Title: The best of two worlds 3/3
Rating: NC 17
Warning: Scenes will include explicit sex, a little angst, infidelity, angry elves a strip-tease and eventually a whip. May contain nuts.
Summary: Gildor's game comes to its final conclusion
Disclaimer: Tolkien sold them to me after one late night of drinking. Yep, they're all mine, and I make a fortune out of this. No? Oh, drat
Authors note: I don't really think Glorfindel is this daft, Erestor this arrogant, nor Gildor so lustful. But it was d*mned fun to write.
Beta: Erfan! Padawa nîn! Couldn't have done this without you.
Erestor waited impatiently when news came that the Gildor's and Glorfindel's war party had returned to Imladris. As soon as the news reached him and news reached the chief advisor *very* fast he'd all but run to his rooms, washed, changed his clothing, re-plaited his hair, changed his clothing again, and with a blush partly from embarrassment and partly from eagerness slid a bottle of scented oil down his pocket. And then he'd gone out to find his lord.
Two warriors stood idly chatting at the balcony, both still clad in chainmail and armed, and Erestor recognised them as members of Glorfindel's war band. They both looked up as he approached, and blanched a bit. That was nothing new; Erestor had heard it rumoured that amongst Imladris warriors, it was considered preferable to meet a cadre of heavily armed orcs when sporting a teaspoon and a china cup, than to go up against the chief advisor armed or otherwise. But they usually didn't look quite this nervous.
"I'm looking for Lord Gildor. Have you seen him?" he asked, frowning at their shuffling feet.
"Yes, my lord. He went with Lord Glorfindel to report our mission to Lord Elrond." One of them said, desperately looking everywhere but at the chief advisor.
"I know that," Erestor said patiently, "but that was an hour ago." He added, a bit sarcastic at their former relaxed stances; "Has something happened? Are we, perhaps, under siege?"
"No, my lord. Nothing has happened that threatens the safety of Imladris." The warrior was nervously stroking his sword, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. His friend seemed to try to take cover behind a marble statue of a dancing maiden. Erestor's frown deepened; he knew a misleading answer when it jumped up and bit him in the leg like this.
"Where," he said with a voice fit to freeze a dwarven hearth, "is Lord Gildor now?"
The warrior in front of him now seemed to seriously contemplate just jumping over the railing - a broken bone or two would mend after all - but found himself nailed to the spot by Erestor's cold stare.
"He is with Lord Glorfindel," he winced in surrender.
"You said that already."
"I mean, he is *with* Lord Glorfindel, my lord."
"At least he was an hour ago," the warrior's friend behind the statue seemed to finally want to contribute to the discussion, giving the unnerving impression that the maiden's thigh was speaking, and added with a tone of someone who speaks with experience, "Lord Gildor is probably resting right now..."
A torrent of pure rage overtook Erestor, forestalling despair, sorrow or resignation, and the two warriors recoiled at the sudden terror in front of them.
"Where. Is. Glorfindel. Now?" Erestor growled.
"In the stables. Over there!"
The voice seemed to make the very walls of the stable quiver; Glorfindel's hackles rose so quickly that he dropped the saddle he was carrying, turned around and fumbled for a sword that wasn't there before he even realised what he was doing. The hairs on the back of his neck rose; adrenaline pumped through him and for a moment, memories of pain and fire and a burning whip engulfed him.
A cloud of darkness was sweeping towards him, and he backed frantically until his back bumped against the stable wall. He hadn't recoiled from the balrog like this but the hate that burned in the black eyes that now pierced him was somehow worse; this hate was personal whereas the balrog had simply hated everything, including itself.
"*You*. Will. Leave. *Him*. Alone." Not even half as heavily muscled, and a good head shorter, Erestor held Glorfindel cornered by the onslaught of rage that poured from him. Erestor's sharp features could have been carved in ice.
"What?!" Glorfindel squawked, completely baffled at the councillor's sudden aggression.
"Gildor. You will leave him alone, Glorfindel."
*He didn't even insult me, Glorfindel thought bewildered, he must be truly angry. But why?*
"What do you mean, leave Gildor alone?!" he said and felt an answering spark of anger kindled in himself.
