LOTR FIC: The Artistry of Pleasure (2/5)
May. 26th, 2005 08:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fimbrethielTitle: The Artistry of Pleasure (2/5)
Author: Fimbrethiel
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/
Email: fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Lindir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: **explicit** depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting males, light bondage, some kink, toys, language, unapologetic filth
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made.
Original date of completion: May 26, 2005
Summary: Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover. Erestor’s POV.
~*~*~*~*~
In precisely one hour, the knock I had been expecting came. Lindir was always prompt – no ‘fashionably late’ for my lover, a fact I often teased him about. I opened the door and greeted him with a smile and kiss on the cheek, then pulled him inside and slid the bolt securely home.
For the trek from his rooms to mine, Lindir wore a bed robe belted loosely about his slim waist, paired with loose sleep pants. His feet were bare, and his silken black locks were unbound and flowing about his shoulders, scented faintly with a rinse of chamomile and peppermint.
Though we had been lovers for decades, separate quarters were simply a matter of practicality for us. Often Lindir lost track of time while practicing or composing and did not fall into bed, exhausted, until the wee hours of the morning. I arose early and was often working at dawn’s first light.
“I hope I’m not late, love,” Lindir apologized, taking my hands in his and kissing the fingertips gently. “Galadriel and Celeborn will be arriving in less than a week, and the songs are nowhere close for presentation. I lost track of time and had to hurry.”
“Not at all, you are surprisingly punctual for a change,” I teased gently as I took him into my arms and gave him a more proper welcoming kiss. His lips were warm and slightly moist, his mouth eagerly parting to accept mine. I couldn’t resist giving his tongue a tiny flick with mine when we pulled away.
Stepping back, I held him at arms’ length and really took a good look at my lover. Lindir’s eyes were drawn and sported dark circles under them – it was clear he was exhausted. He held himself stiffly, confirming without a doubt that he was tense and sore from many hours hunched over his compositions and harp. Mentally I berated myself for choosing tonight of all nights, while Lindir was preoccupied with the upcoming performance for the rulers of Lothlórien.
“We don’t need to do this tonight, Lindir. Forgive me, I didn’t think of your recital.”
Lindir smiled ruefully back. “I’m fine, Erestor. I made the choice to accept, after all,” he said. “In truth, we needed a respite from the constant practice, so I gave everyone an evening off.”
Smiling with relief, I grasped Lindir’s hand in my own and tugged him encouragingly toward the bed. “Come, let me ease your fatigue. Lie down and I’ll give you a massage. Would you like that?”
“That would be blissful,” Lindir murmured, following behind me, looking around the room curiously. My chambers didn’t appear to be appreciably different from the way it usually did, with the exception of the blanket spread out over the usual bed coverings. “So, what have you come up with for tonight?” he queried.
“Something special, but that can wait,” I replied, untying the sash of his dressing gown. I kissed the tiny hollow above his delicate collarbone while slipping the robe from Lindir’s shoulders. “You are so tense! Lie down, my love.”
He allowed me to remove the rest of his garments – the robe draped over a chair, sleeping pants untied and dropped over narrow hips to the floor – and he stretched out face down on the bed with an exaggerated sigh of appreciation while I knelt over his thighs.
“Let me tie your hair back first,” I said, and quickly braided the thick mass into a silken rope. There was a bottle of light, sweetly scented oil in a bedside drawer, so I leaned over and removed it, then popped the cork and poured a palm full of the liquid to warm between my palms. With long, slow, firm strokes, I worked the oil into the skin, massaging up and down Lindir’s slender back. Every so often, he would hiss and flinch from a particularly sore spot, so I would knead and work the knotted muscles until they were warm and flexible. From the small of his back, up to his neck, I worked steadily, easing the tension from my lover’s body, digging in more firmly here, using gentle, soothing touches there.
Before Lindir had even arrived in my chambers, I had been aroused from the mere anticipation of what was to come, going about chambers half hard already and resisting the temptation to bring myself to release. Those soft sighs and mewls of pleasure he emitted periodically were so reminiscent of the whimpers and purrs that would escape the rosebud mouth when in the throes of passion that, despite my intentions to let things proceed slowly, quickly had my cock standing fully at attention. Sitting aside Lindir’s thighs working up and down his slender back and across his tense shoulders worked my erection into the snug, warm cleft of his backside.
