Amin

Being invited into High King’s chambers was definitely something new for the Imladris Advisor.

Especially, knowing just what such an invitation entailed. . .

Ereinion’s room was far less ornate than Erestor had imagined it to be. . .the décor simple yet elegant. The walls were adored only with necessary objects, the furniture was sturdy and practical.

Save the bed. . .

Carvings of leaf and vine swirled within the canopied arms of the bedposts, almost lending them a life all their own. Sheer folds of lustrously pale silver fabric draped the four corners, parting tantalizingly with the flutter of the wind’s gentle caress.

And there was the inordinate amount of pillows. . .

Ereinion slipped the robe from his shoulders, the material pooling in soft puddle of cotton that trailed behind him as he glided towards the flittering gauze, the rippling silk of his hair lifting in dark ribbons.

It was as if the moon itself sought to magnify the King’s ethereal beauty, intent on highlighting his every feature, illuminating his every curve.

And as Ereinion stood naked in the moonlight, he cast a gaze over his shoulder. . .and Erestor knew somewhere deep within himself that he would be forever changed by this union, although every fiber of his being sought to vehemently deny it.

Slowly, the advisor let his guard drop along with his robes and walked towards the enchanting vision of an Elf that beckoned to him with his eyes alone.

Ereinion turned to welcome Erestor into his embrace, arms sliding around the cooled skin of the dark Elf, drawing him close, fingers combing the soft waves of hair from the delicately carved face, tipping the wary gaze to his own.

“You have nothing to fear, morier. . .” the Noldor King murmured. “Do not shy away from my touch.”

Erestor unconciously averted his stare. It was not the King’s touch that overwhelmed him. It was. . something else. Something. . . new.

Something that made his skin grow cold, yet warmed his blood like a potent elixir. Something that made his pulse pound within his throat, yet stilled his power of speech. Something that turned the very air he breathed into an intoxicating mist of desire. . .and need. . .and . . .and. . .

“I. . .” Erestor began, his words faltering as he searched desperately for a grasp upon the reality of the moment.

And then, Ereinion Gil-galad’s lips were upon his own, silencing his attempt to verbalize that which his mouth could not conjure, and Erestor of Imladris melted with longing and passion, nearly swooning from the rush of heat that surged through his veins, until there was nothing. . .

Nothing but Ereinion’s touch upon his naked skin, finger trailing downward. . .further. . .searching. . .

Oh, how he wanted this Elf to touch him. . .to touch him so badly! Everywhere at once. . .he craved it. Needed it.

His head was upon the mass of pillows. . .hair fanning beneath him in ripples of darkness. . .

When had they lain down? Erestor could not remember, but the press of the sculpted warrior’s impressive body upon his own was more real than he ever could have imagined.

Ereinion did not tease him. There was no taunting of tongue. . .no hinting of lurid kisses upon parts that mouths seldom ventured to go. . .there was only the steady, lovely pressure of a mouth upon his own. . .kissing, tasting. . .exploring so deeply, that Erestor could have lain within the arms of the Noldor for endless nights, simply locked in the ardor of that kiss.

Never had he wanted another so badly. . .needing to be taken in just this way with the broad shoulders of the High King dwarfing his lithe body, covering him with the sinewy masculinity of his graceful form. Erestor ran his hands over the well-muscled chest, down the planes of the taut stomach, the lean hardness of the body sculpted in only the way a seasoned warrior could be honed.

“So beautiful. . .” Ereinion purred, his tongue curling about the fine tip of the advisor’s ear, laving his way down to the tender lobe where he sucked gently until Erestor shuddered with delight. “So sensual. . . you make me want you badly, meleth. . .even as you merely lie here in my embrace gazing upon me with those sapphire eyes of yours. . . like dark pools of liquid indigo. . . so trusting. . . so wanting. . .” He leaned closer, covering Erestor’s mouth with his own, suckling the supple lower lip which was no longer pouting, but rather parted with the heat of lust. “I could drown in their depths, morier. . .”

His hand sifted through the lushly thick waves of Erestor’s unbound mane, fingers tangling within the dark tresses, breathing in the faint scent of leather and patchouli flowers that lingered there.

Erestor’s heart hammered a tripping rhythm against his ribcage as the Noldor King worked the seductive magic of his tongue steadily downward, massaging every crevice, every curve, every ridge of Erestor’s lean body, sampling the exquisite texture of his pale skin, savoring the taste of him as if he were a rare delicacy.

“Oooh. . .*my*. . .” the High King murmured, stopping just shy of where Erestor so desperately wanted the touch of his lips. “So, it is true. . .”

“What is?” Erestor asked rather dumbly, for certainly it was obvious what Ereinion found so arousing.

“This,” Ereinion purred, grasping the mithril ring that pierced Erestor’s shaft between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug before running his tongue over the pearl of glistening wetness that teared from the oval opening of the hardness.

