Cuil Eden
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
77
Views:
65,745
Reviews:
290
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
77
Views:
65,745
Reviews:
290
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 33
Title: Cuil Eden
Part: 33/?
Rating: NC-17
Series: Sequel to Anestel and Ethuil'waew
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, d/s
Disclaimer: All the pretty elves belong to Tolkien, I'm just playing with them and will give them back afterwards.
Betaed by Calenharn Elflover, thanks!! :)
--------------------
33
Glorfindel gave Legolas a thoughtful look. The young Sinda still knelt next to the small bed where their son was now slumbering, watching him with a pensive smile. At the moment, Legolas seemed at peace, but Glorfindel wondered whether that was truly the case. Certainly Legolas had been hurt by his brother’s words, hurt more than even the reassuring words of the Lady of Light were able to heal.
Strangely enough, Glorfindel found himself no longer angry at Galuron – at the moment, his thoughts were fully occupied by Legolas, and he felt a strange sadness taking hold of his heart. When had this happened, he wondered? When had his feelings changed so much? When had the slave he had loved to hurt become so dear to him that he knew he would protect him with all his strength?
No, he was asking the wrong questions. If he were honest – and the time to lie to himself had passed long ago – he would admit that Legolas meant more to him than he would ever have been able to imagine that day he first saw him. Galadriel had seen that as well – why else would she have insinuated that their meeting had been preordained, a reward for his sacrifice in defending Gondolin? Glorfindel might shy away from the thought that his hurting Legolas had all been a part of some large plan, yet he knew better than to disavow the Lady’s words.
But now was not the time for thoughts such as these. Later maybe, he would share his thoughts with Celeborn, who was called ‘the Wise’ not without reason. Now it was time to distract Legolas from his own thoughts. His brother’s words had wounded him, that much was obvious, but instead of allowing the youth to brood and let the bitterness in him fester, it was time for a different approach.
"Let him sleep,“ Glorfindel said gently. He bent down to press a loving kiss to Gîlríon’s brow before he straightened again, taking Legolas’ hand to pull him back towards their own bed. “He needs his rest – and I think we can make good use of a quiet hour. Unless you would rather wait until tonight, or maybe tomorrow, to have me grant your wish?”
When Legolas flushed and shook his head, Glorfindel chuckled, then let go of his hand as he sat down on the bed, giving Legolas a slow smile. “Come here,” he ordered and patted the space next to him, indicating for the youth to join him on the bed.
Legolas looked at him, confused that for once he would not be told to strip first, as Glorfindel usually enjoyed it to see him slowly baring his naked body for his lord’s pleasure. But apparantly this was not what Glorfindel wanted today, and Legolas knew better than to disobey – especially when he was about to be given a reward.
“Come,” Glorfindel repeated and then pulled Legolas down onto the bed, so that they were resting next to each other. With a sigh, Glorfindel buried his face in Legolas’ hair and breathed in deeply. In turn, the prince’s heart began to beat hard and fast in his chest at the sudden closeness. It was overwhelming, always – no matter how many times he lay beneath his lord, feeling his strong body, breathing his scent, it overcame him like potent wine and rendered him incapable of thought while his body yearned for Glorfindel’s touch.
“Tell me... are you aching for me already?” Glorfindel breathed, and Legolas flushed even before his lord’s fingers were pressing against the fabric that covered his hardened flesh.
“Yes, I ache,” Legolas whispered with a soft, plaintive moan while his length was being skillfully massaged. “Please... do not tease me!”
“Do not fear.” Glorfindel smiled and then moved to cover Legolas’ lips with his own, kissing him so sweetly and tenderly that Legolas feared his heart would burst from the ache. For a moment he wondered if gentleness was not worse – to be treated with such affection by the one who should be his enemy, while his own brother hated him. But then Glorfindel tugged open the lacing of his leggings, and the feel of the warm, strong fingers right against his most sensitive parts made him forget his thoughts as he moaned again.
