Pen-Estel

Thank you for your feedback, Sugarplum... Not all your questions will be answered yet, but there will be a few more truths in this chapter. :)


Chapter Fourteen

Much later, when Legolas found himself away from Glorfindel again, he couldn’t help but think of his Lord, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“What is it?” Elrond asked, and Legolas glanced at the Lord almost guiltily, pulled suddenly from his daydream. The Lord was working at the desk in his room again, as he often did. He didn’t always tie Legolas up beforehand, for which Legolas was thankful, as it meant that in the evenings, he could often nap on the settee while the Lord of Imladris finished his work for the day.

This time however, he had been lazily letting his mind drift, and now he regretted it. Somehow it felt wrong to think of Glorfindel while he was here. Perhaps because he realised he shouldn’t enjoy Elrond’s company so much – but he couldn’t help it.

“Nothing, my Lord,” he said softly, and let his eyelashes lower seductively, suddenly feeling bold, as he often did in Elrond’s company. The games they indulged in weren’t at all the same, and Legolas had come to feel like Elrond’s lover more than his plaything. It wasn’t an unwelcome state of affairs. With a shock, he realised that the pregnancy was beginning to affect him in that way again, and yet he couldn’t help himself.

“Are you finished yet?” he asked, his voice husky and full of promise, and he laughed a little when Elrond nearly dropped the pen he was holding. It felt good to be the one who teased occasionally – he couldn’t deny it.

With a smile, Elrond put aside his work and shook his head. “It seems I have little choice. How can I work when I know your delicious body is waiting for me?” Legolas blushed, but still laughed as Elrond got up and walked over to him.
“I am sorry for distracting you,” Legolas said and looked teasingly up at Elrond through his half-lowered lids. Elrond shook his head at him, but he was smiling, and when he sat down next to Legolas on the settee, the youth went happily into his arms.

“It is your fault,” Legolas murmured into his hair. “How can I resist when you tempt me so by sitting over there? I know that you are working hard to keep the valley safe, but certainly you must agree that it is unreasonable to expect me to do nothing but dream about you from my lonely settee here...”

Elrond laughed again. “Soon you will want your own seat in my council, with a tongue as silver as that.”

“You are mistaken, my Lord...” Legolas purred and wrapped his arms around Elrond’s neck. “I do not want a cold stone seat... What I want is to be seated on your lap, until I feel hot and sweaty and cannot think anymore, because you have exhausted me so!”

“Is that what you want?” Elrond asked curiously. “Because I was just thinking that I should have tied you to my bed after all, temptation that you are, so that I could look at you while I work, and enjoy it to have you all willing and needy, writhing on my bed because already the thought of being impaled by me is enough to make you come...” His voice had dropped to a low purr, and Legolas moaned, abandoning his idea of dictating their loveplay today.

“Yes, my Lord,” he agreed breathlessly. “Maybe you should... I disturbed you when you wanted to work, and I know that this should be punished! Just please, do not make me wait – I need you so much now! I ache for you, my Lord; can you not feel already what being close to you is doing to me?”

With a soft moan he moved against Elrond, rubbing slowly against his thigh with his eyes falling closed as he waited for the Lord to take action.

He gasped when Elrond picked him up in his arms and placed him on his feet next to the bed. “Undress for me then, pen neth,” he said with a slow, teasing grin, “and I will see what I can do…”

Legolas sighed and deliberately levelled a sultry gaze at the Lord of Imladris before he began to follow Elrond’s instructions. Now, too late, he realised that he was going to expose what Glorfindel had put his body through earlier, but then he found he wasn’t too concerned about it. Elrond knew he belonged to Glorfindel anyway.

Slowly, he began to undress for the Lord, making a show of it, knowing it was making Elrond hot for him, and that made him feel strangely empowered. He stayed facing Elrond all the time, and only when he was done did he become nervous. He should have told Elrond first, he thought – but it was too late for that now.

“Turn around,” Elrond commanded, and Legolas closed his eyes to hide as he slowly displayed his entire body for Elrond to see. He had hoped that the soreness and the red would have calmed a little, but he could tell from Elrond’s sudden intake of breath that it wasn’t so. He waited. What for he couldn’t say. So many terrible scenarios came to his mind, the worst of which was to be sent away, and he realised with a shock that he didn’t want Elrond to send him away. It was a confusing feeling, because if he was sent away, didn’t that mean he could go back to Glorfindel? Why wouldn’t he be happy about that?

