Amin

Ereinion glided soundlessly down the stairs, his royal robes following in his wake, sweeping each step with their silken caress. He had spent much of morning in the company of the Imladris advisor, lying with the dark Elf within his arms, speaking of history and gently stirring sentiment.

Now, his mind must focus on the present. He could not neglect his duties simply because he had taken a lover, although Erestor was more to him than that. He was. . .his love.

“Ah, Ereinion, my friend. I did wonder where you had gotten to,” the melodic voice of Lord Elrond drifted from the base of the stairs.

“Mae govannen, Elrond. . .” the High King greeted him pleasantly as his sandaled foot met with the final step.

The Imladris ruler leaned upon the banister, an impish grin parting his lips. “I do not suppose that you have seen my lazy advisor, have you, dear friend?”

One elegantly dark brow arched upward. “I have,” the King said elusively with a smile of his own.

“He is well, then?” Elrond continued, his tone conversational yet teasing.

“Oh yes,” Ereinion replied. “He is very well. Very well, indeed.”

Elrond’s grin broadened substantially. “Ah,” he said simply, but could not resist winking at the Noldor as he passed.

Ereinion cast him a smirky look. “Really,u. .u. . .” he said. But he chuckled in spite of himself.

Watching as Ereinion’s form disappeared into the lush courtyard, Elrond made his way up the stairs towards his own chambers, only to encounter a very ruffled and obviously thoroughly loved Erestor tucking his breeches into his boots within the halls, hair unbraided and hanging loose about his shoulders.

“And how are you feeling this fine morning, Erestor?” Elrond’s cheerful voice resounded jovially throughout the hallway.

Clearly caught off his guard, the advisor nearly lost his footing as he pulled at the stubborn boot.

“I am well, Lord Elrond,” the dark haired Elf said, struggling to secure the footwear with a hopping yank. “Although I would be far better if I could get this cursed boot where it belongs!”

“Perhaps you should sit,” Elrond advised with a lop sided grin. “Or is there a rush of some sorts?”

“Nonsense,” Erestor grunted, succeeding in shoving his foot within the confines of the leather shoe at last. “I am merely tired of lying in bed.”

It was all that Elrond could do not to laugh, but he held himself in check, putting a finger to his lips, smile ever widening behind it. “Do enjoy this day, Erestor,” he said, walking past the rumpled advisor with a secretive air. “There is much to be done in the ones that shall follow.”

The dark Elf regarded him almost suspiciously. “I shall,” he said slowly, his gaze never leaving the Imladris ruler.

Glancing over the railing of the stairs, he searched for a glimpse of which direction Ereinion had gone, for the Noldor had forgotten to tell him exactly where they were to meet.

“He is in the baths, Erestor,” Elrond called from further down the hall. “Just outside the courtyard and to your left.”

Erestor snorted rather indignantly. As if Elrond had actually known his intent! Still, he took the advice as well as the directions just the same.

* * * * * *

The cavern was lit only by the soft glow of candlelight as Erestor stepped inside, letting his robes fall to the ground as he walked, for he had forsaken his clothing much earlier once out of Lord Elrond’s sight.

His footfalls made no sound as he padded over the cool rocks, the only sound to reach his ears the soft lulling hush of the gentle waterfall within the cave’s center pool.

“I have been waiting for you, morier. . .”

Warm hands slid over his hips and around his waist, drawing him close. Despite the heat from the arms that held him, Erestor shivered deliciously.

A questing tongue laved the lobe of his ear sensuously. “I crave you, my love,” Ereinion purred.

“Oh?” Erestor replied coyly. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Ereinion’s voice rumbled close to his ear. “And I shall have you. . .”

“Really?” Erestor teased. “And what makes you so certain that I will concede?”

“Because,” the rich voice said huskily. “I am not giving you a choice.”

Not another word was spoken. Ereinion’s lips silenced any further attempts for coy resistance as he pulled Erestor into his embrace.

