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A rather explosive and inordinately loud sneeze tore from his chest, resounding throughout the chamber most indecently followed by a dainty sniff and a demure, "excuse me".
Ereinion found the combination most humorous and was unable to conceal a small chuckle, for he had not expected such an enormous sound to erupt from the rather petite advisor.
"Eh? What is so amusing?" Erestor asked, his tone irritably congested.
"Nothing, my dear Erestor. Nothing at all," the Noldor King replied, patting his leg fondly. "Perhaps you would care to pay a visit to my healer, Katril? He can further assess your. . .condition. . .and possibly offer some assistance?"
The last thing Erestor wanted was to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed, especially to be poked and prodded by some unknown healer, yet he did not wish to seem ungrateful.
"I thank you for your offer to aid, my Lord, but I fear that all I am in need of is rest, for it will mend my tired body," Erestor said politely, his usually silken Gypsy purr dulled by his stuffy nose.
Although the High King did not look even remotely convinced, he did not press the issue, and for this, Erestor was grateful. Sleep was a far more pleasant option and a lack of it quite possibly part of the reason illness had befallen him in the first place.
"Very well then, Erestor, but I must consult with you regarding the founding of Imladris. Lord Elrond speaks very highly of your esteemed knowledge of the subject. Perhaps after you have had a bit of rest?" The High King reached forward and pushed a loose strand of Erestor's unruly hair behind his ear, a gesture that reminded the advisor of the passionate kiss they had shared on the previous night.
Fingers slid along the angular curve of Erestor's jaw as the hand came to rest upon his cheek briefly before resettling upon his forehead.
"Quel kamia, morier,**" Ereinion murmured, the coolness of touch growing to a comforting warmth which drew Erestor closer still to the siren song of slumber.
A gaping yawn seized the advisor as his eyelids grew heavy, the verdant green of the High King's gentle gaze fading pleasantly into his memory as sleep swiftly overtook him at last. He would not recall later how his own hand had moved to grasp the tips of Ereinion's fingers as they fell away from his pale skin and drew them close to the thrum of his heart.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
**quel kamia, morier - "sleep well, dark one."**
Had he slept for hours? Days? Erestor was no longer certain. All he knew was that his body felt far more rested than before. Banners of rose and gold were strewn across the deepening blue of the evening sky, unraveling into coils of hazy red blotted upon a purpled backdrop. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled beneath the warmth of the many blankets for a moment longer before rising, his growling stomach reminding him that he had not eaten for some time.
None had bothered him during his slumber, yet one visitor remained clear within his mind.
Ereinion. . .
It had not been a dream, the gentle touch of the High King's hand upon his fevered skin, the incantations of sleep.
Lirimaer, what have you done to me. . .
Certainly the Noldor had not said that. Those words he had imagined. Yes. . .a product of his somewhat hopeful mind.
The lightweight cotton of the tunic in which he had slept was damp with sweat and smelled as such. Wrinkling his nose, the advisor peeled the thin fabric from his body and tossed it aside. He could definitely use a bath. Perhaps he would ask Elrond where he might enjoy such a luxury after filling his belly.
He pawed through his belongings quickly and selected the thickest tunic he had brought along with a clean pair of breeches. Hopefully, very few would be about.
After combing his long locks into some semblance of order and rebraiding them, he shrugged his signature black robes over his shoulders and crept silently down the many stairs that led into the kitchen where he pilfered several honey glazed rolls and a wedge of sharp cheese. A mug of mulled cider was also smuggled from the counter before any of the lingering kitchen help even knew he was there.
Being confined to his quarters had suddenly left him longing for the freshness of the sea air and he ventured outside to enjoy his supper where he could enjoy the view in peace.
The expanse of the massive ocean was astounding. Never had Erestor beheld a body of water such as this, stretching further than even the Elven eye could see.
"It is impressive, is it not?"
Erestor glanced over his shoulder, knowing full well who the voice belonged to before the noble visage of the High King came into view. Ereinion crouched beside him, laying a hand upon the advisor's shoulder as he pointed towards a cluster of craggy rocks that dotted a distant shoreline.
"That is where I first set foot upon this land," he said. "It was not until I journeyed further to the East that I discovered the terrain to be hospitable for living. Through the help of Vilya, the climate has evolved into a milder version of what was originally a rather hostile environment."
Clutching his robes closer to his body, Erestor shivered. "One would think that Vilya would have sought to make it a bit warmer."
Ereinion chuckled. "You are of the woods, my dear Erestor. I am certain temperatures in your home vary little from the pleasant warmth of Spring. Much of Lindon's wildlife is accustomed to the cold here. Changing such things too greatly would pose a threat to the livelihood of the creatures that dwelt here long before our people settled upon these shores."
