In the baths.

Title: In the baths.
Author: Fishy (fishyz9@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: AU, Slash, un-beta’d.
Notes: Sequel to Clay, but can stand alone.
Summary: Love.


In the baths.
Sequel to clay.

Glorfindel looked up and smiled as he heard the door open and close with a soft ‘click’. He watched with an appraising eye as Erestor disrobed wordlessly. When the advisor, like himself, stood only in leggings before him, he slid back on his stool and made space between his thighs for the dark haired elf to sit. Over the past few weeks this had become a habit of theirs, late at night when all others slept they would meet here, to make pottery. Though to be truthful, they both knew that it was not the clay that made their hearts drum in their chests, and it was not the clay that drew them to their new and secret meeting place every night. It was each other.

Each night they would simply bask in the closeness of simply sharing that one small wooden stool, sitting bare chest to bare back as Glorfindel would continue to silently instruct Erestor with his hands. When it came to parting, and Glorfindel finally stopped spinning the pedal with his foot, Erestor would turn, and show the warrior what it was to truly be kissed. Both would sigh and hum appreciatively into the kiss, Glorfindel would always keep himself, and more importantly his hands in check; not wanting ruin a most perfect and satisfying moment with his own clumsy trembling and most beseeching hands. They would eventually go their separate ways, to bath and then sleep in separate beds, though a little more reluctantly each time. And every morning, Erestor would find a new beautifully crafted gift upon his desk, from one, very smitten Captain of Imladris.

This night was no different, they sat there quietly, letting their slick hands slide against each others as the clay was slowly shaped between their fingers. Glorfindel still smiled and shook his head as Erestor continued to poke his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, a habit of his the warrior had come to notice the advisor seemed to unconsciously do when in deep concentration.

“Do you have it?” he whispered, for the night was quiet, save for the constant whirring of the table.

“Umhm,” the advisor nodded, not taking his eyes off of what he was doing.

Glorfindel withdrew his hands then, and simply let them slip around the advisor’s slim waist; resting his head upon the dark haired elf’s shoulder. He closed his eyes as he turned his head and inhaled Erestor’s scent. He loved Erestor’s scent, he could not pin point what it was, it was uniquely Erestor, and he could not get enough of it. His arms tightened around the lithe figure, and feeling in need for even closer contact with him, he pulled Erestor closer into his arms; so that their skin was flush against each others.

“Erestor?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?”

He wasn’t embarrassed about asking such a question, even if it did have a slightly juvenile tint to it, for he needed to know.

Erestor turned his head and glanced over his shoulder; looking from one blue eye to the next at such a close proximity.

“Do, I like you?” he repeated with a grin and an amused edge to his voice.

“Aye, do you like me?”

“Everyone likes you Glorfindel.”

“…true, perhaps. But do you like me? I‘m not asking for a declaration of any sort I assure you, just, I would like to know.”

“Glorfindel…” he turned slightly to give the blond more of his attention; a smile playing on his lips, “…how many spinning tables are there in this room?”

The warrior glanced around, but it was Erestor who answered for him.

“There are at least a dozen here, so why, my dear Glorfindel, do you think I sit here with you?”

Glorfindel smiled and he tilted his head to the side as his hands gently ghosted up and down the subtle unfeminine, but not overly masculine curve of Erestor’s sides.

“I just wanted to hear you say it” he admitted with a small shrug, to which Erestor chuckled softly.

“I like you Glorfindel” he watched as Glorfindel seemed to take this in, and turn it over in his mind. He could not help but laugh as the warrior frowned finally when drawing some conclusion that Erestor could only guess at.

“What vexes you now?”

“I thought hearing you say that would be enough, but it is not.”

“Well, let me say this, I do not make pottery with any other, I have no desire to make pottery with any other, I thoroughly enjoy making pottery with you, and I dearly hope we make more….extensive, more complicated, mastering and intricate, passionately artistic, maddeningly complicated but utterly satisfying…pottery, in the future.”

