Title: CHECKMATE!
Type: FPS
Author: LoLL loll_3000(a)email(dot)it
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, implied Elladan/Elrohir
Warning: PWP: graphic sex, implied twincest, rimming, masturbation
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I don’t make money with them. I just love
to watch them playing...
Beta: Red Lasbellin and a very special thank to Fishyz for support
Notes: I know that the title and the main theme are everything but
original, but the idea of those two playing chess (and much more) was too
intriguing
Summary: Erestor, Glorfindel and an unfinished chess game

"Checkmate!"

He raises his eyes on his companion and once again, finds him with his
head turned to the window, staring at a distant spot. He wonders what his
friend is looking at and he would pay anything to read his heart, to know
what he thinks, what he dreams and what he wants...

"For the Valar's sake, Counsellor! What's wrong with you this night? I'm
beginning to suspect that you have no interest in winning this game."

The Counsellor turns to him, rests his elbows on the table, intertwines his
fingers and rests his chin on them with a thoughtful look on his face

"Maybe you are right, Captain. It is just..."

He stops just in time, shakes his head as to get rid of some annoying idea
and his raven hair flickers softly, reflecting the candles' light.

The Captain observes that perfect countenance, a porcelain oval where
long lashes throw strange shadows and hide his features.
He studies him, surveying him without any embarrassment. His eyes drop
to his barely parted lips, protruding, shaped in a pout, and he thinks that, 
if
it were up to him, he would put that beautiful raven head between his legs
and would make those lips suck him until he is drained of his seed.

"What are you thinking about?"

Erestor stares at him for a while with his head bent, as if he is studying
him, as if he is considering the Captain worthy of his intimate thoughts or
not. Then Erestor rises in a soft rustle of satin and velvet, and heads for 
the
open window.

"Look at them, Lord Glorfindel, look at them and tell me; aren't they the
most beautiful sight you've ever seen?"

The Captain walks over slowly, his steps sound heavy and steady -
military steps - on the marbled floor. He looks at the twins in the big bed
of their chamber on the opposite side of the garden. The curtains are open,
there is neither shame nor modesty. He can even hear them and if he
closes his eyes, he thinks he can tell their voices apart; Elrohir's - 
sharper
and pretending, Elladan's - lower and more controlled.

Erestor has watched them so many times. And not always from afar?

"Don't you find them breathtaking, my Lord?" Erestor repeats, his voice
shaking a bit. He brings a hand to his neck and lets the fingers brush the
warm skin.
He is so needy, so desperately needy.

He senses Glorfindel's body behind him and a hand rests on his hip.

"How long have you been looking at them, Lord Erestor?"

"Too long, I believe..."

"And...?"

The question is a brief whisper behind his perfect ear, making him shiver.

"And what?" Erestor asks, feigning some sort of candour that is not his.

"And what do you do while you look at them? Do you wish to be with
them? Do you touch yourself?"

Erestor turns toward him, rests a shoulder against the jamb and pushes the
other backward, just a little. He has an amused look, the look of someone
who is ready to play a dangerous game.

"Aren't you pushing a little bit too far, my Captain?"

But the Captain, his eyes dark like a stormy sea, doesn't smile at all for 
an
idea has been haunting him for too long.

"Would you do it for me? Strip yourself, touch yourself for me...while I'm
watching you?"

The Counsellor stops laughing and the words slide over his skin, light like
feathers, straight to his groin. Glorfindel hand is now on his face and is
perfectly still. Skin against skin and warmth against warmth. Yet Erestor
can't help but shiver, feeling his nipples hardening, as if hit by a blown 
of
cold air, and brushing against the silky fabric of his robe.

Glorfindel notices, moving his hand away from Erestor's face and trails it
down his neck, then his shoulder and his chest. There he stops, so close to
that small tightening nub that pushes against the fabric, brushing it with
his thumb, twice - back and forth - without pressing, just letting the cloth
grazing the flesh.

Erestor holds his breath while every single spot in his body is desperately
begging for that touch.

"Would you do it, Erestor?"

Erestor would do everything for his Captain, that he worships from afar.
With a simple, unperceivable nod, he surrenders.

Slowly, he opens the buttons of his tunic, one by one, with fingers that
brush his skin, disclosing his whiteness little by little. Hands move 
quietly
and delicately on the toggles and when the last button is free, he rests his
fingers on the hems, parting them slightly.

Erestor stands motionless, shows himself to his Lord's stare, like a rare
and precious piece that must be carefully esteemed. However he does not
lower his gaze. He slids a hand down his belly, slowly opening it over his
belly and moves his hand further down until it is hidden where the seams
join.

Glorfindel watches the slow motion under the fabric, and he can almost
see that hand caressing the hard flash, clenching around it, moving up and
down, stroking the skin where it is so thin and sensible that a single blow
can enflame it. He watches Erestor closing his eyes and pushing his hips
forward, inside his own hand's heat with a sharp movement that makes
him moan. Glorfindel wonders if he is already wet.

He watches as a finger disappearing into that moist mouth and then going
back to skim over a nipple. He can see the fabric being drenched and the
nipple hardening further, swelling under that slow, endless torture. He can
almost feel that maddening tingling radiating all over the body, straight to
the testicles, making them pulse madly.

"You have the nipples of a maiden. So responsive..."

Erestor stops, takes his hands away and let them fall along his body. He
knows he can't wait too long - not under that stare - not when the only
thing he so desperately wants is to be fucked by him until he loses
consciousness. He stands motionless with a single lock of hair sticking on
his damp face. His eyes are wild; the eyes of someone who is close to lose
his mind.

