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When they push through the west door of the library, it seems tremendously loud and out of place to Glorfindel. A library at night is a sacred, silent space, with its heavy wooden doors shut tight against the damp and all its lanterns snuffed and stowed by careful hands away from shelves of old, dry books and scrolls.
And a library at night is almost always empty.
Glorfindel’s heart is racing. Erestor, barely visible with eyes still adjusting to the intimate dark, pulls him forward by his clothes, claiming his mouth in a hard kiss.
The stoic advisor’s professionalism had lasted only as long as it had taken to receive the travelling party in the courtyard, and even then he had been meeting Glorfindel’s eyes above the crowd, his gaze dark and warm for only Glorfindel to see.
He and his group of companions had returned just before nightfall from overseeing trainings in Lothlórien that had taken months, nearly the whole summer. They had been weeks on the road, with very little sleep, for still there was the ever-present threat of yrch, and slow and careful was the rule.
When their duties were done and Erestor had laced their fingers together and pulled him down the darkened corridor with a look of hot want, he had let himself be led and made no complaint. Everything else could wait. Despite the heaviness in his limbs and the welcome idea of uninterrupted sleep in his own bed, there is the undeniable truth that he had burned for Erestor the entire time he had been away with an anticipation that eclipsed all else.
He runs his hands along his friend’s dearly-missed form and meets every one of his kisses with matching ardour, settles a hand possessively at his hip. Erestor draws away for breath but stays in his space, for which Glorfindel is grateful. He missed the privilege of his closeness so desperately, and now that Erestor is within his arms again he can barely contain his joy. He kisses along his jaw, enjoying the familiar smell of his neck and hair, sweet and clean. Erestor wraps his arms around Glorfindel and hugs him tightly, and Glorfindel can hear his soft sigh.
“I take it you missed me?” Glorfindel asks, huffing out a laugh at the annoyed look Erestor graces him with. The dark haired elf pulls Glorfindel’s mouth back to his own, marrying their lips in a demanding press of eager heat.
“Some parts of you perhaps more than others,” Erestor whispers against his parted lips, the first words he has said directly to him all evening, and the wickedness of Erestor’s cruel mouth sends a flare of heat straight through him.
Erestor steps back enough to get a hold on the golden elf’s belts and pulls him along as he backs into the nearest study alcove. Glorfindel’s mouth splits into a giddy grin and he drops the pack he had been carrying aside, forgotten. Erestor hoists himself up into the table and wastes no time before he is back at Glorfindel’s mouth, teasing at his lips as his nimble fingers make quick work of the clasp of Glorfindel’s cloak and the baldric and belts that hold his weapon.
He kicks the cloak away from his feet, sets the scabbard and sword aside with a bit more care, and then insinuates himself into Erestor’s space once again. Glorfindel pulls him closer, biting at his generous mouth, tangling his hands in his long, dark hair. He lowers him onto the polished surface of the table, sweeping the books and bits of parchment that lay on it to the side. He cradles Erestor’s head in his arms and presses sweet kisses all over his face. Glorfindel stares down at the elf beneath him, his dark hair falling back from his face, his swollen mouth, his expectant eyes. There is the suggestion of a blush barely visible on his dark skin in the moonlight that trickles in through the high, narrow windows. A sudden surge of affection pulls through him his heart aches with it.
“I can not stand to be parted from you,” he blurts, his face growing hot. The intimacy of the confession will likely embarrass Erestor, but as usual, he cannot stop himself. “I felt as if every minute were an hour, like it would be eternity before I could see you again.”
Erestor turns away, blush darkening on his cheeks. Glorfindel leans down to lay his head next to Erestor’s on the desk so that they are facing again. Erestor meets his gaze, looking flustered and disarmed.
“Would that you would never leave,” the dark-haired elf murmurs, reaching a slender hand over to cup his cheek. There is a soft look in his eyes then, one Glorfindel is unused to seeing, and he barely dares to breathe for fear of frightening it away, though he wants very badly to grin, or to run through the gardens and shout.
