions, to selected members of the court, making sensitivity and shared interests his main criteria. It would have been impossible to exclude his two young cousins, the Mariner's sons, Elrond and Elros, in whom Glorfindel had a quite natural interest, but he did, however, warn them to keep their quick wit and cutting tongues firmly leashed.
As Lord Namo had sent his former guest back out into the world as naked as the day he had been first born, Gil-galad supplied new clothes, personal effects, armor and a very good horse, all out of his own pocket. He then arranged horseback excursions to see the surrounding countryside, and had a lore master join him in explaining recent historical, geographical and political changes.
They were both surprised to discover they shared a great love for music, despite having no personal ability, though the King did have quite a good, strong singing voice. They began attending musical events together, which they discussed afterwards in great detail.
They found they also enjoyed the same sort of books - nothing too heavy, works that provided general entertainment. They also loved cats and horses and shared an unexpected liking for board games.
The court watched this joined-at-the-hip friendship developing with a natural cynicism, which was kept carefully concealed as Gil-galad's temper and his loyalty to his friends were held to be of more or less equal measure.
The flightier of the peredhil twins, Elrond, was heard to pass a few snide comments, though even he was careful as to time and place, but he was well known to have a large, juvenile and completely unreciprocated crush on the king and his comments were judged to carry the sickly green hue of jealousy.
The day arrived when Glorfindel started to feel uncomfortable at have nothing better to do with his time than enjoy being alive and he expressed a wish to start getting himself back into shape. The king, who took this as a sign of him starting to settle in, immediately pronounced it an excellent idea, and expressed an interest in being his first sparring partner in Lindon.
Being Gil, what he actually said was," I've never sparred with some one who's managed to get close enough to a balrog to get himself killed before."
They chose as their venue one of the small outdoor enclosures, and picked the hour when most thoughts were turning to the midday meal, in the hopes of getting a little privacy.
Upon their arrival they spent a little time examining Glorfindel's new sword, paid for out of the treasury this time, and, pronouncing it sound, prepared to get on with the business at hand
At any rate Gil-galad, who had never had a problem taking his clothes off, got on with it. Glorfindel stood in an agony of shyness, fiddling with, thought not undoing, the buttons of his jerkin.
Gil-galad, already stripped down to indecently tight leggings, frowned at him and said,
"Don't be ridiculous, you can't fight like that. Get your shirt off; it's hot as Mordor today. Do you think I'm going to run screaming at the sight of a male nipple?"
Glorfindel was forced to laugh and, turning away, started to undress. He glanced back to see the king standing openly watching him and, blushing furiously said,
"If you don't stop staring at me it stays on. I start feeling stupid and ugly when people stare at me."
Gil-galad moved forward laughing.
"Nonsense, come on, get this off and let's get on with it," he said, and reached out to help Glorfindel off with his undershirt, pulling it over the golden head in one smooth movement.
Stepping back, still chuckling, with the shirt in his hand, he took in the sight before him and caught his breath. Glorfindel, bright gold hair braided back from his face, was now clad only in form fitting, cream leggings. Gil-galad looked at the perfectly sculpted, honey kissed body with the satin smooth skin and the plump, inviting nipples, and the laugh died though the smile stayed in his eyes.
"Not stupid," he said quietly. "And the furthest thing from ugly that I have ever seen."
They stood still, their eyes locked, both of them unaware for the moment of their surroundings, then there were voices and Faeleron with two friends arrived, and the moment passed and they set to sparring, loudly encouraged by their impromptu audience.
They were evenly matched in speed and experience, save that the king had never been killed by a balrog, nor had he ever been a guest of Lord Namo.
That evening Glorfindel had been invited, as was a regular occurrence, to dine with the king. The other guests were to be Dalbros, the senior librarian, and the new assistant military advisor, a black haired, yellow-eyed elf of indeterminate age named Erestor. He was self contained, had a dry wit and an acidic tongue which he kept under firm control. After an initial uncertainty, Glorfindel was beginning to quite enjoy his company.
