Title: The Kiss Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS, M/M Slash Characters: Glorfindel/Ecthelion Rating: R Beta: Larian Elensar WARNING: This story is rated R and contains male slash pairings. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this... Feedback: Yes please larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary/Notes: Set in FA, 450, Gondolin. Glorfindel and Ecthelion share a first kiss, Ecthelion's POV. Warm summer breezes set the flags fluttering, furling before opening with a snap. Water bubbles and gurgles in the fountain, and the courtyard is bathed in Ithil's light. Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, awaits me. His arms hang by his sides as he looks skyward, eyes of azure blue counting stars and tracking Ithil's path as it makes its nightly voyage across the sky. He closes his eyes and his lips curve into a smile. I stand in the shadows, my sharp eyes watching the Vanya with unabashed admiration. Something as simple as a smile becomes my reason for being when Glorfindel is near; the Elda is perfection. I step out of the shadows, crossing the courtyard in long easy strides. My breath catches as his luminous gaze meets my own, and I smile, not caring who sees, not caring that the smile reveals my heart's greatest desire. Glorfindel looks at me. "Ecthelion..." his deep voice whispers. I reach my friend, coming to rest mere inches from him. Golden hair spills around a face that will be remembered for ages to come as one of the most beautiful of all of Eru's creations. I drink in the Elda's beauty, my voracious gaze travelling over his golden mane, his bright eyes, perfect lips and strong jaw. Lower it travels, along the strong neck, broad shoulders draped in pale golden silk, narrow waist and long legs encased in soft, tan suede. No more will I pretend my feelings are other than they are, no more will I defer to the opinions of others. Nay, it matters not that he and I serve the King together, nor does it matter that we are the leaders of our respective houses. I have one life, one chance, and I will not waste one more moment of it being prudent. I reach up; my trembling fingers coming to rest against skin that is softer and warmer than any should be. "Glorfindel..." I reply, my voice sounding thick and ungraceful to my own ears. I inch closer, his sweet breath caressing my face, his strong hands coming to rest upon my shoulders. He leans in as my heart races; my whole body quakes in anticipation of what I have wanted since the first time I saw him. Hands slide from my shoulders into my hair, cupping my ears as he guides my lips to his own. A soft brush of his lips against mine as he murmurs my name against my mouth. By Elbereth, he is intoxicating, all strength, beauty, and vulnerability. I will never tire of hearing him say my name. Then the warm press of his mouth to mine, the bewitching sweetness of his tongue as it slides into my mouth. My hands travel to his waist, pulling him closer, clasping his form to my own. I offer myself to him as he drinks of me; time stands still as we embrace and taste of one another. I am awash in his scent, in his taste, in his soft moans and commanding embrace. We kiss heedless of any that may see, wanting it to last forever. I open my mouth wider, drawing him in, and he moans into the kiss. His voice, his moans, are the most beautiful music I have ever heard. I arch into him, my hands sliding up his long back, and pull him closer, suddenly desperate to have every inch of him against me. I curse myself for having waited so long to do this. Now that I have tasted him, I can never be without him. He withdraws and we gasp for air. I open my eyes, looking into eyes that have changed from azure to midnight. He smiles at me and I melt bonelessly into his arms, my heart's desire realized at long last. He takes my hand, leading me away from the courtyard with a knowing and gentle smile. Where we go now matters not, as long as we go there together. ~Finis Title: Negotiations of the Flesh Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS, M/M Slash Characters: Erestor/Celeborn Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this... Feedback: Yes please larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary/Notes: Orchyd wrote a lovely Erestor/Legolas pairing for me as a gift for Valentine's Day. She requested an Erestor/Celeborn pairing, so this is my gift to her... I hope you like it, meldis. Erestor perused the tomes upon the shelves that lined the library of Lórien. His trip from Imladris was uneventful and he looked forward to the change of scenery that his brief stay in the Golden Wood would provide. He walked around the room slowly, the tip of one finger caressing the desk before moving to draw idle patterns in a small, round dish of sand. He perched himself upon one corner of the desk, folding his hands in his lap as his eyes scanned the canopy over head. It had been many years since his last trip to Lórien and a wolfish grin curved his ruby lips as he remembered it. A length of silver hair beneath his hand, soft, needful, breathless sighs ringing in his ears, a lithe body