Lindir's Adventurers 33b
Rating: R
Lindir swayed under his touch in a kind of instant surrender that was both innocent and utterly seductive. For the first time, Gildor had a little compassion for Elrond wanting to protect Lindir so insistently. He smoothed his hands down Lindir’s back and ventured a little further. So easy to please, he thought, as Lindir tentatively explored Gildor’s back in turn with a little involuntary grunt of pleasure.
He let his hand find the comfortable hold it settled into so naturally at the top of Lindir’s thigh and let him feel the pressure of it holding him close. Lindir certainly had been frustrated too long.
Gildor smiled. Tonight’s tryst would be fairly short. There would be many more, he promised himself. He would show Lindir all he desired, until he was ready to spread his wings once more. Would it be easy to let him go? He thought not… He dropped a gently kiss on Lindir’s temple, smoothing back his hair.
“Here. Just let me - ”
He eased Lindir away from him and slowly undid buttons and clasps. The tunic and the shirt came open under his fingers and then he cupped Lindir’s head for a chaste kiss on his lips. Lindir sighed as they parted, eyes watching Gildor as if hypnotized - or as if he thought he was dreaming and didn’t want to wake.
Tonight Lindir did not so much need love as his body’s wanting tended. So judged Gildor. He folded Lindir’s shirt back to mouth skin that fluttered in response. He eased open the fine fabric of the leggings, pushing them down a little. One hand cupped Lindir’s head, the other ran down stomach and then up, across, flat palm brushing a nipple. This time Lindir’s sigh was more of a gasp.
Lindir’s mouth was parted, his cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes watching Gildor under heavy lids. Gildor smiled at him between kisses and Lindir’s answer was as wordless: his hands went to Gildor’s shoulders with a touch light as thistledown, as if he hardly dared disturb Gildor’s restrained attentions.
Lindir was beyond words indeed. From his neck, from his chest and stomach, the modest caresses carried a message that sang throughout his body. This strange tingling through him promised so much more. Anything - anything - Gildor now did, Lindir would allow, welcome, indulge. Whatever he asked or demanded. So long as this did not stop…
On its next pass, the gentle touch went further and oh, Lindir wanted him to carry on. “Gildor,” he said heavily.
“Lindir, I have you.” Brief reassurance, wholly trustable. Lindir had closed his eyes but he opened them now to capture Gildor’s green-flecked gaze. He found a faint question there as neither of them moved for a moment. Lindir kissed him for answer.
Gildor’s tongue touched his upper lip then his lower and then that hand travelled forward.
Lindir held his breath, trying not to pant and moan, as he had heard tell was common. Even in this pass, he preferred his dignity (for still he could not quite abandon himself to surety). Without his volition his hips quivered with eager hope while he bit his lip and waited to see what this lord would have of him.
Of what could happen, he had heard and he was ready, if nervous. It had to be worth it to feel this. Anything would be worth this. He moaned, and kissed back, trying to ask, trying to show willing.
Gildor stilled his hand. Lindir was on the brink.
“Come, Lindir.” Gildor pulled him to the ground and drew Lindir, blinking and a little unsteady, against his chest, sitting between his crooked legs. His own pleasure could wait but he could still enjoy the feel of this boy’s arse snugged in close, and his nipple under his hand. From the sound of Lindir’s breathy moan, the enjoyment was fully shared.
Lindir’s whole body was taut and expectant. Gildor kissed his neck. Let his other hand make its southern pilgrimage and let Lindir cry out with earnest pleasure. Gently he drew his hand up and down, kissing all the while under the moon-silvered hair.
Lindir was talking, a kind of monosyllabic encouragement in which ‘Oh yes’ largely figured with a few ‘Gildors’ thrown in for variety. Gildor closed his hand more tightly, loving the feel of hot skin and the smell and feel of Lindir in his arms, utterly trusting, dependant and desirous.
He would make sure he took care of him.
When Lindir came in his hand, Gildor held him until his transports settled before kissing him as gently as before. He patted Lindir’s tunic into place, in case he felt embarrassed, but for the moment, Lindir seemed quite comfortable and satisfied, half-naked, replete and at last - at last! - pleasured.