“Beautiful...” Glorfindel breathed against his arched throat, then lapped at the expanse of pale skin to taste him, humming in approval of the enticing mixture of sweet oil and the tang of sweat. “I will exhaust you today, my sweet one – I will have you ride me until you are as sweaty as after a round of sparring, and you will not be allowed release until your thighs and flanks tremble with exhaustion, like a horse ridden nearly to death. And even then...” He paused, cherishing how Legolas’ breath had quickened and his lips were parted, glistening wetly and beckoning to be used. “Yes, and even then I will not allow you to come until you beg me for it, beg and plead until I finally grant you your release. And you, my wanton little colt, you will come without a single touch from me, moaning and trembling as you find your pleasure solely from impaling yourself on me.”
By now Legolas was whimpering. He had grown impossibly harder in Glorfindel’s warm palm, and his eyes were soft and dark with hunger. “Yes, lord,” he whispered, “yes, please!”
Glorfindel gave him another lazy smile, well pleased with his reaction. “Then undress, if you want that, and take off my clothes as well!”
With only the softest, yearning sigh to betray his need, Legolas stood and took off his clothes, as his lord had commanded. Then, he began with the one task that never failed to move him – unclothing the Lord of the Golden Flower. Truly, the Elda was magnificent – and compared to himself, like a noble charger next to a starved peasant’s pony, Legolas could not help to think. When clothed in his blue tunic and golden armor, Glorfindel was a vision to behold, all grace and deadly power, coupled with the otherwordly glow of his fëa and the bright eyes of one who had dwelt in the Halls of Mandos and been granted the grace of rebirth.
Yet this Glorfindel was even more intimidating – the Glorfindel only a very few were allowed to see. Gloriously naked, golden skin stretching over taut muscles, golden locks flowing freely onto the pillow, and between his legs, his swollen member, hard and dark with blood, and huge...
Legolas flushed when he realized that he had been staring at his lord, and bowed his head to escape the amused look he knew he had earned himself. Instead, he rested his hand on Glorfindel’s chest, fingers splayed wide, to feel the powerful muscles bulge beneath him. “Like one of the Valar,” he whispered in awe, keeping his eyes averted in a sudden spell of shyness. But it was the truth – if only his brother saw Glorfindel like this, he certainly would no longer be able to find fault with Legolas! It was impossible not to surrender to the lord, to not feel awed by his ancient power and the natural mastery he exuded...
“Then worship me, my beauty,” Glorfindel said and raised Legolas’ chin so that their eyes finally met. “Worship me, in the way you have begged for. There is, after all, no one better suited to the task than the most beautiful prince of the Mortal Lands, the one whose soul shines so brightly with his innocence and sweetness...”
Nay, naïveté and weakness, if you were to ask my brother, Legolas could not help but think. Yet the lord's words had touched him. “You flatter me,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at both endearment and praise, although his eyes shone with a shy pleasure.
“’’tis no flattery!“ Glorfindel disagreed, his smile widening as he openly appraised the bared body of the prince, allowing his eyes to linger for a moment on the slender column of flesh that arched out from the Sinda’s body. “No, you are truly a beauteous vision to behold! But even more than this, I want to behold you trembling above me, crying out your pleasure.”
“Your command is my pleasure, oh lord,” Legolas said and delighted in the chuckle this repartee produced.
“Less words, more action now, roch neth,” Glorfindel then said in a husky purr, sprawling back among the many cushions in an obvious invitation for Legolas to take the initiative.
And by now, Legolas was aroused enough to simply crawl over to his lord and impale himself – if it were not for the small part of him that was not yet so far gone as to not be embarrassed to death by such an action. No, he would have to start in another way... and he knew a way that had always been Glorfindel’s favorite.
