Dramatic Arts by Raiyana

Dramatic Arts

Read Dramatic Arts

He had noticed it first in a meeting, content to break the dullness of petitioners with more ideas than sense by watching Glorfindel out of the corner of his eye. He had done so before, of course, but it seemed so much more interesting now that he had seen what lay beneath those clothes, had felt the way he moved in the privacy of his own bed.

Casual lovers, that’s what he called it in his own head – there was little in his past to suggest that Glorfindel would ultimately be satisfied with merely one lover but Erestor was determined to enjoy him as long as he was allowed.

It was when he stood to speak, piercing the airheaded arguments with a few sharp words that he saw it. Glorfindel’s eyes, usually attentive and alert were oddly hazy, his gaze half-lidded as he leaned back in his seat, hands folded on the table.

At first, he had thought it sleep encroaching, and changed his voice to be a little more sharp in hopes of waking him – Elrond might consider Glorfindel a friend, but it did not look good for the Captain of their defensive forces to fall asleep during Councils. Glorfindel’s eyes did change, but it was not alertness that flooded that gaze, rather an odd sort of lust.

The next day, Erestor experimented. Once he was sure that Glorfindel had been lulled into complacency by the sheer lack of interest he had in the minutiae of agriculture, Erestor rose, giving a carefully modulated – and meticulously long-winded – speech designed to leave his listeners in the dust. Watching Glorfindel in the reflective surface of the carefully placed metal ornament Elrond had once received from Durin, Erestor changed the tone and timbre of his voice, following the hunch that told him what truly had Glorfindel’s interest so arrested.

Returning to his own rooms, he paced, going over the results of his little experiment and coming up with a glorious scheme to tease his new lover – Glorfindel might have had many, but Erestor thought him peculiarly innocent in ways of pleasure, still; it was highly likely Glorfindel was unaware of his reactions to changes in the pitch of Erestor’s voice.

Interesting.

 

“As a special treat,” Elrond said, smiling warmly at the crowd in the dining hall, “Loremaster Erestor has offered to do a dramatic reading of the tale of Túrin Turambar for us tonight after dinner.”

Standing, Erestor bowed lightly to the gathered throng of diners, returning his attention to his own plate. Across the table, Glorfindel gave him a happy smile.

“One of my favourite histories,” he said – Erestor already knew that, of course, which was why he had chosen that story for his attempt at aural seduction.

He smiled.

“A particular treat for you, then, my Lord,” he purred seductively, “I do hope you will… enjoy my performance.” He loved teasing, and Glorfindel did not disappoint, tensing for a moment before returning the smile.

Pressing his foot against Glorfindel’s ankle during dinner, he was slightly disappointed by the presence of his calf-length boots, but as his bare toes continued upwards, Glorfindel swallowed nervously, one hand leaving his cutlery and coming down to wrap warmly around Erestor’s ankle, squeezing once in warning.

Erestor gave him a beatific smile, and continued rubbing his thigh slowly, inching his way ever upwards and silently praising whoever had designed the tables to be just wide enough that he didn’t have to stretch to put his foot on Glorfindel’s already-interested crotch. Taking a sip of wine, he ran the arch of his foot up that clothes length, not quite hard, yet, but not altogether flaccid under his touch either.

“What are you doing?” Glorfindel whisper-hissed at him, but he did not move Erestor’s foot away, and that was enough permission to continue, in Erestor’s mind.

“Eating dinner, my Lord Glorfindel,” Erestor replied, “is the food not to your liking? You’ve hardly eaten anything.” His words caught the attention of Glorfindel’s Second-in-Command, a no-nonsense Noldo named Ecetindë, who immediately took it upon herself to urge Glorfindel to eat. Erestor hid his smirk in his wine goblet. Using a few signs he had gleaned from the Gondolin Guards that had survived the Fall, Erestor added silently ‘No touching’, smirking at Glorfindel.

Glorfindel gripped his knife and spoon tightly, but he did not protest the presence of Erestor’s foot in his lap – rubbing against him just enough to keep his lust simmering, but not enough to cause him a full erection – nor Ecetindë’s well-meant mothering.