“Gods I hope you are not talking about pottery”

Erestor chuckled and teasingly kissed the warrior’s cheek before turning back around to his clay. Glorfindel, seemingly satisfied with this, sighed happily as he once again pulled Erestor close; wrapping his arms possessively around his middle and pressing sweet kisses to his cheeks.

“So what are you making?”

“A gift, for you”

“Really?” Glorfindel asked delightedly, he had made Erestor many a gift, but never received any in return. Though he did not put this down to a lack of affection, but simply a lack of craftsmanship. For Erestor, as much as he adored him, did not have a talent for the moulding of clay, but the fact that Erestor stubbornly continued in his futile pursuit, was something he found utterly endearing.

“Aye, ‘tis about time I made you something in return, you have gifted me with so many lovely creations of yours, and I adore every one.”

“I am glad, so what are you making me?”

“I have no idea, I’m just…going to let it come to me.”

“Perhaps some inspiration is in order?” Glorfindel let his sweet kisses spread to the soft flesh of the advisor’s neck; causing a sweet groan to spill from Erestor’s lips.

“Ai, that is nice” Erestor whispered as he closed his eyes and allowed his hands to move of their own accord as they unconsciously moulded the clay.

“Feeling inspired?” He murmured hotly against the advisor’s throat.

“Keep going and I’ll let you know” he gasped as the warrior’s teeth nipped gently at his skin, before continuing his sweet serenade of kisses. “Ai, that is good, I do believe I am becoming rather…inspired” he groaned as he stretched his neck.

“Evidently”

Erestor opened his eyes when hearing thee warrior chuckle behind him, and blushed an alarming red when he did so. His hands, that were carrying out all his unconscious thoughts had shaped the clay into a rather unmistakable shape. It was long and thick, standing erect and straight on the spinning table as it dripped dirty water down its sides. With instant embarrassment Erestor had pulled his hands away, but then quickly dissolved the creation that portrayed his unbidden thoughts.

Glorfindel threw his head back and laughed as Erestor bit his lip as he grinned sheepishly and closed his eyes tightly with embarrassment.

“It was a book end I swear”

“With ornaments such as those I think I now understand why the library preoccupies a lot of your time.”

“Oh you are vulgar”

“I am not the one making engorged bookends my darling”

“Darling? How can you go from crudeness to charming in but a few seconds?”

“I have many a talent you are unaware of”

“Is that so? Do you crochet also?” the advisor asked with seeping sarcasm, to which Glorfindel simply grinned back.

“Nay, but I am appallingly artistic for one of my station”

“Is that so, what other talents are you hiding?”

“Well, as you had probably already gathered, I like to use my hands”

“Ai Captain, are you trying to entice me?”

“Nay, that is simply good fortune on my behalf.”

“I am on to you Glorfindel, there is more to you than many would guess. So what are these other talents?”

“Well, as well as clay I like to whittle wood….”

“What do you make?”

“Whatever I am asked to make”

“Requests? My, my you must indeed be quite the artist”

“Had you any doubt?”

“Being a recipient of some of your talents, nay. Who do you whittle for?”

“Mostly I make small figurines or toys even, for the young,” he said with a shrug “small wooden soldiers and horses and such.”

Erestor cocked his head over his slumped shoulder; facing truthful and loving blueness. With a sigh he leaned across the minute space between him and kissed the warrior slowly. Abruptly he pulled away and turned back to his clay, leaving a bemused and wanton Glorfindel blinking in surprise behind him. Before the warrior could question his motives Erestor spoke.

“You are so wonderful I could just slap you. So what other talents do you hide?”

Glorfindel took a moment to take in the oddest compliment ever paid to him, before shaking his head briefly with a chuckle and answering.

“I like to paint…” again he grinned as Erestor groaned and shook his head.

“I am not to bad in the kitchen…”

“Argh!” Erestor cried, making the warrior laugh.

“And, I love poetry…”

“Oh I give up.” Erestor let the clay slip from his hands and land on the table with a thump, as he slumped back against Glorfindel; crossing his arms with a defeated expression.