"You've had him. Fine. You've had every other elf in Imladris, and half of Lothlórien. Now you've got him out of your system, another notch on your belt, another conquest to brag about. But that's it. He's *mine,* do you hear me? If you ever touch him again, if you even so much as look at him I'll
"You'll *what*, little scribe? Attack me?!" Erestor's words slowly sank through the many emotions swirling inside him. "Wait you think Gildor is yours? And they call you clever, do they? He's mine!" He tried to get away from the wall, but Erestor didn't budge; Glorfindel had to remain where he was, or trample the wretched little scribe.
"I love him. And if you touch him again," Erestor's voice was low and utterly sincere and his dark eyes still burned, "I'll destroy you. Not your body. Your reputation. I'll drag your name in every bit of mud I can find. Within half a year, people will laugh when they hear the name of Glorfindel."
Glorfindel felt his eyes go wide: Erestor meant it. This was no idle threat. But he didn't respond well to threats. His big hand shot out, grabbing Erestor's slim neck. Erestor gasped with fear and anger, clawed at the strong fingers but failed utterly to remove them no matter how desperately he tried.
"What makes you think I'll let you do such a thing?" Glorfindel's voice shook; elves didn't threaten one another like this, but he couldn't think of anything but the threat to his name and his lover. "Gildor belongs with me and I want him! He's not a conquest! Do you think me incapable of true emotions? I
love him!" He was a bit surprised at the words, but they were true.
Erestor's eyes shot ice and lightning, and he still struggled vainly to be free.
"Mine!" he croaked at Glorfindel.
"Enough, both of you!"
Startled out of his haze of anger, Glorfindel reacted to the command, and Erestor coughed for air as he fell to the ground. Gildor hurried through the stable to pick him up, gently raising him to his feet. Worry rose in the grey eyes as he saw red bruises on the councillor's neck.
"Are you alright, my love?" He gave Glorfindel an angry glance as Erestor nodded and gulped down air. "How could you do this, Glorfindel? He's not a warrior! He can't take that kind of punishment."
"He says you're his!" Erestor sputtered before Glorfindel could even begin to apologise, brushing aside his bruises for the wrenching pain in his heart.
"I am," Gildor said simply, still comforting Erestor, stroking his hair and helping the advisor to lean on him.
Erestor choked, worse than from the strangling. A sudden coldness in his chest seemed to spread throughout his body as he suddenly realised how elves could die from a broken heart. Emotions too strong, too fast, he couldn't sort them all out, he couldn't take it
"But I am also yours, my love," Gildor soothed, worried, putting his hand under Erestor's chin and pushing his head up, gently kissing his lips, cradling him once more in his arms. "I love you both."
The look of bewilderment and hurt on Glorfindel's fair features would have cheered Erestor if he hadn't been too mentally exhausted to feel gleeful. As it was, he clung to Gildor's firm body, and to the words he'd spoken with equal fervour.
"What are you saying?" Glorfindel spoke in the low, threatening tones of someone not used to anything less than whole-hearted devotion. "What do you mean, you belong to both of us? That you love us both?"
"Ah, my love." Gildor sighed and gently put Erestor down on a crate. He moved up to Glorfindel, rubbed his hands over the warrior's chest, played with a lock of golden hair. Despite himself, Glorfindel felt his heart melt once more at Gildor's touch. "I meant exactly what I said. I love you both. I want you both. I will settle for no less."
"But you have to choose! You have to choose one or the other of us!" Glorfindel stroke his back, his caressing hands far more gentle than the rough words.
"No, I don't." Gildor smiled. He put one arm around Glorfindel's trim waist, and beckoned to Erestor with the other, when the recovering councillor came up to him, he laid his free arm around Erestor's neck. "I want the warrior, *and* the scribe. The skilful strength and the cunning brain. I will have you both, or neither of you."
"And if we force you to choose?" Erestor said quietly. "If we won't accept those terms?"
"Then I will have to leave Imladris." Gildor's eyes fell to the ground, and his voice grew thick with sadness. "I cannot live so close to either one of you, knowing I'll never touch you again."