 

Later, when the plates were cleared, and people had retired to the Hall of Fire, refreshments in hand, Erestor stepped onto the floor.

“It has come to my attention,” he said, “that tonight’s offering is our Lord Glorfindel’s favourite history.” Raising his glass in Glorfindel’s direction, Erestor waited for the inevitable cheer to die down. Carefully dropping his voice just a tiny bit lower, he added, “Therefore I dedicate this performance to you, my Lord.”

He kept his voice mild – not quite noticeably different from his normal manner of reading – until he reached the part of the story where Sador described Húrin at war. As he recited the story, he had walked around the room, and managed to catch Glorfindel’s eye for one small moment that seemed to stretch between them, thick like treacle as he spoke. “’I saw him take up his lordship and command. There was a fire in him that made his sword hot in his hand, they said.’” Drawing out the s in sword just enough that Glorfindel would notice, feeling a pinch of satisfaction when his eyes widened just fractionally, Erestor continued his story. The tale of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad he spoke with all his skill – he could do no less for those present who had lost more than he in that battle – and did not think to tease Glorfindel on purpose. The cry of Fingon was answered by those in the hall – whether they had heard it or not, as such was the power of the story, sweeping hearts and minds along with it – until Erestor thought the spectre of the Valiant had come before them, even if his words were spoken by his own mouth.

When he did look upon Glorfindel again, it was the final words of Morgoth’s curse upon Húrin that left his mouth, and he felt almost surprised to see the light in Glorfindel’s face, the way he leaned in as though he would hear more easily by being closer in body. “Therefore with my eyes you shall see, and with my ears you shall hear… and nothing shall be hidden from you.” The final words felt like a promise he did not yet understand, and Erestor shivered lightly, continuing the long tale.

Of the journey through the mountains to Doriath, he spoke, wandering around the room. Drawing near Glorfindel again, watching the way he hung on each word almost made him wish to give up the game, but not quite.

“… for he had the beauty of his mother and the eyes of his father and he was sturdy and strong,” Erestor said, and he didn’t even have to think about how to lower the timbre of his voice, Glorfindel’s eyes glittering in the firelight making him feel embers of passion grow bright flames in his own mind.

The audience were whispering among themselves, as always, following the thread of the tale as Túrin was fostered by Thingol and Melian in Doriath and grew to manhood, but Erestor knew that no one but Glorfindel was as affected by the sound of his voice.

 

He had to stop himself smirking when the elleth seated beside Glorfindel elbowed him at a particularly innuendo-laden part of the recital – at least his words would be heard as innuendo by Glorfindel, he knew, the other’s pupils dark with lust as he stared at Erestor – asking him about his enjoyment of the tale. Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not intending to catch Erestor’s eyes, but the motion made him turn his head, speaking his next words only to Glorfindel’s already beleaguered mind.

“…and gladly would I welcome him back,” to my bed, “for I loved him well.” Or he loved me – physically, at least, Erestor added in his mind, flashing the faintest glimmer of a smirk at Glorfindel and feeling the sense of satisfaction with his little game grow at the way his jaw dropped before he caught himself, furtively looking at those around him.

“And he drew his sword,” Erestor said, flicking a glance at Glorfindel leaning heavily against the table-top before him, not-quite keeping a white-knuckled grip on his long-empty goblet of wine, “sliding it free of the scabbard, prowling towards the orcs camped among the trees.”

To the rest of the Hall, the tale had reached Túrin’s orc hunting days, but Erestor felt quite certain he knew which images filled Glorfindel’s mind at that moment – and they had little to do with Túrin or hunting Orcs, indeed!