“You give up?” the warrior chuckled.

“You paint, cook, build toys for elfling’s. Make me these, these beautiful gifts…and what do I do? I make you highly inappropriate book ends! And to top it all, you write. Poetry. How am I to romance one such as you?”

“I never said it was good poetry,” the warrior tried to console with an adoring expression, “you want to romance me?” he asked with an all to pleased grin; tightening his hold around Erestor.

“Well, yes. I do not believe in one sided relationships”

“We have a relationship?” was said after a long pause.

Erestor glanced back at Glorfindel; a blush staining his cheeks.

“I had thought perhaps, that we had become…close?” he finished with a shrug and nervous smile, but seeing the unreadable expression on the warrior’s face he turned back around. He picked up the clay and absently prodded it. “I, I of course meant our friendship,” he said with a small and painfully obvious fake laugh.

“Perhaps we should get cleaned up” Glorfindel suggested as he edged off of the seat to stand.

Erestor closed his eyes and cursed himself, he had gone to far. He quickly swiped back a loose lock of his hair and stood. Gathering his robes, and not bothering to done them, he turned back to Glorfindel with a bland smile.

“Goodnight, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel was just pulling his shirt over his head when he saw Erestor hastily leave the room, not even fully dressed. Quickly, he rushed after him and took his hand just as he was about to round a corner.

“The public baths are this way Erestor”

“Public baths?”

“Aye…” he pulled Erestor closer to affectionately ran a thumb over a flushed cheek, “it is late, we will not be disturbed.”

“Oh,” was all Erestor could say as a smile spread across his lips.

He allowed Glorfindel to take his hand, and lead him away to the public baths. They walked there in silence, occasionally steeling a glance at one another, and grinning when they each caught the others eye before looking away. The baths were empty as Glorfindel had said they would be, they stood now beside the heated pools, looking hesitantly at one another as both were suddenly overcome with a bout of bashfulness.

“They are empty like you said they would be.”

“They usually are at this time of night.”

“Ah, so you have brought others here before?” He asked with a raised brow and mischievous grin.

“Nay, I have not. I simply come here each night to clean up before retiring. I prefer these pools to my own bath,” he said with a shrug, “they are bigger.”

“I see,” Erestor said with a nod, trying to not appear as pleased as felt at the warrior’s response.

“So…” Glorfindel began as he slowly began to untie the front clasps of his shirt. He pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor, he looked at Erestor as his hands rested on the waistband of his leggings; slowly pulling the laces loose as he bit his lip, and hoped Erestor would take the hint and undress also.

“Aye,” hesitantly Erestor followed suite, and slowly began to undress; trying hard not to look at the glorious body beside him.

When both stood bare, the air grew heavy and still; the steam oppressing their senses as they for the first time, openly admired each other. Erestor swallowed hard, as he gazed longingly at the bronze form before him. Glorfindel’s body was the very persona of protection, broad and muscular, yet not bulky and retaining it’s elven elegance and beauty. Erestor had never seen anything quite so breathtaking, and found himself not only filled with desperate want and humbling adoration, but slight fear also. Glorfindel, as he stood there, unknowingly dominated the entire room, even if there were only two of them present. He was in proportion, from his biceps to his toes, and from his fingers to his elfhood. He was so much larger than Erestor, in every sense, and the advisor found himself trembling in such presence.

Glorfindel could not move, could not speak, too distracted was he by the creamiest, softest looking skin he had ever seen. Erestor, in that moment, looked untouchable. The heat of the room caused a dampness to hang in the air, Erestor’s hair, as pitch as night, seemed all the heavier as it hung in damp matted tresses. The rising steam seemed to create a mist around him, letting the dark elf seem mythical or almost unearthly in his solidarity and wholly unique heart braking perfection. His warm brown eyes stood out painfully sharp against the powdery soft looking skin, and had never before looked so inviting or loving. His cheeks were flushed and gave him a youthful appearance that was sweeter and more charming than anything he had ever known. The dark haired elf was slender, incredibly so. So much smaller than himself, that he suddenly feared hurting the vision before him. It was then that he wanted to gather Erestor in his arms and keep him there for eternity, away from all harm or unlovely creatures that dare look upon him.