Silence came over the stable, angry and thoughtful. Erestor could feel Gildor's heart beating fast against his own chest: obviously Gildor was truly distressed by his own terms. He did not put them into such a situation lightly. From the corner of his eye he glanced at Glorfindel, and realised that the captain was looking back at him, slowly sliding his eyes up and down Erestor's slim frame as if for the first time realising that the councillor had a body beneath the robes. Erestor stared back, just as frank, weighing Glorfindel up, judging his choices carefully. Could he do this? Was Gildor so precious to him that he would rather have half his heart than none at all? No, such a judgement was unworthy. Gildor hadn't given half his heart to either of them, but rather his whole heart to both of them, thereby putting himself to the double risk of getting it broken. He felt his own resolve crumple at the thought.
"I accept," he said slowly and felt his heart jump with joy at the teary eyed, loving look in Gildor's eyes as he sharply lifted his head.
"It will be worth it! I swear it! I love you so!" Pulling him closer, Gildor kissed him again, now with such passion that Erestor's mind started to swirl.
"Yes. I accept." Glorfindel looked almost surprised at his own words, but nodded briskly as if to convince himself. "I accept!"
"We will be so strong together! Ours will be a bond to be remembered
.mmmppphh!" His last words were drowned in Glorfindel's hot kiss. When the warrior broke away from a slightly dazed Gildor he grumbled.
"But only if you won't talk like the scribe when we make love."
Gildor laughed, breathlessly, and suddenly Glorfindel joined in, and then Erestor couldn't stop himself. They laughed till they cried, taking turns to kiss Gildor, to scold him, and to kiss him again, until the pale elf broke away and smiled that vicious smile that made both his lover's heart jump.
"And now," he said sweetly, "a kiss to make up."
"What?" Glorfindel stared horrified at him. "You can't be serious!"
"What?" Erestor gaped. "Kiss him? I hate him!"
"I know," Gildor purred viciously, "the passion between the two of you is thick enough to slice with a dagger. Your thoughts of each other take up most of your days. You just need to let me
channel your emotions."
Gently but firmly he pushed his two lovers towards each other, both of them leaning away, black and blue eyes equally terrified. The air between them was thick with emotion.
"Go on," Gildor goaded.
Snarling, Glorfindel grabbed Erestor's robe, pulled him hard up against him with a harsh movement as Erestor hissed and buried his hands in the long golden hair, pulled Glorfindel's head sharply down into a kiss that would have set the stable alight. All the pent-up heat between them finally found relief.
"Well, that was simply sublime," Gildor's sparkling eyes were aglow as he
watched them, "don't you agree my loves?"
"I think," Erestor panted, still leaning into Glorfindel's embrace, "that blackmail such as this can't go unpunished." He exchanged a meaningful glance with Glorfindel, who smiled slowly as he realised what the councillor meant.
"Finally I understand why you're Lord Elrond's chief advisor," he growled, caressing Erestor's lithe back.
Gildor's smile paled just a shade as the two turned towards him, and the control he'd had over the situation rapidly started to fade away. He took a step backwards, glancing for the door.
"Oh no, you don't!" Glorfindel was over him like a whirlwind, catching him in a strong embrace and pinning him against the wall before he could escape, regardless of Gildor's surprise yelp. "Erestor, bring that tackle over!"
Erestor's clever fingers soon undid enough of the leather straps while Glorfindel simply tore Gildor's shirt from the not-too-struggling elf's back. Strapping the cords around the pale captain's wrists, and then up around a roof beam, they soon had Gildor completely helpless, but his grey eyes were now lit with fierce excitement. They got even more so when Erestor sauntered up in front of him and deliberately slowly pulled his pants down from Gildor's slim waist; Erestor's hands were everywhere along Gildor's strong legs and slip hips except where Gildor wanted them to be; slow, steady warm breath wafted over his arousal and made him grit his teeth with anticipation.
Until he heard a sharp *crack* behind him.
Gildor's grey eyes grew huge, and suddenly his breathing sped up as he tried to glance over his shoulder. Glorfindel was grinning at him, a long coiled whip sliding sinisterly over the floor as the golden-haired elf flicked his wrist.
One of Erestor's eyebrows rose quizzically.
"Where did you get that?" he asked curiously.
"Not the first time I've played in the stables," Glorfindel shrugged smiling evilly, the long leather strap moving and coiling as he languorously played with it. Gildor couldn't take his eyes from it as Glorfindel stepped up letting the whip curl and coil with arrogant ease. With a controlled movement of his hand he gathered the long tail, and let the leather caress over the Gildor's smooth chest, teasing his nipples, and down over his loins. Rubbing up against Gildor's helplessly squirming back, Glorfindel bit his neck, gently at first, and then harder as Gildor groaned.