"I fear what the winters must be like," Erestor muttered with a sniffle, for the chill of the wind was becoming more of a nuisance than he planned.
The warmth of Ereinion's hand gravitated further down his back as the Elven King's touch slid from his shoulder to a lower point.
"Are you cold, morier?" he asked, his thumb rubbing lightly over the ridge of Erestor's spine, eliciting a shiver of a different nature from the huddling advisor.
Instead of replying as he wished, Erestor sneezed rather harshly followed by more of the wretched cough that refused to take leave of his body.
The heavy wool of Ereinion's cloak descended over his shoulders, draping him in the spicy subtly of wild bergamot blossoms.
He sneezed again.
By the sea and stars!
The High King pressed his handkerchief into Erestor's palm, closing his fingers around the soft fabric.
"Galu," Ereinion said as Erestor dabbed daintily at his reddening nose with one corner of the cloth.
"Thank you," Erestor murmured, bowing his head so that Ereinion could not see the blush that crept over his cheeks to match the hue of his nose.
From beneath the cover of his dark lashes, the advisor glanced at the Noldor King who now sat in little more than a sleeveless tunic and breeches. The lithe curvature of Ereinion's arms boasted of far more power than his flowing robes revealed, the muscles lean and carved, honed from battles fought since before Erestor's birth. A band of elegantly crafted mithril encircled the upper portion of one of those arms, swirls of curling vines and leaves etched into its surface along with a cluster of stars which seemed to glint as clearly as those that resided in the heavens themselves. A chilling wind billowed the dark silk of the High King's lustrous hair, lifting it away from his shoulders to resettle in a cascade of inky ebonite down the center of his back.
Surely, he must be freezing! Erestor could not simply sit there like a newborn Elfling swaddled in blankets while the High King of Noldor was at the mercy of the elements.
Shrugging the warm cloak away from his shoulders, Erestor moved to return it to Ereinion, but felt a firm hand pull the thick material back upon his body once more.
"No, morier. The chill of the air does not reach my bones. I am quite used to it, I assure you," Ereinion said.
"But. . ." Erestor began.
"No," the High King said once more.
"Then I insist you allow me to share it with you," Erestor said, realizing all too late that he had just more or less offered to share a blanket with the Noldorian ruler.
One graceful brow arched upward as Erestor silently cursed his treacherous tongue.
"Forgive me," Erestor muttered. "I did not mean to imply. . ."
The side of the cloak lifted and a strong arm encircled his shoulders, drawing him suddenly far closer than he wished to be, his still shivering body gleefully betraying his need for warmth.
His ear nestled involuntarily against Ereinion's chest, the steady thrum of the King's heart resounding within his ears. Abruptly, his fevered chills ceased and he melted into the embrace against his will, allowing the High King to cradle him against his lean form if only for a moment.
"Are you cold now, morier?" Ereinion asked softly.
"No," Erestor said quietly. "Not anymore."
Ereinion hugged the slightly shivering body against his own, drawing the dark advisor closer into his embrace.
"I know of something that will soothe your ails, morier. The warmth of the bathing pools can chase even the most stubborn of chills from your bones," Ereinion said, his hand rubbing the nape of Erestor's neck in an absently affectionate gesture.
"I have already tried," Erestor mumbled into the thick silk of the Noldor ruler's tunic.
"Yes," Ereinion said. "Come with me, my dear one. I assure you that your experience will be all together different."
Erestor buried his face further within the confines of Ereinion's arms. "Very well," he agreed, breathing in the lingering scent of warm spice that clung headily to Ereinion's dusky skin.
He suddenly longed to brush his lips against the softness of the inviting curve of Ereinion's neck, traveling to sample the exquisite taste of his mouth once more, but the slight chattering of his teeth would allow him little more than a nuzzle beneath the chin. A gentle kiss graced his forehead in return and Erestor almost wished that he could simply remain upon the cliff wrapped in the tender embrace of the Noldorian Elf.
"Come," Ereinion said, "let us get you out of this wind."
The regal Elven King's arm did not stray from Erestor's shoulders as the two of them rose, leaving Erestor's uneaten meal of cheese and bread upon the rocks for the sea birds to enjoy.
* * * * *
Do not stare, Erestor reprimanded himself silently as Ereinion began to shed his clothing before him as if were an utterly natural thing to do. It was not as if Erestor had never seen a naked male before. On the contrary, he had seen far more than most others twice his age. Yet, the sight of the now tunicless King made him blush like a maiden caught stealing a glimpse at a forbidden lover.
Clutching his own robes closer to his body, Erestor crossed his arms over his chest as the Noldor Elf approached him, dropping his tunic onto the stone floor with a flutter of silk.