“You are trembling” he whispered; stepping closer and gently stroking Erestor’s upper arms.

“Look at you Glorfindel, you are…look at you.”

“I am humbly shadowed in your presence, you steel my breath.”

Erestor laughed softly, “who could shadow the sun?”

Glorfindel was left speechless, for what could one say in the face of such obvious adoration and love? Slowly he drew Erestor close and brushed his lips against the soft red petals Erestor possessed.

“Thank you” he murmured, “come into the water, and let me clean you”

Glorfindel led Erestor down the steps and into the warm water. Erestor sat there on a ledge, feeling utterly precious. An idea which amused him greatly, as Glorfindel gently tended to him. The warrior took a soft wash cloth, and covered it in sweet scented oils. Taking one of Erestor’s arms, he ran the cloth over his soft flesh with a reverence that touched him greatly.

“You touch me so softly,”

Glorfindel looked up as he had been gently running the cloth between each finger; a loving shimmer in the depths of his eyes.

“You are so soft, so perfect, I am worried my large clumsy hands would hurt you”

“Never clumsy, you are to gentle to be clumsy.” Erestor brought the warrior’s hand up to his lips and kissed it’s palm, before letting the hand cup the side of his face; closing his eyes and leaning into the palm with a sigh at such a tender touch.

When he opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see Glorfindel a great deal closer to him. He let the hand fall away, and leaned forwards to gently kiss every smooth patch of skin.

“Do you want me?” he whispered as he contently wrapped his arms around the warrior’s neck.

“I need you.”

“You wish to know me, intimately?”

“I need to touch you in passion, I need to bring you pleasure, I need to be closer.”

“Then come closer.” Erestor breathed and pulled the warrior to him, so that there was nothing between them. They kissed deeply, in an air tight embrace, no room for the warm water, no room for the steam, there was nothing but flesh, against flesh.

Slow and languid, that was their pace, for the room, the air, was already to warm, and set a lazy and slow rhythm of exploration and gentle joining. Though no less passionate and explosive in its gradualism.

Erestor pulled away with a gasp, their skin that was not immersed in the water was beaded with hot sweat, their cheeks were flushed and their lips swollen. Wordlessly Erestor pulled away towards the edged of the water and climbed out, pulling the warrior with him. Taking the sweet scented oil that Glorfindel had used only a moment ago, Erestor kissed the blond slowly as he gracefully and slowly knelt down onto the floor. Masterfully, this brought Glorfindel with him, for the warrior would not for the world part their lips.

Erestor sighed in bliss as his back came into contact with the cold stone floor, and gasped as Glorfindel’s steaming body came to lay gently above him. He was caught between blissful coolness and surging heat, never had he appreciated or loved such an exuberant contradiction before.

He smiled as he noticed the warrior try to keep most of his weight off of him, and reassuringly pulled Glorfindel’s entire weight down to rest upon him.

“You will not hurt me”

Glorfindel smiled at his own silliness and allowed his full weight to lay between the advisor’s legs. He felt a heat rise in him at the contact, and the feel of Erestor’s hand gently caress his behind.

“It has been a while for me,” he admitted quietly.

“How long?” Erestor affectionately tucked back a damp blond lock.

“Just, a while. How about you?”

“A short while,” he said with a grin and a small shrug, “though I have never been one to hop from one bed to another. I consider, sharing my body with another the most personal and unveiling of all experiences. So I am not inclined to do so with just anyone, or so freely.”

“Yet you are here with me” Glorfindel murmured against Erestor’s lips.

“You are different,”

“I am?”

“Aye, like no one else. I am not usually quite so easily seduced or, or submissive.”

“I do not seek to dominate you, simply…join you, join us.”