"Are you really going to do this to me, my love?" Gildor moaned, his long-fingered hand closing tighter around the leather around his wrists.
"Yes. I am. And that's a promise." Glorfindel chuckled and stepped back, swishing the whip through the air, as Erestor removed Gildor's boots, pants and the last remnants of his shirt. Stepping back to be out of the way as Glorfindel swung the whip, Erestor watched his lord as he'd never seen him before; tied up and helpless, waiting stoically for his punishment. That Gildor relished the thought of what was to come was beyond doubt, and as Glorfindel took off his clothing and discarded it in a heap in the hay it was apparent that the golden captain was just as aroused. But Erestor was surprised to realise that he too, felt a strong stirring of desire. Helpless but strong, unfazed by the pain to come, Gildor was even more the powerful lord Erestor desired than before.
The whip swung through the air and landed with precision on Gildor's firm buttocks; his hips buckled forward as if from the touch of a lover, and he threw his pale head back with a groan of enjoyment.
"Make sure that was sufficiently harsh, Erestor," Glorfindel suggested with a truly evil smile.
Trembling, Erestor went forward and slid his hand over the smooth, hard flesh; there was a red strip across it about a finger's breadth wide. The lash had not landed hard enough to draw blood, just to leave a burning trail of hot flesh. He nodded to Glorfindel, but as he turned back to Gildor, shaking from what he put his lord through, Gildor caught his eye. Erestor froze, caught as a rabbit before a hawk. The force of command in Gildor's eyes was stronger than ever before, fanned by his arousal, the spark usually there now a raging fire.
"This was your idea," Gildor smiled darkly, and Erestor could only nod, trapped by the command in his lord's voice. "Erestor. Take off your clothes."
Erestor heart flutter all the way up to his throat; suddenly he couldn't seem to think for himself. Gildor's word was his command. It didn't matter that his lord was helpless; Erestor was helpless under the mere spell of that voice which had commanded him during so many nights before. The whip fell again, and Gildor groaned through gritted teeth, grinding his hips backwards. He shivered with pent-up arousal that couldn't find any release but the fire in his eye and the command in his voice.
Erestor started to unbutton his robe, fiercely aware of how both captains were watching him, but Gildor shook his head:
"*No*, Erestor. Slowly. Distract me from this pain you're inflicted on me."
Wetting his lips, Erestor obeyed. One button at the time, he opened up the robe from his neck to the waist, pushing it aside inch by inch to reveal himself. Glorfindel didn't stop his punishment; the whip still landed on Gildor's smarting buttocks, but the pale captain held his eyes only on Erestor, who felt his breath sped up.
"Your hands are mine. Show me what they do." Gildor commanded, only to wince at a painful sting from Glorfindel.
Erestor's slim hands slid up his own chest, drawing his arousal to his skin; the creamy expanse flushed as if it had been his lord's touch that caressed him. Over his nipples, that peaked hard and aching as he rubbed them, over his flat belly, and up, up over the vulnerable skin of his neck, the fingers finding their way into his mouth where he sucked them, hard, and darted his tongue out to lick them. Sparkling grey and crystal blue eyes followed his every motion, even the whip momentarily forgotten. Erestor had never had such impact on a lover before, never mind two at the same time. It was thrilling. It was frightening. But it didn't matter; he only obeyed.
"Lower, Erestor. My hands would go lower," Gildor demanded, only to throw his head back as Glorfindel, who had obviously awoken from his ogling of Erestor's smooth chest, viciously struck again. "Ah, love, I can't take this much longer!"
Indeed, Erestor thought as his trembling hands moved down, letting his robe fall to the ground to allow him access, Gildor looked almost desperate with need now, but Glorfindel cruelly denied him:
"You will take it for as long as I say you will, my dear pet. That's what you get for playing games with us!"
And as Erestor started to slowly stroke himself in front of Gildor's ravishing eyes, Glorfindel struck again, the whip smarting like lightning over Gildor, who cried out in double bliss.
