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Learning To Fight
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
721
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
721
Reviews:
1
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.
Learning To Fight
Title: Learning To Fight
Author: Janalynn27
Type: Double-Drabble
Pairing: Rúmil/Lindir
Beta: Me, Myself, and I
Warnings: Slash, rough m/m sex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No disrespect is intended and no profit is being made.
Summary: For the lotrallslash yahoo group Daily Drabble: April 6: prompt: ‘fight’ Rúmil trains Lindir to defend himself.
Author's Note: None
Lindir quickened his pace, anxious to get to his destination and who was waiting for him. Finally, he came to a clearing that boasted a bubbling brook and stopped and shrugged out of his robe.
“You are late.”
“I had troubles getting away from Glorfindel. I swear, you would think he would know that we are safe here in Caras Galadhon,” Lindir said as he folded his robe up.
Rúmil watched Lindir place his robe next to his bag and said, “He just worries about you. I still do not know why you will not tell him of our meetings.”
Lindir sighed, “Because, he will then insist that he takes over my training and he would hold back on me. Erestor would have his hide if he were to hurt me.”
“Yes, I would not want to anger the Advisor either, whether he was my mate or not,” Rúmil said as Lindir started to plait his hair in one long braid behind his back. ‘By Elbereth, he is beautiful,’ the Marchwarden thought to himself.
What he told Rúmil of why he did not want Glorfindel to know was correct, but not the only reason. Lindir wanted to spend time with Rúmil and what better reason to be close to him than to have him train him in hand to hand combat. The Minstrel shuddered as he remembered the attack on his party as they journeyed from Imladris to Lothlórien. Ever since Lindir had arrived in Imladris, after his family had been killed, Erestor cared for him, as if he were his own ion (son). Lindir loved the Advisor very much but he wished that Erestor had not sheltered him as much as he did. He knew that Erestor did it out of love and worried that he would get hurt or worse, but Lindir was tired of having others fight his battles. He wanted to be able to defend himself if there was a need to.
Rúmil could sense the Minstrel’s frustration and knew that he thought of the attack and his brush with death. He cared for this ellon (m. elf) more than he ever thought possible and he was bound and determined to teach him everything that he could. He knew how it felt to be helpless and he did not want that for this pen vain (beautiful one).
Walking out to the middle of the clearing, Rúmil asked, “Are you about ready?”
Lindir smiled as he came to stand a few yards in front of Rúmil and said, “Yes oh mighty one.”
Rúmil just shook his head at the cheeky ellon, “Are you so eager to land on your backside like yesterday?”
Lindir took a battle stance and laughed, “Oh, I do not believe that you will be knocking me down today.”
“We will see, we will see,” Rúmil said then started his attack. Again and again, the Marchwarden tested the white-haired ellon’s guard, watching how he counter attacked and blocked each of his moves. He smiled to himself at the quickness of Lindir’s ability to learn and his determination.
About half an hour into their sparring, Lindir was getting distracted by his body’s reaction to Rúmil’s. Every time they came into contact, it felt as if a jolt of electricity went through the Minstrel’s body, straight to his groin. Not thinking of what he was doing, only wanting to feel his body pressed against Rúmil’s, Lindir lunged forward and found himself swung around and his arm pressed and pinned against his throat.
Rúmil held Lindir immobile, the Minstrel’s back against his front and said, “Do not rush your opponent and leave your side open.”
Lindir could not take anymore of this and with his flexibility; he managed to wiggle out of Rúmil’s hold and turned, backing the Marchwarden up against a tree, “I do not want to fight any longer,” he said before capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss.
Rúmil groaned as his mouth was ravished and hands delved under his tunic. When Lindir’s nails scraped over his sensitive nipples, Rúmil turned them around and pinned the slighter ellon against the tree, taking over the kiss.
Lindir was on fire. This warrior that held him now, made him feel so safe and alive, and he so much wanted his possession. He needed it, like the air he breathed, needed the memory of the attack to be ripped from his mind and replaced by love and desire. Running his hands up, he wound his arms around Rúmil’s neck and threaded his fingers through the Marchwarden’s hair so he could pull back on it, giving him free reign of the warrior’s neck.
Rúmil hissed as the Minstrel marked him with his teeth, nearly drawing blood. Shoving his knee in between Lindir’s legs, he rocked himself against him, causing them both to moan as their arousals rubbed against one another’s. Rúmil nipped Lindir’s bottom lip and lapped at the blood, then found himself flat on his back on the ground.