Clearing his throat, Elrond came to stand close behind him. He rested his hands on Legolas’ shoulders lightly. “I think you had better lie down so that I can take care of you, pen neth,” he said softly, and Legolas felt tears in his eyes. Not sad tears, but happy tears, because Elrond sounded concerned… concerned for him. But there was no need. He turned and faced Elrond again, only to throw his arms around the Lord’s neck and kiss him tenderly.

“But I am all right,” he replied with a gentle smile when he drew back. His smile faltered though when Elrond didn’t return it.

“Now, Legolas,” he ordered quietly, and with a sigh of defeat and a kind of hurt, deflated happiness, Legolas complied. He waited in silence while Elrond rummaged around in a cupboard and then came back to the bed to sit beside him. He lay face-down, and he couldn't help but cry out when Elrond began to touch him there. The Lord’s fingers were covered in some kind of salve that felt cold against his skin, and it made him jump.

It soon began to feel warm again, though, and Legolas started to be reminded of his punishment earlier. He trembled beneath Elrond’s tender ministrations, reliving every blow in his mind, and recalling how right it had felt. Why didn’t Elrond understand?

“What happened, pen neth?” Elrond asked as he worked, and Legolas bit back a moan as he tried to imagine putting what Glorfindel did with him into words.

“I was missing this morning, because I didn’t wake up early enough,” Legolas began, and Elrond made an encouraging sound. “And…” Here he felt a flush rise to his cheeks as he remembered how it had felt to know that Glorfindel was going to punish him. “I needed to be reminded that I –” He gasped in shock when Elrond spread more of the cold balm onto his skin. “I am his,” he managed to finish at last. But it seemed that wasn’t enough.

“And what do you think, Legolas? I can hear Glorfindel’s words – but where are yours? What do you need?” Legolas licked his lips, willing Elrond to understand.

“I wanted it,” he admitted, his mouth dry, barely drawing in enough breath to speak. “I wanted him to punish me, so that I won’t forget again.” He paused, and Elrond waited. “I liked it.” It was the most difficult admission he had ever had to make. Difficult because he wasn’t with Glorfindel now, but with Elrond, and he couldn’t help thinking that it sounded all wrong. But it wasn’t! It was the truth!

“I understand, pen neth,” Elrond said at last, and Legolas relaxed suddenly, only then realising he had been tense with expectation, fearing that Elrond would disbelieve him – or worse – laugh. Neither of those things happened, and he felt another rush of something that was almost love towards the Lord. It wasn’t the same as what he felt for Glorfindel by any stretch of the imagination, but it felt good, and he smiled even though Elrond couldn’t see it.

“Thank you,” he said softly as Elrond continued to take care of his body in a thoughtful silence.

For a while longer, Elrond carefully rubbed the ointment into his skin, and Legolas sighed, relaxing completely. It felt good – not just to have his burning skin cared for, but also the certainty that he could trust Elrond completely, that – for once – he did not need to feel ashamed for who he was, and for what was being done to him. Elrond understood, and apparently accepted, and for that alone Legolas was glad.

“So when you say that he punishes you...” Elrond at last began, his hands now resting motionless on Legolas’ bottom, “do you mean that he used his hands?” Once again the Lord began to curiously move his fingers over the sore skin, and Legolas suddenly felt reminded of Glorfindel, who had touched him so afterwards in obvious enjoyment of the marks he had left.

“No,” Legolas admitted miserably, realising that it was no use lying to a healer who had probably already seen that these marks were not left by a hand alone. “I had to... He used his brush first, my Lord.”

Elrond smiled knowingly when the youth stopped mid-sentence. “He made you get the brush for him then... He always liked his games. He made you crawl for him, did he?”

“Yes...” Legolas admitted, feeling strangely uncomfortable now. He had never felt that way before around Elrond, apart from maybe the beginning, but now – resting on the bed face-down with Elrond’s hand heavy on his punished bottom – he felt the same strange mix of excitement and fear he had so far only known in Glorfindel’s presence.