“And then he thrust the blade through the widened gap of the armour-” Not for the first time in his life, Erestor felt a distinct pleasure that he was known to wear heavy robes – Glorfindel’s lust-glazed eyes had not failed to affect him in turn, though he was too schooled a storyteller to let on that what he most wanted in that moment was privacy and a particular elf, preferably naked. “And felt the flesh part before him, revealing red insides…” Painting those inviting red lips with my cum, Erestor thought, watching the way Glorfindel tried not to pant, licking his lips unconsciously, making them glisten in the light of the fire. Coming to a natural halt, right in front of Glorfindel’s table, Erestor added the final sentence to that section: “Drawing back the blade, he thrust forth once again, spearing into his enemy with great force, a cry of war on his lips.”

Glorfindel’s grip on the table nearly faltered, his eyes locked on Erestor’s mouth, breathing shallowly as he lifted his goblet with shaking fingers, finally looking away to ensure that he reached his mouth, gulping the potent wine down in one swallow. Erestor groaned internally, wishing it was something entirely different being swallowed with such alacrity. Would Glorfindel want to do that…

 

When the fire had burned low, and the tale of Túrin Turambar was finished, Erestor fell into step with Elrond, leaving the Hall of Fire and the applause of those who had stayed o the end, appreciating his skill at weaving a tale worth hearing.

“I must say, Erestor,” Elrond said, smiling as he guided Erestor out of the room, “you did very well tonight - even Lord Glorfindel was absorbed by the tale!”

Glorfindel remained at the table he had claimed, and Erestor knew that the warrior dared not rise for fear of revealing himself to any who dared look.

“I was happy to entertain such an illustrious figure,” Erestor demurred, joining the Master of Imladris in his study for a well-deserved drink, wetting his parched throat and passing nearly an hour in Elrond’s pleasant company.

It was not what he had planned to do, and he felt a flicker of sympathy for Glorfindel, but at the same time the thought of delaying such pleasure as he expected to deal – and be dealt – this night was tantalizingly delicious.

When he left Elrond’s study, Erestor took the path back to the Library. He would give Glorfindel some time to figure it out, he decided, pull an old favourite from the shelves and settle in to wait.

He made it to the last alcove before the Library before a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing him by the robes and pulling him in for a hard frenzied kiss that nearly pushed all the plans out of his head.

“Glorfindel…” he moaned deeply, sucking on that agile tongue and listening to him hiss, feeling the way his fingers were sneaking clumsily into his robes, grabbing for skin and releasing his resurgent erection into the moonlight. Running his hands up those strong arms, Erestor had a wicked thought. Pressing gently, thrusting slowly into Glorfindel’s fist, he whispered, “Suck me…” barely hoping for obedience.

Glorfindel nodded, looking up – such blue eyes – his tongue making an appearance, trailing along the side of Erestor’s bared cock. He moaned softly, closing his lips around the tip. Erestor groaned.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, twining his fingers through Glorfindel’s hair, plaited for sleep, but wrapping lovingly around his hands, gold spilling across his fists. Those blue eyes shone. A sudden thought struck him, tightening his fingers and thrusting forwards on a wave of pure lust, hitting the back of Glorfindel’s mouth and making him gag lightly. “Oh, so pretty, with your mouth full,” Erestor crooned, sliding his hand down to cup Glorfindel’s cheek, moving his hips lightly. “Glorious…”

“Want – want you,” Glorfindel groaned, “hard.” Pulling away just long enough to moan the words, Glorfindel dove back, stuffing his mouth full once more.

 

Erestor’s eyes widened, pulling back slightly before thrusting forwards, hitting the back of Glorfindel’s mouth hard enough make him moan in his throat, opening just long enough for Erestor to dip in before pulling out.

“That’s it, Glorfindel,” he gasped, “moan for me.”

Then the words he had spoken truly registered, Erestor’s thoughts whirling in his head. He enjoyed this game from time to time, but he hadn’t assumed Glorfindel would enjoy being on the receiving end. Erestor’ grip shifted, taking control of that golden head by the hair in a moment, stopping Glorfindel bobbing his head too deeply for a moment.

“Want me to force you?” he asked, flexing his hips involuntarily.

Glorfindel moaned around him, doing his best version of nodding.