Slowly, he moved in between Glorfindel’s spread legs, taking care to keep his movements graceful and making certain that his long hair was dragging over Glorfindel’s thighs, teasing the sensitive skin in the most delicious way. When this produced a soft sigh of obvious enjoyment, he grew more daring and actually allowed his hair to fall forward so that the soft, silky mass pooled around Glorfindel’s hardened length. This caress now produced a groan, and Legolas smiled. “Do I please you, lord?” he asked coyly, and found his answer in a hand that wrapped around his hair and tugged him down in an unmistakable command. Legolas laughed softly, more than content with the reaction, and then bent to his task, teasing the head of Glorfindel’s erection with kittenish laps of his tongue until his lord’s moans grew in volume, and he could taste that first tang of arousal on his tongue.
Already Legolas had prepared himself with oil, as his lord asked him to do every day, but for good measure he took Glorfindel’s shaft deep into his mouth to get him slick with saliva, before he finally let him slip out again. Then he looked up, searching Glorfindel’s face for any sign that his action might have displeased. This was the first time he could remember that he was allowed to take control like this in bed – even if it was only control over his own submission – and although he knew that Glorfindel would not hesitate to tell him if he did wrong, he still felt a light sense of insecurity.
But Glorfindel did not look displeased at all. Instead, he was giving him a hungry look from half-closed eyes, and when Legolas failed to act, uttered an impatient sigh. “Well?” he asked huskily. “Will you not take your reward, my prince?”
“Certainly, my lord,” Legolas answered, his voice breathy with excitement as he positioned himself and then, finally, slowly sank down. The air escaped his lungs in a long, drawn-out moan; the pleasure of being invaded in such a way was too keen to be suffered silently. There was pain as well – Glorfindel was just too large for it to not hurt without more preparation, and the welts on his skin still felt uncomfortably sore. But the pain paled at the sensation of being filled so completely... of seeing his lord close his eyes and groan in pleasure.
“Oh, Valar!” Legolas breathed when he was at last seated on Glorfindel’s thighs, his back arched and his head thrown back so that his hair once again teased over Glorfindel’s skin. He was filled, taken, helpless with pleasure and he trembled just like Glorfindel had foretold he would, his heart beating impossibly fast as his body, his soul even were bared, possessed in this most intimate way.
This seemed to be so much more than could be described by the mere word "pleasure" - this felt as if it would rend his fëa apart if it ended, and yet would lead to the same gruesome close if they did not finish it soon, in a burst of ecstasy so bright it would take away their breath.
“Ai, Elbereth!” Legolas whimpered, already moving and growing more and more undone each time Glorfindel’s shaft brushed against that well-known place deep inside him. There was nothing that could stop him now - no command or threat of punishment, not even if he were told that their coupling would produce another child. Not now, not when it felt like he would die without the painful intensity of being taken by Glorfindel, stretched, opened, being made to surrender to the one who had once and for all proven that he was lord not only of his body, but of his fëa as well.
Glorfindel’s name was no more than a sob on his lips by the time he came, shaking and clenching around Glorfindel who found his pleasure at the same time. Long moments passed, and by the time conscious thought returned to Legolas, he was resting on top of Glorfindel, safely ensconced in his arms with their lips almost touching, sharing each other’s breath.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Legolas finally sighed, although he still felt too exhausted to move. “I did not wait for your command... I am sorry! But... it just was too much...”
Glorfindel chuckled softly. “My poor little prince. I fear that this transgression will have to be punished, do you not agree?”
“Yes, lord,” Legolas muttered, keeping his eyes averted.
“It will wait until tomorrow morning, though. I think it might please me to redraw those red lines on your bottom – you heal too fast for my decorations, roch neth.”
Legolas sighed in weary acceptance, and finally looked up to meet his lord’s gaze, reassured by that fact that there was no trace of anger or disappointment to be found in his voice. “As you wish, my lord.”
Glorfindel’s eyes were calm and peaceful, and he pressed a tender kiss to Legolas’ brow. “Rest, dear one... rest for now,” he whispered, and Legolas nodded. Soon they would have to get up again and clean themselves, but for now he was content to rest like this, with the scent of their lovemaking still heavy in the air and their sweat slowly drying on their skin.
