A Dalliance Uncommon by Gwanath Dagnir

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Chapter 2

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His ploy to secure one private evening free of unwanted interruptions was founded in as much truth as falsehood: Gil-galad was tired. Even his sentry looked upon him with sympathy as he approached the wing of his private residence.

“My Lord, Celebrimbor came looking for you. Shall I tell him you’ve retired for the evening if he returns?”

Gil-galad played the part of a dutifully fatigued official, letting his shoulders sag. “He must need something, to come here after hours. Did he head back toward the supper hall? Perhaps I should return…”

“He left toward the offices. Also, he did not relay any particular urgency.” The sentry pivoted his stance to present the hallway leading to the king’s bedchamber. “Would you prefer to retire instead, sire? Seems visitors have been nonstop lately; I would exceed my position to say you’ve earned some rest.”

Gil-galad smiled, taking the ease of executing tonight’s plans as a good omen. “I allow it! Your observations ring true, and I must look as exhausted as I feel. Thank you – please see that I am left undisturbed tonight. Oh-” He turned back as if remembering to say, “Except I summoned Elrond to come on an errand later. Do send him inside, but none other.”

The sentry bowed and resumed his stance at attention.

Within his rooms, the king shed his stately attire and donned the casual clothes laid out by his assistants. On the vanity, a silver tray dazzled by moonlight presented a decanter of wine that Gil-galad left untouched. Although no stranger to drunken exploits (indeed, a generous helping of wine had encouraged his very first flirtation with Elrond’s affections), tonight was an occasion that deserved unencumbered presence of mind – no common dalliance like any other. Come to the glass doors leading to his private gardens, he searched the sky for Eärendil’s star to no avail; the Mariner had business elsewhere this night. Gil-galad left open the drapes.

Standing bathed in the celestial lights of the night sky, he slipped into elven reverie of waking sleep. His thoughts drifted to random interactions with the Half-elven, a companionship so new it should feel strange, yet so comfortable it must be destiny – stolen glances in boardroom meetings that relayed thought as clear as words, shared laugher at the supper table that infected everyone within hearing, interludes of quiet contemplation so intense the world waited for its conclusion. He had dimensions like a gemstone that reflected different qualities from every angle, perhaps a manifestation of his mixed heritage. He could be sagacious and forgiving as calm water, or penetrating and resolute as strong wind. Which of nature’s elements would walk through that door, which ethereal force would guide their path? Would they unite to swing from trees carefree, or launch fearless into combat? As he ruminated half-awake, his hand made a path to his manhood, roused even by these mundane memories and engorging as Gil-galad turned his mind to more lustful encounters, recalling their first kiss: merry and curious, authentic and tenacious. Their second kiss, entirely unintended but raw and heartfelt, comforted them amidst a storm of shared pain and forgiveness. And the third, bold passion laid bare – a truce, a pact, a pledge in motion. And now, finally….
Caressed by the speeding cusp of his palm, his cock seized in desperate release, angry from neglect.

Startling aware just in time to stifle his own outburst, he steadied himself with a hand shaking against the glass while he recovered. As he tucked himself back into his loose pants, it occurred to him that he had little knowledge of the physiology of Men, sexual or otherwise, and much less so of the Maiar. One crude fact he had overheard elves discuss in mockery is that mortals have no control over their breeding, and achieving orgasm results in an emission of sperm involuntarily, akin to animals. For the Eldar, this is a conscious deed with the intention of conceiving children, mutually exclusive from the climax of pleasure. Elrond himself may not know his own nature in this regard. Most Elves remain chaste before marriage, many abstaining from gratification even by their own hand, and sexual blooming often occurs well after adulthood. Some fall somewhere in between, while few (Gil-galad among them) would politely be described as born hot-blooded. The prospect of discovering which characteristics the Half-elven inherited from which lineage for the first time sent a fresh rush of blood to his loins.

A knock at the door awakened him completely. “Enter.”

Elrond obeyed and shut the door behind himself. Balancing a stack of folded clothes atop one arm, he cast a harried look around the room to find the king, then blinked before shaking himself to say, “Sorry. Celebrimbor caught me leaving supper, you know how he gets to talking. Is it too late?”

“Of course not. Just put those there,” Gil-galad pointed to a chair and came to give welcome as he took in the sight of his guest with a resigned sigh. “I admit I will miss seeing you in my clothes, there was something endearing about it.”

Elrond scoffed, “To you maybe, but somewhat emasculating for me if I’m being honest. I can name on the fingers of one hand those in your court who did not see fit to acknowledge I would be naked without the king’s charity, in their own way. Sorry, never mind – that was ungrateful.” Turned after unburdening his load, he froze there staring blankly, then belatedly came into the embrace opened for him. “Uhm… I did not think to have those laundered beforehand. Sorry.”

“Good, and nor will I, now that they carry your scent.” Gil-galad took an appreciative breath of that intoxicating musk and wasted no time to claim the lips that had taunted his recent dreams – but for the first time of all their encounters, the reception of his kiss was reserved, the body tense in his arms. “You are not yourself. Has something happened?” At the busy silence in response, Gil-galad moved his palm to rest over the heart fluttering like a wild bird caged. “It’s all right – tell me.”

