Title: The Hunt
Rating: NC-17
Cast: Glorfindel, Thranduil, Erestor, Legolas
Beta: Alex
WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, PWP.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this...
Author's Notes: After all the heavy drama and angst I've written lately, I was in the mood for a naughty elf romp. Hope you enjoy...
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor partake of a Mirkwood tradition.
Mirkwood. It was one of his least favorite places. If it were not for the enchanting charm of the king and the ethereal beauty of his only son, it would be a most intolerable experience. True, the food was excellent, hospitality above reproach, but neither he nor Erestor could abide living underground; it just was not the way of their kind. And the forest: dark, misty, thick. It was so unlike the woods of Imladris, where birch and spruce gave shelter and shade and provided a welcome habitat in which to roam. The trees here grew close together and were so tall that one could barely make out the tops, with boles so wide that three elves abreast could hide behind one tree. Even the most sure footed of mounts had difficulty finding a path amongst these trees that creaked and groaned as they swayed in the ever present breeze.
The immediate wood surrounding Thranduil's caves was safe and devoid of evil creatures, but beyond his borders, the trees were littered with spiders and provided shelter to not only the elves, but to the Orcs as well. There was no doubt, that beyond the land of Mordor itself, Mirkwood was one of the most dangerous places in Middle-earth. Erestor, never one to disguise his distaste for what was once a great and beautiful forest, had given him an earful on the trip over the mountains. Glorfindel, one who went where he was told and served his lord to the utmost of his ability, bore his companion's grumbling complaints with his usual good cheer.
Once arrived, however, Erestor's grumbling transformed into smoothly delivered compliments; the counselor was, after all, a diplomat. Glorfindel provided security escort for the Chief Counselor of Imladris. Normally Erestor would be escorted by one of his captains; however, Mirkwood was not for the faint of heart, and aside from Thranduil's warriors, few ventured there unless absolutely necessary. Elrond most prudently chose him, rather than his sons, who had an affinity for getting into mischief and also an affinity for the Prince of Mirkwood.
Now that they were safely ensconced in their guest rooms, most comfortably furnished and stocked with the necessary accoutrements, they had time to rest before the welcoming feast that night. Erestor's room adjoined his own, and Glorfindel found this to be most amusing. It was no secret that the Imladris rumor mill, fueled by elves who had far too little to do and far too safe and comfortable a life, had a way of proliferating tall tales and gross exaggerations far beyond its borders. Indeed, elves as far away as the Grey Havens were treated to gossip from the Hidden Valley.
Of course, that gossip had even reached Mirkwood, which surprised Glorfindel in a way, since Mirkwood was not a realm that engaged in active trade with its cousins to the west. At any rate, rumors of the nature of his relationship with Erestor had reached the Caves of Thranduil, and so, just to cover all bases without being obvious, the king had provided adjoining rooms, giving them the option to share a bed or not.
Erestor appeared in his doorway, having shed his heavy robes of state and leather boots, and was barefoot, clad only in a pair of black leggings and a white shirt. His hair was still braided in an elegant and understated manner, and he held a comb in his hands.
"Adjoining rooms?" the counselor grumbled. "What is this meant to imply?"
Glorfindel shook his head and smiled. "Perhaps it is meant to imply that you and I will need to confer with one another often and that having adjoining rooms will cause the least amount of inconvenience."
Erestor snorted. "Confer? Is that what we do?"
Glorfindel winked. "I suppose that depends upon your definition of confer."
"He thinks we are lovers."
"Or at the least, very friendly," Glorfindel added with a wink.
"You really are a rogue, Glorfindel."
"Yes, I am, and you love me for it."
Erestor's cranky exterior began to crack. "At the least, I've tolerated it these many, many, many years."
Glorfindel removed his tunic and laid it across the foot of the bed. "And we both know what a burden that has been."
"We are quite saucy this day," Erestor replied, a wicked glint in his eye.
Glorfindel winked as he retrieved a robe from an armoire standing against the wall. "I do not know about you, but I smell like Asfaloth and think I should bathe before feasting. Would you care to join me?"
"Mmm... a warm bath would be most pleasing," Erestor agreed. "Very well. Wait for me, I get lost in this endless maze of winding corridors."
Glorfindel chuckled as he pulled off his boots and began unlacing his breeches. "I will wait for you, my friend."
* * * *
Glorfindel released a long, deep groan as he sank into the warm, mineral-rich waters of the king's baths. Thranduil's private baths were reserved for himself, Legolas, and their honored guests. The room was small, delved from rock as all rooms of the caves were, and fed by a natural hot spring that came from beneath the ground. Small fissures in the ceiling allowed some of the steam to escape, but a great amount remained behind, warming the air and clouding the room. Ledges, carved out of the stone pool and honed to a smooth surface, provided seating for those who cared to linger. Benches that were made from fallen cedar trees were built along the wall for those who wished to merely take a steam bath.
Glorfindel leaned his head back against the warm stone, his wet locks clinging to the sides of his face. Erestor sat beside him, his arms resting upon the stone ledge as he too sighed and relaxed into the warm water. They were alone and unlikely to be disturbed. Glorfindel could feel Erestor's gaze upon him but he did not move. A smile curved his lips as he waited for his sometime lover to make a move.
Fingertips on his thigh, softly tracing a line from just above his knee to the uppermost inside of his thigh; delving into the crease where his leg met his hip and skirting the patch of hair that grew around his still slumbering length. Glorfindel's smile broadened and his lips parted. Sliding an arm around Erestor's waist, he pulled his friend closer, and Erestor turned and settled upon his lap. Erestor's lips came upon his throat, gently suckling the spot where his neck and shoulder met. Erestor was most surprising in the ways of love, often preferring gentle and leisurely lovemaking to intense and rough coupling. Given his stern disposition, that had been a surprise to Glorfindel.
Erestor slowly rocked on his lap, his friend's lean body moving with sensual rhythm, bringing their lengths in contact with one another as Glorfindel's body awoke to Erestor's touch. "How long has it been?" Erestor murmured into Glorfindel's ear.
"Six months and thirteen days," Glorfindel responded.
Erestor sat back and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "You are keeping count? That is touching..."
Glorfindel chuckled. "Getting romantic are we now, Erestor?"
Erestor raised an eyebrow. "Hardly. Have you lain with anyone since we last coupled?"
