Something Special, Something Sacred

Imladris, Third Age 2032

Erestor smiled up at the panting Elf as he tightened the clamps. "I do so like the expressions that cross your face," he said, pulling lightly on Glorfindel's clamped nipple. He watched Glorfindel's eyes squeeze shut and his hips roll forward. "You are also very eager." Erestor walked to the wardrobe, taking out a little ring of leather and a heavy weight. He returned to Glorfindel and affixed the ring to the base of the Elda's cock, and then hung the weight from it. Glorfindel let out a low moan, but Erestor ignored him.

He stepped back to admire his lover who was bound to the wall by wrists and ankles. Glorfindel stood a few feet from the wall face, allowing Erestor access to his front while exposing his back, but the Elda could not lower his arms or bring his feet together. The blond Elf's back was already red from the flogger Erestor had taken to the pale skin, anticipating the new element to their sessions.

Erestor walked to the same wardrobe and withdrew an implement he had rarely been able to use. The item was heavy and long; Erestor ran his fingers over the leather for a moment, and then took his place behind Glorfindel's sweat-dampened body.

"Are you ready for a new lesson?" Erestor asked quietly, the only warning he gave before drawing the whip back and striking Glorfindel expertly with it.

Glorfindel arched, though Erestor knew the strike wasn't particularly painful. He was close to his lover, and therefore he was hitting with a thicker part of the whip. It was more of a thud than a sting, but he could not simply begin whipping at Glorfindel with abandon. Erestor was careful, his blows solid and sure, never hesitating when he brought the length of leather forward. He watched Glorfindel's hands grip the chains, his body taut and tense. After Glorfindel began to relax into the whip, Erestor stepped back and applied the thinner section of leather to the dark red back.

Erestor smiled at the sharp intake of breath, the tensing of sore muscles. Bright crimson stripes appeared on the abused flesh, and Glorfindel shifted away from the lash. Within in moments, the proud Elda was grunting with every strike. It did not take long before Erestor had Glorfindel crying out sharply every time the whip fell; he was careful, though, not striking hard enough to draw blood from his lover.

The Noldo slowly slipped into an easy rhythm, stepping back to lengthen the whip and bring more sting to the blows. His mind wandered as Glorfindel moaned, swayed and cried out. He had used the whip only on a few Elves; so many could not withstand the abuse it could dole out. Glorfindel though, *his* Glorfindel, was able to do things Erestor himself had not been able to endure as Elrond's. Glorfindel amazed Erestor. The Elda's desire to please him, need to prove he could do anything Erestor asked of him... traits Erestor had never dreamed existed in the golden Elf.

Aye, he had learned so many things about Glorfindel he had not known. Facets of his complicated personality he had not guessed at. Though he had been thrilled to have the Elda offer himself so openly, Erestor often wondered about the motives behind Glorfindel's submission. It was almost like Glorfindel tried to out-last him, see how far *he* could push Erestor instead of the other way around.

And this was something that nagged at Erestor.

The Noldo put the thoughts to the back of his mind. No, Glorfindel would not do such a thing; Erestor was in control of their sessions, and Glorfindel was simply an outstanding partner. Erestor blinked several times, bringing himself from his reverie as he heard Glorfindel's cries change; a shrill quality had entered the normally level, deep tones of his lover's voice. He drew the whip back again and finally focused on the red, striped flesh before him.

Between Glorfindel's shoulder blades, bright and angry, were cuts in the Elf's tender skin. They were welling slowly, but the crimson was vibrant and Erestor felt his gorge rise.

Never, in all his years as a Master of pained pleasure, had he drawn blood from an Elf who had entrusted his well being to him.

But now...

He should have paid more attention, should not have let his mind wander as it had.

The whip trembled in his hand and he opened his mouth to utter an apology, to beg his lover for forgiveness. Erestor stopped himself; if he spoke now, it would break the spell he had woven for the Elda. He watched Glorfindel's heaving back carefully, looked for a sign his glorious golden warrior was in distress. Glorfindel whimpered and hung limply in his bindings, but not a word fell from his lips. Erestor crept closer to the sweat-slick body, his dark eyes wide and his stomach roiling the nearer he came to those dark stripes marring the beautiful skin.