encased in pure ivory skin arching and bowing beneath his touch. He shifted slightly, his leggings becoming more constricting as he mused. He had mastered many in his long life, many that bowed to his will so readily. Each new experience gave him that rush of adrenaline, a rush he had known in only one other way... battle. It was interesting how two so totally different acts could produce the same sensation. There were a few in Imladris who provided this release for him, but they were not as this one was; they were not warriors, they were not proud. He closed his eyes and remembered again. A vision of silver-white hair crowning a bowed head in front of him, gray-blue eyes that could flash in defiance or glimmer with unshed tears of need, soft, pink lips that parted so beautifully as they sighed his name, and tasted so sweet as he consumed them. To have one so strong, so powerful, yield to him was an experience that had yet to be paralleled in his long life. His own education in the ways of the flesh had begun at a young age, and at the hands of a master. Those hands artfully wielded both spear and sword; they could deal out both bone-rattling blows and caresses softer than the most gentle maiden. His reverie was broken when he heard the soft scurrying of feet that signaled the arrival of the Lord of the Wood. He rose from his corner of the desk and stood tall, his eyes cast toward the door. Celeborn entered quietly, his regal head held high, that cool look of indifference casting a chill upon his gaze. After crossing through the threshold, a page quietly closed the door behind him. "My Lord," Erestor greeted him quietly, he placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head in respect. "Lord Erestor," Celeborn answered quietly. "It is good to see you again. Have you settled into your quarters?" "Yes, my Lord, " Erestor replied. "They are more than satisfactory." Celeborn nodded and replied, "Excellent." He clasped his hands behind his back and crossed to the edge of the flet, his gray-blue eyes scanning the talans and treetops that made up the tree city. "Your help with the matter at hand is most appreciated. I had not expected Elrond to send his Chief Advisor." Erestor quietly replied, "I requested this service, my Lord. From what Master Elrond as told me, it is a rather sensitive matter." Celeborn smiled wryly and turned around to face his guest. "That it is, and your discretion is appreciated." Erestor smiled gently and nodded. "As always, my Lord." He cleared his throat and continued, "May I be permitted to speak freely?" Celeborn raised an eyebrow then nodded. "Yes, of course." "While I will do all I can to continue the smooth negotiations between yourself and Thranduil, it would be advisable for you to clear your communications through me before you speak with him." Celeborn nodded, his arms folding across his chest. "Very well. Is there anything else you may require of me?" Erestor shook his head. "Not at this time, my Lord." Celeborn's gaze roamed over Erestor's form and he suppressed a smile. The Noldo was wearing the exact same outfit he wore when he last saw him in Imladris. He had commented to Erestor how becoming that particular shade of deep crimson was with his coloring and apparently the Advisor remembered. "Shall I inform my Captain you are here?" Erestor's eyes widened and he flushed slightly, though he did not flinch from Celeborn's gaze. "That will not be necessary, my Lord," he answered. Celeborn nodded and said nothing for a moment, his gaze still holding the proud Noldo riveted to the spot upon which he stood. "That is well, for if I recall, he was not able to return to duty for two days after your last meeting with him." He held his hand up as Erestor's mouth opened in defense. "I need not know what passed between the two of you, Erestor. You are both well past your majority and the act was consensual." He slowly began to close the distance between the two of them. "However, my curiosity is peaked. Few can bend my Captain to their will. As you know, he is proud beyond the measure of many." Erestor watched Celeborn as he drew closer. Could he see? Could the Elda see past the mask of indifference he wore to the fire that burned beneath it? "Aye, he is proud, my Lord," he answered coolly, "yet he is also warm and soft, when he wants to be." Celeborn nodded slowly as he began to circle the Noldo. "You and I, we have known one another for a long time, yes?" Erestor nodded. "Aye, my Lord, we have." A quiet gasp escaped him as he felt the Sinda's shoulder softly brush his own. "You are proud, Erestor," Celeborn replied, his voice dropping low. "I wonder... are you soft and warm as well?" Erestor's eyes widened and he struggled to find the words to reply, but they danced just beyond his reach. Celeborn circled behind him, leaning in to speak softly into Erestor's ear. "I am wicked, Erestor. But then, you already know that." He softly caressed a strand of raven hair and continued, "I cannot help but wonder what you would feel like, what you would taste like." He caressed the curve of the Noldo's ear with his lips before he pulled away. Erestor's eyes