Title: To Feel You Breathe (6/6) Series: The Games of Love (formerly Winner Takes All). Unless you’re familiar with the series, many of the references in this story may not make sense. Author: Fimbrethiel Website: Iavas e Guren ~ http://fimbrethiel.com LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fimbrethiel/ Fiction update list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FanSfictionupdates Email: fimbrethiel @ yahoo.com Type: FPS Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit depictions of homoerotic acts between consenting males, cavity- inducing FLUFF! Disclaimer: Don’t own the Elves, they are owned by Tolkien’s estate. Master Tolkien, I mean no harm. No profit has been made. Beta: Minuial Nuwing *massive hugs* Any remaining errors are mine. Summary: After millennia, and some misunderstandings, Erestor and Glorfindel finally bond. This is the final installment in the Games of Love series. Author’s Note: For the Giant Pink Fluffy!bunny gang. You know who you are. ;) My deepest gratitude and much love to Miss SayAye for allowing me to use her artwork as inspiration for this story. http://fimbrethiel.com/artwork/SayAye/SoulMates.JPG The previous parts in this series can be found here: http://fimbrethiel.com/fiction/gamesoflove.htm *~*~*~*~* ** denotes mindspeech ** Glorfindel could not suppress a smile of delight as he opened the door to his chambers – their chambers – and quickly noticed that sometime between the hours of the ceremony and celebration, Elrond’s ever-competent staff had done what they did best, efficiently and unobtrusively. A roaring fire was crackling on the grate, filling the room with the smoky and comforting scent of aromatic pine. The bed had been turned down and made with fresh linens, strewn with plenty of pillows for two. Roses, orchids, and other delicate blooms from the hothouse the Imladris gardeners kept in tribute to their departed Lady spilled from vases and baskets around room, lit by many fragrant candles. A fine crystal decanter of miruvor and two goblets waited on a silver tray. He noticed with approval that no detail had escaped their attention. Erestor’s remaining few belongings had been removed from his old chambers and moved to his new home: hairbrush and hair clips lay neatly on a table beside Glorfindel’s own, a crimson bed robe was hung on a hook on the door next to Glorfindel’s white silk one. A quick peek in the wardrobe confirmed that Erestor’s tunics, cloaks, dress and formal robes were hung on the left side, and his boots and slippers were arranged in a neat row beneath. Glorfindel knew that if he were to open the chest of drawers in the corner, there would be stacks of neatly pressed and folded leggings and breeches, undergarments, stockings and sashes, belts, and a mishmash of assorted accoutrements nestled beside his own. In a comfortable silence borne of long acquaintance, they carefully laid their circlets into the wooden storage boxes that had been left on the bureau, undressed and hung their nuptial robes side by side in the wardrobe, then slipped into their robes. “Why are we wearing these?” Glorfindel asked as he looped the belt around his waist. “Because it is so much more exciting to take them off again, of course,” Erestor replied, plucking a blood-red rose from a vase on the table. “So,” he said, running his fingers over the velvet-soft petals, then idly trailing the fragrant bud lingeringly across his cheek and across his chin. Lower… and lower still… “I see what you mean,” Glorfindel agreed, keenly watching the slow decent of the flower over the long, graceful neck and over the tiny dip at the base of his lover’s throat. This show of innocent sensuality did not fool him for a second; he knew that Erestor knew full well what a sensual picture he made and never wasted an opportunity to flaunt his lover’s weakness. The rose dropped to the floor and his hands strayed to the ties on his belt and slowly, teasingly untied it. “Would you like to kiss me now?” In an instant, Glorfindel was across the room, his own robe fluttering to the floor in a snow-white pool of silk, and Erestor was in his arms. “Shit,” he breathed, touching his lips as they pulled apart, breathless. “Not the sort of answer I had expected to provoke,” Erestor admonished mildly, once he could breathe properly again, though in truth he himself felt rather disheveled and quite overwhelmed by the intensity of their kiss. “Kissing you has never felt like that before.” Erestor quite agreed. *~*~*~*~* They were naked on the bed, the blankets a rumpled mess on the floor. Erestor straddled his lover’s waist, every now and again leaning down to dot light kisses over Glorfindel’s nose and forehead. They had discovered, now that the first urgent kisses and frantic fondling had passed, that in truth, neither was in a particular hurry to proceed to the next stage of lovemaking. Certainly, the desire was there; Erestor’s erection glided up and down Glorfindel’s chest as he leisurely rocked back and forth, each slow pass of his hips creating delicious friction on Glorfindel’s length as it teased the cleft of Erestor’s bottom. But now the anticipation was something to be savored. There would never be another ‘first’ like this, and they found they did not wish to rush through it. Then Erestor sat up and gazed thoughtfully down at his mate for a few long minutes. “What is wrong, sweet?” Glorfindel asked, arching up to entice those delectably soft lips to