"Do not tell me you have grown shy, morier." the High King teased, his hands coming to rest upon Erestor's shoulders as he swept up behind him.
"Of course not," Erestor said a bit nervously. "I-I am just cold."
"Well, you cannot bathe fully clothed," Ereinion chided gently, his hands sliding to the front of Erestor's robes where nimble fingers began to ensnare each cloth covered button, releasing it from the confines of the frog that held it in place.
A shiver coursed through Erestor's body, but this time it was not from the chill of the air. His head lolled back against the bare chest pressed to his back, allowing Ereinion to disrobe him. Velvet robes slid to the ground followed by his tunic as Erenion's capable hands traveled down the lithe planes of his stomach, coming to rest upon the laces of his breeches. The softest of moans whispered from Erestor's lips and his own hands moved to cover those that so closely taunted the part of him that most desired Ereinion's touch.
"I believe that you can take it from here, can you not?" the Noldor asked, his breath tickling the advisor's pointed ear before backing away much to Erestor's surprise and disappointment.
The sounds of skin shifting against soft leather rustled behind him and before Erestor could steady his nerves once more, the naked form of the High King stepped into his line of vision, dark hair trailing down his back like an inky banner of silk as he made his way towards the wisping steam that rose from the pool's placid surface.
Erestor swallowed hard, his fingers suddenly fumbling with the laces as if they could not remember how to untie them. Jerking the leather cord rather hard, he gasped as it popped apart within his grasp, leaving with less than half of it dangling within his fisted palm.
"By the Gods," he grumbled, dropping the wasted lacing onto the ground, freeing himself at last from the confines of his breeches.
He glanced up just in time to catch the view of Ereinion's backside as the High King submerged himself in the clear water, sinking completely below its surface.
Normally, Erestor would have taken the time to unbraid his inordinately long hair, but in his haste to chase the chill away from his skin, he merely stepped into the pool, seating himself upon one of the mossy ledges until Ereinion reemerged, his ebon hair clinging to his body like rivulets of glossy ink trailing down the pale parchment of his flesh.
"So, you have decided to join me, then?" Ereinion said, an inviting smile curving the fullness of his lovely mouth.
"Surely you did not believe I would only watch," Erestor replied, relieved that his voice had not left him as it so often seemed to do in the presence of the Noldor King.
Ereinion quirked a brow. "I should hope not."
Fiddling with the leather that bound the end of his plaited hair, Erestor set about the task of releasing the thick tresses from their severe style, a most daunting chore for his chilled fingers.
His struggle did not go unnoticed. Ereinion hoisted himself onto the ledge beside his dark companion and gently fingered the braid within Erestor's grasp.
"Allow me. . ." he said.
It was all that Erestor could do not to moan aloud from the blissful touch of Ereinion's fingers as they wound within the coils of his wavy hair. Carefully, the Noldor ruler separated each strand of darkness from the next until the thick length of Erestor's hair trailed down his back and into the water, the repetitive combing motion of the soothing fingers calming him.
"Your hair is exquisite, lirimaer," Ereinion remarked as he leaned closer to brush his cheek against the soft mass of waves.
"It is unruly and rebellious," Erestor said, brushing off the compliment as best he could.
The warmth of Ereinion's breath tickled the sensitive hair at the base of his neck. "Very much like its master. . ." the Noldorian Elf murmured, sliding to face Erestor, one finger tilting the wary cobalt gaze to his own.
"I. . ." Erestor began, but his words were lost by the press of Ereinion's lips against his own.
By the Valar, but the High King had the most sensually tender touch Erestor had ever known! Unable to refrain from a moaning purr, Erestor fairly melted into the arms that now held him as he returned the kiss ardently. It was all that he could do not to climb into Ereinion's lap and devour every inch of the warrior-honed body with his hungry mouth.
Ereinion saved him the trouble of such thoughts. Gripping the slender hips of the Rivendell advisor, he drew him closer until Erestor was indeed sitting upon his thigh, one hand wound within the thick mane of damp hair that fanned the water's surface like ripples of dark satin upon a crystal mirror.
"Erestor," the High King breathed. "Amin anta lle. . ."
Surely he had not heard Ereinion correctly. He could not have. . .
"Erestor. . ." the Noldor said again.
"Not here. . ." the advisor heard himself say, although he was not quite certain as to why location mattered.
Usually, the thought of one intruding upon his private activities mattered very little to him, but this was suddenly all together different. This was more than a mere act. Just why, he wasn't exactly certain, but the idea of someone happening upon them doing. . .well. . .he would ponder that later. . .was most unnerving.