He was aware that the king stayed close when there were strangers present until he saw that Glorfindel was starting to feel at ease, which in turn made it simpler for him to relax and join in the conversation. This nurturing of a feeling of security, of being in a safe environment was something he had never experienced before. Though he didn't realize it, it had rather suited Ecthelion to keep him dependant, isolated from the circle of friends into which he could have guided him.
Gil-galad went to a fair amount of trouble on his behalf, though he himself would never have seen it as such. The king liked to finish what he started, and what he had started here was the process of bringing this sweet-natured, shy and very likeable elf out of his shell.
Glorfindel spend nearly an hour trying on every item of clothing he possessed, in an attempt to look - as he phrased it to himself - presentable. What he really meant by this wasn't too clear, though it seemed to have something to do with wearing an outfit Gil would think looked nice.
Eventually, defeated through lack of experience, he wore red, because he had been told it suited him, and dressed his hair casually, with a few side braids, the rest of the shining golden beauty hanging loose down his back and over his shoulders.
Finally, trying not to think about why he was going to so much trouble for a simple dinner with friends, he made his way to Gil-galad's private rooms.
He arrived on time but upon letting himself in discovered he was alone in the little sitting room where the king entertained informally.
It was a room Glorfindel liked and in which he felt at ease. There were comfortable chairs, a divan covered with cushions, small tables holding an assortment of Gil-galad's personal treasures, including one under the window, flanked by two chairs, holding a crystal chess set, displayed a half-finished game - the twins were dedicated players.
There was a thick, warm rug on the floor in front of the little fire place, the perfect spot to sit and have a late night cup of wine and one of those long, involved conversations that took the world apart and rebuilt it again that Gil-galad so loved. It was decorated throughout in an assortment of warm, vibrant colors, which should have fought one another to a standstill but somehow, blended into a harmonious whole.
The only new addition that night was a small table in the corner of the room, attractively prepared, with a small floral centerpiece and a pair of good candles, with places set for only two diners.
The inner door clicked shut as Gil-galad came through to join him. He was wearing simple midnight blue velvet, his hair held back by intricate mithril clasps. An alert observer would have noticed a brief hesitation before he came forward with his usual heart-stopping smile.
"Thought I heard some one," he said, going to the fire and adding a totally unnecessary log.
"I seem to be the first, "Glorfindel volunteered from his place by the chess set, which he was scrutinizing.
"Oh, no, no, it's just us tonight," Gil-galad told him, still very busy with the fire. "Erestor pleaded pressure of work and Dalbros had forgotten a family commitment."
Before he would have to answer the query in Glorfindel's eyes, which would probably have required huge economy with the truth, there was a tap at the door and a small delegation from the kitchen entered, bearing dishes, cutlery, glasses and an assortment of foods in covered dishes, which they proceeded to lay out on the server next to the little dinner table.
"I thought, as it was just the two of us, that it would be pleasant to have something we could see to ourselves," he ventured. "Keep it casual, no need for servants."
Glorfindel, as he had hoped, nodded eagerly, He was never relaxed in the more formal environment created by servants, and would be more than happy for it to be just the two of them.
The meal was delightful. There was a delicate starter of ham and asparagus, followed by a fish platter, comprising a variety of seafood with wild rice, a small salad and a pink sauce. This was followed by a nice, filling apple desert, a favorite of the king's, topped with custard. To accompany all this, there were several bottles of a potent sparkling wine brought from the far south at considerable expense.
The conversation was casual, confined to generalities. Glorfindel, to his personal amazement, had no difficulty talking to Gil-galad, had not had since the day they met, but the king seemed distracted and he settled instead to enjoy the meal.
After they had eaten and carefully stacked the dirty dishes on the small server, Gil-galad wandered around the room, cup in hand, snuffing out candles on the way, leaving the room lit by one small lamp and the firelight. Settling himself down on the rug, he said over his shoulder,
"You may as well bring that last bottle over here. Now that it's open we might as well finish it."