his again. “Oh, nothing,” Erestor answered with a slow smile, drawing his finger over one of Glorfindel’s nipples, making him growl softly. “I was just trying to decide what part of you I love the most.” “Other than my indubitable charm, adroit wit, and preposterously large penis?” Erestor tapped Glorfindel’s nose lightly and chuckled. “Yes, besides those.” “Well?” Glorfindel prodded, when Erestor did not answer right away. “I have not yet decided.” He settled back on Glorfindel’s chest and tapped his fingernail against his teeth, his brow furrowed as though in deep thought. “I love your mind, certainly, with its knowledge and wisdom – “ “And adroit wit,” Glorfindel reminded him. “Dubious wit,” Erestor corrected, his eyes twinkling. When Glorfindel started sputtering in mock indignation, Erestor silenced him with a finger upon his lips. “Your mouth, too, because your lips are so soft and sweet when we kiss.” He leaned forward and kissed his lover gently, and when they parted, Glorfindel sighed contentedly. “It could be your eyes that I love the most,” Erestor mused, with a soft touch of his lips upon each eyelid as Glorfindel’s fluttered closed, “for they have seen woes and joys such that most could never dream of. “Or perhaps these sweet little ears, for they have heard the words of the mighty Valar.” Each pink shell was in turn gently flicked with a moist tongue, and a light tug on the gold ring piercing the left lobe made Glorfindel hiss. “This could be embarrassing, if it were not so terribly arousing,” he groaned, rocking his hips to gain more friction against his lover’s pert backside. Settling back on Glorfindel’s chest, Erestor reached for the broad hands that were running up and down his sides, over his hips, trailing across his belly, and grasped them loosely in his own. “These hands… Valar, these hands are the tools of a warrior, a soldier, yet are so gentle when they touch me.” He kissed each palm and traced the vee between each finger, then ran his palms up Glorfindel’s forearms, along the curve of his elbows, and over the hard swell of his biceps. “Or it could be your arms, so mightily wielding bow and sword against the darkness.” His slender fingers brushed the skin gently, and Glorfindel shivered. The dark eyes took on a sheen of lust and love, and lifting each one limb in turn, he kissed the tender flesh inside each elbow. “But I love them most because of how they wrap me in their loving embrace.” “Oohhh.” Glorfindel drew a shaky breath as Erestor kissed a trail down over his ribcage and licked the ridge of a hipbone, giving it a tiny nip with sharp white teeth. A lock of ebony hair ghosted over Glorfindel’s swollen shaft and he moaned, shivering at the silken caress. “Erestor…” he growled. Erestor ignored the warning tone in his mate’s voice and lifted one long, muscular leg, kissing down the length of one and each toe in turn before turning his attention to the other foot. “Perhaps these legs are what I love the most. They are strong and have carried you many a mile, borne you safely through many battles, and Valar willing, will always carry you home to me.” Erestor moved up that long leg, again carefully avoiding the straining flesh between his lover’s thighs, and flicked a ripe pink nipple with his tongue. “Within this chest beats the largest, most loving heart I have ever known.” Settling a gentle kiss to the smooth, flat stomach, he settled between Glorfindel’s trembling thighs, ignoring his lover’s wordless pleading whimpers. “And last, but certainly not the least…I love this.” He studied the straining flesh that lay curved and pulsing against his lover’s flat belly and blew a warm, moist breath over the majestic shaft. Glorfindel let out a piteous whine and parted his thighs wider, letting his knees fall further to the sides. His body burned, and the strange and inexplicable pull to complete their bond was growing stronger by the moment. Erestor was an enchanter, a sorcerer, and he was a willing thrall caught in his master’s spell, utterly besotted, and loving every second of it. When the tip of Erestor’s tongue prodded the fleshy sac below, following the fat vein that throbbed under the skin to finally take the tip in his mouth and suckle it lightly, Glorfindel’s eyes rolled back in his head. “So, it is my preposterously large penis that you love,” he managed to utter, his voice cracking on a note that was somewhere between a croak and a laugh. Erestor lifted his head and smiled, reaching blindly toward the nightstand. “Oh yes, all the rest is simply incidental.” His fingers closed on a small, stoppered silver vial, now unadorned, as earlier Erestor had discreetly removed the twins’ humorous and frankly filthy note of ‘helpful hints’ for their wedding night, which had been left propped jauntily against the bottle. He had also made a mental note to have Glorfindel assign them each an extra rotation on patrol in ‘gratitude’ for their ‘thoughtfulness’. Erestor thumbed the cork and tossed it in the general direction of the dresser. “May I?” he asked, holding up the vial. Glorfindel licked his dry lips. “Soon would be good,” he croaked, eyeing his lover hungrily and parted his thighs wider. “Greedy!” Erestor teased, spilling a few drops of oil on his fingers. “You act as though we have never done this before!” “Just anxious for you to do the work, for a change.” “Mmm,” Erestor mused, rubbing his slick fingers together, gazing down at his lover with a noticeably predatory