fluttered shut as the soft, warm breath ghosted across his ear, followed by the gentle caress of the Sinda's lips. He struggled to retain his composure, to keep from leaning back into the comforting solidity of the elf lord's chest. He was undone so easily, he mused to himself, the mask of cool control falling away piece by piece the longer he remained in Celeborn's presence. "What is it about you Sinda?" he managed to reply in hushed tones. "Do you all practice magic? Do you all bewitch those around you?" Celeborn chuckled and returned to the edge of the flet, his hands clasped behind his back again. "Some of us practice more deftly than others I suppose," he answered quietly. Erestor took a deep breath and steadied himself. His arousal pulsated in his leggings and he was now totally distracted by it. "Yes, well, that is the reason for my being here, my Lord, is it not?" Celeborn winced slightly, then grinned. He supposed he deserved that. "Aye, it is." Erestor crossed the room to him and stood behind him, speaking quietly over his shoulder. "Did you fall easily, my Lord? What did it take to break your resistance? What did it take to undo you?" Celeborn closed his eyes and breathed deeply, sights and sounds returning to him as if he were back in that moment in time. Tent walls flapping in the breeze, the afternoon light filtering through the canvas, creating a soft, warm glow. The deep voice echoing in his ear, sweet breath caressing his cheek, his intoxicating scent, a heated glance that burned his core. Alive, that was how he felt, acutely alive; every sound, every smell, every touch had been magnified tenfold. Was it magic? Or was it just the simple fact that he was indeed beautiful, overwhelmingly so. Yet, he was also dangerous. "A glance," Celeborn replied. "A glance was what caused me to fall. All he did was look at me." He turned and faced Erestor, his hand reaching out and caressing soft ivory skin. "It was a look I shall never forget, and what followed is worth every excruciating moment of negotiations, and it is worth all that he would ask of me." Erestor raised his eyebrows then answered, "That is why I am here, my Lord, lest you give away the realm of Lórien." Celeborn smiled wryly. "What does it matter now? My Lady leaves with Elrond soon. Thranduil and I will be all that is left of the rulers of old." He stepped past Erestor and crossed the room, looking at a map resting upon the corner of the desk. "Thranduil can have all of the woods to the east of the mountains as far as I am concerned. I can make Imladris my home." He sighed. "Without Galadriel, these woods will wither and die; it is not only the ring that has kept them beautiful." He turned and looked back at Erestor. "I may share my body with others, but it is Galadriel who holds my heart." He cocked his head, a sensuous smile crossing his lips. "But then, you know of what I speak, do you not, Erestor?" Erestor swallowed and looked at the ground. "Yes, my Lord," he answered quietly. Celeborn reached out and placed two fingers beneath Erestor's chin, tilting it up and returning the Noldo's gaze to his own. "We are left to seek respite in the arms of others when we cannot have those we love." He slid his hand around Erestor's neck and gently guided him closer. "Would you take pleasure in my arms, Erestor? Would you come to my bed?" Erestor gazed into the fathomless gray eyes of the Sinda Lord. Celeborn was as ancient as time, though one would never know it to look upon him. His eyes glittered with youthful mischief; his body was hard and toned as a warrior's. To surrender to him would be so easy, all he had to do was close his eyes and say yes. He felt the Sinda's hand slide down his back, coming to rest above the swell of his buttocks. He arched against him as he felt Celeborn crush him against his chest and he opened his mouth to answer. The Sinda Lord's bruising kiss swallowed his words. Celeborn claimed Erestor's mouth without waiting for an answer. He had seen the desire in the Noldo's eyes and struck before Erestor had a chance to think better upon it. Gods, he was so delicious, a heady mixture of sweetness and spice. He plundered the depths of Erestor's mouth, swallowing his needful moans. He released Erestor's mouth and gasped for air, gazing down into his dark eyes. "Here, now, mellon," he whispered. Erestor nodded, words failing him beneath the Sinda's heated gaze. He slowly backed away as Celeborn released him, his hands moving up to the clasps that held his tunic closed. He removed it with excruciating slowness; his gaze fixated on Celeborn as the elf lord removed his own robes. Celeborn slid a heavy chair in front of the door to the library, effectively blocking the entrance. He turned and kicked off his boots, walking toward Erestor, his eyes perusing the Noldo's form as he approached. Erestor's skin was pale and beautiful, his raven hair making it appear even more so. The Noldo's eyes were deep, dark pools of smoldering sensuality. Celeborn wanted to hear Erestor shout his name to the treetops in the throes of passion. His fingers moved to the laces of his leggings and he quickly loosened