"One or two," Glorfindel answered. "And you?"
"Lindir," Erestor answered. "Would that be one or two?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you count them separately or together."
"Glorfindel! Are you telling me you have taken Lord Elrond's sons into your bed?"
"It was rather the other way around, I think."
Erestor slid his hips closer and leaned back, continuing his slow, sensual rocking motion. "Together or separate?"
"Together."
"Elbereth, that must have been an experience."
A soft moan escaped Glorfindel before he answered. "Aye, you should try it sometime."
"They have expressed no interest in me."
"They are intimidated by you, as are most who meet you."
"And you..." a low moan escaped Erestor as their lengths brushed together. "Are you intimidated?" he finished in a husky whisper.
"No, but I know you, better than anyone else, I imagine." He reached up, grasping the back of Erestor's neck and pulling the counselor to his mouth. Erestor moaned into the kiss and Glorfindel's body responded, his heartbeat quickening and his length hardening. "Do you know what I want?" Glorfindel purred into Erestor's ear.
"I can hazard a quess..." Erestor breathed.
"Is that amiable to you, my friend?"
"Are you not worried that either the king or his son will interrupt us?"
"Well, I suppose that is a risk."
At that moment, they heard the door to the baths creak on its hinges, and Erestor departed Glorfindel's lap in record time. Adopting as casual a pose as they could muster, given their heightened state of arousal, Erestor returned his arms to the ledge of the pool, while Glorfindel slid away a small distance.
"Good day, my lords," Legolas said smoothly as he entered the baths. "I hope you do not mind some company. I have spent the better part of two days on the borders, and after the rainfall two days ago, I could use a bath before feasting."
"Of course not," Erestor replied, watching with rapt fascination as Legolas shed his robe and waded nude into the waist deep water.
Glorfindel smiled briefly as he caught the look in Erestor's eye. He could not blame his friend; the prince was a remarkable beauty.
Erestor quickly averted his gaze, for fear of causing a scandal between their two realms. Things were tenuous at best, given the heightened state of danger those days.
Legolas, nonetheless, had caught a glimpse of Erestor's admiring gaze and smiled inwardly. He had to admit that Erestor was striking. He did not often have the opportunity to gaze upon beauty such as that of the counselor's; there were not many dark haired elves in Mirkwood.
He slipped beneath the water and then rose to his feet before moving to a bench across from Glorfindel and Erestor, pushing his wet hair from his face. He leveled his gaze upon Erestor, smiling and then licking the water from his lips that trickled down his face.
Erestor swallowed and attempted to avert his gaze; however there was naught to look at, and to purposefully avoid the prince's gaze would seem rude. His eyes widened briefly and he swallowed as Glorfindel's hand came to rest on his thigh. He was thankful that the swirling water provided cover for this scandalous act.
Legolas began speaking of the state of affairs east of the mountains and Erestor tried to focus on the sound of the prince's voice rather on than the action of Legolas' hands, which were slowly rubbing his own chest and arms as he cleansed himself, or on the action of Glorfindel's hand which had moved to his arousal and was slowly stroking and squeezing it.
If it would not have been obvious, Erestor would have throttled Glorfindel, but to react in any way would betray what his friend was doing. He was thankful that Legolas was doing most of the talking, and seemed to not be paying too close attention to what was happening on their side of the pool. He chewed his lower lip as his desire began to heighten, and when Legolas dipped below the surface for a moment, he allowed a groan to escape his lips.
When Legolas resurfaced, he watched as the Sinda flipped his wet hair back and found himself wishing he were the water as it ran in rivulets down the prince's lean, muscular body. His release took him quite suddenly and he literally had to choke back a cry so as not to betray his climax. Legolas looked at him and smiled coyly, bidding him and Glorfindel good day as he slowly exited the baths.
Legolas grinned as he pulled on his robe. While he gave no sign that he knew what was occurring between the two Imladris elves, one would have to be a dullard not to notice. The counselor's skin was flushed a most lovely shade of rose, his lips wet and pink, his eyes as dark as a stormy sky. Oh yes, Erestor was an incredible beauty, and to date, an unapproachable one. An idea occurred to him as he bid the guests good day, and a smile curved his mouth as he turned toward his father's chambers.
Glorfindel laughed as the door thudded closed and Erestor raised his hand in a vain attempt to thwack him on the head.
"You wicked, wicked oaf!" Erestor growled. "How could you put me in that position?"
Glorfindel chuckled as Erestor pounced on him and he grabbed the counselor's wrists. "Quite easily, actually."
"Release me immediately so that I can flog you to within an inch of your life!"
"Come now, my friend, tell me you did not take pleasure in that."
"I would prefer not to take my pleasure with an audience, particularly when that audience is the Prince of Mirkwood!"
"All right... I apologize for my wickedness," Glorfindel crooned. He closed his eyes as Erestor pressed against him. "What can I do to make it up to you?" he said softly.
Erestor gazed upon his good friend, admiring Glorfindel's beauty as he often did. "I will have to think of something," he murmured, his lips ghosting over Glorfindel's. "You have given me comfort," he said huskily as his hand traveled down Glorfindel's stomach to find his friend's turgid length, "yet you have not taken your own."
"I suppose that would be apt punishment for what I did to you," Glorfindel whispered.
"Nay, that is too harsh a punishment, I think," Erestor replied as he wrapped his hand around Glorfindel's length.
Glorfindel smiled as he opened his eyes. "You are too good to me, Erestor," he said sultrily.
"Agreed," Erestor answered with a wicked smile before seizing his friend's mouth in a kiss.
To be continued...
Part 2:
Legolas knocked softly on his father's bedchamber door and then entered when he heard his father grant permission to enter. Thranduil sat at his dressing table, running a comb through his heavy, flaxen hair as he prepared to braid it before dressing for dinner. It was a special night in more than one respect; not only did they have honored guests from Imladris, but it was the night of The Hunt, a night to which all Mirkwood warriors looked forward.
"Father?"
Thranduil turned and smiled upon seeing his only son enter the room. "Yes, Greenleaf?"
"I have an idea I would like to discuss with you," Legolas answered as he crossed the room and sat on the side of his father's bed.
"Speak."
"How do you feel about inviting our guests to take part in The Hunt?"
Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "We have never invited those from outside our realm to partake in The Hunt before, Greenleaf."
"I know, but Lord Glorfindel and Master Erestor are special guests and would be greatly honored with the invitation."
Thranduil grinned. "I doubt Master Erestor is much of a hunter, my son."
"When presented with a reason to hunt, I am sure he could rise to the occasion."
"But you know the rules, Greenleaf. All newcomers to The Hunt must draw straws."
"Aye, but arrangements could be made..."
Thranduil had to suppress a chuckle; Legolas motives were a little more than obvious. "Very well, I shall extend the invitation at the feast this eve. I imagine Glorfindel will be most pleased by this."
This time it was Legolas who grinned. "Aye, I suppose he will be." He rose from his place on his father's bed and crossed the room, leaning down to bestow a kiss upon Thranduil's cheek. "Thank you, father. You will not regret this decision."
"Anything for my son," Thranduil answered with a smile, as Legolas departed the room.
* * * *
The feasting hall was filled with revelers, musicians played in one corner as dancers swirled around the floor, the laugher of males and females alike mingling with the music. Thranduil sat at the head of the long table with relaxed posture, a glass of wine in his had as a young male elf stood at his side, feeding him pieces of fruit and fawning over his king. A male and female elf flanked Glorfindel, both vying for his attention. Erestor sat across from him, Legolas on one side, another male on the other, enjoying the attention he was getting from both.
Erestor had to admit few could throw a party like Thranduil. The elves of his realm lived life to the fullest, without hesitation or reservation, and this made for some interesting experiences. On their last visit, Erestor recalled finding the twins amid a heap of scantily clad bodies, not the least of which was Legolas. The prince had inherited his father's penchant for indulgence, and had long ago been initiated into the ways of pleasure.
Legolas was young compared to many that Erestor socialized with; indeed, he was younger than even his pupils Elladan and Elrohir were. However, what the prince lacked in years he more than made up for with experience. At the tender age of 125 years, Legolas had lain with both males and females, and had been nearly killed in battle. He was the prodigal, warrior son, captain to his king, and heir to Thranduil's kingdom. Beneath Legolas' physical beauty and love of life, Erestor sensed there was a thoughtful and kind spirit. Indeed, as the night progressed Erestor learned that Legolas loved music and art, that he had not only memorized the legends from ages gone by, but that he had begun to keep a journal of his own exploits, recording the changes the world underwent as time marched on. Yes, Erestor mused, Legolas would make a fine heir, should that dire day ever come.
Erestor's gaze traveled briefly to Thranduil, who seemed to be fixed upon his traveling companion, Glorfindel. It was no surprise to Erestor that Thranduil would find Glorfindel to be beautiful, most elves, and some men, often did. Glorfindel also represented a challenge, for despite his bawdy sense of humor and cavalier ways, Glorfindel was not known to take lovers lightly. Since his friend didn't fall into bed easily with another, Thranduil would have to work to tempt him; something told Erestor that Thranduil was not afraid of a challenge.
Legolas rose from his seat at the table, his hand lingering upon Erestor's wrist just long enough to ensure he had the counselor's attention, then he moved across the room, stopping here and there to talk with his warrior compatriots. He stopped in an alcove off the dance floor, watching the revelers in their dance. His gaze, however, continued to light upon Erestor, and he noted the Noldo was returning it with concentrated interest. A smile curved Legolas lips as he watched Erestor rise as if beckoned and begin to make his way towards where he stood. It was as he had suspected in the baths that afternoon; Erestor was intrigued by him.
Legolas was surprised by the counselor's boldness as Erestor stood but inches away from him in the alcove. The Noldo placed one hand upon the wall over his head and leaned in close, using the raucous laughter and loud music as an excuse to speak huskily into his ear.
"You are enjoying yourself, I trust?"
Legolas smiled. "It is I who is the host, I should be asking you that question." He took a sip of his wine.
"Very well, then." Erestor waited.
Legolas turned to face the Noldo and looked directly into his eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself, Master Erestor?"
"I like how that sounds on your lips," Erestor murmured.
"What?"
"Master Erestor," he answered, putting the emphasis on 'Master'.
Legolas smiled alluringly. "Hmmm... I imagine you do." He turned his head, feigning interest in the dancers and allowing Erestor the opportunity to gaze upon his exposed throat and ear.
"What is that scent?" Erestor asked softly as he leaned closer.
Legolas smiled. He could play he role of prey just as well as that of hunter. "'Tis lilac, I believe," he answered softly. "My chambermaid delights in concocting new scents for my bath."
"It is most alluring, as is its wearer," Erestor answered smoothly.
Legolas could not stop the smile that curved his lips as he allowed the back of his hand to brush against Erestor's thigh. "Tell me, my lord," he purred, taking a submissive role to his elder, "is your instruction limited to history and politics?"
Erestor smiled wolfishly as the young prince teased his desire into awakening. "If I did not know better, I would think you were playing me the fool," Erestor answered.
Legolas turned to face him, leaning back against the wall. He was slightly shorter than Erestor, and this worked to his advantage as he gazed up into the Noldo's deepening gray eyes. "How so, Master Erestor?"
"I am well aware of your. . .experience," Erestor answered.
"Do you not like this?" Legolas purred.
"You mean this role you are playing?" Erestor responded.
"Aye. I could be more. . .forceful, should you wish it."
"I imagine you could be," Erestor answered. "However, I am quite satisfied with things as they are for the moment."
Legolas smiled as he tilted his chin upward, silently inviting Erestor to taste his lips. "Whatever you wish, my lord."
* * * *
"What are the rules?" Glorfindel asked, as he gazed at Thranduil with a mixture of suspicion and deep interest.
"They are quite simple, really," Thranduil responded. "Newcomers draw straws to determine which role they will take. Should one of the hunted wish to become a hunter, they need only evade the one pursuing them, then they trade places for the next game."
"And if one wants to remain one of the hunted?" Glorfindel queried.
"They allow themselves to be caught," Thranduil answered with a smile.
"And what happens once the hunter catches his prey?"
"By entering the game, everyone agrees to abide by the rules, regardless of where they start and how they finish. Prey, once caught, are to be utterly submissive and agree to grant the hunter whatever they wish, no questions, no exceptions. However, the rules also stipulate that no physical harm can come to hunter or prey, and no weapons or tools may be used in the hunt."