“Please, my Lord-“ he began, planning to beg Elrond to stop his interrogation, but he was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

“No, Legolas,” Elrond said sternly, giving Legolas’ buttocks a light slap as if to warn him, and the youth was shocked into silence when the slap not only brought new pain, but also a wave of arousal that made him harden instantly.

“I asked you a question, Legolas, and you will answer me! Do you understand?”

Another light slap, and Legolas whimpered, wanting to rub against the sheets for friction but too scared to displease Elrond now. “Yes, my Lord! I am sorry!” he gasped, holding still even when Elrond’s hands forced his thighs apart wider, so that the Lord could see – and punish, if he so chose – the still red skin of his inner thighs as well.

“You are right, he made me bring him the brush on my hands and knees... holding it in my mouth,” he added, no longer caring how embarrassing this memory was, if only it would please the Lord.

Elrond chuckled, and Legolas whimpered at the sound. “Yes, I can see that...” he said ominously. “You would look good like that.” He continued to caress the reddened skin gently, and Legolas didn’t dare to protest, feeling a kind of breathless, excited fear at the way Elrond was treating him now.

“And then?” Elrond demanded, sounding almost impatient so that Legolas flinched. Legolas thought quickly, remembering the punishment, and what had come after… and he moaned.

“Then he punished me, my Lord.” Elrond said nothing, and Legolas carried on, not wanting to displease Elrond by divulging any less that the whole truth. “At first with the brush, and then with his hand, until I was crying.” His face burned in embarrassment as he said all this, but he also remembered how it had felt to have Glorfindel mark him again, and he moved against the sheets fretfully as Elrond’s hand continued to stroke his skin.

“But he didn’t restrain you?” Elrond asked, as if in interest, and Legolas bit his lip.

“No, my Lord. Although he said he might… but I couldn’t ask, and so he didn’t.” Although he couldn’t see the Lord of Imladris, he could perfectly envisage Elrond’s nod. Hearing a rustle of material, he fought the urge to look around, and then he moaned when he felt Elrond pull his hands behind his back to restrain him by tying his wrists together. It drove him to near madness, and he began to rub against the sheets beneath him more forcefully, desperate for the friction to ease the arousal he felt.

One large hand came to rest on his lower back, keeping him still, while the other… Legolas began to whine softly when a flurry of soft slaps landed on his backside. “And?” Elrond demanded as he continued.

“And after that he claimed me, my Lord,” Legolas said desperately, twisting his wrists to escape, driven further into lust when he found that it was impossible. “And it hurt,” he admitted, writhing to try and either get away from the somehow teasing blows, or to make them fall harder, and make him forget his desire. “But it felt so good to be his…” Legolas sighed softly then, carried away by his own words as he remembered how it felt to have Glorfindel inside him, taking pleasure from him.

“I understand, pen neth,” Elrond said again, finally stopping with the punishment, making Legolas relax. “Then?” The change from gentle to stern was so sudden that Legolas realised Elrond wasn’t really angry, and that this was yet another kind of game. He swallowed, remembering how Glorfindel had nursed from him.

“Ai, please, my Lord! Don’t make me tell you,” he begged helplessly, seriously, only to find that his pleading earned him a few sharp slaps from Elrond’s hand. He whimpered and buried his face in the pillows.

“You will tell me what I want to know, Legolas!” he said sharply.

“Yes, my Lord! I am sorry! Please!” he gasped as the blows continued to fall. They were harder this time, and he felt tears in his eyes, certain that he would disobey no longer. It didn’t even occur to him that he could lie. When it stopped, he began speaking immediately.

“After he had taken his pleasure from me, he turned me over onto my back, and then he…” Legolas sobbed as he was forced to recount what Glorfindel did with him, but at the same time he was still so aroused. He wanted to beg Elrond. What for he didn’t know. He gulped, realising he had stopped speaking. “He…” Legolas moaned and struggled, but it was no use. “He drank my milk, my Lord.” He waited breathlessly, able to sense Elrond’s shock even though he said nothing. Suddenly he was flipped over onto his back, and he blushed in humiliation when he knew that Elrond would see just how aroused he was. But the Lord wasn’t looking at his arousal. Instead, Elrond’s eyes moved down to his chest, and he reached out a hand to touch.