them, they slid lower on his hips as he walked across the room. Erestor watched Celeborn stalk toward him with predatory grace; his movements slow and deliberate, like a great cat. He loosened his own leggings, peeling them open until they showed just the smallest hint of what was contained inside. He licked his lips; his body afire and burning with want, his heart hammering in his chest, echoing the pulsating rhythm of his rigid length. Celeborn reached his prey, and he wadded his hand in Erestor's raven hair, pulling his head back to expose the smooth ivory flesh of his throat. His arousal twitched as the Noldo groaned in response and thrust his hips forward, bringing their hardened lengths into contact with one another, separated only by the fabric of their leggings. "I want to take you, Erestor," he growled, "bent over this desk, oiled and begging for me." Erestor grasped Celeborn's buttocks, digging his fingers in as he pulled him forward. "Yes, my Lord," he replied breathlessly. "Take me and do it roughly." Celeborn bit the point of Erestor's ear and replied, "As you wish, pen-vaelui." He pulled open the drawer with such force that it nearly flew out of the desk. He quickly grasped the phial of orange oil used to polish the smooth wood. He then removed his leggings, deftly stepping free of them as he removed the cork on the phial. Erestor followed suit, quickly removing his leggings and turning his back to Celeborn, his hands planted upon the heavy desktop. Celeborn generously coated his rigid length before quickly sliding two fingers inside Erestor's willing body. The Noldo cried out and arched against him as he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into Erestor's shoulder. He prepared the passage, scissoring and rotating his fingers, crooking them until he found his mark. Erestor cried out as Celeborn struck that place inside him that drove him mad. "Yes," he groaned, "More, please..." Celeborn found his mark a second time as he suckled the point of Erestor's ear. Erestor's writhing form and whimpering cries nearly driving him over the edge before it had begun. He withdrew his fingers and placed the tip of his arousal at Erestor's entrance, placing his hands upon the Noldo's hips to steady them. He gave it a little teasing nudge as he shoved Erestor's feet further apart and used his thumbs to spread his buttocks wider, earning himself a whimpering moan. "Are you ready for me, pen-vorn?" he growled low into Erestor's ear. "Aye, please..." Erestor moaned, "take me now, my Lord." Celeborn sheathed himself with one smooth and forceful thrust, causing Erestor to cry out and buck back against him. "Are you well, ervainen vorn?" Erestor drew a ragged breath, he was filled, almost impossibly so, and he nodded slowly. He felt his arms and thighs tremble and he struggled to maintain his breathing. "Are you sure, Erestor?" Celeborn asked softly. "I would not..." Erestor whispered pleadingly, "Please, Celeborn, move." "As you wish, ervainen vorn," Celeborn purred in response. He began to thrust slowly and shallowly at first. As his lover opened to him, he increased his depth and speed, angling for his mark once again. Erestor gave a keening cry and arched against him as he found it and he groaned in response. Soon, he was entering the Noldo roughly, withdrawing fully before slamming back inside him. Erestor rocked forward from the force of Celeborn's thrusts, deep moans of pleasure issuing from his lips. His own arousal stood hard against his belly, weeping freely. He whispered raggedly, "Touch me, Celeborn." Celeborn slid one hand from Erestor's hip, taking his rigid length and stroking it in opposition to his thrusts. Each time he thrust forward, he drove Erestor's length into his grip. He heard the whimpering cries that signaled Erestor's release and felt the Noldo's body tighten as he spilled his seed upon the desktop. His own release followed close behind and he gave a guttural growl as he spilled himself inside Erestor's body. He leaned forward and gently laid his head upon Erestor's shoulders, his hands coming up to tenderly stroke the Noldo's arms. He let out a long sigh and smiled peacefully. Erestor trembled with the aftershocks of his climax, a blissful smile crossing his lips as well. He felt Celeborn slowly rise off him as his softening length slipped from his body. He straightened and slowly turned to look at the Sinda, admiring the pale blush of rose upon his flesh. He smiled wickedly and murmured, "That was most satisfactory, my Lord." Celeborn chuckled and pushed an errant braid behind one of Erestor's elegantly pointed ears. "So glad I could please you, Councilor." Erestor chuckled in turn and reached up to caress Celeborn's cheek. He smiled as the elf lord retrieved a clean cloth, gently cleaning his groin before picking up his leggings and helping him into them. Celeborn pulled on his own leggings and robes as he watched Erestor fasten his tunic. As he slid on his last boot he addressed the Noldo, "So I will see you at dinner then?" Erestor nodded, "Yes, my Lord. I will be dining with you tonight." He smiled and softly called out to Celeborn before the