Oh! Very nice! 

Love this: "Outside, the light of the great bonfire flared; the dancers shouted; the drums grew faster, and their own small fire hissed and sparked."

Their lips met. Finwë tasted starlight, and sharp heady wine, and the sweetness of honey and cloves. He moaned as cool fingers slipped under his shirt. He slid his hands into Ingwë’s hair, kissed his neck, pressed against him, wanting, needing.

*They fell backwards into the blankets and furs, and together, that night, they burned.*

God, that sounds like some pretty good stuff.