Glorfindel picked it up with a smile. "Can't understand how you could open it by accident," he said in amusement. "You leave us no choice now. Another half bottle had not been in my plans for the night."
Gil-galad pulled a slight face and shrugged.
"Can't imagine how that happened," he said evenly." Still, it would be a pity to waste it. Lovely warm feeling you get from those little bubbles, have you noticed?"
Glorfindel, who was usually a two to three cup elf at the most, had noticed. Very warm. Made you feel tingly in fact. All over.
He brought the bottle over, handed it to Gil-galad, and settled down opposite him on the rug before the fire, leaning his head back against one of the chairs, and relaxing.
An hour later found them both stretched out on the floor, the chessboard between them, engaged in a not very serious and rather haphazard game of something approaching chess, played to a raucously expanding set of rules.
Gil-galad, lying propped up on an elbow, had just taken another of Glorfindel's pieces by an act of blatant dishonesty and was busy palming it, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Glorfindel, made somewhat uninhibited by the wine, reached out laughing and grabbed at his wrist, attempting to wrest the little crystal figurine from him.
"You had no right to do that, Sire..." he began, tugging ineffectually
"'Gil'!" insisted his opponent firmly, keeping a tight hold on the piece. "I have told you more times than I can remember, when we are alone I want you to call me Gil. It's hardly a difficult name. Let me hear you say it."
Glorfindel raised his eyes from the strong wrist he was gripping and gave him an easy smile "You had no right to do that, Gil," he said with a chuckle.
Gil-galad looked up at him, at the golden hair gleaming in the firelight, the beautiful face slightly flushed from wine and the fire's warmth, soft lips parted in laughter, and he turned his hand, dropping the gaming piece. Moving to a sitting position he drew Glorfindel into his arms, all laughter gone, his face utterly serious, and very softly, very carefully kissed him on the lips.
For the space of some seven heartbeats they were both motionless, then they drew back to look at one another. Glorfindel's eyes were wide, wondering. He moved his hand up, touching his fingers almost unconsciously to his lips, never taking his eyes off the King.
Gil-galad raised a hand and cupped Glorfindel's cheek. He looked at him steadily and then leaned in, slowly this time, keeping eye contact until finally their lips touched, brushed, pressed, and then his tongue snaked out and licked slowly across Glorfindel's mouth, tracing first the top lip then, lingeringly, the bottom one.
"Part your lips," he murmured urgently. "Let me taste your mouth. Please!"
Glorfindel could hear the blood humming in his ears. The room felt too warm and the fire too close. Overlaying all else was a slowly banking heat that spread through his entire body but seemed to be mostly centered in his groin, where the sensation of almost painfully throbbing heat was slowly beginning to make itself the focal point of his world.
And Gil - no longer Gil-galad the King now, just Gil - was kissing him as he had never even dreamed of being kissed, exploring his mouth, tasting, savoring the insides of his cheeks, drawing his tongue forth so that it could be captured and sucked.
The strong arms that held him had drawn him back down onto the rug, the chess set having been firmly pushed well to one side and Gil was leaning over him, first stroking his hair and face before moving lower. He trailed soft fingers down his neck and then began touching, but not unfastening, the first of the clasps of his shirt. Panting slightly, Gil released his mouth and drew back so that he could see his face properly.
"I need to take your shirt off." he said simply. " I need to touch you. Please..." His gaze was intense, the blue eyes dark and cloudy.
Glorfindel lay on his back staring up at him, a thousand ideas chasing through his head.. He remembered all the other times, with Ecthelion, when he had been asked for this and had refused, but that all seemed far away and Gil was close and warm. This time he really didn't want to stop. In a less than steady voice he said,
"Why me? You should be with some one beautiful, special...not me."
Gil looked at him seriously, shaking his head and saying softly,
"You have no idea how lovely you are, do you? There is no one else I want to be with, hasn't been since I met you. Come, just your shirt, sweetheart. I shan't ask more than you want to give me, I promise, just please, please let me take your shirt..."