Glorfindel folded his fingers together, pressing his index fingers into the underside of his chin. "Intriguing," he murmured. "And who chooses who?"
"Hunter chooses prey. The identity of all players, both hunters and prey, is concealed, so prey is chosen based on the hunter's tastes, and the hunters are not permitted to choose the same prey each game, thus making the chances for the prey to advance to hunter more even."
"How are identities concealed?" Glorfindel asked as he sat forward in his chair.
"Masks are worn and everyone wears the same black garments with no jewelry. Hunters wear black masks, prey wear white, and all wear their hair tied back behind their heads in a simple ponytail. The only identifying characteristics would be height and build; since all of my subjects are similar in coloring of hair and eyes."
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Erestor and I would be at a distinct disadvantage, as our coloring differs from your own folk."
"True," Thranduil answered with a seductive smile, "and you do not have the knowledge of these woods that we do. However, I imagine your considerable experience and skill will make up for your lack familiarity and anonymity." He regarded the Balrog Slayer with mixed curiosity and amusement. "It is merely an invitation, from me to you and Erestor. No one will know, should you choose to decline."
Glorfindel smiled and raised his goblet in a toast. "I will join, and I will invite Erestor as well."
"Excellent!" Thranduil returned the gesture. "I will see you in the courtyard at Ithil's apex."
Glorfindel took a drink and sat back in his chair. "Tell me, what role do you play?"
"What do you think?" Thranduil queried.
Glorfindel merely grinned in response. He had the distinct impression that the king was most definitely a hunter.
* * * *
Erestor was thoroughly enjoying the pursuit of the prince, and was just leaning in to taste Legolas' pink lips when the prince murmured, "Lord Glorfindel, are you enjoying yourself this eve?"
Erestor felt Glorfindel's hand upon his back and he stood up straight, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. Turning, he shot Glorfindel a look that would have froze many to the spot where they stood, but Glorfindel, being Glorfindel, merely chuckled.
"I am, my prince," he answered. "And you? Are you enjoying yourself?"
Legolas slipped out of the alcove and raised his goblet. "Very much. If you will excuse me..." He flashed a wicked smile at Erestor before crossing the dance floor.
"Thank you very much," Erestor grumbled. "I was so close..." He gasped as Glorfindel clasped his shoulder, turning him and forcing him back against the wall. "He was nearly mine," he murmured.
"He may yet be," Glorfindel answered, assuming Erestor's previous position as Erestor found himself in Legolas' former place. "I had the most intriguing conversation with Thranduil," he murmured, leaning in so that he could smell the prince upon Erestor.
"Oh, yes?" Erestor whispered, enthralled by Glorfindel's carnal sensuality.
Glorfindel leaned closer, pressing his weight into Erestor as he began relaying the king's invitation by way of a whisper into the counselor's ear.
To be continued...
Part 3:
Glorfindel stood next to his bed, hands on his hips, shaking his head as he gazed at the freshly unwrapped package. "Surely he jests," he mumbled.
Erestor emerged from his own bedchamber holding up an identical garment to the one Glorfindel was looking at. "This is what we wear while traipsing around the forest in the dark?"
Glorfindel chuckled. "It appears so."
"While I admit, I would very much like to see you dashing around the wood in this...contraption, I will feel like a fool doing the same."
"Come, Erestor. You have a most comely form and you know it. I think this will suit your lean, long body quite well. Besides, the black will look so alluring against your pale flesh."
"Flattery will not work, not in this case," Erestor grumbled.
"Will you change your mind then? The prince is a participant in this game."
Erestor growled in frustration then sighed. "No, I will not change my mind." He turned back toward his room, then stopped, turning back to face Glorfindel. "You must promise me something."
"What?"
"If I draw short, and you long, I want you to hunt me. As lovely as these Silvan elves are, I'm not sure I wish to submit to a stranger."
"Agreed. Will you do the same for me?"
"I will."
"Good," Glorfindel answered, then he began unbuttoning his tunic.
* * * *
Wrapped in robes, Erestor and Glorfindel stepped into the small antechamber that adjoined the courtyard. There, the captain of the palace guard awaited them, holding a fistful of straws and four masks, two black, two white.
"You know the rules, do you not?" the captain asked.
"Aye," they answered in unison.
"Draw then."
Erestor drew first, pulling a short straw from the bunch. The captain handed him a white mask, then turned to Glorfindel. Glorfindel reached out and plucked a straw from the bunch; it was long. The captain then handed him a black mask.
"Put on the masks, remove your robes, and step into the courtyard," he instructed.
As they entered the courtyard, they saw two lines of elves, all clad in garments identical to their own. One row wore black masks; the other wore white. Erestor took his place with the prey, and Glorfindel joined the hunters, but not before casting Erestor a reassuring glance.
Erestor had never felt more conspicuous in all his life. Beside him stood six flaxen haired, lean, muscled Silvan archers all wearing white masks and the same snug, black loincloth he wore. Their hair was unbraided, as was his, and pulled back into a simple ponytail and tied with a strip of leather. Then there he stood, taller than his fellow prey, his raven hair and paler skin setting him clearly apart. Everyone in that courtyard knew who he was, despite the ridiculous mask he wore. A heavy sigh escaped him as Glorfindel took his place directly across from him and winked from behind his own black mask. At least he would be chosen by Glorfindel, and it would not be the first time he submitted to his friend.
The captain, wearing customary warrior garb, cleared his throat and began:
"As is the custom, prey will not speak. The most senior member of the hunter squad will have first choice of prey."
Erestor's eyes widened. He had not counted on anyone having the opportunity to choose him before Glorfindel. A lean, muscled archer stepped out of line and began walking slowly down the line, making a thorough perusal of each member of the prey group. Erestor closed his eyes and waited, hoping the elf would choose one of his own, rather than him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes, looking directly into the sapphire orbs of his hunter. He bowed his head and took a step back out of line, and his hunter joined him, standing close behind him, the hunter's hand upon his shoulder.