“Force, mmm…” he hummed, looking down at those blue eyes, glazed over with lust, he pulled back, letting Glorfindel get a brief breath of air before slamming himself back inside that hot wet cavern. Glorfindel groaned, those blue eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I can do that, my pretty,” Erestor murmured, stroking Glorfindel’s hair as he let him up for a breath, “oh, yes, you’re so good for me.”

On his knees, begging to have his face stuffed with Erestor’s cock was not what he had envisioned for the evening, but the swirling feeling of lust tightening in his groin told him to keep going. Glorfindel moaned again.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you,” Erestor whispered, one hand caressing Glorfindel’s ear while the other was still wrapped tight in his hair, using it to force him back onto Erestor’s cock. The moan he received told him all he needed to know. “Such a pretty mouth,” he purred, “spreading so wide for me – so hot!” Thrusting himself into Glorfindel’s throat, Erestor held for a moment, feeling his muscles ripple, swallowing convulsively around him. “Fuck!” Pulling back, he let Glorfindel have a breath before forcing himself between those lips once more. “I want you, Glorfindel,” he groaned. “Right here.” Looking down, he caught those eyes looking up at him, the blue nearly subsumed by dark pupils blown wide with lust. “Would you like that,” he asked softly, “right here where anyone might walk past?”

Glorfindel shuddered, the hand not holding on to Erestor’s hip for dear life falling to his lap, rubbing furiously at himself.

Erestor pulled back, tutting softly.

“No touching, Glorfindel,” he murmured, tapping the swollen bottom lip with the head of his cock. It wasn’t just his voice, Erestor realised, it was the things he said, too, dripping praise into his ears that made Glorfindel shudder and keen. “You’ve been so good, so patient – just a little longer, my Lord…”

Glorfindel groaned, his hand moving up to join its fellow at Erestor’s hip, squeezing with nearly bruising force as he returned his focus to sucking Erestor’s soul out through his cock.

Erestor smirked, his head falling back on a groan as that hot tongue returned to play. “Yes, lovely, just like that,” he moaned, hardly enough of his mind left to keep thrusting if not for the undeniable instinct to claim that mouth, make it his – even if just for the night. Tightening his grip, Erestor sped up slowly, hardly even aware of the words spilling from his mouth except for the way his soft praise made Glorfindel moan around him, made that throat flutter as the golden warrior fought not to swoon.

His hands stayed where they were, however, which made Erestor smile, caressing his face and tilting his head up to look into those blue eyes. Glorfindel’s hands clenched around Erestor’s hip, his eyes falling shut one moment only to snap open on the next thrust, seeming determined to make Erestor fall into that ocean never to reclaim himself.

Erestor approached his end swiftly, the combination of Glorfindel’s hot mouth and the heady sense of power from his earlier attempt at unconventional seduction making his own control hang from a thread. He cursed.

“So hot, dearest,” he whimpered, “please…” Looking down, he caught sight of Glorfindel’s lips stretched tight around him, his pupils blown wide with lust. Erestor groaned, knowing that there was no way back now. He tried to pull away, to give Glorfindel the chance to deny him, but the other made an unhappy half-moan deep in his throat and Erestor slammed back into his mouth.

Glorfindel patted his hip gently, getting back to his task with gusto, bobbing at just the right speed to make Erestor’s eyes cross with the pleasure of it.

Nothing existed in the world but the pleasure of Glorfindel’s throat, working furiously around him, his fingers teasing across fabric, even though he needed both hands for balance. He wanted to cry out, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood – getting caught might be a fun fantasy, but not something he wanted to chance without discussion – as the coil snapped, making him shudder as he flew apart, filling that glorious mouth.

 

"You're so good for me, my Lord," he purred weakly, coming back to his mind in increments. Tilting Glorfindel’s head up for moment, wiping a stray droplet of cum from the corner of his mouth, Erestor ran his hands soothingly through golden locks as Glorfindel obediently sucked the last remnants of pleasure from his skin, leaving tingling aftershocks of desire to thrum up his spine. When he was presentable once more, Erestor pulled him to his feet, leaning in for a soft almost-not-there kiss. Glorfindel released a needy whimper at the small caress, but he stayed still. Erestor rewarded him with a deeper kiss, making him groan before side-stepping him easily smirking at the way Glorfindel’s breath shuddered into the quiet of the night.