Erestor gasped as Ereinion slipped his warm mouth over the swollen tip of his desire, tongue wrapping tightly around the ring with a brazen suction that forced Erestor’s head into the depths of the down pillow as his body arched helplessly upward in response to the expertise of the King’s erotic kiss.

Against his will, Erestor moaned ardently as Ereinion sucked and pulled at the circle of silver, his tongue twisting in ways that beguiled the advisor’s senses and sent waves of pleasure rippling through his thighs until he fairly trembled with urgency, struggling vainly to hold back the pounding throb of his impending release.

The quivering hardness slipped abruptly from Ereinion’s lips, slapping against the thatch of dark curls with a moist plop, shocking Erestor from the intensity of his revelry with a groan of disappointment.

“Not yet, morier. First, I must take you, my lovely one. And take you properly. As you deserve to be taken. . .”

Erestor sucked in a breath. Never had another spoken such words to him. He fairly trembled at the mere sound of them and shivered at the depth of the sentiment.

As you deserve to be taken. . .

The Valar help him, the Noldorian ruler would be his undoing in every sense of the word!

Slickly oiled hands slid over his lithe hips, downward . . .stroking his pale thighs. . . parting them willingly. Eagerly.

Erestor trembled.

Ereinion’s breath was upon his chest, warm and fragrant with a hinting of wine, lips seeking his own. . .kissing him. . .

And then. . .

An exquisitely purring moan ebbed from Erestor’s parted lips as the hardness of Ereinion’s arousal joined with the eager flesh of his body, plunging to the hilt with the gentle control of well-seasoned lover.

Fingers curled around Erestor’s desire, stroking in tandem with the excruciating slowness of the erotic rhythm that bound them.

The High King was taking his time with Erestor, eliciting every shiver with an aching deliberateness that the advisor had never known another to possess. The engorged tip of the hardness that sank deep within him tugged away teasingly and slid sensually forward as Erestor dug crescents of need into Ereinion’s shoulders, his back arching up to meet each sensual thrust of the other’s hips.

“Aaahh. . .I see that none have ever taken you in this manner, morier,” Ereinion purred, tracing the delicate jawline of the quivering Elf beneath him, his movements slowing further still until Erestor moaned in frustration, seeking to slake his thirst for Ereinion’s touch by pressing himself against the Noldor ruler urgently.

“You hunger for this, do you not?” Ereinion continued casually, withdrawing just enough to send Erestor in a writhing fit of desire.

“Saes. . .” (Please...) Erestor panted breathlessly.

The Noldor Elf bent closer, his words warming Erestor’s pales cheek, his voice a silken rumble. “Lle amin, Erestor?” (are you mine, Erestor?)

The advisor swallowed hard. No one had ever posed such a question to him, but the answer could be none other than the one that tumbled from his lips before he could scarce think to reply.

“Aye,” he said. “Amin naa lle, Ereinion. . .” (I am yours, Erenion…)

“Amin. . .” (Mine...) Ereinion purred, thrusting deeply into the advisor, his hand manipulating Erestor’s arousal all the while, the fingers never once losing their amative hold.

“Aye. . .” Erestor whispered.

Another penetrating wave of throbbing heat. . .

“Amin. . .”

Erestor shivered, his voice little more than a breathy whimper.

“Aye. . .ooooohhh!”

Without warning, his body convulsed with the sudden intensity of climatic pleasure, fingernails sinking into the muscled flesh of Ereinion’s back.

“Amin. . .Erestor. . .”

“Aye! Ooooh…….aiiiiyyyaaaa!!” the advisor’s lustful cry rent the cool night air, resounding throughout Ereinion’s chambers and quite possibly, the entire kingdom of Lindon, so great was the pleasure of his release.

The silken banner of Ereinion’s dark hair tumbled over and beyond his shoulders and he threw his head back, lips parted in a panting moan as he gripped Erestor’s slender hips, pulling the advisor to his body, shuddering. . .shivering. . .breath halting for only a split second. . .and then. . .a sumptuous sigh of utter relief.

With a languid groan of satisfaction, Ereinion sprawled atop the advisor momentarily before gently withdrawing from his body and moving to cradle the still panting Elf against his chest.

“Morier. . .” he murmured, stroking the wild tresses that adorned the pillow.

Erestor sighed with contentment, allowing himself to be held. Within the arms of the High King he was safe. . .protected. Wanted. . .

Pulling the coverlet over their bodies, Ereinion draped one arm over Erestor’s shoulders, the advisor’s back settling comfortably against his chest.

“Amin. . .Erestor. . .” Ereinion said softly before the lure of blissful sleep enveloped him, the ghosting of a peaceful smile curving his lips.

It was only then that Erestor’s ears caught the final sentiment to escape the High King’s lips, so faint, so quiet, that the wind would have swept it away had it not been for the closeness of their bodies. . .

*Love you. . .*

* * * * * * TO BE CONTINUED....