Erestor, Chief Counselor to Elrond of Imladris, is not known for being an especially soft person. Everything about him gives the opposite impression. He is all sharp words, quick wit, and deadly, nearly unrivaled skill with knives. Even his physicality is sharp, despite his being small of stature, and his general expression too serious and somber to be considered friendly. Glorfindel, too, was fooled at first, before he had realized it was all part of a carefully constructed and painstakingly maintained persona intended to keep others away, perfected by a weary elf who had seen much and who strived for perfection in all things, even this.
Glorfindel supposes that is what drew him in initially. Erestor was the only one who ever dared to challenge him, or question him, who refused to put him on a pedestal. In fact, he had never appeared to be impressed by him at all, seeming from their very first meeting to actively take pleasure in pulling the rug out from under Glorfindel’s feet. In turn, it gave Glorfindel immense satisfaction to drive him to heated words and frustration. In the beginning, all he had wanted was to get a rise out of the cold bastard.
Eventually, what he wanted changed its form, and they had fallen quite easily into more physical expressions of their frustration with each other. From there, friendship had grown, and affection, until they were in each other’s company more often than not, much to everyone’s surprise, especially their own.
Lately, Glorfindel has found himself quite besotted, thinking of Erestor always, wanting everything he had to give. When he first realized he had fallen in love with Erestor it was far more than he was comfortable with, and he had panicked terribly. The panic gave way to guilt and a pervading sense of inappropriateness, but even that has now faded and he is left only with a deep gratefulness that he has met this ridiculous elf and the small fear that Erestor, ever-perceptive, will see right through him to his yearning heart and find the abundance of affection he holds for him somehow lacking.
Erestor’s dark eyes are unreadable where they are focused pointedly on the hand he is trailing through Glorfindel’s hair. He is still flushed, looking ruffled by the vulnerability of what they had just shared. Glorfindel suspects he is already hard at work analyzing Glorfindel’s words, and trying to determine if his own admission had been a mistake.
With a sort of fond desperation, and in an attempt to keep Erestor from his tendency to become distant and skeptical, Glorfindel claims his mouth again, sweetly, trying to convey the sincerity of his affection in a tangible way. The kiss transforms from something tender, something gentle, into the kind of insistent passion that always grows between them. Erestor’s hands are still in his hair, gripping tightly and tugging, utterly ruining whatever semblance his hairstyle ever held to a braid. He presses Erestor down into the desk with his full weight and kisses his smirking mouth, enjoys the feel of him going pliant beneath him, the hard-soft-hard press of the flat planes of his chest and his lean, lithe body against his own bulk.
They part for breath, rejoin, part again. Glorfindel’s hands go to Erestor’s chest, quickly unsnapping the clasps of his formal robes, parting the heavy fabric and pushing it away to pool around him. He pushes his thin white undershirt up around his arms and throat and trails his hands down Erestor’s chest before setting his mouth to the same path. Erestor bows up towards him with a wordless appreciative hum but still yanks at the ties of his Glorfindel’s thick traveling shirt with single-minded intent. He manages that task before Glorfindel reclaims his mouth, both of them panting and pulling irresponsibly at garments. Erestor kicks off his house shoes, and Glorfindel hoists his legs up around his waist and lays himself down on him, mouths hotly at his neck and presses his hardness against Erestor through their leggings.
“Ah,” Erestor gasps, and the break in his disciplined silence has Glorfindel grinning into their kiss. He can practically feel Erestor rolling his eyes, and it just makes him giddier. He really has missed him terribly, this elf who has become his dearest love. He kisses him again and again, worries at his bottom lip with his teeth until Erestor tugs impatiently at his shirt, turns his head away and demands “Off.”
Glorfindel backs away a bit to pull it over his head of unruly blond hair and before it even hits the floor Erestor’s palm cups his hardness through his hosen. The dark-haired elf loosens the ties of his leggings and yanks them down. Glorfindel groans as his erection is freed. Erestor has a fist around him immediately, and Glorfindel gasps at the feel of it, warm and soft and already far too much.