"Ah, so you grow shy once more, do you?" Ereinion teased gently, warm hands running over the length of Erestor's sleek thigh before traveling the lean curve of his torso and coming to rest upon his shoulders.
How could he answer such a thing? Being "shy" was never a trademark behavior that he possessed, but Ereinion made him feel almost boyish with the embarrassed nature of an inexperienced Elfling.
"Very well, then," the High King stated, slipping his arms beneath the slender legs. "Let us retire to a more comfortable setting."
He lifted Erestor from the shallows as if he were a child, cradling the advisor to his chest and carrying him away from the pools. Setting Erestor upon his feet, he draped a heavy, woolen robe about his
shoulders as he donned a similar item of clothing.
"Come, morier. . . there is no need to venture into the coldness of evening's breath once more." Ereinion nudged an ornately woven tapestry aside, revealing a torch lit hallway. Upon noticing Erestor's rather gaping stare, he chuckled. "It is good to be the High King."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Being invited into High King's chambers was definitely something new for the Imladris Advisor.
Especially, knowing just what such an invitation entailed. . .
Ereinion's room was far less ornate than Erestor had imagined it to be. . .the décor simple yet elegant. The walls were adored only with necessary objects, the furniture was sturdy and practical.
Save the bed. . .
Carvings of leaf and vine swirled within the canopied arms of the bedposts, almost lending them a life all their own. Sheer folds of lustrously pale silver fabric draped the four corners, parting tantalizingly with the flutter of the wind's gentle caress.
And there was the inordinate amount of pillows. . .
Ereinion slipped the robe from his shoulders, the material pooling in soft puddle of cotton that trailed behind him as he glided towards the flittering gauze, the rippling silk of his hair lifting in dark ribbons.
It was as if the moon itself sought to magnify the King's ethereal beauty, intent on highlighting his every feature, illuminating his every curve.
And as Ereinion stood naked in the moonlight, he cast a gaze over his shoulder. . .and Erestor knew somewhere deep within himself that he would be forever changed by this union, although every fiber of his being sought to vehemently deny it.
Slowly, the advisor let his guard drop along with his robes and walked towards the enchanting vision of an Elf that beckoned to him with his eyes alone.
Ereinion turned to welcome Erestor into his embrace, arms sliding around the cooled skin of the dark Elf, drawing him close, fingers combing the soft waves of hair from the delicately carved face, tipping the wary gaze to his own.
"You have nothing to fear, morier. . ." the Noldor King murmured. "Do not shy away from my touch."
Erestor unconciously averted his stare. It was not the King's touch that overwhelmed him. It was. . something else. Something. . . new.
Something that made his skin grow cold, yet warmed his blood like a potent elixir. Something that made his pulse pound within his throat, yet stilled his power of speech. Something that turned the very air he breathed into an intoxicating mist of desire. . .and need. . .and . . .and. . .
"I. . ." Erestor began, his words faltering as he searched desperately for a grasp upon the reality of the moment.
And then, Ereinion Gil-galad's lips were upon his own, silencing his attempt to verbalize that which his mouth could not conjure, and Erestor of Imladris melted with longing and passion, nearly swooning from the rush of heat that surged through his veins, until there was nothing. . .
Nothing but Ereinion's touch upon his naked skin, finger trailing downward. . .further. . .searching. . .
Oh, how he wanted this Elf to touch him. . .to touch him so badly! Everywhere at once. . .he craved it. Needed it.
His head was upon the mass of pillows. . .hair fanning beneath him in ripples of darkness. . .
When had they lain down? Erestor could not remember, but the press of the sculpted warrior's impressive body upon his own was more real than he ever could have imagined.
Ereinion did not tease him. There was no taunting of tongue. . .no hinting of lurid kisses upon parts that mouths seldom ventured to go. . .there was only the steady, lovely pressure of a mouth upon his own. . .kissing, tasting. . .exploring so deeply, that Erestor could have lain within the arms of the Noldor for endless nights, simply locked in the ardor of that kiss.
Never had he wanted another so badly. . .needing to be taken in just this way with the broad shoulders of the High King dwarfing his lithe body, covering him with the sinewy masculinity of his graceful form. Erestor ran his hands over the well-muscled chest, down the planes of the taut stomach, the lean hardness of the body sculpted in only the way a seasoned warrior could be honed.
"So beautiful. . ." Ereinion purred, his tongue curling about the fine tip of the advisor's ear, laving his way down to the tender lobe where he sucked gently until Erestor shuddered with delight. "So sensual. . . you make me want you badly, meleth. . .even as you merely lie here in my embrace gazing upon me with those sapphire eyes of yours. . . like dark pools of liquid indigo. . . so trusting. . . so wanting. . ." He leaned closer, covering Erestor's mouth with his own, suckling the supple lower lip which was no longer pouting, but rather parted with the heat of lust. "I could drown in their depths, morier. . ."
