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There were never any libraries this grand in Lindon, not even at the height of his power. Valinor is exquisite for a commoner and humbling for a king. Since he has been here he has been treated to the sights of the land, the rolling hills and twinkling lights of a paradise in decline still more than enough to rankle the pride of the Last High King of the Noldor. Still, he has to admit the place is gorgeous. Almost enough to make give anything to say. Almosts, though, as the Valar learned, are never enough.
Gil-galad walks past tall rows of books, their contents organized with familiar precision. He wonders if his heartbeat is loud enough for others to hear in this stiff silence. He glances up, catching sight of the dome above his head, the twinkling reflections of the stained glass burning his eyes until he looks back down, eyes centering back on the shelves around him. His passion was never reading, but still, any other day the sheer amount of knowledge contained in this sanctum would give him pause.
Not now. Not when new blood flows through reembodied veins, not while he is in search of the Elf he last saw with blood staining his battle-pale face, black hair flying, mouth open in horror as he watched Ereinion's last breath rattle out of his charred body.
When Gil-galad finds him poring over old manuscripts, he pauses. He needs a moment to appreciate this, the reunion that is about to commence, the weight on his shoulders that will hopefully lift from him when the person he has longed for for millennia looks up from his work. Thousands of years in the Halls with only his thoughts and memories for company, and finally, Elrond is here in the flesh.
When Elrond looks up Gil-galad is relieved to see that there is no trace of the pain that marred his features the last time he saw him. He does not like, however, the careful mask that has replaced it, the fiery young soldier he had been marbled over to present a wise, careful leader.
He thinks all this in the flash of time before Elrond reacts to his presence. Time ticks to a halt. The Valar could do that if they wanted, he thinks absently as all the blood drains from his face, his body suddenly seized by fear. He attempts a smile. Elrond laughs, lips spreading in that smile he could only dream of in the Halls. Smile attempt failed then.
"Ereinion," he says. "You're really here. You're really back."
There's distance between them. Thousands of years lost when Sauron's burning gauntlet turned him to ash from the inside out. A wife and children. A lineage of kings. He pauses, hesitating to close the distance between them.
Elrond bridges the gap. He's a tall Elf, but Gil-galad is taller (he'd call it a difference between their blood if Elrond's ancestor's hadn't been so renowned for height). Elrond's head ends up nestled in one of his shoulders, fingers clawing into his neck and his back. Gil-galad is surprised by the sudden embrace, stiffening for a moment. The feeling of Elrond in his arms, the warmth beneath those robes, brings him to tears. He raises a hand to that dark hair, stroking it as he takes one shuddering breath after another.
"You're really back," repeats Elrond, voice muffled, tone at its breaking point.
He has so many questions. His chest hurts. He brings a hand to his face to wipe away tears. Elrond reaches up to his unbraided hair, threading his own fingers through it now, pulling their lips together for a strangely chaste press of their lips. Closed lips, open minds.
Gil-galad knows the answers now, at least the ones he really needs. Elrond has been waiting. He's not in love with anyone else, not anymore. He's alone, letting others heal. He wants to heal too. He thinks he can now, with his body pressed against Ereinion's.
Gil-galad closes his eyes but not his thoughts, letting Elrond search through his own memories, his longings, reveling in the mere shape of him.
It's Gil-galad who incited the second kiss, when Elrond has had his fill. This one isn't chaste. He's missed him. He's spent Ages alone. They have so much to catch up on. The heat between them only grows as Gil-galad rediscovers Elrond, the inside of his mouth, the way he moans when Ereinion presses his tongue just so.
Elrond smells the same, a mixture of ink and fragrance of a cleaning balm he's been using for what might as well be forever. The more things change the more they stay the same. So ever has it been for the Eldar.
"Is this what you do now?" he asks, because hearing Elrond's rich voice right now is as important as anything has even been in this life or the one before it.
"It comes full circle," says Elrond, his hand twitching slightly as though he wants to gesture to the books but has decided against it, the allure of Gil-galad too strong to give up. "Scholar to herald to leader and back around to scholar."
"If it means we're together again," he says. "Then I hope you are a scholar for the rest of eternity."
"You're quite the charmer."
"I'm being honest."
"Then you've charmed me anyway."
A third kiss. Elrond smiles. Gil-galad has rarely seen him so happy. Then again, he missed many of his happiest days. The thought that he was not the one to bring Elrond his greatest joys is selfish, unfair, and unbecoming. He has it anyway and draws Elrond even closer to him.
Soon they're fumbling with each others' robes, Gil-galad cursing under his breath in his attempt to remove his, the styles so different than when he was last alive. They're drawn by proximity and the headiness of the moment to move past kissing, heedless of the location. It's not a private library, no matter how quiet and empty it is at that moment.
"We shouldn't," says Elrond, not dropping the blissful smile he wears. It's the only protest either of them makes.
Elrond's just as handsome as he was before. Cheekbones carved of stone, lips that looks as good as they feel on his neck, black hair pulled out of its braids tumbling around his shoulders, framing his angular face. He's exquisite. He's always been so. Gil-galad crushes their lips together for a fourth time and stays there long enough for a fifth, nipping at his lips until they are red and kiss-swollen.
"Are we really doing this so soon?" says Elrond.
"I'll do anything with you, if you want to stop."
"So if I said I wanted to file books for the rest of the evening, you'd join me? Sit calmly at my side the whole time? You'd be fine with that?"
"Yes," he says firmly. It's honest, even if it isn't his choice activity. Any time with Elrond is worth it.