To hell with patience. Although we are of the Firstborn, and therefore – for all intents and purposes – immortal, fortitude cannot compete with a raging hard-on.
Utterly relaxed and in the first stages of a light doze, Lindir didn’t notice the silken strips of fabric I slipped out from under the pillows and knotted around his wrists until they were pulled tight and tied off to the corner posts of the headboard.
“Wha….” he stuttered, coming to full awareness with a start.
I chuckled. “You were getting a bit complacent, my lover. I wanted you relaxed, not asleep.”
“What are you doing, Erestor?” the minstrel demanded, pulling on the restraints experimentally.
The bindings were more for show than anything. If he had really wanted to, he probably could have broken free of those pathetic straps I had used to secure him with. While Lindir’s appearance is that of an ethereal, slender waif, years of hauling heavy instrument cases and trunks full of sheet music have left him with wiry muscle and a strength that outstrips mine concealed under his flowing robes.
My robe tangled under my legs, clinging to Lindir’s oiled flesh, and I tugged it from underneath him impatiently. “At the moment, I am admiring the fetching picture you make, bound and glistening with oil,” I replied.
I stretched lazily and arched my back, letting my eyes to roam freely over the bound form I straddled. Lindir’s pale skin fairly glowed in the candlelight, the flesh pink and flushed from his massage. Loose wisps of hair clung to the near-translucent flesh of the long, slender neck, where a tiny pulse fluttered gently just under the skin.
There was no way, I knew, that I would manage to carry my plan further without some sort of relief. The thought of abandoning the game for this evening and just fucking him right then and there was tempting, but somehow I restrained the impulse and forced myself to remember the months that had gone into the planning. No, I reasoned, better a quick release now, then be able to later torment Lindir at my leisure.
I untied my robe and left it hanging on my shoulders, but parted it, baring my chest. I wiggled forward, my stiff cock pressed against Lindir’s buttocks. A few drops of fluid seeped out, so I rubbed the tip up and down over the cleft of the my lover’s ass, knowing it would shake off the rest of his drowsy haze and drive him into a lustful frenzy.
“Mmm, I can smell the heat of your body already,” I murmured, reaching for the oil, and drizzled a thin stream over my erection and into the palm of my hand. I stroked my shaft with long, slow, greasy strokes, while Lindir squirmed around underneath me.
The low state of arousal I had maintained all afternoon quickly flared into a full-blown, raging assault. My breath quickened, and I panted, “I hadn’t planned on indulging myself in this manner, but I find I can’t resist the temptation.”
I continued stroking, my motions on my cock becoming faster, making sure the minstrel could hear my rasping breaths as I grew more aroused. I licked a hot, wet trail up from the top of Lindir’s buttocks halfway up his spine, as far as I could reach, and blew a warm breath across the dampness. Lindir shivered. Every trace of his earlier fatigue was gone now; it was obvious from the way his slender hips tried to rub against the blanket and the pale flush that rose on his cheeks.
“Mmm, that feels good,” I moaned, thrusting into my slick fist. “I’ve been hard for hours, thinking about tonight.” My cock wept clear drops, and on each outward stroke, I smoothed them over the tip, mingling my fluids with the oil. My hand made a wet, slapping sound and I started to pump faster.
“Oh, yessss,” I groaned, “it feels positively amazing. I’m going to come, Lindir, all over you. My seed will spray all over your back, and you will only be able to lie there. Are you hard too? I know you are; I can tell by the way you squirm. You want to come too, don’t you?”
Bound by the wrists and held captive by my weight, Lindir squirmed against the bed, trying to create friction to bring him to orgasm. It must have been infuriating for him, yet arousing, to be deprived of fully half his senses in this manner. He could smell the musk of my arousal as I could smell his, could hear the wet slapping of my hand against my own flesh. Deprived of vision, he could not see the rosy blush that stained the pale skin of my chest as I neared climax, the manner my head tossed back, lower lip caught between even, white teeth, the way my eyes clenched in a grimace of bliss so intense it bordered on pain the moment orgasm swept over me.
My body grew increasingly tenser, the wet slapping more rapid, until I bowed tightly and with a low moan brought myself to orgasm. Thick, warm droplets of cream spurted over Lindir’s back. Gradually my shudders slowed, and I slumped over, breathing heavily.