------------------------
roch neth - colt
fëa - soul/spirit
------------------------
Part: 33/?
Rating: NC-17
Series: Sequel to Anestel and Ethuil'waew
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, d/s
Disclaimer: All the pretty elves belong to Tolkien, I'm just playing with them and will give them back afterwards.
Betaed by Calenharn Elflover, thanks!! :)
--------------------
33
Glorfindel gave Legolas a thoughtful look. The young Sinda still knelt next to the small bed where their son was now slumbering, watching him with a pensive smile. At the moment, Legolas seemed at peace, but Glorfindel wondered whether that was truly the case. Certainly Legolas had been hurt by his brother’s words, hurt more than even the reassuring words of the Lady of Light were able to heal.
Strangely enough, Glorfindel found himself no longer angry at Galuron – at the moment, his thoughts were fully occupied by Legolas, and he felt a strange sadness taking hold of his heart. When had this happened, he wondered? When had his feelings changed so much? When had the slave he had loved to hurt become so dear to him that he knew he would protect him with all his strength?
No, he was asking the wrong questions. If he were honest – and the time to lie to himself had passed long ago – he would admit that Legolas meant more to him than he would ever have been able to imagine that day he first saw him. Galadriel had seen that as well – why else would she have insinuated that their meeting had been preordained, a reward for his sacrifice in defending Gondolin? Glorfindel might shy away from the thought that his hurting Legolas had all been a part of some large plan, yet he knew better than to disavow the Lady’s words.
But now was not the time for thoughts such as these. Later maybe, he would share his thoughts with Celeborn, who was called ‘the Wise’ not without reason. Now it was time to distract Legolas from his own thoughts. His brother’s words had wounded him, that much was obvious, but instead of allowing the youth to brood and let the bitterness in him fester, it was time for a different approach.
"Let him sleep,“ Glorfindel said gently. He bent down to press a loving kiss to Gîlríon’s brow before he straightened again, taking Legolas’ hand to pull him back towards their own bed. “He needs his rest – and I think we can make good use of a quiet hour. Unless you would rather wait until tonight, or maybe tomorrow, to have me grant your wish?”
When Legolas flushed and shook his head, Glorfindel chuckled, then let go of his hand as he sat down on the bed, giving Legolas a slow smile. “Come here,” he ordered and patted the space next to him, indicating for the youth to join him on the bed.
Legolas looked at him, confused that for once he would not be told to strip first, as Glorfindel usually enjoyed it to see him slowly baring his naked body for his lord’s pleasure. But apparantly this was not what Glorfindel wanted today, and Legolas knew better than to disobey – especially when he was about to be given a reward.
“Come,” Glorfindel repeated and then pulled Legolas down onto the bed, so that they were resting next to each other. With a sigh, Glorfindel buried his face in Legolas’ hair and breathed in deeply. In turn, the prince’s heart began to beat hard and fast in his chest at the sudden closeness. It was overwhelming, always – no matter how many times he lay beneath his lord, feeling his strong body, breathing his scent, it overcame him like potent wine and rendered him incapable of thought while his body yearned for Glorfindel’s touch.
“Tell me... are you aching for me already?” Glorfindel breathed, and Legolas flushed even before his lord’s fingers were pressing against the fabric that covered his hardened flesh.
“Yes, I ache,” Legolas whispered with a soft, plaintive moan while his length was being skillfully massaged. “Please... do not tease me!”
“Do not fear.” Glorfindel smiled and then moved to cover Legolas’ lips with his own, kissing him so sweetly and tenderly that Legolas feared his heart would burst from the ache. For a moment he wondered if gentleness was not worse – to be treated with such affection by the one who should be his enemy, while his own brother hated him. But then Glorfindel tugged open the lacing of his leggings, and the feel of the warm, strong fingers right against his most sensitive parts made him forget his thoughts as he moaned again.