“He drank…?” Elrond asked faintly, astonished. Silent in mortification, Legolas could only nod in answer. One of the Lord’s fingers brushed softly against a nipple, sending a shock of heat through his body that he felt in his groin, and he whimpered, closing his eyes.

“And did you enjoy that too?” Elrond demanded, merciless in his questioning, so that Legolas struggled against the bonds again, certain that if he were free he would run from the room. But he wasn’t free, and so he had to answer.

“Yes,” he admitted helplessly, opening his eyes, only to groan when he saw that Elrond still required a fuller answer. “It is unlike anything else, my Lord,” he said, and moaned helplessly as he remembered the intense feeling.

Elrond was still looking surprised, but his fingers kept hovering over the swollen nipple that now seemed to tighten even more.

Legolas blushed an even brighter red when he realised that for the first time he had managed to shock Elrond with what happened between Glorfindel and him. But just when this realisation was about to displace the arousal Elrond’s dominance had brought him, Elrond suddenly lowered his head and took one of Legolas’ nipples into his mouth.

Legolas arched up with a cry, any thought of Glorfindel immediately forgotten at the intense feeling of his milk being taken from him. He did not know whether to try and pull away from it, or to push his chest further out towards Elrond, but that decision was taken from him when Elrond drew back after only a short moment.

“I see,” Elrond said slowly, licking over his lips, and Legolas moaned deeply when he realised that his Lord was tasting him.

“You really are sweet,” the Lord then continued with a smile, and when he lowered his head again, Legolas whimpered in dismay. Slowly, Elrond’s tongue circled his nipple, teasing the sensitive nub of flesh until Legolas’ was moaning continually. He was once again trying to fight his bonds – but not to run away this time. More than anything Legolas wanted to bury his hands in Elrond’s hair, to keep his head in place and end the torment...

“Please!” he finally sobbed, “Oh please!”

Elrond smiled slowly when he looked up, licking over his lips again to catch a last taste of the sweet liquid. “Please what, Legolas?” he asked, raising a brow, and Legolas sobbed again when he realised that Elrond would make him ask for it.

“Oh, don’t tease me! It hurts!” he whimpered, again tugging ineffectually at his bonds, groaning with need when they did not give. “Please...” he then whispered and closed his eyes, blushing with shame and desire, “please... take it from me.”

“You only had to ask, Legolas,” Elrond said, and Legolas could hear the amused satisfaction in his voice. He whimpered again, trying to push his chest up, towards Elrond, and although he realised in horror that the Lord would probably keep taking advantage of him this way in the future, he also knew that he had never been so aroused before.

Elrond bent his head once more, and Legolas closed his eyes as he felt the pulling begin again. This time the Lord took more, and as it continued, Legolas felt everything. He cried in pleasure at the warm sensation of Elrond’s tongue and lips, moving rhythmically against his nipple, only to find when he tried to move that his hands were tied securely behind his back reminding him of his helplessness. He struggled anyway, and as he did he felt the heated skin of his bottom rub against the sheets. He felt a familiar tightening in his lower body, and though he tried to hold it back, he couldn’t stop it, and he came suddenly as Elrond continued to suckle from him.

At that Elrond looked up again, and laughed a little at Legolas’ flushed expression. “Please, my Lord,” Legolas begged again, more weakly, struggling against the bonds once more. He closed his eyes when Elrond moved away from him, but then opened them when he wasn’t set free. Watching in misery, Legolas groaned when Elrond simply sat behind his desk again.

“Shh, Legolas!” Elrond said sharply, without looking up. “Unless you want to give me a reason to punish you when I have done here.” Legolas opened his eyes wide, but submitted to the command, swallowing the words he had been about to use to plead the Lord to untie him. It seemed forever to him, that he lay on the bed while Elrond worked. Every now and again, he would catch the Lord looking at him speculatively before bending to his work again, and in silence he would plead with his eyes and his body for Elrond to come over to him and let him go. As the time passed, he began to wish the Lord would come and end it, for he felt himself aroused again at his helplessness, and he writhed on the bed in silence.

Closing his eyes to block it all out, he attempted to rest, but even then he found he couldn’t help replaying it all in his mind, and he froze when he heard a soft moan fall from his lips. Footsteps sounded on the carpet and though he had his eyes closed, from the change in light, Legolas knew that Elrond stood over him. He swallowed nervously. “I am sorry, my Lord,” he breathed in regret.