“How I love you, Erestor of Imladris. . .” Ereinion murmured, not expecting for the advisor to answer, nor did he care if he actually did.

He only wanted him to know. . . wanted him to hear the words. Whether they were echoed or not was of little concern. The cobalt eyes spoke of things that lips could not whisper.
tha that was enough.

Steam rose from the warmth of the pool as Ereinion drew him into the water’s heated touch, his lips never once leaving those of the dark Elf within his arms.

He pushed Erestor against the moss covered embankment, still kissing him, backing him against the rocks, the heat of his arousal far warmer than the water that pattered upon Erestor’s side.

Ereinion’s strength as warrior was becoming more than apparent as he lifted the dark Elf from the ground, pinning him against the rocky wall as Erestor wrapped both legs around the Noldorian ruler, feeling the slickness of his wet body against his own. Water made for the most wonderfully sensual of lubricants as he took Erestor hard, but with aching slowness until the advisor nearly begged for Ereinion to just allow him his release . The High King seemed to like Erestor’s prone position and took advantage of it, teasing him with long, deep thrusts and then, tapering off until he was ready to pick up the pace again. Inside, Erestor savored the burn of his torturous, sexual actions, unable to refrain from moaning as he rumbled, in low, animalistic tones near the advisor’s ear. A shudder coarsed through Erestor’s body, for never had heard anyone growl the way Ereinion did. His fingernails raked across the top of the King’s shoulders, digging in for a better grip while Ereinion impaled him against the slippery wall, his breath coming in rhythmic, ragged pants and grunts. Water streamed off of Ereinion in all directions, running in little rivulets down his chest, dripping off of his nose and chin, lending him an ethereal glint in the dimly lit baths. His dark hair had become more of a tousled mess, simultaneously smooth and jagged, a gleaming, slick ebon sheen fused with shocks of light as he tilted his head back with a groan of desire. The sight of his pleasure incensed Erestor beyond all realms and he drank of it eagerly, slaking his thirst for his new lover until he could bear it no longer. Liquid fire coursed through the advisor as the climax mounted, shattering the boundaries of any pleasure he had ever known.

“Aiya. . .morier!” Ereinion gasped, his own release pounding through his body, wracking his body with a deliciously convulsive shudder.

He gripped the moss covered rocks with another groan as the last tremors of the orgasm shook him, still holding Erestor against him with the other hand until the fevered moment had passed enough for him embrace the advisor fully.

“Elbereth’s light, I cannot get enough of you,” Ereinion panted, cradling Erestor to his chest. “Joining with you is like immersing myself in an endless stream of miruvor. . .too much is never enough.

Erestor laid his head against the King’s shoulder, his dark hair riding upon the water like ripples of ink written in a language that was spoken only between lovers.

“Such things you say,” the advisor said, kissing the elegant neck, the heat of a pleased flush coloring his cheeks.

Taking the delicate face between his hands, Ereinion pulled back and stared deeply into the dark wells of Erestor’s sapphire eyes.

“I say them to you and you alone,” he said.

Erestor pressed his body into the arms hat held him, feathering the damp skin with kisses.

“Ereinion,” he murmured. “I. . .” but the words were lost as if choked from his throat by unseen hands. By the Valar, why could he not just speak that which his heart whispered in confidence to his very soul, yet his mind refused to obey! “I. . .I cannot. . .”

“Sssh, morier,“ the High Kind said gently. “I know , meleth-nin. There is no need.”

With a sigh, Erestor slid his arms around the finely sculpted torso and laid his head against one warm shoulder.

“Surely your council will wonder for you absence,” Erestor said, curling a lock of Ereinion’s hair around his finger in an absent gesture of affection.

“Let them wonder, “Ereinion said dismissively. “My affairs are my own this evening. Nothing of importance requires my attention. Except. . .”

Soft lips covered his own in a passionately gentle kiss. “You.”

***** To Be Continued....