Glorfindel looked apologetically at Erestor and hoped this hunter would treat his friend with some kindness and sensitivity. He was granted second choice, as an honored guest, and began walking the line to choose his prey. There were a few that were taller than the rest, one was larger in stature, and then there was the one at the opposite end of the line from Erestor. His stance was submissive enough, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw, they spoke of one recently demoted to prey and one who wished to rejoin the hunters. If he could not hunt Erestor, at least this elf would present a challenge. He placed his hand upon the elf's shoulder and watched as his chosen prey glanced at the long scar on his torso. Erestor had his dark hair and lithe build to betray him, Glorfindel had his golden hair and his scar, the only reminder of his former life. So, his prey knew him; fair enough. Perhaps it would inspire him to be all the more elusive.
The elf took a graceful step backward, head bowed, hands hanging by his sides. Glorfindel joined him, standing close behind and admiring his choice. The elf had a lovely body, both powerful and graceful. His hair smelled of honeysuckle, his flesh was unmarked and flawless. He was a fine choice.
The remainder of the hunters walked the line one by one, choosing their prey until the final pair were made by default. Glorfindel had to admit, they were evenly matched and not a one was less than beautiful. As per the rules, the horn sounded and the prey were given a small head start. Glorfindel caught Erestor's glance as he departed the courtyard and he hoped Erestor's hunter had not underestimated his prey. Despite his reputation as a diplomat and advisor, Erestor has spent much of his life as a warrior, trained by the finest of Fingolfin's guard and his skills were honed in the wars of Beleriand. A grin curved Glorfindel's lips. Yes, Erestor's hunter had his work cut out for him.
After what felt like a very long time, the horn sounded again, signaling to the hunters to begin the chase. Glorfindel had spent the time during the picking process to study his prey closely. Since these Silvan elves were all similar in appearance, he wanted to be sure he had the right elf in his sights. Running through the forest, he passed the other prey in their attempts to evade their hunters. Amused, he noticed not all were trying their utmost. His elf, as he expected, had taken a direct route through the trees, to put distance and time between them. It was what he would have done. He began climbing a short hill, following a lone set of footprints in the soft soil.
When he crested the hill, he caught sight of a wisp of flaxen hair as it disappeared behind a large rock. Grinning, he ran on.
* * * *
Erestor ran a short distance then leapt into the air, grasping a high branch and swinging up into the tree. Getting as close to the massive trunk as he could, he began to climb, hoping the shadows of the branches would help to conceal him. He climbed until he heard the second horn blast, then he froze, pressing as close to the trunk as possible.
He watched as elves dashed around below him, some hiding in hollowed out trunks, some running deeper into the forest. He had long ago learned how to be invisible; often that skill had meant the difference between living and dying. Directly below him, one pair's half-hearted chase was already over and they were pressed against each other in a heated embrace. Raising an eyebrow, Erestor wondered if they would couple on the spot, then he watched as the hunter led his prey back toward the caves.
Legolas stealthily made his way through the wood, his gaze ever watchful for his prey. While the others ran to and fro, he walked, slowly, his eyes fixed on a set of footprints. There was a reason he was second only to one in the hunt; he had inherited his father's skill. It had been many years since he had worn the white mask. Stopping suddenly, he looked around. The footsteps stopped, seemingly disappearing. A smiled curved his lips as he discovered his prey's route.
* * * *
Ithil was descending as Glorfindel steadily tracked his prey. This elf was proving to be no easy mark, as he had suspected. Several times he had come close to catching him, only to be evaded. Perched upon the top of a tall standing stone, he waited. He crouched low as he heard the footsteps growing closer. There were only two ways in and out of this labyrinth of rocks; one was the way they came in, the other was to climb out. In either case, he would see the elf when he emerged. The elf stopped below him, glancing around cautiously, muscles coiled and ready to spring into flight at the first sign of his hunter. Glorfindel smiled and rose to his feet as Ithil passed behind a cloud, then he leapt.
* * * *
Erestor let out a quiet sigh as his hunter moved on into the wood. His ruse had worked and now he merely had to wait for Anor to rise. He mulled over all the ways he would make Glorfindel pay for getting him to agree to playing this game. Tie him up and tickle him with his feather quill? Blindfold him and make him chase him around his bedchamber? Or, perhaps he should make the Balrog Slayer his slave for a day, polishing his boots, sharpening his quill pens, rolling sheet after sheet of parchment... He was so lost in his thoughts that when the hand closed on his arm he shouted and nearly fell out of the tree.
"I have you," the deep voice murmured next to his ear, "though you did not make it easy, Noldo."
Erestor closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. It would be a long night after all.
* * * *
Glorfindel landed on the ground in front of his prey, grasping the elf's wrists and pinning him against the rock before he could flee. "I have you," he murmured.
The elf did not resist, though he could feel the tension in his body. His eyes, sparked with defiance as he gazed into them. If he were in a more charitable mood, he would simply let him go. However, this elf made him work for it and he planned to reap his rewards.
"Come, my pet," he crooned. "I prefer a soft bed for leisurely pleasure taking." He took the elf by the wrist and began the walk back to the caves.
* * * *
How easy would it be to just give the elf a push? Elves didn't fall out of trees, especially Wood-elves; he would surely land on his feet. They were precariously balanced on the thick branch and it would be very easy to cause this hunter to tumble. As much as he hated to admit it, the warm press of his hunter's body against his own was beginning to wear down his resistance. The elf's lips were so warm, so soft, and so very skilled as they explored his neck.
"Follow me, my pet," the elf murmured as he backed away and began the descent down the tree trunk.
Erestor followed; he had, after all, agreed to the rules.
To be continued...
Part 4:
Glorfindel led his prey into his bedchamber, then closed and latched the door behind him. He also latched the door that joined Erestor's bedchamber to his own; he would need absolute privacy for quite some time. A fire burned in the hearth, fresh linens were turned down upon the bed, and scented candles burned, lending the aroma of orchids to the room.
His prey stood before him, most of his face covered with the white mask, only his eyes, as piercing as that of an eagle's and as blue as the summer sky, and his lips, full, soft and luscious, could be seen. Still his prey had that defiant look in his eye, his chin held high even though his posture was one of submission. This was an elf who was not accustomed to yielding.
Glorfindel circled the elf, admiring his long, muscular legs, his round, taut buttocks and his powerful torso. He was not overly large, indeed there had been a few that were larger than he was, but he was perfectly proportioned. His body was definitely that of a warrior, most likely a swordsman, by his build. His eyes traveled over alabaster skin stretched tight over sculpted curves of muscle, and elegant hands with long, strong fingers. Yes, he had chosen well, if he could not have Erestor.