His hand sifted through the lushly thick waves of Erestor's unbound mane, fingers tangling within the dark tresses, breathing in the faint scent of leather and patchouli flowers that lingered there.
Erestor's heart hammered a tripping rhythm against his ribcage as the Noldor King worked the seductive magic of his tongue steadily downward, massaging every crevice, every curve, every ridge of Erestor's lean body, sampling the exquisite texture of his pale skin, savoring the taste of him as if he were a rare delicacy.
"Oooh. . .my. . ." the High King murmured, stopping just shy of where Erestor so desperately wanted the touch of his lips. "So, it is true. . ."
"What is?" Erestor asked rather dumbly, for certainly it was obvious what Ereinion found so arousing.
"This," Ereinion purred, grasping the mithril ring that pierced Erestor's shaft between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug before running his tongue over the pearl of glistening wetness that teared from the oval opening of the hardness.
Erestor gasped as Ereinion slipped his warm mouth over the swollen tip of his desire, tongue wrapping tightly around the ring with a brazen suction that forced Erestor's head into the depths of the down pillow as his body arched helplessly upward in response to the expertise of the King's erotic kiss.
Against his will, Erestor moaned ardently as Ereinion sucked and pulled at the circle of silver, his tongue twisting in ways that beguiled the advisor's senses and sent waves of pleasure rippling through his thighs until he fairly trembled with urgency, struggling vainly to hold back the pounding throb of his impending release.
The quivering hardness slipped abruptly from Ereinion's lips, slapping against the thatch of dark curls with a moist plop, shocking Erestor from the intensity of his revelry with a groan of disappointment.
"Not yet, morier. First, I must take you, my lovely one. And take you properly. As you deserve to be taken. . ."
Erestor sucked in a breath. Never had another spoken such words to him. He fairly trembled at the mere sound of them and shivered at the depth of the sentiment.
As you deserve to be taken. . .
The Valar help him, the Noldorian ruler would be his undoing in every sense of the word!
Slickly oiled hands slid over his lithe hips, downward . . .stroking his pale thighs. . . parting them willingly. Eagerly.
Erestor trembled.
Ereinion's breath was upon his chest, warm and fragrant with a hinting of wine, lips seeking his own. . .kissing him. . .
And then. . .
An exquisitely purring moan ebbed from Erestor's parted lips as the hardness of Ereinion's arousal joined with the eager flesh of his body, plunging to the hilt with the gentle control of well-seasoned lover.
Fingers curled around Erestor's desire, stroking in tandem with the excruciating slowness of the erotic rhythm that bound them.
The High King was taking his time with Erestor, eliciting every shiver with an aching deliberateness that the advisor had never known another to possess. The engorged tip of the hardness that sank deep within him tugged away teasingly and slid sensually forward as Erestor dug crescents of need into Ereinion's shoulders, his back arching up to meet each sensual thrust of the other's hips.
"Aaahh. . .I see that none have ever taken you in this manner, morier," Ereinion purred, tracing the delicate jawline of the quivering Elf beneath him, his movements slowing further still until Erestor moaned in frustration, seeking to slake his thirst for Ereinion's touch by pressing himself against the Noldor ruler urgently.
"You hunger for this, do you not?" Ereinion continued casually, withdrawing just enough to send Erestor in a writhing fit of desire.
"Saes. . ." Erestor panted breathlessly.
The Noldor Elf bent closer, his words warming Erestor's pales cheek, his voice a silken rumble. "Lle amin, Erestor?" (are you mine, Erestor?)
The advisor swallowed hard. No one had ever posed such a question to him, but the answer could be none other than the one that tumbled from his lips before he could scarce think to reply.
"Aye," he said. "Amin naa lle, Ereinion. . ." (I am yours, Erenion)
"Amin. . ." Ereinion purred, thrusting deeply into the advisor, his hand manipulating Erestor's arousal all the while, the fingers never once losing their amative hold.
"Aye. . ." Erestor whispered.
Another penetrating wave of throbbing heat. . .
"Amin. . ."
Erestor shivered, his voice little more than a breathy whimper.
"Aye. . .ooooohhh!"
Without warning, his body convulsed with the sudden intensity of climatic pleasure, fingernails sinking into the muscled flesh of Ereinion's back.
"Amin. . .Erestor. . ."
"Aye! Ooooh.aiiiiyyyaaaa!!" the advisor's lustful cry rent the cool night air, resounding throughout Ereinion's chambers and quite possibly, the entire kingdom of Lindon, so great was the pleasure of his release.