Sinda opened the door. "Was this how it was between you and Thranduil, my Lord?" Celeborn glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Aye, only I had no desk to lean upon." He grinned wickedly as he opened the door and left a stunned Erestor in the library. ~Finis Pen-vaelui = lusty one Pen-vorn = dark one Ervainen vorn = my dark beautiful one Title: A Glance Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS, M/M Slash Characters: Celeborn/Thranduil Rating: NC-17 Beta: Khylaren WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this... Feedback: Yes please larienelengasse@yahoo.com Summary/Notes: I had several requests for the interlude that led to Celeborn's predicament in "Negotiations of the Flesh", so consider this a prequel; just your average, run of the mill, smut. Thanks to Khylaren for letting me borrow Melaphríl and Galen. "What?" Celeborn barked as his herald winced, the elf's gaze was riveted to the tips of his boots. "He said that he would not use an intermediary for this negotiation, and that..." "I heard you the first time, Galen," Celeborn grumbled. He swore that Thranduil would surely be his demise. "And when is this... meeting?" He began to pace the floor. Galen answered quickly and braced for another outburst, "Three days hence, my lord." "Does he think I have nothing to do?" Celeborn snapped. "I have preparations to make for Galadriel's departure, I have business of my realm to attend to. I am to just drop everything I have to do and ride to Eryn Lasgalen to entertain the whim of Thranduil?" "Surely I do not know, my lord," Galen answered. Celeborn frowned and grumbled, "It was a rhetorical question, Galen. You need not have answered." "Forgive me, my lord," Galen replied. Celeborn shook his head slowly and walked toward the elf, patting him on the shoulder. "I am not angry with you, Galen. Have my horse prepared; I must leave in the morning if I am to arrive at the appointed time. You may go now." "As you wish, my lord." Galen bowed low and quickly left Celeborn's talan, leaving the elf lord to stew. * * * * "What happened?" Melaphríl asked as Galen descended the winding stair. "He was most unhappy," Galen replied. "I could hear that," Melaphríl answered. "I think the entire city heard just how unhappy he was." Galen shuddered. "Be glad you were not standing there, meleth." Melaphríl put his hand upon Galen's shoulder and nodded. "Come, seron vell, let us bathe and change our clothes before the evening meal." Galen slid his arm around Melaphríl's waist and nodded. "Aye, sounds very pleasant," he murmured against his lover's ear. * * * * Celeborn stewed as he stared out over the flickering lamplight of his tree city. Thranduil. The King infuriated him. That blasé self-assurance, that smooth arrogance, that complete and utter belief that all would bend to his will so easily. It had been but one week since he returned home after the destruction of Dol Guldur, one week of relative peace and quiet with Galadriel as she prepared to travel into the West. Now he was to turn around and ride right back toward Eryn Lasgalen to meet with Thranduil over something that just required his signature and seal. He had agreed to nearly all of Thranduil's terms, now they were haggling over a name and a mere fifty leagues of grasslands along the Anduin. Damn that elf! So he was a King, and a warrior, a fine warrior at that. And beautiful, this was true. Beautiful and fierce and sensual. Stop. Stop right there... he told himself. Celeborn rose from his chair and stood at the edge of the talan. He heard Galadriel's voice drifting up from the gardens, and he closed his eyes. He loved his wife; no other had ever touched his heart the way she had. Yes, he had taken lovers, and it was no secret; but he did not flaunt them in front of her. Galadriel had plenty of opportunity to take a lover as well, but her interests lay in other areas so she had chosen to forgo that opportunity. He smiled as he peered over the edge of the talan, watching his wife float rather than walk across the cool grass with their grandsons. He stretched and sighed as he turned and made his way to their bed, removing his robes and hanging them upon a chair. As he slid his naked body beneath the covers, he closed his eyes, letting her lovely voice lull him to reverie. * * * * He kissed his wife goodbye before he mounted his horse and rode with three of his marchwardens into the northeast. While Sauron was defeated, and Dol Guldur cast down, the remnants of his evil remained and no elf was completely safe traveling alone. The afternoon waned as they made camp amongst the trees. Haldir took rest, as did Celeborn; Rúmil and Orophin stood guard. Halfway through the night, Haldir took the place of his brothers and in the morning, they made their way toward Gladden Fields. The journey took two full days in total, and Celeborn and his Galadhrim arrived at the appointed location late in the afternoon the day before the ascribed meeting time. The Elven King's tents were already in place, a staff of some 20 odd elves, some warriors, some domestic help, were scurrying about. Thranduil's advisor greeted them