Lindir straddled Rúmil and drew his tunic off, throwing it to the side. This passion between them was like a fire in his blood and he could not get enough of this ellon that stared up at him with such love and heat in his eyes, and it sent shivers down Lindir’s spine. Helping Rúmil with his own tunic, they started to wrestle around, both wanting and needing to take and give, but soon Lindir himself on his knees, bent forward with his head resting on his hands, completely opened for Rúmil’s pleasure.
Rúmil’s chest heaved up and down and he fought for control, never had he felt such a need to dominate another. It was like a compulsion, this need to take all that this ellon could give him and more. Bending over Lindir, he reached for the ointment he used for easing aches and bruises and he hissed in the Minstrel’s ear, “Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop and I will, but you must say so now.”
Lindir pushed back against the Marchwarden and groaned, “Take me. I want you inside me now!”
Rúmil covered his shaft with the ointment before pushing a finger inside Lindir’s tight channel, and almost climaxed right then, at feeling the Minstrel’s inner muscles squeeze around his finger. Searching for that hidden nub, he was rewarded when Lindir cried out and pushed back against his hand. Not able to wait any longer, Rúmil aligned himself and in one hard thrust, sheathed his cock fully in the writhing ellon beneath him.
Lindir bit down on his wrist at the searing pain that being breached with so little preparation caused and it nearly robbed him of breath. Feeding off the pain, he soon was awash with pleasure as his muscles relaxed and Rúmil started to move inside of him, stroking his prostrate with each thrust.
“By Eru you feel so good,” Rúmil breathed as he gripped Lindir’s hips roughly and pounded into him.
Lindir knew that he could not last much longer at this pace and neither could his Marchwarden so he took himself in hand and started stroking him in time with Rúmil’s movements. Suddenly he heard Rúmil growl, “Mine,” and his hand was slapped away so the warrior could be the one to draw his orgasm from him.
Arching his back, Lindir cried out, “Ai (Ah) yes! Yours! Rúmil!”
Rúmil roared his triumph as he followed his melethron (m. lover) over the edge, “Lindir!”
The Marchwarden had enough sense left in him not to fall on top of Lindir and he rolled to his side, pulling the Minstrel with him. Both lay there, desperately trying to regain their breath, clinging to one another.
When Rúmil pulled out of him, Lindir could not stifle a gasp at his discomfort and he found himself staring up into concerned eyes. Smiling, Lindir caressed Rúmil’s chin and said, “I am fine. I have never felt so loved. Rúmil…I…love you.”
Rúmil took Lindir’s hand and kissed his fingertips and said, “You stole my heart the first time you looked into my eyes.”
TBC
Author: Janalynn27
Type: Double-Drabble
Pairing: Rúmil/Lindir
Beta: Me, Myself, and I
Warnings: Slash, rough m/m sex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No disrespect is intended and no profit is being made.
Summary: For the lotrallslash yahoo group Daily Drabble: April 6: prompt: ‘fight’ Rúmil trains Lindir to defend himself.
Author's Note: None
Lindir quickened his pace, anxious to get to his destination and who was waiting for him. Finally, he came to a clearing that boasted a bubbling brook and stopped and shrugged out of his robe.
“You are late.”
“I had troubles getting away from Glorfindel. I swear, you would think he would know that we are safe here in Caras Galadhon,” Lindir said as he folded his robe up.
Rúmil watched Lindir place his robe next to his bag and said, “He just worries about you. I still do not know why you will not tell him of our meetings.”
Lindir sighed, “Because, he will then insist that he takes over my training and he would hold back on me. Erestor would have his hide if he were to hurt me.”
“Yes, I would not want to anger the Advisor either, whether he was my mate or not,” Rúmil said as Lindir started to plait his hair in one long braid behind his back. ‘By Elbereth, he is beautiful,’ the Marchwarden thought to himself.
What he told Rúmil of why he did not want Glorfindel to know was correct, but not the only reason. Lindir wanted to spend time with Rúmil and what better reason to be close to him than to have him train him in hand to hand combat. The Minstrel shuddered as he remembered the attack on his party as they journeyed from Imladris to Lothlórien. Ever since Lindir had arrived in Imladris, after his family had been killed, Erestor cared for him, as if he were his own ion (son). Lindir loved the Advisor very much but he wished that Erestor had not sheltered him as much as he did. He knew that Erestor did it out of love and worried that he would get hurt or worse, but Lindir was tired of having others fight his battles. He wanted to be able to defend himself if there was a need to.
Rúmil could sense the Minstrel’s frustration and knew that he thought of the attack and his brush with death. He cared for this ellon (m. elf) more than he ever thought possible and he was bound and determined to teach him everything that he could. He knew how it felt to be helpless and he did not want that for this pen vain (beautiful one).
Walking out to the middle of the clearing, Rúmil asked, “Are you about ready?”
Lindir smiled as he came to stand a few yards in front of Rúmil and said, “Yes oh mighty one.”