Lindir gave a funny little noise of contentment and kissed Gildor’s collar bone, conveniently close to hand, before uncertainly fumbling with Gildor’s clothing.
“Another time. Next time, perhaps. I can wait.” He stilled the reaching hands and smiled a reassurance to the glance that questioned him. “Truly, I’m happy as I am right now. Trust me, there’s no need to rush these things.”
With that, Lindir curled closer his side against Gildor’s chest, curling an arm around shyly. Gildor cradled him encouragingly and then wriggled down to ease them comfortably together.
“Alright?”
Lindir gave him a little smile, apparently back to being wordless. His eyes stared at Gildor who laughed and kissed him, then patted him.
Lindir laughed, and laid his head down, apparently content.
***
Erestor stood in the fringe of the trees. Gildor looked at him over Lindir’s head. Erestor’s hand clenched at his side and he was frowning. The green eyes looked back with sympathy but no shame. This was as natural as breathing and no more harmful. Gildor had had no reason to refrain.
Erestor could not gainsay this; there was nothing he could do. Ever did Gildor choose his own road and Lindir had the right to do the same. He turned away, resigned, hand loosed from its tense protest. There was nothing he would choose to do even if he could. He would not influence Lindir in any way against his will or wish, no matter what a certain Lord of Imladris required of him.
He could only wish them well and Lindir requited - he trusted not hurt.
As he walked away, he relaxed a little more for he did trust Gildor, after his unique fashion. And perhaps he erred himself along with Elrond for Lindir deserved their confidence, not a burden of unnecessary anxiety. Gildor had known as much.
Hearts had to journey freely through life’s experiences, dealing as they found, growing as they could. Lindir was no exception however much Elrond feared for him.
***
Neither of them saw the watcher hidden beyond their notice in a stand of myrtle blossom. The frown on that fair face was blacker by far than Erestor’s had momentarily been; it might have troubled all three to behold its dark displeasure.
***
Lindir swayed under his touch in a kind of instant surrender that was both innocent and utterly seductive. For the first time, Gildor had a little compassion for Elrond wanting to protect Lindir so insistently. He smoothed his hands down Lindir’s back and ventured a little further. So easy to please, he thought, as Lindir tentatively explored Gildor’s back in turn with a little involuntary grunt of pleasure.
He let his hand find the comfortable hold it settled into so naturally at the top of Lindir’s thigh and let him feel the pressure of it holding him close. Lindir certainly had been frustrated too long.
Gildor smiled. Tonight’s tryst would be fairly short. There would be many more, he promised himself. He would show Lindir all he desired, until he was ready to spread his wings once more. Would it be easy to let him go? He thought not… He dropped a gently kiss on Lindir’s temple, smoothing back his hair.
“Here. Just let me - ”
He eased Lindir away from him and slowly undid buttons and clasps. The tunic and the shirt came open under his fingers and then he cupped Lindir’s head for a chaste kiss on his lips. Lindir sighed as they parted, eyes watching Gildor as if hypnotized - or as if he thought he was dreaming and didn’t want to wake.
Tonight Lindir did not so much need love as his body’s wanting tended. So judged Gildor. He folded Lindir’s shirt back to mouth skin that fluttered in response. He eased open the fine fabric of the leggings, pushing them down a little. One hand cupped Lindir’s head, the other ran down stomach and then up, across, flat palm brushing a nipple. This time Lindir’s sigh was more of a gasp.
Lindir’s mouth was parted, his cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes watching Gildor under heavy lids. Gildor smiled at him between kisses and Lindir’s answer was as wordless: his hands went to Gildor’s shoulders with a touch light as thistledown, as if he hardly dared disturb Gildor’s restrained attentions.
Lindir was beyond words indeed. From his neck, from his chest and stomach, the modest caresses carried a message that sang throughout his body. This strange tingling through him promised so much more. Anything - anything - Gildor now did, Lindir would allow, welcome, indulge. Whatever he asked or demanded. So long as this did not stop…
On its next pass, the gentle touch went further and oh, Lindir wanted him to carry on. “Gildor,” he said heavily.