“Legolas,” Elrond said warmly. “You are beautiful!” And at last he felt the Lord’s hands reach to untie him, and he sobbed in relief, resting weakly against Elrond’s knee where he leaned on the bed. At last he opened his eyes, and moved back, rubbing his wrists, but they didn’t really hurt. His glance fell to the bed next to him, and he had to bite back another moan.

On the bed lay a piece of parchment. It was one of the finest line drawings Legolas had ever seen. Better even than the pictures in some of the books he had perused in the great library. But the subject matter was not a place – it was a person. Him, he realised with a shock. Not only was it him, but the drawing was so skilfully executed it caught his feverish desire perfectly, until Legolas was sure that the him in the picture must move.

He looked up again to find Elrond before him, and he remembered Glorfindel’s joke about having a portrait painted of him. They kissed, and Legolas gave as much to the kiss as Elrond did – the game of dominance and submission seemingly over for now. Elrond claimed him then, and he gave as much to the Lord as he could, thankful for the chance to please him. To have Elrond find release in him was wonderful, and he could let go in a way he really couldn’t with Glorfindel. “Thank you, my Lord,” he said softly against Elrond’s lips when they lay together afterwards, and felt the Lord smile in answer.

After that, they spent a quiet evening together. Elrond took him to the great hall for a while, so that they could listen to the music there. Two elves captivated him; one who played a flute, and the other a harp. The mixture of the two instruments was ethereal, and so peaceful that Legolas thought this music must even make Erestor smile. Later, they went back to the Lord’s rooms, where Elrond showed him a lovingly drawn sketch of Celebrian in the same bed, made when she was sleeping, pregnant with the twins.

The sight of that made him touch his own belly, wondering when the changes would become obvious, and at that Elrond looked troubled, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he pulled Legolas into his arms, and they rested together easily in contemplation until they both fell asleep.

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It was not unusual at all for Legolas to be woken by an insistent hardness sliding along the cleft of his buttocks. Actually, after so many months with Glorfindel that was by now something he was used to, had even come to expect. And it was not only Glorfindel, after all, even Elrond usually woke him in that way.

Legolas smiled when he thought about how the two of them would probably lay the fault for that on him and the allure of his body. He did not mind – it was good to know that they thought him beautiful, that they desired him, and after all he always got to enjoy it as well. Yes, there were far worse ways of being woken. Yet still, he was tired, and he really did not want to be awake just yet, Legolas thought and rolled away from the insatiable Lord with a frustrated groan.

For a moment, there was silence, and when nothing else happened Legolas was almost fully returned to reverie, until he suddenly felt the mattress move as the body next to him shifted. Now he groaned with frustrated annoyance when he was pulled back against Elrond’s warm, aroused body, and shook his head once as if to chase off a fly.

“Stop that,” Legolas complained, holding on to the dreams he still wanted to walk before he woke. “I’m tired, and you well know it, as it is all your fault... You can wake me in an hour, if you have to.”

He could feel Elrond smile against his neck, and sighed once, and then he was once again lost in reverie. He did not know how long he was allowed to sleep this time, but he knew that he was still tired the next time he woke. Elrond had apparently not yet given up on rousing him, as Legolas could still feel him hot and hard against his thigh, but even the thought of the pleasure the Lord could give him was not enough incentive to fully wake.

“I am still dreaming…“ he sighed, “do not wake me, my Lord.” Again there was silence answering him, but while his eyes were still glazed over with dreams, he was closer to waking now. “I like how you make me feel,” he then dreamily whispered, languidly stretching in Elrond’s embrace, intending to walk this path between dreams and wakefulness for some more time. “I did not know that kindness would feel so good. Thank you for teaching me, my Lord.”

Again there was a long stretch of silence, and Legolas could have fallen deeper into his dreams again; he could not say how much time had passed, if any had, when he was next roused to speak.

“Why did you hurt me, that one night?” he whispered in an even softer voice, finally allowing himself to ask the one question he had not dared to ask before. But he was still asleep, and it did not seem real, and so this time he was not afraid of the answer – did not even think of an answer. He just knew that he needed to ask, that in his dream, he had to acknowledge how that had hurt him, because he would never dare to ask such a question when awake.