Rúmil just shook his head at the cheeky ellon, “Are you so eager to land on your backside like yesterday?”
Lindir took a battle stance and laughed, “Oh, I do not believe that you will be knocking me down today.”
“We will see, we will see,” Rúmil said then started his attack. Again and again, the Marchwarden tested the white-haired ellon’s guard, watching how he counter attacked and blocked each of his moves. He smiled to himself at the quickness of Lindir’s ability to learn and his determination.
About half an hour into their sparring, Lindir was getting distracted by his body’s reaction to Rúmil’s. Every time they came into contact, it felt as if a jolt of electricity went through the Minstrel’s body, straight to his groin. Not thinking of what he was doing, only wanting to feel his body pressed against Rúmil’s, Lindir lunged forward and found himself swung around and his arm pressed and pinned against his throat.
Rúmil held Lindir immobile, the Minstrel’s back against his front and said, “Do not rush your opponent and leave your side open.”
Lindir could not take anymore of this and with his flexibility; he managed to wiggle out of Rúmil’s hold and turned, backing the Marchwarden up against a tree, “I do not want to fight any longer,” he said before capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss.
Rúmil groaned as his mouth was ravished and hands delved under his tunic. When Lindir’s nails scraped over his sensitive nipples, Rúmil turned them around and pinned the slighter ellon against the tree, taking over the kiss.
Lindir was on fire. This warrior that held him now, made him feel so safe and alive, and he so much wanted his possession. He needed it, like the air he breathed, needed the memory of the attack to be ripped from his mind and replaced by love and desire. Running his hands up, he wound his arms around Rúmil’s neck and threaded his fingers through the Marchwarden’s hair so he could pull back on it, giving him free reign of the warrior’s neck.
Rúmil hissed as the Minstrel marked him with his teeth, nearly drawing blood. Shoving his knee in between Lindir’s legs, he rocked himself against him, causing them both to moan as their arousals rubbed against one another’s. Rúmil nipped Lindir’s bottom lip and lapped at the blood, then found himself flat on his back on the ground.
Lindir straddled Rúmil and drew his tunic off, throwing it to the side. This passion between them was like a fire in his blood and he could not get enough of this ellon that stared up at him with such love and heat in his eyes, and it sent shivers down Lindir’s spine. Helping Rúmil with his own tunic, they started to wrestle around, both wanting and needing to take and give, but soon Lindir himself on his knees, bent forward with his head resting on his hands, completely opened for Rúmil’s pleasure.
Rúmil’s chest heaved up and down and he fought for control, never had he felt such a need to dominate another. It was like a compulsion, this need to take all that this ellon could give him and more. Bending over Lindir, he reached for the ointment he used for easing aches and bruises and he hissed in the Minstrel’s ear, “Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop and I will, but you must say so now.”
Lindir pushed back against the Marchwarden and groaned, “Take me. I want you inside me now!”
Rúmil covered his shaft with the ointment before pushing a finger inside Lindir’s tight channel, and almost climaxed right then, at feeling the Minstrel’s inner muscles squeeze around his finger. Searching for that hidden nub, he was rewarded when Lindir cried out and pushed back against his hand. Not able to wait any longer, Rúmil aligned himself and in one hard thrust, sheathed his cock fully in the writhing ellon beneath him.
Lindir bit down on his wrist at the searing pain that being breached with so little preparation caused and it nearly robbed him of breath. Feeding off the pain, he soon was awash with pleasure as his muscles relaxed and Rúmil started to move inside of him, stroking his prostrate with each thrust.
“By Eru you feel so good,” Rúmil breathed as he gripped Lindir’s hips roughly and pounded into him.
Lindir knew that he could not last much longer at this pace and neither could his Marchwarden so he took himself in hand and started stroking him in time with Rúmil’s movements. Suddenly he heard Rúmil growl, “Mine,” and his hand was slapped away so the warrior could be the one to draw his orgasm from him.
Arching his back, Lindir cried out, “Ai (Ah) yes! Yours! Rúmil!”
Rúmil roared his triumph as he followed his melethron (m. lover) over the edge, “Lindir!”
The Marchwarden had enough sense left in him not to fall on top of Lindir and he rolled to his side, pulling the Minstrel with him. Both lay there, desperately trying to regain their breath, clinging to one another.
When Rúmil pulled out of him, Lindir could not stifle a gasp at his discomfort and he found himself staring up into concerned eyes. Smiling, Lindir caressed Rúmil’s chin and said, “I am fine. I have never felt so loved. Rúmil…I…love you.”
Rúmil took Lindir’s hand and kissed his fingertips and said, “You stole my heart the first time you looked into my eyes.”
TBC