A single pearly droplet landed high on his shoulder, near the crease of his neck. Craning sharply, he strained to capture that bit of my essence with his tongue and groaned softly, rolling the bitter droplet around tongue.
“You could not save that for me?” he chastised, looking up at me from the corner of his eye.
I smiled faintly down at him as my pulse slowed, and wiped the mess from his back with the corner of the blanket. “It wasn’t a waste from this perspective. It was a rather artistic display, if I dare say so myself.”
“Get off me, you oaf, and untie me. That was child’s play – I will show you true artistry,” Lindir growled over his shoulder, baring strong, white teeth in a mock look of ferocity.
“Rather cheeky words, for one in your position,” I admonished, tweaking his rear.
I could see him rolling his eyes. “So this is all you had planned? I would have stayed in the rehearsal room and continued to practice.”
He knew perfectly well I was nowhere near finished with him yet, but sensing my lover’s mood, I played along with the ruse. “Not even close, dear heart. We’ve barely begun.”
I stood up and stretched again, then knelt down next to my bed so our eyes were level. “All joking aside, Lindir, this is part of the game,” I said solemnly. “Do you remember what to say if you want me to stop?”
A few decades ago when we had first started these bedroom games, we established a word that we could use at any time if either of us sensed our play was escalating out of control. The word – beard – was not to be used lightly, but we were each confident in our love and the trust we had in one another to be certain that if either of us were to say that word, all play would cease immediately, without repercussions. Only a few times before had either of us ever had to resort to the ‘safe word’ – usually me, to my lasting displeasure.
Lindir met my eyes evenly, and the cheeky bastard even had the audacity to glare at me. “Have I ever told you to stop?” he retorted.
“Rarely, it’s true,” I conceded, “but you haven’t yet seen what I had commissioned from the Golden Wood.” I fervently hoped Lindir couldn’t hear the relief in my voice that he was not going to halt our play after so much preparation.
“Good gods, Erestor, that sounds ominous,” Lindir said. He trusted me implicitly, but being bound – while exciting and arousing – while I schemed must have been a bit disconcerting. I knew it was, because he had tied me up before, and I knew full well the apprehensions that came of not knowing what to expect.
I chuckled. “Ominous? I would not say so, but I believe it would be prudent for you to cancel any strenuous physical activity tomorrow.”
*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*
Author: Fimbrethiel
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/
Email: fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Lindir
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: **explicit** depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting males, light bondage, some kink, toys, language, unapologetic filth
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made.
Original date of completion: May 26, 2005
Summary: Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover. Erestor’s POV.
~*~*~*~*~
In precisely one hour, the knock I had been expecting came. Lindir was always prompt – no ‘fashionably late’ for my lover, a fact I often teased him about. I opened the door and greeted him with a smile and kiss on the cheek, then pulled him inside and slid the bolt securely home.
For the trek from his rooms to mine, Lindir wore a bed robe belted loosely about his slim waist, paired with loose sleep pants. His feet were bare, and his silken black locks were unbound and flowing about his shoulders, scented faintly with a rinse of chamomile and peppermint.
Though we had been lovers for decades, separate quarters were simply a matter of practicality for us. Often Lindir lost track of time while practicing or composing and did not fall into bed, exhausted, until the wee hours of the morning. I arose early and was often working at dawn’s first light.
“I hope I’m not late, love,” Lindir apologized, taking my hands in his and kissing the fingertips gently. “Galadriel and Celeborn will be arriving in less than a week, and the songs are nowhere close for presentation. I lost track of time and had to hurry.”
“Not at all, you are surprisingly punctual for a change,” I teased gently as I took him into my arms and gave him a more proper welcoming kiss. His lips were warm and slightly moist, his mouth eagerly parting to accept mine. I couldn’t resist giving his tongue a tiny flick with mine when we pulled away.
Stepping back, I held him at arms’ length and really took a good look at my lover. Lindir’s eyes were drawn and sported dark circles under them – it was clear he was exhausted. He held himself stiffly, confirming without a doubt that he was tense and sore from many hours hunched over his compositions and harp. Mentally I berated myself for choosing tonight of all nights, while Lindir was preoccupied with the upcoming performance for the rulers of Lothlórien.
“We don’t need to do this tonight, Lindir. Forgive me, I didn’t think of your recital.”
Lindir smiled ruefully back. “I’m fine, Erestor. I made the choice to accept, after all,” he said. “In truth, we needed a respite from the constant practice, so I gave everyone an evening off.”
