Royal Flush

A soft mouth descended and closed the distance between them without hesitation and Legolas marveled at the gentleness of the kiss. He had quite expected the seneschal to plunder and devour him as he stood, and to be honest he was a bit disappointed that the Eldar was so demure in his advance.

Slowly the Prince opened his mouth to receive the tentatively probing tongue that pressed lightly against his lips, the sweet honeyed taste of the Miruvor and the seneschal causing him to moan softly and press against the hesitant Lord.

Despite Legolas's eager response, Glorfindel kept the kiss slow and soft, gently exploring every corner of the Princes mouth, sliding his hands beneath the youths hair to cup the back of his head and hold him steady. He would not be rushed; this was to be savored, not gulped.

Fists bunched the soft fabric at his waist and a shivering moan breathed into his mouth from between Legolas' parted lips, but still the seneschal held firm, neither releasing the Prince's mouth nor deepening the kiss.

Legolas held onto his own resolve by a mere thread, the sweet intoxicating embrace of the golden Lord testing his control to its limits. Already his body shivered with need, and he cursed his own frailty in the matter.

It was then that a small chink appeared in the Balrog Sla arm armor. As Legolas returned the slow thorough kiss, his hand slipped between them and he cupped the seneschal's formidable erection in his palm.

Glorfindel gasped at the bold and unexpected maneuver and the youngling took the opportunity to take advantage of the situation at hand. Finding Glorfindel suddenly off balance, the young Prince pushed him quickly and firmly into the deeper shadows of the portico and against the cool stone wall, his hands and his mouth moving in seductive tandem, quickly exploring the seneschal's immobile body.

"Aniron lle malthen," (I desire you golden one) he breathed hotly into Glorfindel`s ear, his fingers weaving into the long silken strands of the Elven Lord's hair.

"Lle naa vanima, mellon-nin." (You are beautiful my friend) Deftly the young Prince released the silvered frogs that held the seneschal's robes tight to his chest and brazenly slipped his hand beneath the heavy fabric. Cool fingers caressed the muscular planes of warm smooth flesh, the pad of a thumb teasing a pert nipple to hardened attention.

Glorfindel shuddered under the Prince's attentive touch, his head rolling back against the support of the wall exposing more of his slender neck to Legolas exquisite mouth. A low rumble bubbled up from his chest as callused fingers brushed against sensitive flesh weakening his knees.

"Aiya pen-eth you would seek to undo me right here on the balcony," growled the seneschal as Legolas's hand delved further into the soft robes, his lips trailing not beh behind.

Finding a bare thread of control, Glorfindel managed to tip the Elfling's chin with his fingers until their lips hovered a mere breath apart.

"And as much as I'd enjoy exposing that creamy white a skin of yours in the moonlight, I do think my young Prince that we would risk exposing a great deal more should we continue."

The seneschals lips curled at the thought of the wanton Prince of Mirkwood bent over the terrace rail, his flaxen hair scattered with the petals of the vining roses that trailed the balcony. Indeed it was tempting, and risky, far too risky, even for him.

Legolas grinned back and let his hands slip further into the warmth of the golden Lord's robes, capturing the older Elf's lips in a heated kiss.

"I am afraid my room is far to the other end of the courtyard Heru," he murmured against Glorfindel's parted mouth. "Perhaps your chamber would offer enough protection against exposure," he continued, his breath fanning the seneschal's neck.

Glorfindel was momentarily taken back by the Princes' forward remarks. The youngling had the most angelic face, one of total serenity and regal poise, but behind the mask of innocent charm was a roguish imp that practically begged to be mastered.

Legolas watched the Lords face as his suggestive statement took root. The blue eyes sparked darkly from behind long golden lashes and a slight tremble washed over the warrior's muscular body. Imperceptible to most, but Legolas felt it nonetheless. Perhaps the Lord needed more of an incentive to decide.

"Pardon my assumption, Heruamin," apologized Legolas, his hands slipping from beneath the Lords robes with a slow deliberate movement. "I see that I was mistaken."

Taking a step back, the Prince made an attempt to move away, but before he could complete the action, he found himself pressed tightly against the wall, Glorfindel'dy pdy pinning him easily to the cool stone. The golden Lord's mouth plundered his lips and Legolas returned the kiss with relish, holding the senel fil firm against his responding body.

This was more like it.

"You have made no mistake lirimaer," growled Glorfindel between kisses. "And my chambers are not far if you still wish my company."

Legolas raised his hips form the wall and rubbed against the seneschal muscular thigh. "Indeed I do," he breathed, as the Elven Lord's teeth nibbled the lobe of his ear.

Glorfindel was about to release the Prince form the wall and whisk him away to the privacy of his rooms when he heard his name being called.

"Lord Glorfindel... are you out here?" came the timid voice from just beyond the shadows.

The seneschal froze as if debating upon whether or not he was going to reveal himself. He knew he really had no choice in the matter for his position demanded that he be available should need arise. But by the Valar, his own need was arising fast and he was quite sure that his position was going to be one he would surely enjoy.

"Lord Glorfin..." The voice was cut short by a sharp intake of breath. "I am sorry Heruamin, I meant not to intrude upon your..." The voice trailed off and the seneschal was positive he could feel the heat of the page's blush, even in the cool of the shadows.

Glorfindel let his forehead rest on the Prince's cheek. This was indeed bad timing. Legolas's heart tripped wildly beneath his hand and he knew that the Prince was as disappointed at the interruption as he.

"Speak your news Mellon," sighed the golden Lord, knowing that the poor fellow was just doing his job.

"Lord Elrond, Heruamin, he requests your presence in his office and that I was to seek you no matter where you might be." The young page all but spit out his orders, not daring to turn around and face the two entwined in the shadows.

"I am sorry Lord Glorfindel... I..."

The seneschal held up his hand in a gesture of peace. "Tell Lord Elrond that I will be there shortly, thank-you" Glorfindel waved the page to be on his way and he scurried off quite happy to be away from this most awkward situation.

" Now... where were we?" The Elven Lord nuzzled the Prince's neck.

"I believe you were just about to leave me," replied Legolas, his hands threading through the seneschals hair.

"It cannot be helped meleth–nin," replied the Elven lord coolly as he lapped a trail with his tongue across the Prince's jaw. "It is my duty. Will you wait for me?"

Legolas grinned. "Oh my Lord Glorfindel... I will wait... in Mirkwood. If you still wish my company then seek me out."

Legolas closed the distance between them and gave the seneschal more than one reason to make the journey. The Lord would indeed be late for his meeting.

~*~*~*~

For almost three weeks Legolas haunted court waiting for word that Elrond had sent an emissary to Mirkwood. Scads of Lorien messengers, two Rangers and a Rohan horseman later, the Prince had begun to get nervous. Perhaps he had indeed been too over confident.

Upon returning from the archery field at the end of the third week Legolas had overheard Beran, his father's secretary, discussing plans for Lord Glorfindel of Imaladris' immanent arrival. At first, the news made his stomach flutter, for he almost given up hope, but then he quickly steeled himself. It would haldly do for him to greet the Elven Lord like a lovesick puppy. Indeed not.

He would be cool, calm, collected... and ravish him at the first possible moment.