Between the open seams of the shirt, Glorfindel can see the dark shadow
of his groin. He extends his hand to caress it and touches the silky 
softness
of his hair, slipping his fingers in and playing for a while with the curls,
and if he closes his eyes he thinks he's touching threads of satin. It is so
moist and hot there.

Erestor's eyes follow the path of the fingers over his body, moving higher
and higher, once again to the point of his agony - his nipples -. He wets 
his
lips with his tongue and they seem even bigger.

Glorfindel smiles; smiles to those wide eyes that stare at him without fear
and he smiles to that longing, so alive and pulsing, that burns under his
hands.
He closes his eyes to feel better the roughness of the skin surrounding the
nipple. He circles it, grazes it with his fingertips and then moves to the
inner point where the hard and oversensitive flesh leans out toward him,
begging to be touched.

Erestor moans, almost a cry. He is so close to come. He grips the Captain's
shoulders, pressing against him, begging him, and pushing his body
against his. The Captain feels his cock, so hard, pressing against his 
thigh,
he feels the pre-come through the fabric wetting his skin. Just one, one
single touch and he knows he'll be hit by the first hot spurt of Erestor's
seed.

Glorfindel stops him with steel hands on snow-skin. He looks at him and
his mouth is so close- so very close - that he could bite it.

"Not like this. I want to come inside of you."

The tunic slides to the floor with a single, fluid movement and pools to
Erestor's feet, making him look like a marble statue upon a black velvet
pedestal.
He has lost all composure, he would scream and beg, but his voice is lost
in a muffled sigh against the Captain's hand.

"Shush! Be good, my Erestor, you'll get very soon what you wish for."

Erestor lets Glorfindel take him by his hand and direct him to the small
table where, not long ago, he was losing a chess game. He grabs the edges
and fixes his eyes on the chessboard.

He hears a light rustle of cloth, something that fell, and silent steps 
behind
him. Then he feels the warmth of that glorious body enveloping him:
Glorfindel's legs against his legs, Glorfindel's chest pressed against his
back, Glorfindel's arms tightened around his waist, and a cool cheek upon
his hot one.

"Please... My Lord... please.."

He turns a little, a silent plea in his eyes just a brief moment before that
mouth devours him. Glorfindel's tongue is over his lips and suddenly,
inside his mouth, and Erestor sucks it, desperate, because this is better
than nothing at all.

He can feel Glorfindel's huge cock nestling between his cheeks and, for a
while, he wonders if the Captain is going to take him like this, without
preparing him. But his fears are soon dissolved in an endless wake of
kisses over his neck, his face, his shoulders. The kisses descend lightly
along his spine, making him shiver. He tightens his grip over the table and
prays to the Valar that his legs would sustain him. He stay motionless
when he feels Glorfindel's hands grab his buttocks and opens them,
leaving him so exposed to his Captain's stare. But he feels no shame, just
an overwhelming, burning, desperate desire that consumes his body and
soul.

"Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel smiles. He comes closer and with the tip of his tongue, begins
to prepare him. Slowly - there is no need to be in a hurry. The tongue
moves in small circles upon the small, tight opening, and Erestor cannot
prevent himself from pushing back against the wet, strong muscle.

There is nothing obscene in this; it is an intimate gesture, and erotic all 
at
the same time. Glorfindel feels the opening quiver under his tongue and
pushes softly inside, caressing him with long, slow strokes.

Erestor shakes, staring at the pearly droplets pouring along his shaft - so
swollen it looks ready to explode - and he would grab it, pump hard and
fast in his own hand just to put an end to that torment. But he fears to
loosen his grip on the table.

"Now, Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel enters him with a single push, holding his waist tight with an
arm and stifling a wild shout from Erestor's mouth with his free hand.

"It will pass soon, Erestor. Soon..."

He is inside of him and doesn't move; he has his eyes shut and Erestor's
scent goes straight to his head, making him dazed.

'How many nights, my Erestor, how many nights...' Glorfindel thinks.

They move quietly now, together. All the rush is over, slipping away,
dissolving in the union of their bodies. Now they both wish that the
moment would last forever.

Glorfindel rocks inside of him, enveloped in a velvet warmth that has no
equals, that engulfs him endless times. He hugs the beautiful, slim body
and doesn't stop caressing him, with his lips pressed against Erestor's 
nape,
whispering words that make sense just for them.

"I'm coming, Erestor..."

"Touch me, please, my Lord..." begs the Counsellor.

Glorfindel grabs him between his parted thighs, clasps his cock and moves
his hand according with his body; he wants that moment to be perfect. He
leans his cheek upon Erestor's and closes his eyes.


Suddenly everything brightens with flashes of lights. Rumours of the night
mingle with the raving beating of their hearts; blood pulses madly and
their moans are the most beautiful music they both have ever heard.
Pleasure is so strong that they are almost overwhelmed. Their names chase
each other desperately, called once from one lover and once from other of
the two lovers, until the gleam begins to dissolve, leaving them drowning
in a soft and milky mist.

Everything is silent now. Just their panting and a delicate rustle of 
leaves.

Slowly, they emerge to the world, with their bodies still entangled, hot and
sweaty, with their hands seeking and their lips brushing and whispering
sweet and intimate words.


***

It's almost dawn when they exit the room. The fireplace is extinguished
and, upon the table, lays a chess game never ended.

Erestor shivers in the chilling air of the early morning.

"You are cold, Counsellor, take it."

Glorfindel covers him with his cloak.

"You owe me a return game, Captain."

Glorfindel smiles and nods, then silently they head each for his own
chamber.


The End