As he spoke he was stroking Glorfindel's chest and shoulders, barely enforcing gentleness on hands that wanted to squeeze and grasp. Glorfindel swallowed hard, closed his eyes and nodded.
The shirt and undershirt were removed swiftly and efficiently, Gil having realized that the best course was to make sure there wasn't time for him to think too hard about what was happening.
Before he knew it, Glorfindel lay on the rug, the firelight tracing patterns on his naked skin and lighting his sun -bright hair. All the usual feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy came rushing in to claim him, to take this night away from him too as they had all the others - but Gil was quick, even quicker than fear and self doubt.
Removing and tossing his own tunic across the room, pausing only to let his hair loose, Gil proceeded to run firm but gentle hands over Glorfindel's chest and stomach. His fingers followed the curves and hollows of his body, tracing ribs, feathering over his waist, stroking just below the edge of his leggings, before he ran his hands slowly back up, and began to circle the nipples with his fingertips. The moment that Glorfindel gasped and closed his eyes, Gil murmured "These are exquisite," and dropped his head to take one hardening temptation between his lips.
He felt the moment of tension in the body beneath his and then he sucked, hard, drawing nipple and surrounding flesh into his mouth, letting his teeth rake sharply. Glorfindel cried out, then his arms went round him and he was holding the back of Gil's head, pressing him closer as he writhed against him.
After this there was no more uncertainty about the course of the night, no further need for discussion, Gil licked and suckled the nipples, whispering words of praise and desire, then moved slowly down his body, bringing pleasure with the sure touch of his hands and mouth.
He worked the band of Glorfindel's leggings down carefully, and explored his navel thoroughly with his tongue making him shiver and moan. He then worked his way back, pausing to lavish more attention on the intensely responsive nipples before sucking his way in a trail of fire up his neck and reclaiming his mouth.
This kiss, unlike the others, was almost rough with his need and insistence showing. It left Glorfindel almost inarticulate with desire, as he attempted to deal with the rush of new sensations, which were taking control of his body.
When Gil drew back from him and moved to sit up, he groaned aloud and tried to hold on to him, but Gil disengaged himself easily and said softly,
"I need you to be certain about this, my dear. Are you ready to go further now...are you certain about this?"
The world started crowding back in on Glorfindel and in a dazed sort of fashion, he remembered why he should be saying no. Struggling to get some order to his thoughts, he tried to explain - no easy task while lying half naked in the firelight with Gil's hand holding his, stroking his fingers firmly.
"I know it sounds stupid but I have never - well - never done this before and I don't know enough to satisfy you. I have no idea what you need from me - I am just afraid I will disappoint you," he said, finishing on a rush of words and turning his head away as he felt himself blushing.
"Never before, my dear? Truly?" Gil asked quietly. At Glorfindel's uncertain look he smiled and raised the hand he was caressing to his lips..
"We are none of us born experienced," he said gently. "I can think of nothing more wonderful than to be your first lover. Will you have me, sweetheart?"
Glorfindel looked up at him and Gil returned the look steadily. Finally, slowly, he nodded.
Gil finished undressing him slowly, planting soft kisses on the newly disclosed flesh as leggings and loincloth were carefully removed. He refrained from making the obvious move towards Glorfindel's now softened shaft, keeping his attention concentrated elsewhere until he could see, by the hardening of his desire that he was beginning to relax. Only then did he remove the last of his own clothes.
Turning back from throwing his loincloth to follow his leggings off into the dark, he heard Glorfindel gasp. He looked down, at once concerned, but the elf was lying starting at him with something like wonder in his eyes.
"You're - beautiful!" Glorfindel whispered softly, a trace of color, even now staining his cheeks.
"Do you think I am?" Gil asked him, smiling. At his nod he sank down next to him and with lips close to his ear said, "Would you like to explore what you see? It would give me so much pleasure if you wanted to touch me."