The silken banner of Ereinion's dark hair tumbled over and beyond his shoulders and he threw his head back, lips parted in a panting moan as he gripped Erestor's slender hips, pulling the advisor to his body, shuddering. . .shivering. . .breath halting for only a split second. . .and then. . .a sumptuous sigh of utter relief.
With a languid groan of satisfaction, Ereinion sprawled atop the advisor momentarily before gently withdrawing from his body and moving to cradle the still panting Elf against his chest.
"Morier. . ." he murmured, stroking the wild tresses that adorned the pillow.
Erestor sighed with contentment, allowing himself to be held. Within the arms of the High King he was safe. . .protected. Wanted. . .
Pulling the coverlet over their bodies, Ereinion draped one arm over Erestor's shoulders, the advisor's back settling comfortably against his chest.
"Amin. . .Erestor. . ." Ereinion said softly before the lure of blissful sleep enveloped him, the ghosting of a peaceful smile curving his lips.
It was only then that Erestor's ears caught the final sentiment to escape the High King's lips, so faint, so quiet, that the wind would have swept it away had it not been for the closeness of their bodies. . .
Love you. . .
* * * * * *
Dawn broke over the kingdom of Lindon, the air holding an unusual warmth, the sun seeming more radiant that the day before. The scent of crisp, Autumn foliage was carried along the wind which whispered tales of Winters chill, but not before one last day of beauty.
The first rays of sunlight streamed through the pale gauze of the silvered curtains, lighting upon Erestor's face, brushing his cheek with a kiss of warmth.
And a contented smile parted his lips.
"Good morning, morier. . ."
Erestor had not even noticed that his lover was awake, much less coherent enough to speak. He turned in Erenion's embrace, snuggling against his chest with an almost dreamy sigh.
"Good morning, my King. . ." he purred, nuzzling the noble chin affectionately.
A gentle kiss graced his lips as the Noldor gathered Erestor into his arms, breathing in the scent of the advisor's unbound hair as if it were a rare perfume.
"I am glad that you are still here," the High King said, his gaze lighting upon the sapphire of Erestor's dark eyes.
It was all Erestor could do not to melt into a swoon within the arms that held him, so fondly gentle were the verdant eyes of Ereinion Gil-galad.
"I would never leave you," Erestor said, the words spilling from his lips before he had time to temper their meaning in a more tactful way.
Ereinion did not speak, but rather ran his fingers through the thick silk of Erestor's hair, pulling him closer. By the Valar, how he loved this Elf. Loved every inch of his haughty, snobbish demeanor, which had proven to be the greatest of facades. Beneath the chilly snide mannerisms lurked a heart so tender, that Ereinion wondered if any besides himself had ever seen it.
It mattered not if Erestor spoke his feelings aloud, for the High Kind was content simply with the look of complacency in his eyes. Apparently, the dark advisor needed this as much as he.
Erestor leaned against his new lovers chest, Ereinion's arms wound around his lithe frame protectively. Never had he felt so at ease in the embrace of another, so safe. And so wanted. Strange tendrils of warmth unfurled within Erestors body as the High King coiled a wayward strand of his hair around one finger before tucking it behind the advisor's ear, smoothing the thick tresses with a gentle stroking motion of his hand. The simple action brought a deliriously blissful smile to Erestor's lips and he sighed complacently, turning so that he could further curl into the strong arms that held him so closely, his cheek resting against the pale softness of Ereinion's smooth skin.
"I remember my mother bringing me to the lands east of here when I was but an Elfling," Erestor murmured, breathing in the heady scent of wild coriander that lingered within the silk of the Noldor Elf's ebon tresses, "but, you were not yet King. Turgon held the throne. I do not believe you were even within the borders of this land, for had I met you. . I would have. . ." the advisor stopped short, allowing the unspoken sentiment to linger unfinished, choosing instead to bury his face within the sable softness of Ereinion's hair.
"Yes," the High King said, "my Uncle ruled after my father was slain, for I was but a child-prince. . . far too young to undertake the duties of ruling a land as vast as this one. It was only after his death during the Fall of Gondolin that I was summoned to assume the duty as High King, but I was no more than an awkward youth with very little experience in such matters."
The gentle caressing moved from Erestor's head down to his shoulder, the warm fingers tracing a path down the length of his arm and then back up again. "Do you know, my dear Erestor, that this kingdom had not yet been discovered? Only Cirdan and myself survived the enslavement of the Haven of Falas and we fled into exile for many years before founding Lindon centuries later."