“You gladden my heart, for I yearn to bring you such pleasures. But for now, I want you to have of me. I would give you this part of myself so freely, for as long as you may want it.”

“And if I never give it back, or to another?”

“Then you gladden me further” he whispered.

Time for talking had ended, Glorfindel looked Erestor in the eyes, and knew what was needed of him. He leaned down and let his lover taste him to the fullest, and in turn he plundered and loved. Foreplay, a game of building tension before a final act relief and unbound pleasure, was not needed. For every night that they had spent together in that small room had been torturous foreplay for the both of them. Now they sought naught but to satisfy their insatiable huger, in a slow and thrumming effort that suited their climb to such a peak.

Slick and ready, Glorfindel rested his damp brow against Erestor’s, as he panted and held his begging length before a ready and waiting entrance. And he fearing plunging forwards, he feared tasting and knowing what had been a dream of his. What if it did not last? Could one survive after knowing heaven, to then be denied of its sweet bliss?

“Glorfindel” a sweet whisper in his ear.

That was all it took to propel him forwards, to plunge deeply into his greatest hope and fear, the sound of his name. Not spoken as a question or plea, but simply whispered from those lips, was all he needed.

Both gasped when connected, Glorfindel shakily yet gently stroked back Erestor’s damp black hair as he waited for the advisor to catch his breath. When their eyes met, Glorfindel painfully slowly pulled half way out, before slowly and with a groan, pushing back in. They carried on in their slow but satisfying pace, never quickening, and never distancing to allow their union to become anything but the lovemaking it was. They carried on that way for what could have been hours, until both were far to sensitised and dying from need.

“Erestor,” the warrior rasped desperately into the incoherent advisor’s ear.

The legs around his waist tightened as he buried his face into Erestor’s salty tasting neck. The soft helpless sounds and whimpers now pouring from his lovers lips was far to sensual, desperately he grasped the councilor’s painfully hard length and began to stroke in an equally slow tandem. The hands gripping his shoulders clutched desperately as Erestor cried his name helplessly; spending himself between them as he arched beneath the heavier form. Glorfindel moaned loudly and came hotly inside of his lover, it was only afterwards when he had collapsed atop of Erestor, that amidst his laboured breathing, that he sighed Erestor’s name. As if those three syllables were a sacred mantra or precious unspoken word.

They lay there for a while, content to linger and stay in the misty, and heat personified room. Where they were alone, and could simply lay together, naked and slick.

“You know, this reminds me of something I have not though of in years.” Glorfindel murmured sleepily as slender fingers drew odd patterns into his broad back.

“What?” Erestor spoke softly, smiling at how adorably lazy the warrior became when on the brink of reverie.

“When I was young, there was a small painting that hung in the main hall of my home. It was not grand or the centre of all pieces, but, it always drew my gaze.”

“What was it?”

“It was a painting of garden, and inside that garden there was a large tree with a swing hanging from it. But it was covered in ivy, the ropes, the seat, and even the tree itself. The vines went on forever, and I remember, I could stare at it hours, but would never find where it began or end.”

“And we remind you of this painting?”

“Aye, I would be content to simply let us bleed into each other, so that there would be no ending or beginning”

“I think, such an existence would be….perfect” Erestor sighed, “and completely within our grasp, given time to grow. But for now, what do you say we retire to my rooms, where we can begin?”


~*~

They did not break their own unique now tradition, every night they would share that one small wooden stool, and would mould clay between their entwined hands. Before leaving for the empty bath houses to loose themselves in the heavy veiling mists of the steam.

Though they did not flaunt their relationship, they did naught to hide it either. So when one morn the elves of Imladris saw their Captain walk the grounds with a distant and dreamlike smile upon his lips, they did not have to guess who it was that had put it there. Though they probably would have been surprised to hear, that it had been the two terribly inartistic bookends, both of a vine covered tree and swing that sat upon his desk that had conjured such faraway looks and the occasional chuckle from the blond. Ai, what romantic fools.

The End.