"I believe you," says Elrond, grabbing Gil-galad by the front of his half-unbuttoned robes and pushing him down onto his desk, scattering papers. "Don't worry, love, it's not what I have in mind."
"Glad to hear it."
Elrond unlaces the rest of his tunic, the brush of the fabric making him shiver as he pulls his outerrobes off the edge of his shoulders, where they've been hanging. Then he finishes divesting him of his tunic, so that Gil-galad is shirtless now, bared to Elrond's gaze. Elrond stands in front of him, taking in the sight. Gil-galad thinks for a moment that there are tears in his eyes. He blinks and they're gone.
"Look at you," says Elrond, voice catching. His hands are shaking slightly. He's biting his lip as he presses his palms to Gil-galad's film stomach, running them up and down his chest.
Gil-galad leans back, weight on his elbows, letting Elrond have his fill. They're both overwhelmed. Better than another day apart. There have been far too many of those.
Soon Elrond has rid him of his trousers too, running his hands along Gil-galad's thighs, drawing a soft moan from him. Then Elrond's on him, pressing his lips to his lips, his jaw, his neck, tracing a line down his chest, leaving a trail of fire behind him. He only pauses for a moment before continuing his path to include his thighs, hands never ceasing to caress him, sending small waves of pleasure up his body.
He's sweating now, straining slightly to hold himself where he is, trying to lean forward and keep sight of Elrond as he kneels on the floor, head in front of his legs, the position familiar enough to make him grin.
"I don't think either of us will last long at this rate," says Elrond, voice low and deep, eyes half shut as his hand slides down to touch the length in front of him.
"I don't mind," says Gil-galad, voice rough against the grain of his throat, losing himself in the pleasure of Elrond's fingers on his cock. "We'll have plenty of time for another round."
"One where we'll actually have lube on hand," says Elrond, stroking Gil-galad with precision, tracing along the vein he likes touched with expert memory. He leans down his head down, black hair falling like a sheet past his face, and presses a kiss to the head of his cock. All of his blood is suddenly in his groin; Gil-galad has no choice but to throw his head back and moan at the feel of it.
Elrond doesn't waste time, taking him in his mouth with a delicacy that Gil-galad is pained to remember from endless encounters in the gardens of Lindon, the brief minutes they'd pull out of the days for each other even in the direst times. Their last times together were never delicate, fueled by desperate, clinging to each other in the bedroll they shared despite the grime of Mordor, Gil-galad's crown never coming off in fear of bad news interrupting them and robbing them of time.
Gil-galad grips the table and moans a litany of praise for the scholar on his knees before him, a kind of submission beyond that of a king and his liege, one Elrond seems more than happy to give as long as Gil-galad is willing in return. He runs his tongue along his head before using a hand to steady himself as he took more of Gil-galad in his mouth, until Ereinion can feel himself pressing against the back of Elrond's throat.
The tight heat of his mouth compels him to thrust, but he keeps himself still as Elrond tugs at his balls a few times, pulling moans load enough to alert anyone in the library of their activity out of him. Elrond lets out a pleased hum around the length in his mouth, sending vibrations up Gil-galad's body. He's staring at the domed ceiling now with its reflecting light and beautiful stained glass, thighs shaking around Elrond's hair. There was a time that he valued his stamina, but he's willing to lose that pride as he his heart beats in time with the throbbing cock in Elrond's mouth.
"Elrond…I'm close," he gasps, embarrassed enough that he feels his cheeks go warm. It's only been a few short minutes since Elrond began ministering to him like this, but he can feel that coil of heat in his lower stomach that means he's going to lose his composure in a few seconds, more than he already has, with his head so far back his hair is hitting the desk and Elrond pushing his thighs away from his head to stop him from accidentally clamping his legs around his lover.
Elrond hears him and responds by taking him deeper, all the way in, so far his nose is pressed to the base of Gil-galad's shaft. The pressure is intense, heat spreading across his whole body, his cries of lust increasing as Elrond bobs his head around his cock, hands back on his thighs, gray eyes fixed on the once-king, waiting for his release.
Gil-galad shouts his release, the swell of arousal in his body and emotions in their connected minds a cacophony of internal noise, a good kind, the kind that makes you delirious with desire, shooting straight into Elrond's throat the way the Elf intended the moment he took him deep. Elrond swallows easily, drawing his softening cock out of his throat as Gil-galad collapses against the desk, letting out shaky laughs when the aftermath has finished with him.
He eventually sits up, naked on Elrond's desk, nude in the library. Elrond hits him square in the face with his robes, tossing them over. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, clearly his throat a couple of times before he speaks. "That was good," he says quietly, smiling at Ereinion. "More than good. There are no words for how happy I am to see you again."
Gil-galad pulls his outer robes back on, his front still woefully bare as they hang open. He reaches for Elrond's trousers, but Elrond pushes his hand away gently. "We need to continue our activities elsewhere, Ereinion. I can promise that someone noticed the noises we made."
"The noises I made," he corrects sheepishly, smiling despite himself.
Elrond kisses him again. Gil-galad has long lost count of how many that is. He pulls him in for a last embrace before he gets dressed properly, before they leave this library and enter his new life in Valinor, their new life together.
There is nothing he can say to encompass everything he feels; there never is. It's okay, though, because Elrond understands him, and Gil-galad gets the feeling he always will. An eternity together, that's what he's always wanted, what they used to tell each other they'd have, and now he feels like the promise is ripe in the air.