and lustful look on his face. “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to repaying you in kind for your grievous treatment of my poor, abused backside of the past few months. Consider it remuneration for all the times I could not sit in Council without a pillow under my bottom.” “A situation of your own making, melethron. As I recall, it was usually, ‘More, Glorfindel! Harder, Glorfindel! Fuck me until my eyes cross, Glorfindel! Elrond can wait another hour for his reports, so bend me over the table, Glorfindel!’” he answered in a comically accurate rendition of many of Erestor’s exact demands over the past few months. “Shut up,” Ererstor replied genially, and in a perfectly executed motion, simultaneously engulfed his lover’s length and penetrated him swiftly with a well-oiled finger. Glorfindel’s howl must have been heard clear down the hall. Erestor’s shoulders shook and he had to pull his mouth away. “Glorfindel, you screech like a little girl! What would your men think to hear such a sound uttered by your lips?” “They would be jealous ‘twas me receiving your attentions and not them. Now would you kindly cease your blathering and get back to the matter at hand... or more properly, your hand back to the matter?” “As you wish, my glorious seneschal.” The strong thighs parted further and Erestor settled more comfortably between them, slowly and smoothly working his finger within his lover’s body. Lips firmly locked around the shaft, he allowed Glorfindel to thrust as deeply as he wished. They knew each other’s bodies so well that there was no danger of injury; he knew what Glorfindel liked, and Glorfindel trusted that Erestor would let him know when enough became too much. Glorfindel’s breathing became increasingly more erratic, on the verge of spending, when a second slick finger brushed his opening and slipped in beside the first. His blood boiled, surging through his body and rushing toward that blessed spot within him where worlds collided, the heavens shattered. The fingers curled, searching… one… two… three… four… five… and he was arching, shaking, moaning, crying, and spilling hot cream down Erestor’s eager throat. He fell back against the pillow, gasping, and with passion-glazed eyes, gazed down at Erestor’s dark head, noting with detached amazement that his own erection, despite an orgasm that still had him trembling, had not abated, thanks to Erestor’s gentle but insistent rubbing. Then the friction was gone and he whimpered as he felt his legs being lifted, arranged, draped over Erestor’s shoulders, felt the pressure, so much pressure, closed his eyes and breathed against the burn as Erestor pushed forward, stilled for a moment, trembling, then began to move. “OhgodssweetEru I had no idea … I never knew… oh gods,” Erestor gasped, with those first blissful, hot, sweet slides into his mate’s body. Glorfindel’s thoughts brushed his mind, echoing his own awe over the swirling heat that encompassed their joined bodies. **Erestor? Do you feel it too?** **I do, beloved,** Erestor responded, equally enthralled. **What is happening? It feels strange, but wonderful.** **I am not certain, melethronen, but I believe it is the completion of our bond.** **This is far nicer than the other part.** **Aye, much better.** **Now love me...** **I do, and I will, gûr-e-guren.** *~*~*~*~* In the dead of night, Glorfindel woke from a sound sleep, his arms and legs twined with Erestor’s, and blinked sleepily. Standing in front of the window, outlined in Ithil’s pale light, was a figure, tall and slender, garbed in a flowing dress girt with gold. In the wavering moonbeams, Glorfindel saw that her face wore a gentle smile. “Have you found your heart’s desire, Glorfindel o Imladris?” she asked, her voice low and smooth. “Vairë,” he whispered reverently. “Well, valiant one? Can you answer, or has your beloved so worn you out with his loving that he has robbed you of your power of speech?” she chided gently, though he heard the mirth in her voice, and he was not afraid. “Aye, my Lady, I have,” he whispered, tearing his eyes away from the beauteous face of the Weaver for a moment to risk a covetous glance at his darkling mate, lying on his side, still clutching a fistful of Glorfindel’s golden mane and wearing a tiny, satisfied smile on his face, even deep in slumber. The golden band gracing Erestor’s slender finger glinted in the moonlight, and Glorfindel looked down at the matching ring on his own broad hand. For a moment, there was a flash of warmth, not quite hot enough to be painful, but a steady heat encircling his finger, and then it passed. She nodded once and raised her hand. “You shall not see me again, Glorfindel, until your time here has passed. Until then… namárië, my brave one, and love him well, as he will you.” “Namárië, my Lady.” From her raised hand, she blew him a kiss. A million radiant pinpricks of rainbow light floated from her palm and fluttered through the air, flashing like sparks, and she was gone. Glorfindel watched the twinkling lights settle over him and his lover. A few dusted Erestor’s sleeping face and rested on his dark lashes, where they clung and sparkled for a moment, and then faded out. “Like diamonds,” he murmured dreamily, already drifting back into the gardens of Lórien and the warmth of his mate’s embrace. He dreamed of snowflakes. *~*~* finis *~*~* Elvish translations: melethronen = my lover gûr-e-guren = heart of my heart Namárië = Farewell (Q.)