Glorfindel's eyes were closed, his lips parted and dry, and Erestor could tell the Elda had been crying. He let his eyes travel down the Elf's body, and that was when he realized Glorfindel was still aroused. His shaft was heavy, slick and hard, eagerly awaiting relief. Erestor stepped back quietly, his mind reeling. His own arousal had dissipated the moment the blood welled, and he did not believe he could find it again. No, this was not something he could simply set aside. But, he could not ignore his lover's needs. Whenever he had put Glorfindel through such torturous acts, he always rewarded him.

He could not ignore Glorfindel's needs.

Erestor's gaze darted around the room, seeking some answer to the situation he found himself in. He could just stroke Glorfindel to his completion, praising him or speaking coarsely to the warrior. But, no. He knew his lover, knew his preferences. Erestor could not continue to strike Glorfindel; even if he wanted to, he had paused too long -- Glorfindel would know something was amiss immediately. If he did anything of the sort, Glorfindel would be pulled from the semi-conscious, pain-dulled realm all Elves in such a position traveled to. Erestor looked to his trembling hand, still holding the thick, long handle of the whip in a white-knuckled grip.

The Noldo quickly crossed the room and removed a pot of salve from the wardrobe. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and centering himself. When his heart had slowed and his trembling subsided, Erestor returned to the side of the shivering, panting Elf. He did not speak; Erestor did not think he *could* without Glorfindel hearing the tremor he knew would be there. Instead, he coated three of his fingers with a large amount of the white cream, and wiped them along the sleek hilt of the whip. He pressed his greased digits to Glorfindel's entrance, his eyes focused on a stone near Glorfindel's foot.

The Elda hissed as he was penetrated, but Erestor paid no heed to it. He replaced his fingers with the handle, sliding it slowly into the Elda's body. Glorfindel mewed, his golden head falling forward and his hips flexing back to meet the hard, large implement. Erestor worked the makeshift phallus, slowly and surely, his gaze occasionally shifting to the blond Elf's body.

Glorfindel groaned, and Erestor saw the Elda's muscles twitch with impending release. This was something else that had fascinated Erestor about Glorfindel -- how little or no stimulation could bring the Elf to climax. The ring he had placed on Glorfindel's length would be offering some friction, enough to bring a quick end to their play. He swiftly moved the handle, pumping it in and out with the motions of Glorfindel's body. Glorfindel cried out, his body arcing sharply as he spilled himself onto the floor, and Erestor let out a long breath.

It was over.

Well, almost.

He gently removed the whip handle. After he had placed the whip onto a nearby table, he unclamped Glorfindel's swollen nipples. He bent his head to the abused flesh, laving the nubs with his tongue, offering a silent apology that he knew Glorfindel would not understand. He slipped the ring and weight from the Elda's softening sex, and returned all the toys to the wardrobe. Erestor kneeled behind Glorfindel, unpinning the restraints, and then stood and unclasped the collar from his lover's neck. He hung the collar where it always rested out of session and turned his eyes back to Glorfindel. He reached up and removed the first wrist restraint. As Glorfindel's arm fell to his side, the Elda winced and sucked in his breath.

"You must move slowly, melethen," he said softly as he walked to the other arm. Glorfindel nodded absently, and Erestor eased the second restraint from his lover's wrist. Glorfindel was more deliberate in his movements, his arm falling carefully. "Come. Let me bathe you, prepare you for bed." He took Glorfindel's heated hand in his cool, clammy one and led him from the playroom, snuffing the few candles lit on their way out.

They did not speak as Erestor prepared the warm bath water, adding herbs and oils. Glorfindel's eyes were heavy-lidded, and his actions slow and jerky, but the Elda managed to enter the bath himself. Erestor's eyes stung as he finally took in the full sight of his lover's skin.

There were dozens of deep welts, several bruises and redness all over. This was to be expected, and those injuries were not what made him want to sob. No, the six lash marks that had begun to weep their crimson tears. They did not bleed profusely, but Glorfindel's shifting and relaxing of his back had caused the wounds to open more. They would heal within days, but that did not change the fact that Erestor had done it. He had made his valiant lover bleed. And it did not matter to the stoic Councilor that it was not intentional; he had still done the damage.

He opened his mouth again to apologize, but the words stuck in his mouth. To apologize now would mean he would admit the session had not gone as he had planned. It would be admitting his failure.

Erestor could not do that.

Instead, he took up a cloth and added medicinal soap oil to the material, asking in an even, calm tone, "Are you all right?"