“Valar, stop. Stop, or I’ll spill already.” He pushes Erestor back onto the desk and holds him at arm’s length for a moment, both of them breathing heavily and staring at each other in the near-dark, Erestor looking satisfied and more than just a bit amused. His gaze drops to Glorfindel’s mouth and his smirk falls away in increments. He lifts his hand to cup Glorfindel’s cheek and pulls him in for another kiss, soft and sweet and terribly arousing. Glorfindel drags his mouth from Erestor’s, over his jaw, into the hollow of his throat, kissing open-mouthed and hot.
“I want to taste you,” he breathes hot and damp at Erestor’s ear, hands playing at the ties of his leggings. Erestor groans at his forwardness and slips forward off the desk to push his own leggings down over his hips. Glorfindel laughs and helps him yank them all the way off, lets them drop behind him in a haphazard heap with the rest of their clothes.
“Someone could come in. Someone could see,” Erestor whispers, but he does not sound overly concerned.
“I care not,” says Glorfindel, and lifts him back onto the desk.
“Hmm. They will only be jealous, any way,” Erestor mumbles, and Glorfindel laughs again where he is kissing down his chest and stomach.
He drops to his knees on the marble floor before him and Erestor shifts obligingly, allowing Glorfindel to settle between his legs. Glorfindel dips his blond head down to kiss at his hip, strokes his large hands over the ticklish skin of his inner thighs and spreads him wide for his hungry gaze.
“Is all as you remember it?”
Glorfindel cannot bring himself to reply, occupied as he is with the task of running his fingers along the warm outer folds of Erestor’s blushing cunt. He runs his thumb up the center and it parts for him, slick beneath, and he just barely touches the nub at the peak, circling it softly. Erestor jerks and sighs and a hand comes to rest on Glorfindel’s head.
Glorfindel spares a moment for nostalgia, how many balmy nights he had spent alone in his bed in Lórien dreaming of exactly this. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I missed you a lot,” he offers, and Erestor laughs softly, lets his head fall to the desk. “That’s very sweet, Glorfindel.”
He leans in and drags his mouth along the path his fingers took, the narrow line of wet at the center spreading gradually beneath his lips until he can taste Erestor on his tongue. He is purposefully light and teasing, laying down short feather-soft licks everywhere but the place he knows Erestor wants him most, and the hand in his hair tightens as Erestor attempts to give him a bit of helpful direction.
Glorfindel resists, moving his mouth away entirely. Erestor whines in frustration but relents, takes his hand away. Glorfindel soothes him with his hands on his thighs and then lays one large hand on the flat of his belly, just above his damp, dark curls, and pulls the flesh taut, marveling at the way the plump lips stretch and part to expose his sensitive anatomy. Glorfindel breathes out, close and hot above him, enjoying the way it makes him twitch and tremble.
“Glorfindel. Please,” Erestor groans from behind the shield of his arm where he has thrown it over his face. Glorfindel is struck for a moment by the novelty of barely having to goad him into begging.
He grips Erestor’s hips to hold him steady, then spreads him with his thumbs before he descends upon him, dragging his tongue tortuously slow up over the whole of him once, twice, again, again, until the elf seems to melt upon the desk. His quickening breath and the wet sounds of Glorfindel’s ministrations echo about the library.
Erestor shudders and Glorfindel urges on without mercy, licking and sucking at the lips of his cunt, stroking at the middle and thrusting his tongue into the warm core of him there where his taste is the strongest.
His attentions turn deep and steady, long, hard licks that have fresh damp spreading across his chin. The heat of Erestor is molten and the sounds he makes are high and inarticulate, his thighs trembling where Glorfindel has his hold on them.
He laps at Erestor until he is grinding against his mouth with abandon, the desk creaking in protest. He begins to let out bitten-off little noises that make Glorfindel’s cock twitch. He pulls away briefly, gasping for breath, sucking in the cool air and running the pad of a thumb over wet lips and the sensitive nub at the top of Erestor’s sopping cleft.
“Do you want my fingers?” Glorfindel asks, and Erestor moans.