“Beautiful...” Glorfindel breathed against his arched throat, then lapped at the expanse of pale skin to taste him, humming in approval of the enticing mixture of sweet oil and the tang of sweat. “I will exhaust you today, my sweet one – I will have you ride me until you are as sweaty as after a round of sparring, and you will not be allowed release until your thighs and flanks tremble with exhaustion, like a horse ridden nearly to death. And even then...” He paused, cherishing how Legolas’ breath had quickened and his lips were parted, glistening wetly and beckoning to be used. “Yes, and even then I will not allow you to come until you beg me for it, beg and plead until I finally grant you your release. And you, my wanton little colt, you will come without a single touch from me, moaning and trembling as you find your pleasure solely from impaling yourself on me.”
By now Legolas was whimpering. He had grown impossibly harder in Glorfindel’s warm palm, and his eyes were soft and dark with hunger. “Yes, lord,” he whispered, “yes, please!”
Glorfindel gave him another lazy smile, well pleased with his reaction. “Then undress, if you want that, and take off my clothes as well!”
With only the softest, yearning sigh to betray his need, Legolas stood and took off his clothes, as his lord had commanded. Then, he began with the one task that never failed to move him – unclothing the Lord of the Golden Flower. Truly, the Elda was magnificent – and compared to himself, like a noble charger next to a starved peasant’s pony, Legolas could not help to think. When clothed in his blue tunic and golden armor, Glorfindel was a vision to behold, all grace and deadly power, coupled with the otherwordly glow of his fëa and the bright eyes of one who had dwelt in the Halls of Mandos and been granted the grace of rebirth.
Yet this Glorfindel was even more intimidating – the Glorfindel only a very few were allowed to see. Gloriously naked, golden skin stretching over taut muscles, golden locks flowing freely onto the pillow, and between his legs, his swollen member, hard and dark with blood, and huge...
Legolas flushed when he realized that he had been staring at his lord, and bowed his head to escape the amused look he knew he had earned himself. Instead, he rested his hand on Glorfindel’s chest, fingers splayed wide, to feel the powerful muscles bulge beneath him. “Like one of the Valar,” he whispered in awe, keeping his eyes averted in a sudden spell of shyness. But it was the truth – if only his brother saw Glorfindel like this, he certainly would no longer be able to find fault with Legolas! It was impossible not to surrender to the lord, to not feel awed by his ancient power and the natural mastery he exuded...
“Then worship me, my beauty,” Glorfindel said and raised Legolas’ chin so that their eyes finally met. “Worship me, in the way you have begged for. There is, after all, no one better suited to the task than the most beautiful prince of the Mortal Lands, the one whose soul shines so brightly with his innocence and sweetness...”
Nay, naïveté and weakness, if you were to ask my brother, Legolas could not help but think. Yet the lord's words had touched him. “You flatter me,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at both endearment and praise, although his eyes shone with a shy pleasure.
“’’tis no flattery!“ Glorfindel disagreed, his smile widening as he openly appraised the bared body of the prince, allowing his eyes to linger for a moment on the slender column of flesh that arched out from the Sinda’s body. “No, you are truly a beauteous vision to behold! But even more than this, I want to behold you trembling above me, crying out your pleasure.”
“Your command is my pleasure, oh lord,” Legolas said and delighted in the chuckle this repartee produced.
“Less words, more action now, roch neth,” Glorfindel then said in a husky purr, sprawling back among the many cushions in an obvious invitation for Legolas to take the initiative.
And by now, Legolas was aroused enough to simply crawl over to his lord and impale himself – if it were not for the small part of him that was not yet so far gone as to not be embarrassed to death by such an action. No, he would have to start in another way... and he knew a way that had always been Glorfindel’s favorite.