Glorfindel started slowly, uncertainly, his fingers barely brushing the smooth skin, but after a few moments the sighs he found he was able to draw from Gil gave him courage to be a little bolder.
He stroked his hands down smooth muscle, over the firm stomach and chest, finally daring to lick the tiny, hardened nipples, causing Gil to whisper "more" in an urgent voice. In no time he found himself sucking and stroking them with his tongue, shy uncertainty melting away in the face of Gil's obvious pleasure, before turning the same kind of attention to the soft skin at his waist and across his stomach.
At last he found himself tentatively touching Gil's elfhood, an action full of new uncertainties for him but very desirable for Gil. Muttered encouragement soon turned to urgent cries when, remembering every conversation on the subject that he had ever overheard, Glorfindel applied his lips and the tip of his tongue to the swollen head and experimentally sucked.
Gil gave himself over to this for a few selfish, mind numbing minutes then tugged at Glorfindel's hair, hard, to make him stop and look up to be confronted with the sight of his king, covered with a faint sheen of sweat, his long hair hanging disheveled over his shoulders and his face tense with desire.
"You have no idea what you are doing to me, do you?" Gil managed to get out on a half laugh. "You are driving me insane and you have no idea...come here and find out what you are doing to me!"
Gil pulled him up into a quick, close embrace, kissing him hard. Glorfindel barely had a chance to return the kiss before he found himself lying flat on his back again as Gil ran hands and tongue down his body in a straight, unerring line to his rock hard cock.
For Glorfindel time slowed and all but stood still. The world fell away, the room retreated, leaving him aware of nothing but the rug under his naked back, the dark hair drifting across his stomach and hips and Gil's mouth doing impossible things to his cock, tracing his tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, then starting a line of hard sucking bites that had Glorfindel writhing and whimpering softly.
Then, when he thought it could not get more intense, Gil took him into his mouth and began sucking and swallowing and started to make a soft humming sound deep in his throat which reverberated to Glorfindel's very soul. For a few minutes there was nothing but the mouth, his cock, light and sparks behind his closed eyelids. He almost forgot to breathe.
Then Gil released him, despite his almost frantic protests, and moved further down until he was between his legs, where he turned his attention to sucking and kissing the insides of his thighs and to running his lips and tongue over his taut, sensitive sac.
Glorfindel had an impression of movement, of Gil stretching out and scratching about amongst the wood beside the fire, then the kisses resumed, intensified, sending sharp, fiery thrills straight to his aching erection..
Everything stopped for a minute as Gil propped himself up on his elbows to look at him. Glorfindel was lying on his back, his arms flung out, his hair a pool of gold. The fire lit his body, showing the taut, ruby nipples and the darkening kiss marks.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly. "You don't want me to stop? I can really make love to you?"
Glorfindel was beyond words by this time, gasping for breath, and all he could manage was to nod, hard.
"Thank you," Gil whispered. "I had to be sure."
There was a pause for a moment, while he did something unseen and then he drew Glorfindel's legs up so that he was resting his head lightly against one thigh, while the other rested over his shoulder. With one hand Gil reached for Glorfindel's aching, throbbing length and began to stroke it slowly, while the other hand -
One finger was circling the most intimate opening of his entire body, lightly at first, then harder, deeper, and he was vaguely aware of slickness - oil? Where would Gil have found oil? he wondered vaguely. Then the finger thrust and, even before his own cry he heard Gil give a low moan of desire, and the finger was penetrating him, pushing against firm resistance, overcoming it and sinking into his very core.
It hurt. It burnt. It was like no other sensation he had ever known. It was moving inside of him, twisting, thrusting in, drawing back, and all the time the motion was echoed by the hand manipulating his cock - the pleasure an exact balance to the pain.
After a while Gil added more oil from the little bottle he had secreted earlier, optimistically, by the fire and where there had been one finger there were now two, stretching the tightness that had been untouched by any other.
Insistently thrusting deeper, despite a moan of protest, they sought and then found their target and applied pressure, causing Glorfindel to arch his back and swear, while instinctively pushing sharply back against the cause of such an unbelievable jolt of pleasure.