“It might never have been love, but I had come to care for you... I had trusted you then. I had never been able to trust before, because they had all hurt me... But I trusted you, Elrond. I wanted you to care for me...” His voice trailed off again and he sighed, feeling as though a burden had been removed from him.

Then he shivered violently, as his dream blossomed and he once again lived through parts of that night. “Glorfindel!” he cried out his Lord’s name as once more he felt the terrible pain, the punishment he had earned for being with Elrond. “I am sorry,” he whimpered. “So sorry… please!” The dream receded then when he felt Elrond’s strong arms tighten their grip on him, as if to hold him close, and a mouth kissed the back of his neck. Still, as fickle and illusory as his dreams were, they gave him some measure of truth, and he spoke to the Glorfindel in his dreams now, just as honestly as he had spoken to Elrond, hiding nothing from himself.

“I never meant to hurt you, my Lord,” he said longingly, wishing to change how it had played out. “You must believe me… I would rather die than that.” But now the tenor of the feelings changed and he sighed again, stretching his neck against Elrond’s shoulder.

“And you knew,” he said to Elrond, still hurting. “All the time you knew. And if you could not care for me, could you not care for the life inside me? How could you know I would survive it?” he accused softly. “I did not know myself… not really.”

The arms around him let him go, and he sank down to the bed again, and even further still, back into deep reverie where there were no answers, but there was at least peace.

When he awoke he stretched in the bed, and was surprised to find himself alone. He sat up curiously and looked around him. Glorfindel’s rooms… he remembered getting up and coming here. It was so early as to have been dark, but now there was a golden light over everything… not quite day, but nearly there. Where was Glorfindel?

Looking around, he gasped when he saw his Lord sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. “My Lord?” he asked timidly, receiving no response. Glorfindel was faced away from him, and Legolas got up uncertainly to walk over to where his Lord was.

“What is it?” he asked in alarm, when he saw the set of Glorfindel’s face. As if distracted from a nightmare, Glorfindel suddenly looked at him, and for a moment Legolas didn’t think it would happen. But then Glorfindel did smile, and opened his arms, and Legolas sat on his lap with a happy sigh. “Are you all right, my Lord?” he asked, pressing his lips to Glorfindel’s neck. “It is strange to wake without you.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel replied, but Legolas didn’t think he sounded all right. “It is almost nothing, roch neth,” the Lord reassured him, pulling him close. “I find my thoughts heavy this morning, that is all.”

“Then let me lighten them,” Legolas said, tilting his face up so that Glorfindel would claim his lips. When his Lord kissed him, he surrendered to it gracefully, smiling into the kiss when Glorfindel growled possessively and stood up with him to carry him back to the bed.

“This is how your mornings should begin, my Lord,“ he said with a happy smile once he was resting on the bed in Glorfindel’s arms. “Certainly you have earned yourself this pleasure with all the hard work you do.”

Glorfindel only smiled and did not react to Legolas’ teasing tone otherwise, which astonished the youth. Glorfindel might not be Elrond, but he had always welcomed at least a modicum of playfulness, especially when it was obvious that Legolas was offering himself to him.

Slowly, Legolas raised his hands to Glorfindel’s head, stroking the famous golden locks he had come to love so much. “I am all yours, my Lord,” he whispered with an inviting smile. “My body is yours, to play with as you please.”

Glorfindel answered his smile now with one of his own, although his expression was far hungrier. “And I will, Legolas, I will...” he promised with another growl, his pensive mood all but forgotten as he claimed Legolas’ mouth for a deep kiss. At the same time, his knees pushed Legolas’ thighs apart and then, without further warning, he sheathed himself with one hard thrust, wasting no time with further preparations.

Legolas cried out, but at the same time he wrapped his arms and legs around his Lord, wanting him close. Legolas had prepared himself before coming to Glorfindel’s room like every morning, but it still hurt to be taken so suddenly.

