Celebration of Life
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,178
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,178
Reviews:
0
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.
Celebration of Life
Title: Celebration of Life
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Characters: Glorfindel/Elladan
Beta: Ilye
Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day, all.
*****
"Alegría
Come un lampo di vita
Alegria
Come un pazzo gridar
Alegría
Del delittuoso grido
Bella ruggente pena, seren
Come la rabbia di amar
Alegría
Come un assalto digioia..."
~ Alegría, Cirque du Soleil
The dancers moved sinuously on the stage, each movement punctuated by a heavy beat or a sharp crash of a cymbal. Male and female wove around each other; colorful silks wrapped bodies that were slick with sweat. Gold shimmered alongside flesh, flashes of blue and violet in long dark tresses. The scent that permeated the spring evening was of sex, of mating rites of old, and of the pungent spices the band of dancers had laid out near the dais. Male chests were painted with silver dust; female curves were accentuated by copper mist. The audience was held captive by the sway of hips and the pounding of feet.
Glorfindel's keen eyes had landed on one body that he knew all too well, a body he had lusted after for years. He had never known the Elf to move in such a way under heavy robes or in scant leggings, even during sparring matches. Supple muscles teased him, hardened his body, and the legendary Elda lost all hope of control. Smokey eyes lined with kohl and jewels held his gaze, and then were lost in a flurry of satin and hands.
The music droned on, slowly seeping into Glorfindel's blood, and he soon found his own body covered in a fine layer of moisture. His leggings were uncomfortably tight and the throbbing of his sex matched that of the drums his fantasy undulated to. He quietly excused himself as the music swelled, and with his own eyes aflame, slipped beyond the curtains that were the backdrop for the band of Elves.
He found him waiting, found him nude and slick, his chest rising and falling quickly. Their lips met, a gnashing of teeth, pain and blood swept away by eager tongues. The drums continued as Glorfindel pressed the younger Elf against the smooth, cold wall of the garden. Fumbling hands freed his arousal, fondled him affectionately, and those stormy eyes flickered with something almost feral as the gold-dusted Elf knelt in the dew-kissed grass. Glorfindel threw back his head, the stars spinning above him as his lover's mouth caressed and teased him, drew soft whimpers from his bruised lips and gentle tugs from impatient hands.
Another crash of metal onto metal, another stifled shout of bliss.
Still no words, only pewter and sapphire, gold and ebony. His back was smooth, slippery with sweat and with oils. Glorfindel bent his lover over the low garden wall and dragged his tongue from the crevice of the young one's backside along the trembling spine. Taking himself in hand, Glorfindel growled low in his throat as he bit deep into the exposed neck, buried himself into velvet depths.
Glorfindel grabbed the fragrant tresses; wound the dark threads of luxurious satin around his hand, forcing his lover's head back, the moonlight spilling over proud, perfect features. Those eyes, feral and traced in black, were unfocused as the Elda forced his way into the tightness, touched the core of the exotic Elf's very being. He bent to those crimson-painted lips, sucked at the pulsing muscle of his prey's tongue, and claimed every inch of the dancer as his.
He took his lover's hand into his own and guided it to the hot hardness of his own length. Every thrust into the lithe body brought a possessive groan, a whimper of need. They moved in a hedonistic dance, one even more sensual and glorious to behold than that of the dancers upon the stage.
In the spring heat, Glorfindel made love to his Lord's son -- claimed Elladan's soul and his innocence.
The End
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Characters: Glorfindel/Elladan
Beta: Ilye
Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day, all.
*****
"Alegría
Come un lampo di vita
Alegria
Come un pazzo gridar
Alegría
Del delittuoso grido
Bella ruggente pena, seren
Come la rabbia di amar
Alegría
Come un assalto digioia..."
~ Alegría, Cirque du Soleil
The dancers moved sinuously on the stage, each movement punctuated by a heavy beat or a sharp crash of a cymbal. Male and female wove around each other; colorful silks wrapped bodies that were slick with sweat. Gold shimmered alongside flesh, flashes of blue and violet in long dark tresses. The scent that permeated the spring evening was of sex, of mating rites of old, and of the pungent spices the band of dancers had laid out near the dais. Male chests were painted with silver dust; female curves were accentuated by copper mist. The audience was held captive by the sway of hips and the pounding of feet.
Glorfindel's keen eyes had landed on one body that he knew all too well, a body he had lusted after for years. He had never known the Elf to move in such a way under heavy robes or in scant leggings, even during sparring matches. Supple muscles teased him, hardened his body, and the legendary Elda lost all hope of control. Smokey eyes lined with kohl and jewels held his gaze, and then were lost in a flurry of satin and hands.
The music droned on, slowly seeping into Glorfindel's blood, and he soon found his own body covered in a fine layer of moisture. His leggings were uncomfortably tight and the throbbing of his sex matched that of the drums his fantasy undulated to. He quietly excused himself as the music swelled, and with his own eyes aflame, slipped beyond the curtains that were the backdrop for the band of Elves.
He found him waiting, found him nude and slick, his chest rising and falling quickly. Their lips met, a gnashing of teeth, pain and blood swept away by eager tongues. The drums continued as Glorfindel pressed the younger Elf against the smooth, cold wall of the garden. Fumbling hands freed his arousal, fondled him affectionately, and those stormy eyes flickered with something almost feral as the gold-dusted Elf knelt in the dew-kissed grass. Glorfindel threw back his head, the stars spinning above him as his lover's mouth caressed and teased him, drew soft whimpers from his bruised lips and gentle tugs from impatient hands.
Another crash of metal onto metal, another stifled shout of bliss.
Still no words, only pewter and sapphire, gold and ebony. His back was smooth, slippery with sweat and with oils. Glorfindel bent his lover over the low garden wall and dragged his tongue from the crevice of the young one's backside along the trembling spine. Taking himself in hand, Glorfindel growled low in his throat as he bit deep into the exposed neck, buried himself into velvet depths.
Glorfindel grabbed the fragrant tresses; wound the dark threads of luxurious satin around his hand, forcing his lover's head back, the moonlight spilling over proud, perfect features. Those eyes, feral and traced in black, were unfocused as the Elda forced his way into the tightness, touched the core of the exotic Elf's very being. He bent to those crimson-painted lips, sucked at the pulsing muscle of his prey's tongue, and claimed every inch of the dancer as his.
He took his lover's hand into his own and guided it to the hot hardness of his own length. Every thrust into the lithe body brought a possessive groan, a whimper of need. They moved in a hedonistic dance, one even more sensual and glorious to behold than that of the dancers upon the stage.
In the spring heat, Glorfindel made love to his Lord's son -- claimed Elladan's soul and his innocence.
The End