"More to your liking?" Gil asked with a shaky laugh, and then resumed preparing Glorfindel's virgin passage, the difference now being that there was no more resistance, rather a willing partner, desperately seeking what he had to offer.
Minutes passed that were punctuated by moans and heavy breathing from both parties and cries from Glorfindel, during which time Gil had to release his hold on Glorfindel's swollen cock, fearing he would be unable to prevent him from coming before they were ready. Two fingers became three with no sound of protest, and the three were now moving in and out of Glorfindel if not easily - he was still far too untried for that - at least without causing pain.
Satisfied, Gil withdrew and reached again for the oil. He knelt up and, pouring a generous amount into his hand, began to smooth it over his aching erection, shuddering at his own touch, gritting his teeth in his attempt to keep control of his responses.
"Lie on your side," he told Glorfindel in a strained voice. "It will be more comfortable for you that way. "
Glorfindel was lying looking at him with a strange expression in his eyes. Gil paused.
"Is everything all right?" he asked in sudden trepidation.
"I can't!" Glorfindel said flatly.
Gil stopped what he had been doing, pleasure forgotten. He stared at Glorfindel, keeping his face calmly reassuring, while all the time a little voice in the back of his head was screaming "Idiot! You idiot! What did you do wrong?"
"What's wrong, dear one?" he asked gently. "Have I done something to make you uncomfortable? Tell me what I can do...?"
Glorfindel was gesturing vaguely at him. It took a moment but eventually Gil looked down. Ereinion Gil-galad was a well-built elf. He was also very well proportioned. The erection jutting up against his stomach, gleaming with oil in the firelight, was truly impressive.
He raised his eyes and lifted an eyebrow to Glorfindel, who dropped his embarrassed gaze, though not before giving him a small nod of confirmation. In spite of desperately trying to stop himself, he started to laugh. When he could no longer control it, he fell forward, gathered Glorfindel into his arms and began raining kisses over his face and neck, eventually forcing him to see the funny side of it and to join in the laughter.
When they had settled down a little, Gil brushed shimmering golden hair back from Glorfindel's face and said, still grinning,
"My dear, if I promise to be gentle. If I promise the discomfort will be minimal, and if I promise to be slow and careful - do you think you could at least let us try?" He took the lovely face between his strong hands. "Or are you going to leave me like this, to suffer the agonies of the Pit?"
Glorfindel put his arms round his neck and looked into his eyes.
"Very carefully," he said. "Very very carefully."
Gil released him with a final kiss and, telling him to turn on his side, bent to retrieve the oil. When he turned back Glorfindel was lying on his side as instructed, facing the fire, stretched out like a golden cat. Settling down behind him he made a business for a few minutes of kissing his neck and shoulders while running his hands over him with a gentleness that slowly strengthened into need. He placed his hand behind Glorfindel's upper thigh and pushed gently, murmuring,
"Draw this one up to your chest, it will make it easier for us both."
He then took the oil, poured it carefully and began to apply it slowly, first outside, then within, thrusting with two fingers, spreading it as deeply and as completely as he could. Then, very carefully, as agreed, he pressed the head of his cock up against the gleaming little opening and began, firmly to push.
Glorfindel was tight, in spite of all the earlier preparation but finally Gil's swollen head had passed the ring of muscle and slid carefully into him. He waited a moment, to give Glorfindel a chance to adjust to the width and fullness, so unlike a finger, and then, with his usual approach of 'getting a thing over with' thrust smoothly into him, burying himself to the hilt.
Glorfindel's head jerked back and his breath hissed sharply, but then Gil drew back and thrust into him twice, varying his angle of penetration each time and on the third attempt was rewarded with Glorfindel crying out and arching back against him as he found the spot he had been seeking. Gil reached round to take his suddenly hardened cock in hand.
"Careful enough?" he asked, resting his cheek against Glorfindel's and holding still for one final time.