But that lash was the last; the balrog slayer threw away the whip and descended on Gildor, harshly rubbing himself against buttocks that were stinging, every nerve on fire. Gildor moaned and tried unsuccessfully to pull free, to push better against Glorfindel; the usually pale elf now blushing red, throbbing hard.
"Need some oil," Glorfindel murmured against his ear, nuzzling the panting elf's neck.
Mutely, Erestor picked up the bottle he'd put in his pocket in what seemed a simpler life. Glorfindel gracefully accepted it with a small bow.
"Very thoughtful of you, wandering around with that in your pocket," he teased.
"That's why he's the chief advisor and not you," Gildor retorted quickly, "*he* thinks of every eventuality." He turned a stern eye towards the terribly aroused, shivering elf in front of him. "Did I tell you to stop caressing yourself?"
"No, my lord. My pardon," hastily, Erestor's hands resumed their wanderings over his body as he watched past Gildor's shoulder as Glorfindel stroked oil on himself.
When Glorfindel moved up closer to Gildor a sudden glimmer of metal shone in the dim stable, and the golden captain cut Gildor's bonds with one smooth movement; Erestor didn't even know were he'd kept the dagger. Gildor's arms were finally free, and he reached eagerly for Erestor, gathering him into his arms, turning him around. Erestor let out a high, keening sound of want as he finally felt his lord's hands on him, the hard shaft against his needy buttocks. Glorfindel chuckled and pressed the phial of oil into Gildor's hand. Erestor's legs spread wide as Gildor's hand started to move up his inner thigh, slick with oil, and bit his lip as the long finger coated him inside. His knees felt so weak that if Gildor hadn't held him up he would have fallen to the ground.
"I want you," Glorfindel whispered loud enough for them both to hear, "on your knees. I want to take you, while you take him!"
"Yes," Gildor groaned, "over there, in the hay." He put a heavy hand on Erestor's shoulder, guiding him to the clean hay in the corner and pushed him down, arranging the councillor artfully on his hands and knees. Gracefully, Gildor followed after, kneeling behind him, stroking the heaving back, kissing the hips and working his hot lips up towards Erestor's neck. The hay provided sufficient padding for knees and palms; Erestor barely spared those parts of his body a thought. All he could think of was Gildor, behind him, teasing him, and behind his lord was Glorfindel, roughly grabbing Gildor's hips and pulling the still stinging red buttocks towards him.
Gildor had to fight not to simply explode into his arousal's fullfilment as Glorfindel took him; the spanking had brought his body's entire attention down to the region of his body that was now being pressed against Glorfindel. He whined and thrashed; desire spread like wild-fire through his already pounding, hard body. Glorfindel soothed and stroke his face, but the golden captain's hips were moving relentlessly, urging him forward. He tried to be careful when he grabbed Erestor's slim neck and pushed the advisor's head down, into the hay, so that his back presented a wonderful slope of unblemished skin, leading up to the lean hips, but the arousal Glorfindel's pounding fanned in him made it hard to be gentle. He pushed forward, in rhythm with Glorfindel, struggling for some semblance of control as he slid into the gasping advisor. Although he absorbed much of the muscular captain's force into his own thrashing body, he knew that Erestor felt the full thrust of his entry as the dark elf groaned, and wriggled, pushed against him, begging for more with his entire body.
This was a new experience for Glorfindel, he'd never had two lovers at once like this - he was vaguely aware that he'd been led into this by either Erestor or Gildor. But he didn't mind. Oh, no, didn't mind at all. Over Gildor's straight shoulder he could see Erestor face down in the hay, the advisor gasping and thrashing as much as Gildor in his arms. The sight made him speed up, which made Gildor have to speed up, which made Erestor moan even more beguilingly, which made
It was quite impossible to say who came first; Gildor fell forward onto Erestor with a shout that startled the horses, Erestor's keening moan reached a high pitch at about the time his lord crashed into him, and Glorfindel heaved a groaning sigh and fell after them. They lay in the hay, all three of them trying to get their breath back and stop the thundering of their hearts. Glorfindel spooned up and put his arms around Gildor, who pulled Erestor into their strong shared embrace. Erestor held on to Gildor's waist, buried his face in his lord's neck and tried not to faint of fatigue. Gildor just smiled, and held his lovers close.