He moaned with abandon at the delicious roughness of it, although the pain had made him spill a few tears. Yet still, despite the pain, he found himself enjoying this, because with only the small amount of lubrication he had applied earlier, he could now truly experience just how large Glorfindel was. Every time his Lord moved, Legolas groaned at the pain of being stretched so wide open, of being breached so deeply, and yet he loved every moment of it. To surrender to Glorfindel like this, to have it be painful in addition to the pleasure, made him feel his submission like never before... It made it feel like he was giving a gift to his Lord, and he cherished every moment of it because for once, there was something he could give to show his love.

Glorfindel’s hands cradled his face, the strong fingers not allowing him to turn away, and when the Lord snapped his hips forward again, making Legolas fear he would break, he closed his eyes and cried out in pain and pleasure.

“Keep your eyes open,” Glorfindel commanded, and Legolas obeyed immediately, staring deep into his Lord’s eyes while he felt Glorfindel claiming him so thoroughly. It was so personal, so demanding, to let Glorfindel see what it was doing to him, and he moaned but he didn’t look away. He felt pinned by the way Glorfindel stared at him, and when he heard the Lord growl possessively as he thrust forwards again, Legolas began to whimper.

“I’m yours! I’m yours!” he repeated over and over, until Glorfindel stilled within him, so deep that Legolas couldn’t help moaning softly. He felt his muscles clench around Glorfindel automatically, and the answering pulse of Glorfindel’s shaft inside him. When the Lord moved again, it wasn’t as violent or rough. Instead, it was almost tender, and now although Glorfindel still held his face, Legolas found he was in the opposite position. As he watched, Glorfindel’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned.

“Legolas,” he cried out softly, sounding so desperate and lost that Legolas couldn’t breathe. Glorfindel was beautiful, and all he wanted was to say it. He licked his lips, still staring upwards at his warrior lover lost in passion. His hands crept from their place around Glorfindel’s neck to tenderly stroke his cheeks, and when the Lord opened his eyes, Legolas bit his lip.

The blue of his eyes had darkened so much that they reminded him of the sea instead of the sky. Fathomless. And now Glorfindel moved again, as they looked at each other, so slowly and carefully that Legolas’ breath hitched. Glorfindel’s too. But then he spoke.

“I need you,” he whispered, moving in that same delicate, wonderful way so that Legolas almost cried in pleasure. It was more than physical. He felt like he would do anything if only this would never stop. This is how it should be, he thought feverishly, all the time. So close, so intimate… Never leave me.

But then, with a groan Glorfindel became rougher again, and Legolas opened himself completely to it, allowing the Lord to be as violent as he wished, crying a little by the time he felt Glorfindel reach completion. He followed where his master led him, where his love led him, crying out Glorfindel’s name as he jerked and tightened beneath him.

When they lay together afterwards, Legolas sighed happily. Again, Glorfindel seemed distant somehow, and he wanted to make the Lord feel better, whatever was troubling him. But more than that, he wanted to express his feelings in words, so that they would both know without a doubt. I love you. He thought them first, and then smiled a little nervously at the Lord.

“My Lord, I have to tell you…” he began timidly, hoping that Glorfindel would be happy to hear his confession, but to his surprise Glorfindel suddenly kissed him deeply. So overwhelmingly that Legolas almost forgot what he was going to say. When it was over he pulled in a shaky breath.

“Don’t!” Glorfindel commanded, pressing a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Say nothing, Legolas. Only rest with me.” His orders were so self-assured that Legolas couldn’t disobey, but it didn’t hurt him. He would just have to say it another time, when Glorfindel wasn’t expecting it. He curled up happily in Glorfindel’s arms, and they dozed together for half an hour or so before Gîl demanded Legolas’ attention.

For the rest of the day, Glorfindel was strangely pensive, although he was always quick to smile at Legolas whenever the youth sought to distract him. And after the happiness Legolas had known in his arms that morning, he was not too concerned - he had felt in those moments just how much Glorfindel cared for him, and he knew that he would never forget it again.

And certainly his Lord had to know the truth as well - that he loved him. Legolas smiled dreamily when he thought of how Glorfindel had admitted that he needed him, and a part of him could not help but to hope that today would be the day when Glorfindel would not send him back to Elrond.

He had loved everything Elrond had done to him so far - more than loved it, if he thought of the last night, and he blushed. But even though he would miss Elrond, not just for the joy he had found in his bed, but for his quiet companionship, his friendship - he knew that he would give it all up for his Lord... for Glorfindel's love.