"Yes, please, do that again," was the answer, uttered in a ragged voice completely unlike Glorfindel's usual tone. Gil laughed huskily, tightened his grip on his lover and began to ride him, slowly at first and then, as Glorfindel relaxed and began to move with him, increasing the rate and the depth of his thrusts, finally burying his face in the golden hair and gave himself over to ecstasy
Beside and half beneath him, Glorfindel had adjusted to the alien hardness within, as pure pleasure wiped out any thought of discomfort or pain. He moved urgently with Gil, his mind empty of all else save the hand on his shaft and the unbelievable sensations within him which, at the height of each thrust, delivered a fire burst of agonizing delight, pushing him higher and higher until there was nothing else, only overpowering need.
He clawed at the rug as he pushed back onto the steel within him, then forward into the grasping hand, bucking and writhing, faster and faster. He arched his head back over Gil's shoulder, feeling his mouth on his throat, the bite joining its molten thrill to the rest of the sensations. He came at last, chanting Gil's name,. and then, to the sound of Gil's shout of triumph and completion he fell back through white light, sinking down into a dark nothingness.
The first thing he became aware of as he came back to himself was the soft crackling of the fire next to him, followed by the fact that he was lying with his head on a solid shoulder and strong arms were holding him while gentle hands stroked his hair and back. He turned his head slightly and opened his eyes to see Gil watching him, a half smile on his face, his light, clear eyes content.
"Welcome back," he said smiling, and placed a soft kiss on Glorfindel's cheek. He was rewarded with an answering smile and a more comfortable setting of the blonde head on his shoulder.
Glorfindel stroked his hand down over Gil's chest to his stomach, marveling at the solid feel of him, knowing that he was in exactly the right place and time at last. He did, however, have a question, the answer to which was becoming clearer to him by the minute. Observing Gil's slightly self-satisfied air and the proprietary way he was being held, he reached up and wound dark hair round his hand and pulled firmly. Gil slanted a look at him and raised a querying brow.
"Where did the oil come from?" he asked softly.
Gil thought about it, but saw no gain in lying to some one he wanted to have close to him for very much more than just one night.
"I hoped I could convince you to let this happen," he admitted. "We have had more than a chance to get to know one another, we were going to dine alone, I just hoped that, perhaps, afterwards..."
"They didn't really cancel at the last minute, did they?" Glorfindel asked , keeping his grip on the hair. "They were never invited, were they?"
Gil slapped his hand away firmly and hugged him quickly.
"No, they were invited," he said cheerfully. "I have never planned a long term seduction in my life. I'm afraid I don't have the attention span for it or something. No, I uninvited them, this afternoon."
"You told them not to come...?"
Gil sighed. "This afternoon." he confirmed in a more serious voice. "This morning when we were preparing to spar you must surely also have felt the magic between us. This has been growing in me for weeks, seeking out your company , finding my thoughts always turning to you when we are apart. Today I realized just how much I wanted to be with you and I knew you felt it too. I hoped tonight you would be willing to act on those feelings. Which you were. Therefore the oil."
"Therefore the oil," Glorfindel agreed. A thought struck him and he half rose, almost spluttering in his disbelief. "And therefore the wine! You tried to get me drunk, you - you....!"
Gil was shaking with laughter as he pulled him forcibly back down.
"Oh you didn't have nearly enough to make you drunk," he disclaimed. "Rather let us say it was enough to relax you, make you less likely to get up and run if I did something untoward like trying to kiss you. You're really skittish about that sort of thing till you get used to it I've noticed."
"You tried to get me drunk." Glorfindel subsided with bad grace shaking his head. "I will never, never be able to trust you again. I never imagined you could be so underhanded."
Gil chuckled and rolled them over so that they were lying facing one another, warm and safe together, covered by a throw he had pulled from one of the chairs earlier.
"Be honest. Aren't you just a little glad I am?" he asked.
Before Glorfindel could respond to this with further expressions of outrage he drew him closer, his gaze tender and with an air of finality silenced him with a kiss.
The End
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