“Lindir, I have you.” Brief reassurance, wholly trustable. Lindir had closed his eyes but he opened them now to capture Gildor’s green-flecked gaze. He found a faint question there as neither of them moved for a moment. Lindir kissed him for answer.
Gildor’s tongue touched his upper lip then his lower and then that hand travelled forward.
Lindir held his breath, trying not to pant and moan, as he had heard tell was common. Even in this pass, he preferred his dignity (for still he could not quite abandon himself to surety). Without his volition his hips quivered with eager hope while he bit his lip and waited to see what this lord would have of him.
Of what could happen, he had heard and he was ready, if nervous. It had to be worth it to feel this. Anything would be worth this. He moaned, and kissed back, trying to ask, trying to show willing.
Gildor stilled his hand. Lindir was on the brink.
“Come, Lindir.” Gildor pulled him to the ground and drew Lindir, blinking and a little unsteady, against his chest, sitting between his crooked legs. His own pleasure could wait but he could still enjoy the feel of this boy’s arse snugged in close, and his nipple under his hand. From the sound of Lindir’s breathy moan, the enjoyment was fully shared.
Lindir’s whole body was taut and expectant. Gildor kissed his neck. Let his other hand make its southern pilgrimage and let Lindir cry out with earnest pleasure. Gently he drew his hand up and down, kissing all the while under the moon-silvered hair.
Lindir was talking, a kind of monosyllabic encouragement in which ‘Oh yes’ largely figured with a few ‘Gildors’ thrown in for variety. Gildor closed his hand more tightly, loving the feel of hot skin and the smell and feel of Lindir in his arms, utterly trusting, dependant and desirous.
He would make sure he took care of him.
When Lindir came in his hand, Gildor held him until his transports settled before kissing him as gently as before. He patted Lindir’s tunic into place, in case he felt embarrassed, but for the moment, Lindir seemed quite comfortable and satisfied, half-naked, replete and at last - at last! - pleasured.
Lindir gave a funny little noise of contentment and kissed Gildor’s collar bone, conveniently close to hand, before uncertainly fumbling with Gildor’s clothing.
“Another time. Next time, perhaps. I can wait.” He stilled the reaching hands and smiled a reassurance to the glance that questioned him. “Truly, I’m happy as I am right now. Trust me, there’s no need to rush these things.”
With that, Lindir curled closer his side against Gildor’s chest, curling an arm around shyly. Gildor cradled him encouragingly and then wriggled down to ease them comfortably together.
“Alright?”
Lindir gave him a little smile, apparently back to being wordless. His eyes stared at Gildor who laughed and kissed him, then patted him.
Lindir laughed, and laid his head down, apparently content.
***
Erestor stood in the fringe of the trees. Gildor looked at him over Lindir’s head. Erestor’s hand clenched at his side and he was frowning. The green eyes looked back with sympathy but no shame. This was as natural as breathing and no more harmful. Gildor had had no reason to refrain.
Erestor could not gainsay this; there was nothing he could do. Ever did Gildor choose his own road and Lindir had the right to do the same. He turned away, resigned, hand loosed from its tense protest. There was nothing he would choose to do even if he could. He would not influence Lindir in any way against his will or wish, no matter what a certain Lord of Imladris required of him.
He could only wish them well and Lindir requited - he trusted not hurt.
As he walked away, he relaxed a little more for he did trust Gildor, after his unique fashion. And perhaps he erred himself along with Elrond for Lindir deserved their confidence, not a burden of unnecessary anxiety. Gildor had known as much.
Hearts had to journey freely through life’s experiences, dealing as they found, growing as they could. Lindir was no exception however much Elrond feared for him.
***
Neither of them saw the watcher hidden beyond their notice in a stand of myrtle blossom. The frown on that fair face was blacker by far than Erestor’s had momentarily been; it might have troubled all three to behold its dark displeasure.
***