“Fuck,” he breathes, unusually vulgar. His face is a wreck, dark hair plastered to his cheeks. “Yes,” he says, and it is desperate. “Please, please,” he begs, and Glorfindel places two fingers at his lips. He makes a bit of a show of it, licking up the sides and kissing wetly, stroking his own slender fingers over the back of Glorfindel’s hand and down his wrist.
Glorfindel removes them with a wet pop and trails them down over Erestor’s jaw and throat and collarbone, over his dark nipples and his stomach and hips. He runs them over the hotter skin of his cunt and gets them even more wet, plays with Erestor’s clit until he whines.
He sits back on his heels to watch as he pushes the first inside, his stomach clenching with the thrill of watching Erestor take it, thrusts it deep and drags it back. Erestor is loose and soaked, dripping even onto the polished surface of the desk, and so Glorfindel gives him the second finger quickly, teasingly stretching his entrance before pressing the pads of both fingers to the front wall where he knows Erestor’s pleasure is greatest.
Erestor lets out a wordless exquisite groan, loud enough to alert anyone in the vicinity to exactly what they are doing in the library so late. Glorfindel wavers over whether or not to remind him of the need for subtlety and decides instead to make a deliberate effort to drive the counselor to further excess of noise. He leans back in to mouth at him again, licking at where his hole is stretched taut around his thrusting fingers, and revels in the feeling of accomplishment that comes with reducing Erestor, usually so unfailingly composed and articulate, to such wonderful, broken sounds. Glorfindel spreads his fingers within him and massages the swollen bud with the flat of his tongue.
He could stay like this for hours, he thinks, content to do naught but torture Erestor with this pleasure. His cock is hard where it lies neglected against his thigh, pre-come soaking a spot into his hosen, and Erestor’s every twitch and gasp and haggard moan is as the very music of the ainur to him in these moments. He thinks about how Erestor will sound with his cock inside of him, how he will feel, how perfectly they fit together. He moans into his slick sweet mouthful, and Erestor makes a helpless noise.
He urges on without mercy and begins to suck softly at Erestor’s clit, a steady pulse of sodden tender pleasure, and the effect is immediate. His lover moans brokenly, spreads his legs even wider, tension quickly working its way through him until he is clenched as tightly as a vice.
He goes rigid with a shout and his thighs close reflexively about Glorfindel’s head, but the golden elf merely pushes them apart and seals his mouth and tongue over the sensitive parts of him. Erestor braces his arms on the desk, his whole body shaking as he sobs his way through his orgasm.
Glorfindel pulls away, unhurried, licking his lips and soothing the tremors from Erestor with gentle strokes to his flank and hip. The dark-haired elf pants heavily, sharp, ragged breaths. His body grips greedily at Glorfindel’s fingers as he pulls them slowly out.
Erestor reaches for him, wrapping his arms about Glorfindel’s broad shoulders and drawing him up and in to kiss him, without hesitation at the taste of his own wetness. He sags boneless beneath Glorfindel as they kiss, his body still twitching minutely with aftershocks of pleasure, his hands clutching and petting at the golden elf above him.
Glorfindel’s cock is hard in the dip of Erestor’s groin and his lips hover an inch over Erestor’s, everything hot and wet between them.
Erestor runs a trembling hand down Glorfindel’s back and pulls his hips down, encouraging him to thrust his cock back and forth against the soaked mess of his cunt.
“May I?” Glorfindel gasps, can hardly breathe with the force of his own yearning.
Erestor nods, smiles, and props his feet up on the edge of the desk, spreading himself obscenely wide around Glorfindel’s hips and the sight draws a hungry noise from him. “Put it in me,” Erestor whispers into the intimate space between them. Glorfindel does as he’s told.
Erestor is almost unbearably tight around him and still quivering from the pleasure Glorfindel had given him with his mouth. He breathes hard against his collarbone, and Erestor holds him, brings one hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “Go on,” he urges him, “I want you to.”