Erestor knew the tale well, for he had studied it endlessly from the scrolls housed with Lord Elrond's study. His interest had been great, his thirst of knowledge endless and thus, he had begun to examine all aspects of Arda's history that he could possibly find from tales of the Valar to the history of Men. Yet, the account of how Ereinion Gil-galad had come to rule was by far one his favorite studies.
"I am familiar with the story," Erestor said, "but I would very much like to hear it told from your lips some day if you will indulge me."
"Of course, morier. I shall tell you anything you wish to know," Ereinion said, trailing his fingers lightly over the rounded cap of Erestor's shoulder. "But for now. . .I would rather you silence my lips with your own. . ."
The subtle sensuality of the request sent a tingle of delectation down Erestor's spine as the High King tipped his chin upward and held his gaze within the verdant depths of his emerald eyes. . .waiting.
By the Valar, but Ereinion was radiantly beautiful with his cascades of raven hair draping his pale skin like a finely woven cloak of silk, his expression one of serene regality. Erestor shifted in his arms so that he could enfold the finely chiseled warrior's body within his own embrace, the tip of his tongue tracing the elegant jawline, the noble chin and then the sensually full lips which parted willingly at his touch.
"I must have you," Erestor purred, licking at the creamy flesh of the regal neck. "I must have you as you have had me."
Ereinion's gaze was warm desire, his green eyes glittering in the rising light of dawn.
"I am yours to command, morier. . ." the High King said, stretching languidly across the rumpled sheets, wisps of his ebon hair clinging to his shoulders like trails of inky shadow, trickling downward into a pool of alabaster skin.
Surrender was never a game that Ereinion played with a lover, but this time this time. . .he would give himself completely to the one that sought his affections. This time, the High King would yield.
* * * * * * *
Ereinion glided soundlessly down the stairs, his royal robes following in his wake, sweeping each step with their silken caress. He had spent much of morning in the company of the Imladris advisor, lying with the dark Elf within his arms, speaking of history and gently stirring sentiment.
Now, his mind must focus on the present. He could not neglect his duties simply because he had taken a lover, although Erestor was more to him than that. He was. . .his love.
"Ah, Ereinion, my friend. I did wonder where you had gotten to," the melodic voice of Lord Elrond drifted from the base of the stairs.
"Mae govannen, Elrond. . ." the High King greeted him pleasantly as his sandaled foot met with the final step.
The Imladris ruler leaned upon the banister, an impish grin parting his lips. "I do not suppose that you have seen my lazy advisor, have you, dear friend?"
One elegantly dark brow arched upward. "I have," the King said elusively with a smile of his own.
"He is well, then?" Elrond continued, his tone conversational yet teasing.
"Oh yes," Ereinion replied. "He is very well. Very well, indeed."
Elrond's grin broadened substantially. "Ah," he said simply, but could not resist winking at the Noldor as he passed.
Ereinion cast him a smirky look. "Really, Heru. . ." he said. But he chuckled in spite of himself.
Watching as Ereinion's form disappeared into the lush courtyard, Elrond made his way up the stairs towards his own chambers, only to encounter a very ruffled and obviously thoroughly loved Erestor tucking his breeches into his boots within the halls, hair unbraided and hanging loose about his shoulders.
"And how are you feeling this fine morning, Erestor?" Elrond's cheerful voice resounded jovially throughout the hallway.
Clearly caught off his guard, the advisor nearly lost his footing as he pulled at the stubborn boot.
"I am well, Lord Elrond," the dark haired Elf said, struggling to secure the footwear with a hopping yank. "Although I would be far better if I could get this cursed boot where it belongs!"
"Perhaps you should sit," Elrond advised with a lop sided grin. "Or is there a rush of some sorts?"
"Nonsense," Erestor grunted, succeeding in shoving his foot within the confines of the leather shoe at last. "I am merely tired of lying in bed."
It was all that Elrond could do not to laugh, but he held himself in check, putting a finger to his lips, smile ever widening behind it. "Do enjoy this day, Erestor," he said, walking past the rumpled advisor with a secretive air. "There is much to be done in the ones that shall follow."
The dark Elf regarded him almost suspiciously. "I shall," he said slowly, his gaze never leaving the Imladris ruler.
Glancing over the railing of the stairs, he searched for a glimpse of which direction Ereinion had gone, for the Noldor had forgotten to tell him exactly where they were to meet.
"He is in the baths, Erestor," Elrond called from further down the hall. "Just outside the courtyard and to your left."
Erestor snorted rather indignantly. As if Elrond had actually known his intent! Still, he took the advice as well as the directions just the same.
* * * * * *
The cavern was lit only by the soft glow of candlelight as Erestor stepped inside, letting his robes fall to the ground as he walked, for he had forsaken his clothing much earlier once out of Lord Elrond's sight.