"Remove your boots," he said softly, using the tone he often took with the young warriors under his tutelage. The elf obeyed, kneeling and removing his boots, then awaiting further instruction with his eyes fixed on the rug. "Now remove mine," he continued, and the elf did as commanded, slipping first one boot, then the other off his hunter's feet. "Rise," Glorfindel ordered, and again, his prey did as he instructed.
Glorfindel stepped close to the elf, his hands coming to rest on his prey's upper arms. Lightly he stroked the warrior's skin as he leaned forward and breathed in the elf's scent. It was a heady mixture of wood and grasses, clean and positively alluring. "Do you desire this? I will not take what is not freely and gladly given." He felt the soft brush of the elf's cheek against his own as his prey nodded, and a smile curved his lips.
His hands roamed over the warrior's back in soothing strokes, softly exploring the hills and planes of muscle. His prey, ever obedient, yet prideful, awaited his command and stood with his hands by his sides. Glorfindel caught a glimpse of the slight flexing of the elf's fingers as his body responded to his touch and this encouraged further exploration. He added his lips to the exploration undertaken by his hands, tracing the line of his prey's jaw to his ear, then following the curve to the point.
A low groan escaped the elf, and Glorfindel spread his fingers wide as his hands dipped into the curve of his prey's back then slid over the mounds of his buttocks. "You may touch me," he whispered huskily into the warrior's ear, and his prey complied. The elf's hands immediately found Glorfindel's hips as his lips found the juncture of the Balrog Slayer's throat and shoulder. Glorfindel was surprised by the low moan that slipped from his own lips; the elf's mouth was sinfully warm and wet. He gently nipped at the curve of his prey's ear as he thought of all the uses he could make of that mouth, and then he pulled back to gaze into the warrior's eyes.
"Can we not break the rules, just this one time? I may not be here again, nor will I play the next round. Let me see your face, let me hear your voice," Glorfindel said softly.
His prey shook his head slowly, then tentatively reached for him with his mouth.
Glorfindel allowed the kiss; indeed, he wanted it badly. He took control and slid his hand behind his prey's head, plundering the elf's mouth with sensual abandon. The deep moans that mingled with his own, the way the elf's body both yielded and resisted at the same time were addicting beyond reckoning.
Placing his hands on the elf's shoulders, he gently pried himself away. The elf's mouth was slightly swollen from the deep and lengthy kiss, and his skin was flushed with his rising passion. Evidence of the elf's state of arousal filled out the black silk of his loincloth and Glorfindel found himself in much the same state. He hooked his fingers inside the cord that held the loincloth on, then slid it from the warrior's hips. "Lie on the bed, on your back," he murmured.
His prey obeyed once again after stepping free of his discarded loincloth. Glorfindel admired his muscular body stretched out languidly against the dark bedding. The elf's arousal lay hard against his stomach, swollen and slightly pink. He removed his own garment, then mounted the bed on his hands and knees, hovering over his prey. The elf's hair lay over his shoulder and Glorfindel slipped the tie off, allowing it to flow freely. As he combed his fingers through it, he noted it was a most unusual color, like summer wheat; it was wholly unlike that of most Silvan elves, which was a pale, almost silvery blonde. He loosened his own hair, allowing it to fall around their faces and mingle with that of his prey. The warrior's hands gripped the bedding, wadding it in his fists as Glorfindel lowered himself so that their bodies touched. Once again, Glorfindel took the elf's mouth in a searing kiss, groaning deeply as the warrior undulated beneath him.
Releasing the elf's mouth, he moved lower, latching onto one pebbled nipple and suckling it until it was flushed and swollen with blood. The elf's moans were driving him on, fueling the fire that was now burning in his blood. One overriding thought flooded his mind; he wanted to take this magnificent elf and have him beg for more. Rising from the bed just long enough to find something to ease his passage, he looked back at the elf, who was watching him intently. "Beautiful," he murmured softly.
* * * *
Erestor opened his mouth to protest the blindfold, then remembered the rules of the game: he could not protest, nor could he speak. He had no choice now but to comply. He sighed as his hunter tied the blindfold over the mask he wore, then felt the archer clasp his hand and lead him forward. He held his free hand out to keep from crashing into whatever might lay in his path as he followed the hunter down a corridor.
He heard a series of doors open and close, they climbed some stairs, went through some more doors, and then came to a stop. He was guided to a bed, and that was when the apprehension began building in his body; he cursed his decision to play this ridiculous game and hoped it would all be over soon. He could not explain his trepidation; he only knew that the thought of yielding to some stranger was not something he cared to do. He enjoyed being in control and directing the course and pace of sexual activities; the only one he had ever yielded to, aside from his initial experiences, was Glorfindel. He trusted Glorfindel; indeed, he trusted him with his life. They had fought together more than once, and more than once, each of them had saved the other's life.
He jumped a little when he felt his hunter's hands upon his hips, and he fought not to tremble as his loincloth was slipped from his body. He wanted to protest the blindfold; he would not feel so helpless if he could see what was happening. However, his pride kept him from breaking the rules or begging. The archer's hands seemed to devour him, their touch was soft, sensual, and possessive.
"You resist," the hunter's deep voice murmured.
Erestor was guided to lie upon his back on the bed. Silently, he began asking Elbereth for strength and for protection, though he knew this elf would not hurt him. A gasp escaped him as he felt the bed dip on each side of him, then felt the hunter's weight settle upon the tops of his thighs. The elf's hands roamed his chest in long, soothing strokes and Erestor listened to his deep, honeyed voice murmuring words of appreciation. Something was different about his voice; it sounded practiced, not effortless as most speech did. It was almost as if the Sindarin he spoke was not his native tongue, as he pronounced each word slowly and carefully.
The archer's mouth found his throat, lips caressing, tongue tasting, gently suckling his flesh. Erestor could feel the love marks starting to bloom, and while it felt good, he could not deny that, the thought of having to explain them later was not something he relished. To his surprise, he cried out when the hunter's mouth found his nipple and began drawing on it relentlessly. Despite his reluctance, his arousal began to swell beneath his captor as his treacherous body began betraying his will.