Slowly, he moved in between Glorfindel’s spread legs, taking care to keep his movements graceful and making certain that his long hair was dragging over Glorfindel’s thighs, teasing the sensitive skin in the most delicious way. When this produced a soft sigh of obvious enjoyment, he grew more daring and actually allowed his hair to fall forward so that the soft, silky mass pooled around Glorfindel’s hardened length. This caress now produced a groan, and Legolas smiled. “Do I please you, lord?” he asked coyly, and found his answer in a hand that wrapped around his hair and tugged him down in an unmistakable command. Legolas laughed softly, more than content with the reaction, and then bent to his task, teasing the head of Glorfindel’s erection with kittenish laps of his tongue until his lord’s moans grew in volume, and he could taste that first tang of arousal on his tongue.
Already Legolas had prepared himself with oil, as his lord asked him to do every day, but for good measure he took Glorfindel’s shaft deep into his mouth to get him slick with saliva, before he finally let him slip out again. Then he looked up, searching Glorfindel’s face for any sign that his action might have displeased. This was the first time he could remember that he was allowed to take control like this in bed – even if it was only control over his own submission – and although he knew that Glorfindel would not hesitate to tell him if he did wrong, he still felt a light sense of insecurity.
But Glorfindel did not look displeased at all. Instead, he was giving him a hungry look from half-closed eyes, and when Legolas failed to act, uttered an impatient sigh. “Well?” he asked huskily. “Will you not take your reward, my prince?”
“Certainly, my lord,” Legolas answered, his voice breathy with excitement as he positioned himself and then, finally, slowly sank down. The air escaped his lungs in a long, drawn-out moan; the pleasure of being invaded in such a way was too keen to be suffered silently. There was pain as well – Glorfindel was just too large for it to not hurt without more preparation, and the welts on his skin still felt uncomfortably sore. But the pain paled at the sensation of being filled so completely... of seeing his lord close his eyes and groan in pleasure.
“Oh, Valar!” Legolas breathed when he was at last seated on Glorfindel’s thighs, his back arched and his head thrown back so that his hair once again teased over Glorfindel’s skin. He was filled, taken, helpless with pleasure and he trembled just like Glorfindel had foretold he would, his heart beating impossibly fast as his body, his soul even were bared, possessed in this most intimate way.
This seemed to be so much more than could be described by the mere word "pleasure" - this felt as if it would rend his fëa apart if it ended, and yet would lead to the same gruesome close if they did not finish it soon, in a burst of ecstasy so bright it would take away their breath.
“Ai, Elbereth!” Legolas whimpered, already moving and growing more and more undone each time Glorfindel’s shaft brushed against that well-known place deep inside him. There was nothing that could stop him now - no command or threat of punishment, not even if he were told that their coupling would produce another child. Not now, not when it felt like he would die without the painful intensity of being taken by Glorfindel, stretched, opened, being made to surrender to the one who had once and for all proven that he was lord not only of his body, but of his fëa as well.
Glorfindel’s name was no more than a sob on his lips by the time he came, shaking and clenching around Glorfindel who found his pleasure at the same time. Long moments passed, and by the time conscious thought returned to Legolas, he was resting on top of Glorfindel, safely ensconced in his arms with their lips almost touching, sharing each other’s breath.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Legolas finally sighed, although he still felt too exhausted to move. “I did not wait for your command... I am sorry! But... it just was too much...”
Glorfindel chuckled softly. “My poor little prince. I fear that this transgression will have to be punished, do you not agree?”
“Yes, lord,” Legolas muttered, keeping his eyes averted.
“It will wait until tomorrow morning, though. I think it might please me to redraw those red lines on your bottom – you heal too fast for my decorations, roch neth.”
Legolas sighed in weary acceptance, and finally looked up to meet his lord’s gaze, reassured by that fact that there was no trace of anger or disappointment to be found in his voice. “As you wish, my lord.”
Glorfindel’s eyes were calm and peaceful, and he pressed a tender kiss to Legolas’ brow. “Rest, dear one... rest for now,” he whispered, and Legolas nodded. Soon they would have to get up again and clean themselves, but for now he was content to rest like this, with the scent of their lovemaking still heavy in the air and their sweat slowly drying on their skin.
------------------------
roch neth - colt
fëa - soul/spirit
------------------------