His footfalls made no sound as he padded over the cool rocks, the only sound to reach his ears the soft lulling hush of the gentle waterfall within the caves center pool.
"I have been waiting for you, morier. . ."
Warm hands slid over his hips and around his waist, drawing him close. Despite the heat from the arms that held him, Erestor shivered deliciously.
A questing tongue laved the lobe of his ear sensuously. "I crave you, my love," Ereinion purred.
"Oh?" Erestor replied coyly. "Do you?"
"Yes," Ereinion's voice rumbled close to his ear. "And I shall have you. . ."
"Really?" Erestor teased. "And what makes you so certain that I will concede?"
"Because," the rich voice said huskily. "I am not giving you a choice."
Not another word was spoken. Ereinion's lips silenced any further attempts for coy resistance as he pulled Erestor into his embrace.
"How I love you, Erestor of Imladris. . ." Ereinion murmured, not expecting for the advisor to answer, nor did he care if he actually did.
He only wanted him to know. . . wanted him to hear the words. Whether they were echoed or not was of little concern. The cobalt eyes spoke of things that lips could not whisper.
And that was enough.
Steam rose from the warmth of the pool as Ereinion drew him into the waters heated touch, his lips never once leaving those of the dark Elf within his arms.
He pushed Erestor against the moss covered embankment, still kissing him, backing him against the rocks, the heat of his arousal far warmer than the water that pattered upon Erestor's side.
Ereinion's strength as warrior was becoming more than apparent as he lifted the dark Elf from the ground, pinning him against the rocky wall as Erestor wrapped both legs around the Noldorian ruler, feeling the slickness of his wet body against his own. Water made for the most wonderfully sensual of lubricants as he took Erestor hard, but with aching slowness until the advisor nearly begged for Ereinion to just allow him his release . The High King seemed to like Erestor's prone position and took advantage of it, teasing him with long, deep thrusts and then, tapering off until he was ready to pick up the pace again. Inside, Erestor savored the burn of his torturous, sexual actions, unable to refrain from moaning as he rumbled, in low, animalistic tones near the advisor's ear. A shudder coarsed through Erestor's body, for never had heard anyone growl the way Ereinion did. His fingernails raked across the top of the Kings shoulders, digging in for a better grip while Ereinion impaled him against the slippery wall, his breath coming in rhythmic, ragged pants and grunts. Water streamed off of Ereinion in all directions, running in little rivulets down his chest, dripping off of his nose and chin, lending him an ethereal glint in the dimly lit baths. His dark hair had become more of a tousled mess, simultaneously smooth and jagged, a gleaming, slick ebon sheen fused with shocks of light as he tilted his head back with a groan of desire. The sight of his pleasure incensed Erestor beyond all realms and he drank of it eagerly, slaking his thirst for his new lover until he could bear it no longer. Liquid fire coursed through the advisor as the climax mounted, shattering the boundaries of any pleasure he had ever known.
"Aiya. . .morier!" Ereinion gasped, his own release pounding through his body, wracking his body with a deliciously convulsive shudder.
He gripped the moss covered rocks with another groan as the last tremors of the orgasm shook him, still holding Erestor against him with the other hand until the fevered moment had passed enough for him embrace the advisor fully.
"Elbereth's light, I cannot get enough of you," Ereinion panted, cradling Erestor to his chest. "Joining with you is like immersing myself in an endless stream of miruvor. . .too much is never enough. . ."
Erestor laid his head against the King's shoulder, his dark hair riding upon the water like ripples of ink written in a language that was spoken only between lovers.
"Such things you say," the advisor said, kissing the elegant neck, the heat of a pleased flush coloring his cheeks.
Taking the delicate face between his hands, Ereinion pulled back and stared deeply into the dark wells of Erestor's sapphire eyes.
"I say them to you and you alone," he said.
Erestor pressed his body into the arms hat held him, feathering the damp skin with kisses.
"Ereinion," he murmured. "I. . ." but the words were lost as if choked from his throat by unseen hands. By the Valar, why could he not just speak that which his heart whispered in confidence to his very soul, yet his mind refused to obey! "I. . .I cannot. . ."
"Sssh, morier," the High Kind said gently. "I know , meleth-nin. There is no need."
With a sigh, Erestor slid his arms around the finely sculpted torso and laid his head against one warm shoulder.
"Surely your council will wonder for you absence," Erestor said, curling a lock of Ereinion's hair around his finger in an absent gesture of affection.
"Let them wonder, "Ereinion said dismissively. "My affairs are my own this evening. Nothing of importance requires my attention. Except. . ."
Soft lips covered his own in a passionately gentle kiss. "You."
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