and showed Celeborn to the King's tent. Celeborn stooped and entered the tent, finding it empty and turned to the advisor. "His majesty will be with you momentarily, my lord. Please," he motioned to a divan, "make yourself comfortable. The advisor was gone in a flourish of green and the tent flap closed behind him with a soft thump. Celeborn looked around the lavishly appointed tent and smirked. It was so like Thranduil to indulge in such luxuries even in a temporary camp. The tent was furnished with all the comforts one would expect to find in a well-appointed palace. A large oak desk stood in the corner next to the entry, a small stack of papers was neatly arranged upon one corner. Beside the desk was an iron stove that would provide heat if needed. The canvas floor of the tent was covered with plush rugs that suspiciously looked like those that had been in wagons of the Haradrim that they had raided sometime ago. Against the back wall of the large tent stood a large four poster bed covered in luxurious velvet bedding and silk covered pillows; a fine deep green robe made of thin silk lay across its width. Next to the bed were a dressing table and chair, and the divan he sat on. In the corner sat a wash table with a pitcher and basin. The tent was nearly as large as his talan, he mused. He shook his head and chuckled. He had to admit he admired Thranduil's complete lack of concern as to what others thought of him. The King did as he pleased and gave little thought to the opinions of others. The tent flap raised and a she-elf clad in leggings and a tunic entered, her long silver hair braided behind her back in a thick rope. On one hand, she balanced a tray laden with fruits and fresh bread and cheese. In the other hand, she carried a fine crystal carafe filled with wine, and two ornate goblets. She placed the goods upon the desk and bowed to Celeborn before turning on her heel and departing without uttering a word. Celeborn rose and crossed the distance to the desk, lifting the carafe and pouring a glass of the fine red wine. He turned as he heard the flap raise again and before him stood the object of both much consternation and secret admiration. "Thranduil," he said evenly and raised his glass in greeting. "Excellent," Thranduil answered as he crossed to Celeborn, removing his gloves and cloak. "Emeldir has brought some refreshments." He tossed his cloak and gloves upon the bed and accepted the proffered glass of wine from Celeborn. "I see you arrived early, mellonen. I did not expect you until the morning." Celeborn watched with something bordering on complete distraction as the King lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of the deep burgundy wine. Was it possible that Thranduil was even more beautiful than he had been last he saw him? The King stood before him dressed in velvet and suede, the snugness of his leggings accentuating the long curve of his thighs. Tight leather boots encased his calves and a finely cut velvet tunic covered his upper body. The King's hair was loose save for two braids, one tucked behind each ear, and he bore the ring that was a symbol of his house on one hand. Celeborn caught the faint glint of mithril and saw a small ring in the King's right earlobe and the wickedness of it caused him to smile. "My companions and I decided to rise before dawn this morn, that put us here sooner than we had expected," Celeborn answered. "Well," Thranduil replied as he sat in the chair in front of his desk, "shall we dispense with the unpleasantness right away or indulge in some further idle chatter?" Celeborn smirked as he picked a thin slice of cheese from the plate and wrapped it around a slice of apple. "Let us get it out of the way. After all, it was you who insisted on this meeting." Thranduil chuckled as he watched the elf lord pop the slice of cheese-wrapped apple into his mouth. "Well, down to business then. I want the grasslands that border the eastern banks of the Anduin from the Celebrant north to the Old Ford." "I thought we had agreed that you would take the northern reaches of the forest," Celeborn replied. He swallowed as he sat facing Thranduil; the King dangled one leg over the arm of the large chair and had loosened the top three clasps of his tunic, exposing his muscular and fine throat. "We did," Thranduil answered casually. "But I need grasslands to raise my horses, the Woodmen and Beornings occupy the grasslands bordering the Anduin to the east. I do not wish my horses to become intermingled and cross bred with theirs." "That is what you called me here from Lórien for? To talk over grasslands? Could you not have sent this in a letter?" he asked, feigning indignation. He had to admit, a few days away from Lórien in the presence of this magnificent elf was not the worst way to spend time. "Well, not entirely," Thranduil answered before taking a sip of his wine. "I have to admit, I have grown somewhat... restless... now that darkness has left my realm. I suppose I wanted an excuse for an outing of sorts." He shifted and looked into Celeborn's gray eyes. "I did grow quite fond of your company in the past several months. Fighting