Paramour

Tinuvel swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of
Saelbeth’s lean body as the young archer dove unsuccessfully for another
elusive salmon. He would probably never catch them that way, but was
convinced that by some manner of stealth he just might grab one. Diving
beneath the surface once more, he swam some distance away before coming
up for air triumphantly, a twig tangled between his fingers.

“Orc balls,” he muttered, tossing the stick onto the grassy embankment
near the river’s sandy beach.

Tinuvel would have been amused were it not for the sudden shin hin his
feelings. Saelbeth was fast approaching adulthood, his muscles lithe
and honed from the time he spent amongst the treetops, practicing
archery from all manner of odd angles, sometimes dangling upside down
from the nearest limb and other times, crouched amongst precariously
thin branches, targeting driftwood and fallen timber as if they were
deadly adversaries. How Tinu longed to share in the carefree
activities of his friend, yet his own skills were kept upon the ground
where gentle fingers were of more use to wounded flesh than swift
arrows.

His thoughts drifted back to the present as Saelbeth sank beneath the
crystalline water, his flaxen hair trailing after him like a silken
serpent as he scrubbed the river silt from his body with his fingers.
The young elf resurfaced with a gasp, his curtain of hair suctioned to
his shoulders like a golden cloak. Tinu’s tongue darted out to
unconsciously wet his lips. By the Valar, Saelbeth was beautiful! Why
had he never noticed this before? And why was he noticing it now? With
a frown, he silently admonished himself for admiring his friend in such
a lurid manner. He should not look upon him that way. It wasn’t. .
.proper. And besides, Saelbeth would never return the gesture. . .
would he?

Saelbeth paused in his antics, his young body gleaming slickly in the
hazy light of evening’s final hours. Tinuvel’s eyes were upon him yet
again, his gaze questingly curious. Squeezing the remnants of water
from his pale tresses, Saelbeth tossed his damp mane over one shoulder
and waded to the sand-strewn grasses where his friend sat with his arms
clasped about his legs, head resting on his knees.

“Merilin, what troubles you?” he asked, emerging from the shallows,
rivulets of moisture running enticingly down the rippled planes of his
stomach and into the thatch of curls that housed his. . .

Iluvatar’s balls! Tinuvel avertes gas gaze quickly, his dark hair
falling to hide the flush that suddenly crept over his cheeks.

“N-nothing. It is nothing.” Tinuvel stammered, wincing as Saelbeth’s
hand came to rest upon his shoulder. He involuntarily jerked away, for
the touch of the other’s hand upon his bare flesh was simply too much to
bear.

Confusion rested within the pale clarity of Saelbeth’s eyes. Had he
done something to offend the healer? Maybe he was simply showing off
too much or maybe Tinuvel was aghast at his unabashed nudity or maybe. .
.

“I. . I have to go,” Tinuvel announced suddenly, interrupted Saelbeth’s
internal tirade.

“But. . .” the remainder of the sentence would have been useless to
utter, for the dark haired Elf was on his feet and walking rather
hurriedly back towards the House of Elrond, leaving Saelbeth crouching
naked upon the sand, hand still outstretched for an unseen gesture of
comfort.

The young healer did not look back. He could not. Hew Saw Saelbeth's
frosted blue eyes would be following him, his body slippery and
glistening in the sunlight, and he did not trust himself not to fall
down into the sand at his feet and lap up the moisture as it
ran in rivulets down the archers muscular thighs.

With his eyes cast down at the path, Tinuvel continued to plod back
towards the safety of the House, back to his books, back to his herbs,
back to the privacy of his own room to alleviate this incessantly
annoying pull at his groin.

Never before had the sight of his friend aroused such feelings in him
before, and even that was annoying, because it meant that either he had
all of a sudden found Saelbeth desperately attractive or that he had
possibly felt this way all along and just been too
dull to figure it out.

Regardless of the reasons behind the stirring in his crotch, the problem
still remained, and despite his best efforts to walk off the rising
menace, he found that it just seemed to be getting more insistent with
every step. By the time Tinuvel had reached the main part of the
courtyard, his situation had quite tripled in size and walking about in
public
was neither comfortable nor advisable. Spying a rather large privet in
neglected part of the outer garden, the healer gingerly made his way
over towards the overgrown greenery and slipped himself between the
towering spires, completely hidden from view from any one who might
happen to pass by.

Loosening the stays on his breeches just enough to free the source of
his anguish, the healer wrapped his fist around the dusky purple tip of
his arousal, his body shuddering at his touch. Already his breathing was
increasing, just at the thought of release, and though he had already
visited this private pleasure once already today, he found his body most
eager to send him to the pulsing land of blissful relief once again.

Firmly Tinuvel palmed his aching member, thumbing the ridge below the
head with practiced ease, knowing just what fingers would give him the
quickest results. Within moments, the young healers hand had f its its
rhythm and his hips had begun their dance, thrusting against the firm
pressure of his fist until he felt the white heat of his release
beginning to crawl up his thighs,. Tensing for a brief moment, Tinuvel
allowed the pleasure to crest, and then when he felt the fist waves of
his orgasm beginning to pulse, he stroked himself quickly to completion,
the heated stream of his lust pearling the dark green of the privet as
it dripped from the tiny leaves to fall wantonly to the ground.

With a low groan, that he was suddenly self conscious for uttering,
Tinuvel held onto his softening member and quickly glanced from the
bushes to make sure that he had not made himself a spectacle. Sighing,
as much from the tremendous relief he felt, as for the sheer annoyance
at his body, he quickly adjusted his satisfied body part back into his
breeches and laced them loosely. Pulling his tunic down over his still
noticeable bulge, the healer stepped nonchalantly from the bushes.
Wanting nothing more than to be on his way, and not think about Saelbeth
and erections, and, uumm .... Saelbeth and…..mmmmm......

Tinuvel gave himself a severe pinch on the arm and nearly collided with
Saelbeth as the archer rounded the edge of the dense foliage. Taking a
step back, Saelbeth eyed his friend curiously, for the healer was quite
flushed.

“Tinuvel,” Saelbeth said, moving to brush the dark-haired Elf’s cheek
with the back of his hand. “Are you ill?”

The healer brushed Saelbeth’s touch away almost irritably. “No. .
Saelbeth. . I am fine. . .I have. . .patients to attend to. . .things to
do. . .I. . .shall see you another time,” Tinuvel said rather stiffly,
hurrying away before his friend could utter another word.

* * * *