"Erestor..." Glorfindel called quietly, his voice rough and scratchy in a way that dragged against every pleasured nerve ending in Erestor’s body.

Turning back to glance at the wild-eyed warrior, hardness straining against those soft trousers and sheer need painted across his face, Erestor's smirk widened.

"Are you coming, my Lord?" he asked, pitching his voice at the level that made Glorfindel tremble, his hand unconsciously moving to rub himself through the soft cloth struggling to contain him.

Taking another two steps away from the secluded alcove, he dropped his voice just enough to catch Glorfindel’s attention and added – loudly enough that someone might overhear: “I thought you were willing to demonstrate how the hero of the stories uses his... weapon.” Pausing delicately, he added the honorific almost as an afterthought, “My Lord.”

The loud moan behind him made him smile, picking up his pace a little, though he had taken no more than two steps before Glorfindel was there, pressed against his back, that hard shaft pressing into the cleft of his arse, a low hiss of his own name in his ear.

Pressing back against him, Erestor turned his head, flicking his tongue across the point of that ear once, twice. Glorfindel made a sound that seemed to reverberate through his chest before leaving his mouth in a whimper.

Dragging his lips along Glorfindel's ear, he no longer had to work to make his voice husky with desire. “Thrusting your sword,” Erestor breathed, reaching down to give him a squeeze, revelling in the moan that earned him, “into its tight sheath.”

This time it was Glorfindel's fingers that made him moan, his foot that kicked out his legs from underneath him, only for those arms to catch him up, the long legs – powerful, built for thrusting – making longer strides until they reached Glorfindel’s door.

His hands were tight enough around Erestor's hips to bruise and part of him wanted to do it here, now, wondering what Glorfindel would say to such a suggestion, but the bigger part of him wanted to be on Glorfindel's bed – spread-eagled or on all fours, didn’t matter – feeling that lovely thick tool stretch him wide open.

Erestor whined softly at the thought.

Pressing himself against the planks of wood, Erestor took the moment to steal a taste of those lips, his own flavour lingering in Glorfindel’s mouth, wrapping his legs tighter around Glorfindel's hips to hold himself up when one hand let go of his arse to scrabble for the door handle. He had meant to tease, to take it slow, but the searing heat of Glorfindel's clothed cock against his own resurgence was too good, too much – and not enough.

Panting into shared kisses, Erestor was only vaguely aware of the door moving, falling shut behind them as Glorfindel hastened across the floor, pressing him back into the mattress of the bed he'd been dreaming about for years and thrusting helplessly against him, desperation making him forceful in a way that blew all thoughts of dominance and teasing from Erestor's mind, his legs falling invitingly open.

“Ye…ss” he hissed, tugging on Glorfindel’s hair to get that glorious mouth back to his own, running his hands into the loose neckline of his shirt, tracing those strong shoulders and swallowing Glorfindel’s moans before they broke the silence.

Fumbling with ties on clothing – knots seemed entirely beyond Glorfindel and Erestor found himself largely unconcerned with the fate of the seams on his own robes, hearing several ripping sounds before finally he was pressed tight against warm skin, soft hard planes of strong muscles moving across his chest, sensitive nipples catching on the light dusting of Glorfindel's chest hair and making him moan into the night.

“Er-Erestor," Glorfindel panted, sliding his cock alongside Erestor’s with a broken moan, "I- I need-”

Glorfindel’s fumbling in the drawer of his bedside table seemed to take forever, but Erestor kept his own hands busy running over Glorfindel's arse, trading panting open-mouthed kisses as he pushed those restricting sleep trousers down his legs, using his feet to help. His own robes bunched around his hips, he heard the slick sound of Glorfindel tipping oil into his palm, felt the slippery glide of fingertips teasing the rim of his hole.