beside you was a thrill and an honor, Celeborn." Celeborn nearly fell off the divan in shock. Thranduil rarely doled out compliments, and here he sat receiving one. He cleared his throat and in as steady a voice as he could muster he answered, "Hannon le, Thranduil. I feel the same." Thranduil smiled and turned to sit squarely in the chair, his legs spread apart as he leaned forward, balancing his elbows upon his knees. "I am glad to hear of it, " he answered. "Will you stay for a few days? Rest your horses and your companions? There is excellent hunting to be had in this region, and the wood is beautiful in the spring." Celeborn fought to resist the urge to stare at the King; he was becoming increasingly enamored of him. He nodded. "I would be delighted, Thranduil." "Excellent," Thranduil answered. He rose from his chair and retrieved the carafe, crossing to Celeborn and kneeling before him to refill his glass. "I would like very much to hear tales of Doriath and Thingol, if you would honor me with them." Celeborn stared at the King that knelt before him upon the rug, pouring a glass of wine for him as if he were a servant. Before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked one of Thranduil's braids behind his ear. As Thranduil turned his sapphire eyes up to his own he felt his heart freeze in his chest. Long had he heard fantastical tales of Thranduil's magic, of his ability to bewitch and seduce even the most steadfast and wary elf. Those eyes held him captive, looking up at him beneath weighted lids and golden lashes, igniting fire inside him, and burning straight through to his desire. He was riveted to the spot in which he sat and he watched with dismay as the King's perfect, pink lips curved into a smile. "Hannon le, Celeborn, " Thranduil's seductive voice answered softly, and Celeborn realized his hand still lingered in the King's hair. Try as he might he could not remove his hand from the golden silk that lay beneath it. The late afternoon sun caused the tent to glow and Thranduil's hair to shimmer as the light danced across it. A soft afternoon breeze set the tent walls aflutter and fine wisps of spun gold to light upon his hand. "Is it only my friendship you seek?" he found himself asking quietly. "Nay, I would have more should you give it," came Thranduil's husky reply. "You would take all if I allowed you." "Perhaps. But what I would give in return would be worth it." "Would it?" "Oh yes." Celeborn plunged his hands into Thranduil's hair as the King leaned forward and claimed his mouth with a bruising kiss. He moaned wantonly as Thranduil's tongue swept over his own, and he found himself being pulled to his feet. His cloak was gone before he even realized it, and his tunic was the next victim. He threw his head back and surrendered to Thranduil's touch, to his strong, warm hands, and sweet intoxicating mouth. He fumbled with the clasps of Thranduil's tunic, questing inside the heavy garment as he slid it from the Sinda's body. By Elbereth, he was on fire; his fingers digging into the muscle of Thranduil's back as the King lathed a pebbled nipple with his hot tongue. A deep groan issued from him as Thranduil's hands slid inside his leggings, cupping his buttocks and giving them a squeeze. "By the Valar..." he groaned as Thranduil's mouth left his inflamed nipple and assaulted his ear, suckling the point until he was near mad with desire. "'Tis been a long time, pen-vain, since I have tasted one so heady and rich." Thranduil's fingers slid into the cleft of Celeborn's buttocks and he lightly teased the elf lord's entrance. "I would have you here, on the floor, and again in my bed," he growled. Celeborn found he did not care who had whom, as long as he had more of this wicked and sensual elf. "Take me where you will, melethron valthen. I care not, for you have bewitched me." "Bewitched?" Thranduil purred into Celeborn's ear. "Are you sure that is what I have done? Perhaps I have just given you what you long for in your heart." A long swipe of his tongue traced the curve of Celeborn's ear. "You are beautiful, pen-hael. I will savor and worship your beauty as you yield beneath me." Celeborn moaned plaintively as Thranduil's lips moved from his ear to his neck and he pulled the King closer, crushing him against his chest. "Soft and hard you are, like living iron wrapped in silk, mellonen," Celeborn whispered into his ear. "Would you like more, melethron?" Thranduil purred as he rolled his hips forward, pressing his rigid arousal against Celeborn's. "Yes," Celeborn whispered. "I want it all." He slid his fingers inside the top of the King's leggings and pushed them down over Thranduil's hips. He reveled in the low growl that came from deep within Thranduil's chest as he grasped the King's buttocks and pulled him closer still. He stepped out of his own leggings, kicking at his boots as he nipped and sucked the soft flesh of Thranduil's neck. His own arousal was impossibly rigid, viscous fluid leaked from his engorged length. He thrust forward, bringing his heated flesh in contact with Thranduil's, the silken glide causing a shiver to run down his spine. Thranduil