Smiling with relief, I grasped Lindir’s hand in my own and tugged him encouragingly toward the bed. “Come, let me ease your fatigue. Lie down and I’ll give you a massage. Would you like that?”
“That would be blissful,” Lindir murmured, following behind me, looking around the room curiously. My chambers didn’t appear to be appreciably different from the way it usually did, with the exception of the blanket spread out over the usual bed coverings. “So, what have you come up with for tonight?” he queried.
“Something special, but that can wait,” I replied, untying the sash of his dressing gown. I kissed the tiny hollow above his delicate collarbone while slipping the robe from Lindir’s shoulders. “You are so tense! Lie down, my love.”
He allowed me to remove the rest of his garments – the robe draped over a chair, sleeping pants untied and dropped over narrow hips to the floor – and he stretched out face down on the bed with an exaggerated sigh of appreciation while I knelt over his thighs.
“Let me tie your hair back first,” I said, and quickly braided the thick mass into a silken rope. There was a bottle of light, sweetly scented oil in a bedside drawer, so I leaned over and removed it, then popped the cork and poured a palm full of the liquid to warm between my palms. With long, slow, firm strokes, I worked the oil into the skin, massaging up and down Lindir’s slender back. Every so often, he would hiss and flinch from a particularly sore spot, so I would knead and work the knotted muscles until they were warm and flexible. From the small of his back, up to his neck, I worked steadily, easing the tension from my lover’s body, digging in more firmly here, using gentle, soothing touches there.
Before Lindir had even arrived in my chambers, I had been aroused from the mere anticipation of what was to come, going about chambers half hard already and resisting the temptation to bring myself to release. Those soft sighs and mewls of pleasure he emitted periodically were so reminiscent of the whimpers and purrs that would escape the rosebud mouth when in the throes of passion that, despite my intentions to let things proceed slowly, quickly had my cock standing fully at attention. Sitting aside Lindir’s thighs working up and down his slender back and across his tense shoulders worked my erection into the snug, warm cleft of his backside.
To hell with patience. Although we are of the Firstborn, and therefore – for all intents and purposes – immortal, fortitude cannot compete with a raging hard-on.
Utterly relaxed and in the first stages of a light doze, Lindir didn’t notice the silken strips of fabric I slipped out from under the pillows and knotted around his wrists until they were pulled tight and tied off to the corner posts of the headboard.
“Wha….” he stuttered, coming to full awareness with a start.
I chuckled. “You were getting a bit complacent, my lover. I wanted you relaxed, not asleep.”
“What are you doing, Erestor?” the minstrel demanded, pulling on the restraints experimentally.
The bindings were more for show than anything. If he had really wanted to, he probably could have broken free of those pathetic straps I had used to secure him with. While Lindir’s appearance is that of an ethereal, slender waif, years of hauling heavy instrument cases and trunks full of sheet music have left him with wiry muscle and a strength that outstrips mine concealed under his flowing robes.
My robe tangled under my legs, clinging to Lindir’s oiled flesh, and I tugged it from underneath him impatiently. “At the moment, I am admiring the fetching picture you make, bound and glistening with oil,” I replied.
I stretched lazily and arched my back, letting my eyes to roam freely over the bound form I straddled. Lindir’s pale skin fairly glowed in the candlelight, the flesh pink and flushed from his massage. Loose wisps of hair clung to the near-translucent flesh of the long, slender neck, where a tiny pulse fluttered gently just under the skin.
There was no way, I knew, that I would manage to carry my plan further without some sort of relief. The thought of abandoning the game for this evening and just fucking him right then and there was tempting, but somehow I restrained the impulse and forced myself to remember the months that had gone into the planning. No, I reasoned, better a quick release now, then be able to later torment Lindir at my leisure.
I untied my robe and left it hanging on my shoulders, but parted it, baring my chest. I wiggled forward, my stiff cock pressed against Lindir’s buttocks. A few drops of fluid seeped out, so I rubbed the tip up and down over the cleft of the my lover’s ass, knowing it would shake off the rest of his drowsy haze and drive him into a lustful frenzy.
“Mmm, I can smell the heat of your body already,” I murmured, reaching for the oil, and drizzled a thin stream over my erection and into the palm of my hand. I stroked my shaft with long, slow, greasy strokes, while Lindir squirmed around underneath me.