Glorfindel sets a slow pace, grinding gently into the tight heat until he feels Erestor adjust to his girth. Erestor encourages him, letting his legs fall further open and tilting his hips, pulling at Glorfindel with steady hands until he is thrusting steadily. Where Erestor had been loud in his pleasure before, he now emits soft, breathless, whimpering noises, his body clenching Glorfindel ever tighter, his nails digging claims into the skin of his broad shoulders. Glorfindel’s mouth falls open at the sensation. He knows he must be bruising Erestor where he grips his hips, but he cannot bring himself to stop and Erestor does not ask him to. His words are all honeyed praise, he tells him how much he missed this, how divine Glorfindel feels inside of him, how lovely, how thick, how huge his cock is. Glorfindel’s face is hot with a potent mixture of pride and embarrassment at how those words make him feel - how Erestor, so pristine, drops such obscenities so casually; how he, who thought himself so humble, feels himself grow impossibly harder to hear it.
He thrusts deliriously until he cannot bear the hot, wet softness anymore. He cries out as his orgasm hits him, the intensity of it nearly surprising him, bright white blooming behind his eyelids. He stutters to a halt between Erestor’s spread thighs, pressing himself all the way inside to extend the last waves of pleasure, reluctant to let it end.
Eventually he stills and leans over Erestor, panting heavily against his shoulder. Erestor moans, holding Glorfindel deep within him with one insistent hand at the small of his back. He reaches down between them with his other hand to touch himself and a flash of heat shoots through Glorfindel at the sight. He gives another few thrusts of his softening cock, desperate to contribute to the other elf’s pleasure, and he whines at the feel of Erestor tightening and trembling around his over-sensitized flesh. “Yes, yes,” Erestor chants, winding up like a spring beneath him, until he tosses his head back against the desk and comes again with a shout that turns to a laugh, jerking violently where he is pinned between Glorfindel’s bulk and the unyielding wood of the desk.
Glorfindel is overwhelmed and overjoyed as he watches him in the throes. He blinks, his eyes stinging with sweat. He lets himself fall onto Erestor, kissing whatever skin his mouth can reach. The cacophony of both their heaving breaths as they come down is the only sound.
“Valar,” Glorfindel breathes. “What a homecoming. Absolutely perfect. I could fall asleep just like this.”
“If you do, I swear will leave you here,” Erestor says evenly, and Glorfindel has no doubt it is truth.
“You are so cruel,” he laughs, and draws his lover’s dark hair away from his neck to kiss him there. He can see Erestor’s pulse jumping wildly beneath his soft skin. Erestor’s hands run over his shoulders, his throat, his jaw, and pet his hair. The touch is gentle and possessive and stirs something warm within Glorfindel.
“Come back to my rooms with me,” he offers.
“Only if you swear to bathe,” Erestor murmurs, scrunching his nose in mock disgust.
“I smell sweeter than a flower,” he parries brightly, and Erestor snorts and pushes him up and off of him. Glorfindel’s legs wobble a bit, his entire body feels nerveless, still humming with the memory of pleasure. When Erestor bends to fetch his leggings Glorfindel grins helplessly to himself at the sight of the slick mess between his thighs.
They dress in companionable silence, watching each other with possessive intensity. Glorfindel moves in to press light kisses to Erestor’s shoulder, his neck, his cheek. He re-fastens his heavy robes and tucks a thin braid of his night-black hair behind his delicately pointed ear. The dark-haired elf wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, resting his head against his chest. Glorfindel holds him tenderly, listening to his own heartbeat as it returns to a regular pace. The silence stretches out comfortably between them, and Erestor shifts to that his face is pressed to Glorfindel’s throat.
“We should fuck on the council table next time so that I have something of interest to ponder in assembly,” Glorfindel ventures teasingly, and laughs at the slap on his back he gets as a response.
The noise of someone passing in the hall breaks their embrace. They both stand there looking stricken for a moment before they see each other’s faces and dissolve into laughter.
“Shall we?” Erestor asks, gathering their things and slipping his feet back into his shoes.
Glorfindel places the fallen books back on the table, wipes it down with his cloak as best he can, and they leave the room together, much more quietly than they arrived.