Glorfindel's cobalt eyes opened and a small smile crossed the Elda's lips. "Aye, Erestor. I am well. Sore, but nothing that will not pass within a day or so."

Erestor nodded, carefully cleaning his lover. He usually loved these moments, bathing and tending to Glorfindel. Erestor tried to smile, but he could feel that the expression was stiff and did not reach his eyes. "You enjoyed yourself, then?" he asked, filling a pitcher with water and wetting the long, golden tresses.

"Aye, I did," Glorfindel replied, moaning quietly when Erestor began to massage the soap into his hair. "Though, I had wondered where you had gone when it became so quiet."

The Noldo did not miss a beat, simply chuckled and rinsed Glorfindel's hair. "I was admiring how proud you stood. Your beauty never ceases to steal my breath away, melethen." The words felt sour. Yes, Glorfindel's beauty always stunned him, and he was certain it always would. They were light and dark, day and night, but that beauty had become horrific when those stripes appeared.

He dried Glorfindel thoroughly, rubbing salve into the torn back. A tear did fall as his fingers touched those lines of betrayal, and he quickly finished his work and wiped his hands. Glorfindel turned to him, brushing the dark hair from Erestor's pale features.

"Are *you* all right?" the Elda asked, his brow furrowing.

Erestor's expression softened and he truly smiled at his lover. "I am just tired, I think," he said, tossing the towel to the floor. "It has been a long day, and tomorrow does not look any better."

Glorfindel leaned in and kissed Erestor's lips, opening his mouth and inviting Erestor to taste him. The Noldo could not resist and kissed his Glorfindel deeply, his shaft slowly filling as Glorfindel whimpered into his mouth. Glorfindel's slender fingers reached into Erestor's leggings, and Erestor gasped. "Glorfindel," he said, looking into the blue gaze. "Do not do that."

"Why?"

"I am tired."

Glorfindel kissed Erestor's neck softly. "I am not asking you to do anything more tonight. Simply lay back and allow me to pleasure you."

"Glorfindel," he tried again, but his eyes fell shut as he was firmly pushed back against the mattress and his leggings pulled from his body. He spread his legs, his eyes still closed as Glorfindel kissed the inside of his thighs, tenderly nipping the flesh the closer he came to Erestor's desire.

Erestor tried to push the image of Glorfindel's back from his vision, instead focusing on the wet heat of his lover's tongue as it lapped at his scrotum. Glorfindel drew that slick muscle up Erestor's length, flicking the tip just on the underside of the head of Erestor's cock. The Noldo arched his hips up slightly, silently asking to be pleasured more fully.

Glorfindel obliged, as Erestor knew he would. In the long years of their relationship, Erestor had found Glorfindel's mouth was something to marvel at. The Elda could perform magic with his tongue, and the power of his throat could milk Erestor's seed from him within moments. Glorfindel suckled, licked and swallowed, and it did not take long before Erestor's fingers were knotted in the Elda's damp locks. He would thrust up into the tight, slick orifice, whispering his pleasure into the silence of the room.

He sought his release, his body tight and tense as Glorfindel's mouth worked him. His eyes shot open and he buried his shaft into the depths of Glorfindel's throat, his mouth open on a silent cry. Glorfindel moaned around the substantial length of flesh in his mouth, swallowing all that Erestor could offer him. Erestor panted, closing his eyes again, twitching when Glorfindel suckled the last of his fluid from him.

His golden lover crawled up the bed and placed a chaste kiss on Erestor's parted lips. "You always remind me of thick, sweet cream," Glorfindel murmured, laying his head on Erestor's chest.

Erestor brought his arm up, resting his hand on Glorfindel's back out of habit. Immediately, he felt the raised cuts on Glorfindel's skin and the guilt ate at him again, draining all contentment from him. His languid, sated haze lifted, replaced by the knowledge he had hurt his lover far more than he had ever intended. He sighed and kissed the top of Glorfindel's head, inhaling the floral scent that always followed the Elda. "I love you, Glorfindel," he said to those wet strands of silk.

"I love you, too, penen-vorn," came the slurred reply, and Erestor held Glorfindel closer to him.

Glorfindel's breathing deepened, but it was long past the mid-night hour when Erestor finally fell into troubled reverie.

TBC...

*****

Elvish/English:

Melethen - My love
Penen-vorn - My dark one