struggled out of his leggings and kicked them aside, heedless of where they landed. He wadded Celeborn's long, silver hair in his fist as he pulled the elf lord's head back to expose more of his strong neck. His arousal stood proud against his stomach, a steady, pulsating throb emanating from his loins. He grasped Celeborn's shoulder and spun him around, wrapping one arm around his waist as he fumbled with his free hand for a phial of oil that sat in his bedside table drawer. He uncorked it with one hand and poured a generous amount into his palm before setting the phial down. He rubbed the warm oil into his rigid length as he suckled the point of Celeborn's ear and fondled his pebbled nipples with his free hand. Celeborn groaned as Thranduil tormented his ear. He reached behind him to cradle Thranduil's head as he tilted his own to give the King better access to his ear. His other hand found his own heated length and he began slowly stroking himself, staying on the edge of climax. A sharp cry slipped from his lips as he felt the King's oiled fingers breach his body and he pushed back against Thranduil's hand. The King roughly kicked his feet apart, forcing him to stand with his legs spread wide. Another keening cry escaped him as Thranduil found his mark, sending fire roaring though his veins. "Bend over." The command was spoken harshly, and he did not hesitate to comply. He bent forward, his fingertips spread wide as they pressed into the rug, helping him to keep his balance. He felt Thranduil's strong hands upon his hips and the tip of the King's arousal nudge his entrance. He was vulnerable in this position, laid bare and opened to the King's gaze. A nervous shiver ran down his spine as he considered himself in this state. He had not experienced anything like this since he was a very young elf, and that was ages ago. As Thranduil sheathed himself inside him, Celeborn took in a deep breath and a small, plaintive moan escaped him. The King did not stop until he was buried inside him, filling him beyond the point of bearing. "Ah, yes," Thranduil breathed, as he held the elf lord's hips in his hands. He gave his lover time to accept him; he could feel that it had been quite sometime since he had allowed such an intrusion. He took a deep breath and addressed Celeborn gently, "Are you well, hîren?" "Yes," Celeborn answered breathlessly, his taut body slowly beginning to relax. "You feel remarkable, Celeborn," Thranduil answered. "As tight as a youngster, but with the body of a warrior." Thranduil began to move and Celeborn could not find his voice to answer. Instead, he moaned his pleasure as the King slowly withdrew and thrust back inside him. As the pace began to quicken, Thranduil gripped Celeborn's hips, steadying him as he sent him rocking forward onto his toes. A feral growl escaped Thranduil's lips as he found his climax, spilling himself inside the elf lord's tight body. Celeborn trembled with his unfulfilled desire as he felt Thranduil's length slip from his body. He stood up slowly, and gasped as Thranduil grasped his shoulder and spun him around. The King's lips hovered just over his own as he was cradled in Thranduil's strong arms. "That was... delicious, my Lord," Thranduil whispered against Celeborn's lips. He brushed his own against Celeborn's as he watched him succumb to his touch. "But I have left you wanting. I would not do that to one so wise and beautiful," he whispered. Celeborn's eyelids fluttered as Thranduil caressed his abdomen with the back of his ringed hand. A plaintive moan escaped him as Thranduil made his way down his abdomen with his mouth. He shuddered as Thranduil brushed his lips along his heated flesh, whispering words of encouragement to him as he felt his hands come around to cup his buttocks. Ah long, shuddering sigh escaped him when Thranduil took him in his mouth. Warm, soft lips sliding the length of his arousal, his wicked tongue tormenting him in ways he had never imagined. His hands came to rest in Thranduil's hair, the strands of silken gold gliding through his fingers. He groaned as Thranduil encouraged him to thrust into his mouth, and he cried out as his release claimed him, spilling down the King's throat. He was light-headed with spent desire, his body warm and tingling as the aftershocks of his climax coursed through his body. Thranduil guided him to the large bed and slid him beneath the covers. The King climbed in beside him and smiled, propping his head up on his hand as he drew patterns on the elf lord's chest with his finger. "Was that to your satisfaction, Celeborn?" Thranduil purred. Celeborn smiled and nodded sleepily. "Oh yes," he answered. "Was it worth the travel?" the King asked. "Most certainly," Celeborn answered. He looked over at the beautiful King and smiled. "You are wicked, Thranduil." Thranduil chuckled. "Yes, I am. As are you, hîren. Now, sleep." Celeborn nodded and closed his eyes, drifting into reverie. ~Finis Meleth = love Seron vell = dear lover Mellonen = my friend Hannon le = thank thee Pen-vain = beautiful one Melethron valthen = golden lover Pen-hael = wise one Melethron = lover Hîren = my lord