“A-Ai, Glorfindel!” he whimpered, hissing at the sudden hard stretch of two fingers pushing inside him. "Fuck!" he moaned, squeezing Glorfindel's hips with his thighs, lifting his own in a silent plea for more. Glorfindel's forehead pressed against his for a moment, those fingers completely still inside him. Erestor needed him to move, his eyes snapping open to stare up at the handsome face hovering almost-anxiously above him.

“I'm sorry!” Glorfindel exclaimed, stiffening as he stared down to where his strong digits had breached Erestor’s body, looking like he was about to pull back.

Erestor growled at him.

“You will be if you don't get moving,” he said, biting at the tempting lower lip of his lover. Glorfindel whined, but those fingers – blessed fingers – began to move, slowly, at first, but picking up speed with the trembling impatience of long denial. “So good…!” he whimpered, throwing his head back. Glorfindel’s hot lips closed around the pulse beating wildly in his neck, and then he sucked.

Erestor nearly bucked him off the bed.

Snagging up the glass vial, Erestor slicked his own fingers, reaching down to grab Glorfindel's cock and feeling the need for more fill him.

“In me,” he panted, his slick fist making Glorfindel slippery. The elf above him moaned deeply, opening his mouth to offer protest. Staring up into those blue eyes, he wondered if he’d have to beg, and realised that he would not mind it so long as it was Glorfindel listening to his whimpered pleas. “Now!” Erestor growled, pressing his foot desperately against that arse. He knew what he could handle – and he was so ready for this.

It was hard, and glorious, and an almost painfully full feeling when Glorfindel finally pressed forwards, found his way home, but it was everything Erestor needed.

Tossing his head back, he felt Glorfindel mouthing at his throat, his shoulders, running a line of biting kisses up the side of his neck, but he could only focus on the burn and stretch of that thick invader, forcing its way into him, making him yield to the strength he had coveted for longer than even he knew.

“Glorfindel...” he moaned, reaching around to cup his arse, pinching that tight flesh. “I need you...”

The feeling of Glorfindel inside him, the smell of his hair oil clinging to the sheets and the obscenely loud sound of flesh against flesh that he had muffled with his robes earlier were now allowed free reign, bright bursts of starlight filling his mind when Glorfindel struck that spot just right.

Every thrust was bliss, the whimpering cries of his lover when he tightened around him better music than any Lindir might compose, every stroke across the bundle of nerves inside hitting him just right, as though they had done this a hundred times before.

“More,” he begged, running his hands up Glorfindel’s shoulders to tangle in his hair again, bringing his face back in range of his kisses. Thrusting his hips up to meet Glorfindel’s, Erestor moaned. “So good, darling, please-” he babbled, squeezing him tightly.

Letting his head fall forwards onto Erestor’s shoulder, Glorfindel sped up, chasing that glorious high they both knew would not be stayed – even though Erestor had already scaled the heights once tonight.

Glorfindel dipped his head, that gloriously hot mouth that had already brought Erestor such pleasure, homing in on a sensitive nipple. It was a small thing, in the end, simply the light brush of his hair – tangled by Erestor’s fingers earlier, but still half plaited for sleeping –  against Erestor’s chest, the gold stretching across pale skin like a mark of ownership that undid him.

“E-Erestor!” he growled, gripping his hips tightly, riding the wave of pleasure coursing through him, raining him of everything but the feeling of Erestor’s warmth beneath him – around him – and the panted moans in his ear.

Feeling Glorfindel reach his own peak, his hips stuttering wildly when he bit down, adding a sharp spike of pain to the pleasure already overwhelming his mind, Erestor exploded.

A name echoed in his mind, painted in streaks of euphoric colour across his soul and Erestor didn’t care to feel troubled by the depth of the feeling he found when he rode those halcyon waves of bliss.

Loosing the bellow he would have uttered earlier in the alcove, he let the world know just who was responsible for his ecstasy.

“Glorfindel!”