Swords at Dawn
folder
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,760
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,760
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
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.
Swords at Dawn
Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.
Swords at Dawn
In the early hours of dawn the air was cool and still waiting to breathe life into the new day and even the trees rested in silence. This was the Lord of Lothlorien’s most favoured time of day when he was often to be found wandering through the mellryn, simply basking in the tranquillity of his home, or perhaps singing softly as he walked. Sometimes he would take the time to bathe in his favourite pool, relishing the feel of the cool water on his naked body and the sensuous tingle as the water droplets slowly dried in the warmth of the rising sun. This morning, as happened on rare occasions, he was not alone, having chosen an entirely different form of relaxation.
Clad in naught but his boots and leggings, he breathed heavily as he deflected another blow delivered with the strength possessed by all Elves regardless of how slight their build. His partner was well experienced with the sword, and had not lost any skill over the millennia. The ringing sound as the finely tempered steel of ancient Elven swords clashed was as nothing more than a whisper that had deceived many a foe in Ages past. It was the sharpness of the edges that wounded or killed, not the song of the blades as they touched.
As with all Elves, the passing of the years held little meaning for Celeborn, and his body was still as lean and muscular as it had been when he and his partner had fought for survival against kin and enemies alike. Smooth muscles rippled across his chest causing the droplets of perspiration from his face and neck to form small rivulets that mingled with the few drops of blood from the small cuts his opponent had inflicted. The tiny trickles moved slowly downward, dripping from nipples that were hardened with the excitement of the contest onto the firm stomach below, soaking into the material of his leggings at journey’s end. As the dampness increased the fabric covering his groin hugged his form even tighter with a sensation that was most pleasurable and Celeborn felt himself growing hard.
As the dance of the swords continued and he sensed that his attacker, who was unashamedly eyeing the growing bulge with hungry desire, was finally beginning to tire. Seizing the advantage, he struck mercilessly, raining a series of blows that drove his foe back, his own eyes now reflecting the lust he saw in the other’s, the darkened depths smouldering above elegant cheeks that were and and flushed with exertion. The feral smile he wore on his face spoke eloquently of his determination to best his opponent, as well as the delight he felt to his very groin at the realisation that he was close to attaining victory. With a movement borne of much experience, he lashed out with his foot, knocked his opponent over and held his sword a hair’s breathe from the rapidly beating pulse in the pale neck.
“Do you yield?” he growled, mesmerised as always by the beautiful eyes staring up at him.
“Never, my Lord!” Celeborn threw his sword aside and straddled his victim who was vainly struggling to rise. He wantonly rubbed his achingly hard member against the groin beneath him and leant closer to whisper seductively into the delicately pointed ear that protruded between strands of silky gold.
“Do you yield?” he demanded again, nipping gently at the sensitive tip, causing shudders of delight that betrayed the needs of the body despite the words of denial.
“No.” The protest was softly spoken, and accompanied by such a look of undisguised want that set Celeborn felt as if his blood was on fire. He bent to claim the sweet lips that offered nothing more than token resistance before joining in the most passionate of kisses filled with a need that could not be denied.
Clothing was ripped as eager hands sought the soft touch of the skin beneath even as teeth nipped playfully at both pairs of hardened nipples. Whispered words of love mingled with moans of desire as hungry mouths sucked and licked at sensitive necks and ears before moving to encase a hardened member and to moisten a tempting opening. The song of their ecstasy rose to a vibrant crescendo, demanding release, and finally his partner could deny him no longer.
“Take me, my lord. Make me yours,” begged Galadriel.
Swords at Dawn
In the early hours of dawn the air was cool and still waiting to breathe life into the new day and even the trees rested in silence. This was the Lord of Lothlorien’s most favoured time of day when he was often to be found wandering through the mellryn, simply basking in the tranquillity of his home, or perhaps singing softly as he walked. Sometimes he would take the time to bathe in his favourite pool, relishing the feel of the cool water on his naked body and the sensuous tingle as the water droplets slowly dried in the warmth of the rising sun. This morning, as happened on rare occasions, he was not alone, having chosen an entirely different form of relaxation.
Clad in naught but his boots and leggings, he breathed heavily as he deflected another blow delivered with the strength possessed by all Elves regardless of how slight their build. His partner was well experienced with the sword, and had not lost any skill over the millennia. The ringing sound as the finely tempered steel of ancient Elven swords clashed was as nothing more than a whisper that had deceived many a foe in Ages past. It was the sharpness of the edges that wounded or killed, not the song of the blades as they touched.
As with all Elves, the passing of the years held little meaning for Celeborn, and his body was still as lean and muscular as it had been when he and his partner had fought for survival against kin and enemies alike. Smooth muscles rippled across his chest causing the droplets of perspiration from his face and neck to form small rivulets that mingled with the few drops of blood from the small cuts his opponent had inflicted. The tiny trickles moved slowly downward, dripping from nipples that were hardened with the excitement of the contest onto the firm stomach below, soaking into the material of his leggings at journey’s end. As the dampness increased the fabric covering his groin hugged his form even tighter with a sensation that was most pleasurable and Celeborn felt himself growing hard.
As the dance of the swords continued and he sensed that his attacker, who was unashamedly eyeing the growing bulge with hungry desire, was finally beginning to tire. Seizing the advantage, he struck mercilessly, raining a series of blows that drove his foe back, his own eyes now reflecting the lust he saw in the other’s, the darkened depths smouldering above elegant cheeks that were and and flushed with exertion. The feral smile he wore on his face spoke eloquently of his determination to best his opponent, as well as the delight he felt to his very groin at the realisation that he was close to attaining victory. With a movement borne of much experience, he lashed out with his foot, knocked his opponent over and held his sword a hair’s breathe from the rapidly beating pulse in the pale neck.
“Do you yield?” he growled, mesmerised as always by the beautiful eyes staring up at him.
“Never, my Lord!” Celeborn threw his sword aside and straddled his victim who was vainly struggling to rise. He wantonly rubbed his achingly hard member against the groin beneath him and leant closer to whisper seductively into the delicately pointed ear that protruded between strands of silky gold.
“Do you yield?” he demanded again, nipping gently at the sensitive tip, causing shudders of delight that betrayed the needs of the body despite the words of denial.
“No.” The protest was softly spoken, and accompanied by such a look of undisguised want that set Celeborn felt as if his blood was on fire. He bent to claim the sweet lips that offered nothing more than token resistance before joining in the most passionate of kisses filled with a need that could not be denied.
Clothing was ripped as eager hands sought the soft touch of the skin beneath even as teeth nipped playfully at both pairs of hardened nipples. Whispered words of love mingled with moans of desire as hungry mouths sucked and licked at sensitive necks and ears before moving to encase a hardened member and to moisten a tempting opening. The song of their ecstasy rose to a vibrant crescendo, demanding release, and finally his partner could deny him no longer.
“Take me, my lord. Make me yours,” begged Galadriel.