Royal Flush

Legolas let the thick colorless liquid wash over his tongue, savoring the potent cordial before allowing it to slide heatedly down his throat. Glorfindel had led him to a secluded alcove off the main dining hall, leaving the din of the banquet to the remaining guests. The young Prince had milemile to himself as they passed more populated vantage points before the golden Lord had settled on this shadowed and very private terrace. He knew Glorfindel had more on his mind than just pleasant scenery.

Legolas had oohed and awed over the view of the gardens, and to tell the truth they were perhaps more beautiful by night than by day. Tiny lanterns flickered along the maze of pathways like over sized fireflies in the night casting the walled labyrinth of green with a luminous aura. For the better part of an hour the two exchanged pleasantries, discussing all manner of subjects ranging from personal to politic. The Miruvor had loosened the young Prince's tongue and he spoke his mind quite readily, much to the seneschal's pleasure. A rosy flush pinked the youngling's cheeks and even in the darkened shadows Glorfindel found his gaze drawn to the mesmerizing youth.

Despite the warm glow however, the air was chill and crisp with the coming of winter tide and light breeze cooled the young princes liqueur warmed skin. The heat of Hall of Fire had eliminated the need of an over cloak within its confines so Legolas had been quite comfortable in his light jerkin and chamarre. Involuntarily the elfling shivered and Glorfindel, who had been silently admiring the Elf from the rail, shifted closer, the warmth of his body not entirely unwelcome.

"Yenearsira* has barely passed and already the air holds the promise of frost," stated the Mirkwood prince, his breath puffing clouds into the darkness.

"I would have thought that Vilya would keep the land more temperate," he continued absently rubbing at the gooseflesh that raised the hairs upon his arms.

"Ah yes," replied the seneschal coming to stand behind the prince, "It is natural for the earth to sleep for a time and rest. The cycles of death and rebirth are as old as Arda and since the time of the Awakening, it has always been so. Lord Elrond in his wisdom knows that to alter the natural order of things would be an affront to the elements themselves."

The golden lord let his slender hands travel the length of Legolas's arms, his body pressing light against the prince's back.

"It is best to let nature take it's course, do you not agree?"

Shifting slightly Glorfindel nuzzled the fragrant fall of the Elflings golden hair, his breath lightly caressing the youngling's ear. Legolas shivered again, and Glorfindel smiled against the flaxen froth, quite sure that the chill of the air had little to do with the reaction.

Legolas felt his body stir at the golden Elf's touch and tried to stifle the shudder that pricked more than just his chilled skin. Like a sword to a lodestone he felt the pull of the seneschal's sensual body as it called to his own. It would be so easy to give in to the warmth of the Lord's embrace, to surrender himself to Glorfindel's passion with wanton abandon. But Legolas knew that if he was to truly hold the Elf's attention, he could not submit to his desires so easily. He would have to make the seneschal crave him, make the Elven Lord's desire for him paramount.

Glorfindel's fingers wrapped lightly around Legolas' hands and slowly raised the Elf's arms to encircle his neck. Encouraged by the princes lack of resistance, the seneschal lowered his golden head and traced the delicate curve of the younglings ear with his tongue, grazing the sensitive tip with his teeth and delighting in the shuddering response.

"You tremble pen-eth," he purred, slipping his arms around Legolas' slim waist. "Let me warm you."

The princeling felt the heat of Glorfindel's mounting desire press firmly against the small of his back and knew that if he was going to gain control over the situation he would have to do so soon, lest he succumb to his traitorous body.

"I am far from cold," murmured Legolas, resting his head briefly against the Lord's shoulder.

"In fact," he continued, turning in Glorfindel's embrace, "I find the cool air quite stimulating."

Brazenly the young prince slid his hands beneath the soft confines of the seneschal's waistcoat and let them rest upon the cusp of the golden Lords hips. "Do you not agree?" he queried, his lips curling into a seductively mischievous grin as he gazed up at the Lord through long golden lashes.

"Most certainly indeed, "whispered Glorfindel eliciting a shiver of his own as Legolas's hands brushed over the swell of his backside.

Suddenly Legolas found himself pulled close, his back leaving the support of the rail and with a sharp intake of breath he searched the seneschals eyes in the darkness. Their pale hue had darkened to a passionate cobalt and for a moment the youngling found their depths so erotically hypnotic he wondered if he would be able to resist.

Glorfindel gazed deeply into Legolas' eyes before tipping the Elf's chin with the tips of his fingers. He recalled Erestor's cryptic warning and was well aware that this was no common Elf in his arms, but a highborn Prince, and it would serve him well to quell his enthusiasm before pressing his advance any further.

"May I kiss you, lier?\er?" The seneschal revealed his desire with out any pressure. It was much easier to err on the side of caution than to presume and set Mirkwood-Imladris relations back a thousand years.

"I would be quite disappointed if you did not," came the sultry reply from Legolas' parted lips.

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* WinSolsSolstice