The low state of arousal I had maintained all afternoon quickly flared into a full-blown, raging assault. My breath quickened, and I panted, “I hadn’t planned on indulging myself in this manner, but I find I can’t resist the temptation.”
I continued stroking, my motions on my cock becoming faster, making sure the minstrel could hear my rasping breaths as I grew more aroused. I licked a hot, wet trail up from the top of Lindir’s buttocks halfway up his spine, as far as I could reach, and blew a warm breath across the dampness. Lindir shivered. Every trace of his earlier fatigue was gone now; it was obvious from the way his slender hips tried to rub against the blanket and the pale flush that rose on his cheeks.
“Mmm, that feels good,” I moaned, thrusting into my slick fist. “I’ve been hard for hours, thinking about tonight.” My cock wept clear drops, and on each outward stroke, I smoothed them over the tip, mingling my fluids with the oil. My hand made a wet, slapping sound and I started to pump faster.
“Oh, yessss,” I groaned, “it feels positively amazing. I’m going to come, Lindir, all over you. My seed will spray all over your back, and you will only be able to lie there. Are you hard too? I know you are; I can tell by the way you squirm. You want to come too, don’t you?”
Bound by the wrists and held captive by my weight, Lindir squirmed against the bed, trying to create friction to bring him to orgasm. It must have been infuriating for him, yet arousing, to be deprived of fully half his senses in this manner. He could smell the musk of my arousal as I could smell his, could hear the wet slapping of my hand against my own flesh. Deprived of vision, he could not see the rosy blush that stained the pale skin of my chest as I neared climax, the manner my head tossed back, lower lip caught between even, white teeth, the way my eyes clenched in a grimace of bliss so intense it bordered on pain the moment orgasm swept over me.
My body grew increasingly tenser, the wet slapping more rapid, until I bowed tightly and with a low moan brought myself to orgasm. Thick, warm droplets of cream spurted over Lindir’s back. Gradually my shudders slowed, and I slumped over, breathing heavily.
A single pearly droplet landed high on his shoulder, near the crease of his neck. Craning sharply, he strained to capture that bit of my essence with his tongue and groaned softly, rolling the bitter droplet around tongue.
“You could not save that for me?” he chastised, looking up at me from the corner of his eye.
I smiled faintly down at him as my pulse slowed, and wiped the mess from his back with the corner of the blanket. “It wasn’t a waste from this perspective. It was a rather artistic display, if I dare say so myself.”
“Get off me, you oaf, and untie me. That was child’s play – I will show you true artistry,” Lindir growled over his shoulder, baring strong, white teeth in a mock look of ferocity.
“Rather cheeky words, for one in your position,” I admonished, tweaking his rear.
I could see him rolling his eyes. “So this is all you had planned? I would have stayed in the rehearsal room and continued to practice.”
He knew perfectly well I was nowhere near finished with him yet, but sensing my lover’s mood, I played along with the ruse. “Not even close, dear heart. We’ve barely begun.”
I stood up and stretched again, then knelt down next to my bed so our eyes were level. “All joking aside, Lindir, this is part of the game,” I said solemnly. “Do you remember what to say if you want me to stop?”
A few decades ago when we had first started these bedroom games, we established a word that we could use at any time if either of us sensed our play was escalating out of control. The word – beard – was not to be used lightly, but we were each confident in our love and the trust we had in one another to be certain that if either of us were to say that word, all play would cease immediately, without repercussions. Only a few times before had either of us ever had to resort to the ‘safe word’ – usually me, to my lasting displeasure.
Lindir met my eyes evenly, and the cheeky bastard even had the audacity to glare at me. “Have I ever told you to stop?” he retorted.
“Rarely, it’s true,” I conceded, “but you haven’t yet seen what I had commissioned from the Golden Wood.” I fervently hoped Lindir couldn’t hear the relief in my voice that he was not going to halt our play after so much preparation.
“Good gods, Erestor, that sounds ominous,” Lindir said. He trusted me implicitly, but being bound – while exciting and arousing – while I schemed must have been a bit disconcerting. I knew it was, because he had tied me up before, and I knew full well the apprehensions that came of not knowing what to expect.
I chuckled. “Ominous? I would not say so, but I believe it would be prudent for you to cancel any strenuous physical activity tomorrow.”
*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*