The hunter engaged in this sensual torment for some time, how long Erestor could not tell, but shortly his body was fully committed to what was to come, even if his mind still resisted. Erestor moaned and fisted the bedcovers as the hunter's long fingers raked his chest, then he felt the blindfold being removed.
Blinking to adjust to the dim light, Erestor focused on his captor. The elf's face was mostly covered by the mask, and all he could make out were deep, dark blue eyes and a soft, full mouth. His eyes traveled lower of their own accord, taking note of the archer's lean, muscular body and the length of flesh that stood hard against his flat stomach.
"My reluctant prey," the hunter murmured. "I would not take you without your consent."
Erestor merely stared at the hunter; something in his eyes was familiar.
"Perhaps I can show you something that will set your mind at ease," the hunter continued.
Erestor watched as the elf reached behind his head and untied his blindfold. It was expressly against the rules, yet this bold elf did it anyway.
"Legolas!" Erestor gasped in surprise.
"Yes, my crafty counselor, it is me."
Now Erestor understood why the elf's voice had sounded so strange; Legolas had been disguising his voice by speaking in a lower register. "I did not recognize you," Erestor murmured. "How is that possible?"
"Well, we have only just begun to become acquainted on this more, personal level. I made sure to bathe again with clear water so you would not recognize the scent you were so enamored of earlier this evening. And, by speaking in a lower tone, I hoped to fool you."
Erestor quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. "You most certainly did. Now, may I remove this ridiculous mask?"
Legolas chuckled. "Of course."
Erestor sat up and untied the mask, casting it to the floor, then reached for Legolas' mouth as the prince leaned in to release his hair. Erestor returned the gesture, untying the strip of leather that held the prince's hair back, then plunged his hands into the mass of flaxen silk that crowned Legolas' head. He was surprised by the speed with which Legolas grasped his wrists and pinned him back to the bed.
"Now, now, my dark beauty," Legolas purred. "I am the hunter, you the prey, you know the rules."
"Are we still playing the game?" Erestor replied huskily.
"Aye," Legolas answered. "You are mine until dawn."
"And then?"
"I imagine you shall want your due."
Erestor smiled. "You know me so well already."
Legolas winked. "It is good for you to let go, Erestor. One cannot be in control of every moment his entire life." He pressed his lower body to Erestor, gently rubbing his awakening length against the Noldo's own. "Tell me, am I going to have to bind you, or will you obey the rules?"
Erestor curled his fingers around the soft, birch that framed the head of the bed. "I shall try my utmost to obey, Master."
Legolas smiled. "There, you are beginning to get the gist of this already." Dipping his mouth to Erestor's throat, he added another love mark to the Noldo's flesh.
To be continued...
Part 5:
Glorfindel mounted the bed and pushed his prey's thighs apart. First, he oiled his own arousal, gritting his teeth against the feel of his slick fist sliding against his already over sensitized flesh, then he slid two fingers inside his prey's body. The elf hissed and arched against the abrupt invasion. He leaned forward, his mouth hovering over that of his prey, and he murmured, "There is no shame in finding pleasure in yielding; it makes you no less a warrior, nor does it make you weak." He brushed his lips against the elf's jaw. "It will be far more pleasurable if you relax and take what comes."
He gazed into the elf's eyes and saw the defiance there. A smile curved his lips; he understood this elf better than anyone knew. "You are not used to being handled this way, my friend. Nor are you used to taking orders from others. You must be a high ranking captain amongst the guard." Glorfindel crooked his fingers and found his mark. The elf cried out and arched against him, closing his eyes tight and turning his face away.
Glorfindel gently grasped the elf's jaw and turned his head back. "No shame, my friend, only pleasure," he murmured. "You are beautiful beyond compare; it is your pride, your strength that attracted me to you, it is what I appreciate most about you now."
The elf's eyes softened and he took his prey's mouth in a deep kiss. He ached to take him now, to prove that to be taken takes as much strength as the act of taking itself. He ensured that his prey was prepared for him, then grasped the elf's long legs, encouraging him to lift his hips, and then he entered him.
The deep cry that escaped his prey caused his heart to beat faster. It was a cry of surrender and of pleasure. He answered his prey with a deep groan as he was sheathed inside him. This was an elf who did not yield, who did not supplicate himself to anyone. Glorfindel rested his head upon his prey's shoulder, his lips caressing the elf's throat as he hung on to the warrior's trembling thighs. He waited for his prey's body to relax around him; to try to move now, while he was being so mercilessly squeezed would prove too difficult and too uncomfortable for his prey.
Slowly, the elf's body yielded and Glorfindel tentatively moved within his tight, delicious heat. As the passion began to build between them, he increased his pace, withdrawing further and delving in deeper with each thrust. His prey gripped the headboard of the bed, his body drawn tight as a bowstring, reluctantly accepting each impaling thrust of his hunter's arousal. Glorfindel had no doubt that his prey took pleasure in this, as his arousal stood hard against his stomach and was weeping ceaselessly. The elf's body was more honest than his mind. Glorfindel was determined to see him yield fully before it was through.
He took the elf's mouth in another deep kiss, swallowing the strained cries that began to escape. Releasing his mouth, Glorfindel hovered above his face, their lips almost touching, and he murmured, "Yes, give over to it; do not deny yourself this pleasure..."
Glorfindel reached between their bodies, grasping his prey's arousal and stroking it in time with his thrusts. Strained groans gave way to wanton cries and Glorfindel tugged at the elf's lower lip with his teeth. "Touch me," he whispered huskily, and the elf's hands moved to his back, gripping at his shoulders.
The elf's climax took him in a roaring burst of fire. He cried out and arched against the hunter as his seed spilled between them. The hunter continued to ride him, thrusting in and withdrawing more easily now, as he had no resistance left. The elf buried his face in the hunter's neck, his tongue licking at the salty sweat that beaded on the Balrog Slayer's skin. He raised his legs and the hunter sank deeper inside him, causing the fire to reawaken in his blood. He was fisting Glorfindel's hair now, devouring his mouth, as the Noldo rode him with abandon. His arousal was turgid and weeping again when his hunter found his release, and he felt the Noldo's hot seed spill inside him.
Glorfindel collapsed upon his prey, his chest heaving with each panting breath, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. He was not sure who gave more, himself or his prey. He felt the elf's reawakened arousal pressing into his stomach, and slowly he rose, bestowing a long and thorough kiss to his prey's lips before moving lower.
