Amin

*Do not stare*, Erestor reprimanded himself silently as Ereinion began to shed his clothing before him as if were an utterly natural thing to do. It was not as if Erestor had never a n a naked male before. On the contrary, he had seen far more than most others twice his age. Yet, the sight of the now tunicless King made him blush like a maiden caught stealing a glimpse at a forbidden lover.

Clutching his own robes closer to his body, Erestor crossed his arms over his chest as the Noldor Elf approached him, dropping his tunic onto the stone floor with a flutter of silk.

“Do not tell me you have grown shy, morier….” the High King teased, his hands coming to rest upon Erestor’s shoulders as he swept up behind him.

“Of course not,” Erestor said a bit nervously. “I-I am just cold.”

“Well, you cannot bathe fully clothed,” Ereinion chided gently, his hands sliding to the front of Erestor’s robes where nimble fingers began to ensnare each cloth covered button, releasing it from the confines of the frog that held it in place.

A shiver coursed through Erestor’s body, but this time it was not from the chill of the air. His head lolled back against the bare chest pressed to his back, allowing Ereinion to disrobe him. Velvet robes slid to the ground followed by his tunic as Erenion’s capable hands traveled down the lithe planes of his stomach, coming to rest upon the laces of his breeches. The softest of moans whispered from Erestor’s lips and his own hands moved to cover those that so closely taunted the part of him that most desired Ereinion’s touch.

“I believe that you can take it from here, can you not?” the Noldor asked, his breath tickling the advisor’s pointed ear before backing away much to Erestor’s surprise and disappointment.

The sounds of skin shifting against soft leather rustled behind him and before Erestor could steady his nerves once more, the naked form of the High King stepped into his line of vision, dark hair trailing down his back like an inky banner of silk as he made his way towards the wisping steam that rose from the pool’s placid surface.

Erestor swallowed hard, his fingers suddenly fumbling with the laces as if they could not remember how to untie them. Jerking the leather cord rather hard, he gasped as it popped apart within his grasp, leaving with less than half of it dangling within his fisted palm.

“By the Gods,” he grumbled, dropping the wasted lacing onto the ground, freeing himself at last from the confines of his breeches.

He glanced up just in time to catce vie view oeinieinion’s backside as the High King submerged himself in the clear water, sinking completely below its surface.

Normally, Erestor would have taken the time to unbraid his inordinately long hair, but in his haste to chase the chill away from his skin, he merely stepped into the pool, seating himself upon one of the mossy ledges until Ereinion reemerged, his ebon hair clinging to his body like rivulets of glossy ink trailing down the pale parchment of his flesh.

“So, you have decided to join me, then?” Ereinion said, an inviting smile curving the fullness of his lovely mouth.

“Surely you did not believe I would only watch,” Erestor replied, relieved that his voice had not left him as it so often seemed to do in the presence of the Noldor King.

Ereinion quirked a brow. “I should hope not.”

Fiddling with the leather that bound the end of his plaited hair, Erestor set about the task of releasing the thick tresses from their severe style, a most daunting chore for his chilled fingers.

His struggle did not go unnoticed. Ereinion hoisted himself onto the ledge beside his dark companion and gently fingered the braid within Erestor’s grasp.

“Allow me. . .” he said.

It was all that Erestor could do not to moan aloud from the blissful touch of Ereinion’s fingers as they wound within the coils of his wavy hair. Carefully, the Noldor ruler separated each strand of darkness from the next until the thick length of Erestor’s hair trailed down his back and into the water, the repetitive combing motion of the soothing fingers calming him.

“Your hair is exquisite, lirimaer,” Ereinion remarked as he leaned closer to brush his cheek against the soft mass of waves.

“It is unruly and rebellious,” Erestor said, brushing off the compliment as best he could.

The warmth of Ereinion’s breath tickled the sensitive hair at the base of his neck. “Very much like its master. . .” the Noldorian Elf murmured, sliding to face Erestor, one finger tilting the wary cobalt gaze to his own.

“I. . .” Erestor began, but his words were lost by the press of Ereinion’s lips against his own.

By the Valar, but the High King had the most sensually tender touch Erestor had ever known! Unable to refrain from a moaning purr, Erestor fairly melted into the arms that now held him as he returned the kiss ardently. It was all that he could do not to climb into Ereinion’s lap and devour every inch of the warrior-honed body with his hungry mouth.

Ereinion saved him the trouble of such thoughts. Gripping the slender hips of the Rivendell advisor, he drew him closer until Erestor was indeed sitting upon his thigh, one hand wound within the thick mane of damp hair that fanned the water’s surface like ripples of dark satin upon a crystal mirror.

“Erestor,” the High King breathed. “Amin anta lle. . .” (I want you....)

Surely he had not heard Ereinion correctly. He could not have. . .

“Erestor. . .” the Noldor said again.

“Not here. . .” the advisor heard himself say, although he was not quite certain as to why location mattered.

Usually, the thought of one intruding upon his private activities mattered very little to him, but this was suddenly all together different. This was more than a mere act. Just why, he wasn’t exactly certain, but the idea of someone happening upon them doing. . .well. . .he would ponder that later. . .was most unnerving.

“Ah, so you grow shy once more, do you?” Ereinion teased gently, warm hands running over the length of Erestor’s sleek thigh before traveling the lean curve of his torso and coming to rest upon his shoulders.

How could he answer such a thing? Being “shy” was never a trademark behavior that he possessed, but Ereinion made him feel almost boyish with the embarrassed nature of an inexperienced Elfling.

“Very well, then,” the High King stated, slipping his arms beneath the slender legs. “Let us retire to a more comfortable setting.”

He lifted Erestor from the shallows as if he were a child, cradling the advisor to his chest and carrying him away from the pools. Setting Erestor upon his feet, he draped a heavy, woolen robe about his
shoulders as he donned a similar item of clothing.

“Come, morier. . . there is no need to venture into the coldness of evening’s breath once more.” Ereinion nudged an ornately woven tapestry aside, revealing a torch lit hallway. Upon noticing Erestor’s rather gaping stare, he chuckled. “It is good to be the High King.”

* * * * * * * * * * *TBC....