The elf moaned as his hunter took his length into his mouth, and he thrust shallowly into the Noldo's wet embrace. Soon, the fall came again and he cried out weakly as he spilled down the Balrog Slayer's throat. Glorfindel rolled to his back and gathered the elf into his arms, and then they both drifted into reverie.
* * * *
Erestor lay on his stomach, fisting the bedcovers in his hands. His moans sounded foreign to his own ears: wanton and needful. His lover's slick tongue slid in and out of his body and he spread his legs further apart, pressing back against Legolas' face. His arousal, painfully erect and weeping, lay trapped between his body and the bed, each time he moved, the soft brush of the bed linens caused him to groan anew. It felt so good to relinquish control, and the way Legolas touched him, kissed him, devoured his body was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
He whimpered in protest as Legolas rose, then moaned wantonly as his lover bestowed a nip to his seat bone. As the oil was drizzled on his backside, he felt his arousal twitch and he pulled his knees further underneath him, offering himself up to his princely lover. Legolas hands grasped his hips, spreading him. Erestor closed his eyes and waited for the moment of penetration. A keening cry escaped his lips as Legolas sheathed himself inside his body. He could feel the Sinda's hands caressing his back and shoulders, feel the soft brush of his hair upon his arms, feel the warmth of his mouth upon his neck.
"Thank you, Erestor," Legolas murmured huskily into his ear. "Thank you for giving so much to me."
Erestor smiled and turned his head, finding Legolas' mouth with his own.
Their coupling was fueled by desire so hot he could not recall having ever felt anything like it. He took Legolas inside him again and again, their moans and cries mingling with one another's in the dark. Legolas' long, elegant fingers wrapped around his arousal, milking it steadily as he was entered time and again. The prince's teeth marked his throat and shoulders as he thrust deeper and deeper. Each deep and hard thrust struck that place inside him that turned his blood into liquid heat. He could feel his release coming, building and spreading out through his limbs. He uttered a keening cry as his body coiled in on itself and his essence burst forth from his body. Legolas' own release followed hard upon, and he felt his lover's warm seed fill him.
They collapsed to the bed in a sweaty, sticky tangle of limbs, smiles curving their lips as they panted. Legolas curled around him, the prince's warm, soft skin against his own felt so comforting. He could feel his strong archer's hands stroking his hips, the prince's heartbeat thumping steadily against his back, the Sinda's warm, soft lips caressing the back of his neck. It felt good to lie there in Legolas' arms, in his bed, with all the cares of the world far, far away.
"This is where I want you," Legolas murmured wearily. "Right here, in my bed, for as long as you are in this realm."
Erestor smiled. "It will be difficult to conduct business from here, I think."
Legolas chuckled, the sound of it made Erestor smile. "All right, I suppose I can let you out of bed to conduct business, but then I want you right back here when you are through."
Erestor laughed softly. "Yes, my lord," he answered, before drawing Legolas' arms tighter around him. He yawned then murmured, "Perhaps we should bathe before sleep?"
"Why?" Legolas answered. "I plan to make another mess of you before the night is through."
Erestor smiled and replied, "As you wish, Master."
They slipped into reverie as Ithil waned.
* * * *
Glorfindel looked down wearily at the elf that lay in his arms. His prey's hand rested on his chest, his long, honeyed hair was spread out across his shoulders. The elf was deep in reverie, his normally bright blue eyes clouded as he slept. Glorfindel knew he should not do what he was about to do, but he could never stand unanswered questions. Carefully, in an effort not to wake the sleeping elf, he untied the mask and slowly lifted it away, and what he saw caused his heart to stop.
Glorfindel's efforts were in vain, for as the sleeping elf felt the mask come away from his face, he awoke and sat up. "Well, my secret is now discovered," he said softly.
"Your majesty," Glorfindel breathed in barely disguised shock.
Thranduil sat up in the bed and looked down at Glorfindel. "Yes. I see you expected someone else?"
"I do not know what I expected," Glorfindel replied, "but I did not expect to see the King of Mirkwood in my bed." He raised an eyebrow. "My apologies if I..."
Thranduil pressed his fingers to Glorfindel's lips. "This is why we wear masks, Glorfindel. I do not wish to be treated any differently than anyone else in the hunt." He slipped Glorfindel's mask off. "I am surprised that you did not guess it was me."
"I never dreamed you would prefer the role of prey," Glorfindel answered.
"I do not," Thranduil replied. "But in this case, I decided to make an exception."
A smile slowly began to curve Glorfindel's lips. "What if I had drawn the role of prey?"
Thranduil grinned. "Then this night would have been very different."
Glorfindel reached up and cupped Thranduil's cheek. "What if I had not chosen you?"
"I was fairly sure you would, once I gave you that defiant look. However, had you chosen someone else, I simply would have evaded my hunter then returned to my place on the other side."
"So, you risked not only that I might draw as prey, but that I might choose someone else, just so you could lie with me?" A slight smile was curving Glorfindel's mouth as he spoke.
"Yes. Taking chances makes life a bit more exciting, do you not think so?" Thranduil winked.
"You could have simply seduced me at the party; I would not have resisted," Glorfindel answered.
"Aye, but this was so much more fun, yes?"
Glorfindel chuckled. "Aye, this was quite a bit of fun. I see you do not yield often."
Thranduil smiled as he settled himself between Glorfindel's legs. "No, but this was worth the risk."
"I was going to choose Erestor, had I gone first."
"Yes, I thought that much. However, my son had his heart set on him, and since I took the role of prey, Legolas became the first to choose as hunter." He pressed a kiss to Glorfindel's chest. "I hope this does not cause ill feelings between the two of you."
"Erestor and I are more friends than lovers, had we been committed to one another, we would not have agreed to join the hunt." Glorfindel closed his eyes and sighed as Thranduil's lips gently explored his chest. "By the Valar, you have the most incredible mouth..."
Thranduil smiled as he lapped at a pebbled nipple. "Thank you, Master," he purred.
Glorfindel chuckled and began massaging the king's scalp. "I take it our roles have not reversed."
"Not until dawn," Thranduil purred, "then I suggest you grow accustomed to yielding."
"Yes, my lord," Glorfindel answered, as he closed his eyes.
~Finis