“Nothing happened, just when I waked in... I don’t know. This scene whelms me, the way the starlight holds you, the way you fit in this room, in this whole realm, as if someone painted it for you to belong. Somehow this does not feel real.” Elrond unclenched his hands where they landed on the king’s biceps, bringing up one finger to trace the collarbone exposed by the relaxed shirt, then the line of his jaw. When their eyes met and held, a symphony of fond emotion danced between them, and his strained features began to relax. “Yet here you are.”

“Here we are; I in this kingdom of my belonging, and you as though conjured by my own heart’s secret need.” Gil-galad kissed those lips again that this time yielded at once, and moved his mouth onto the neck, expecting the same submission and receiving it, feasting between words, “Let us not invite sorry into this tryst, dear one. Nor worry, or judgement. Only free of such things can I have you all to myself,” he held their bodies together tighter, satisfied by the hardness he had inspired, but not by the barrier between them. He started to unlatch the fastenings of the outer layer Elrond wore, tugging playfully as he did. “Though I complimented this garb earlier, you are woefully overdressed for the occasion.”

“Mm, your sentry said the same.”

“What?”

Elrond snorted into a fit of laughter. “O your face… he did not, of course.” He took over his own undressing when Gil-galad balked, but the king dove back in to speed it along.

“Well now you are back to your usual state indeed. Come here, you rascal!”

They rejoined to kiss with escalating fervor between discarding layers of clothes, until both were bare from the waist up and breathing excitedly, eager to map the curves of each other with hands and eyes.
“I like this on you,” Gil-galad caressed the pendant that Elrond wore against his skin, an heirloom of his house, then let his fingers and his gaze follow the trail of fur angling to a point above the navel. “I like this as well,” as the journey continued lower, he lingered over the cock fully upright and then the plump sacks underneath. “Yet your boots, less so. How am I supposed to get these pants off you with those on?”

Elrond jolted out of a daze from the stimulation to his privates. “Ai, I should have removed them at the door! Sor-” he stopped short of the forbidden word, kneeling briefly to free his feet. “Fixed. You were saying…”

“Ha!” Gil-galad resumed to unfasten the pants and helped slide them down over obstacle of erection and well-formed arse. The sight revealed stole his breath. He had oft said that Elrond is the best of the kindreds when referring to his character, and his physique honoured that assessment as well – he embodied a marriage twixt the grace of the Eldar and the virility of Men and the majesty of the Divine. “Glory be, you are magnificent...”

“And now you are the one overdressed – if I may,” Elrond reached out to return the service, pulling undone the single tie that let his loose pants fall to the floor and his erection bound free. The Half-elven smiled, taking his time with the view as an artist appraises a masterpiece, “And lo, now you are perfect.”

So said all his past lovers. Gil-galad had grown to exceed his own father in stature and endowment; elders remarked that he exemplified Ñoldorin greatness of the highest-born in Valinor. But the praise of one so formidable by his own measure struck a different chord – next to Elrond, Gil-galad did not feel superior, but instead profoundly harmonious. They stepped out of the tangle of cloth around their feet to embrace flesh to flesh for the first time, remaining long to savour the feel of their closeness and the differentness of the other.
With his own appetite piqued to the point of waning resolve, Gil-galad said at last, “The Eldar are said to be slow to rouse and slow to sate, yet in youth I nearly climaxed at the mere sight of my first lover, and regrettably did so at their first touch. You are remarkably controlled for an innocent!”

“Not that innocent…” Elrond flushed to admit, “My thoughts ran wild while I prepared your things, and I feared what you just described would be my fate for certain if I did not tame myself before coming to you.”

“Then we are alike in this way too, you and I – hot-blooded. Tell me,” Gil-galad raised a hand to rub the bottom lip with his thumb, and with the other exposed the ear to trace its unique curve. “Did you think of me while you touched yourself?” He guided the mouth to open and interrogated it with his tongue. “Did you think of me as the end consumed you?” He accepted a breathless nod as answer, and coaxed that tongue held silent in rapture to play with his. “Is that when you invaded my dreaming and guided my hand upon myself? I almost toppled over when I finished, knowing how you want me. I see how you want me still, you are hard as stone chiseled in a monument to lust.”

Suddenly Elrond growled, shivering to break the spell, “It’s unfair of you to speak this way, so silken and- and naughty! I am already as an hourglass turned upside down and struggling to bide the time, do not tap the glass lest you break it!”

The king laughed. “Very well, enough teasing – I enjoy it too much anyway, I’m on the verge again myself.” Taking the lead as the more experienced of the pair, he brought up one of Elrond’s hands to kiss its scarred wrist while his other shifted to perch under the chin. “Know that I make no presumptions, nor demands. Tell me what you want.”

Without hesitation came the response, “To be worthy of your love.”

Gil-galad gaped, captured by the sincerity of that gaze so divining it could bring one to shame. Love? But if this is no common dalliance, then what else? He was not prepared to consider it.
“I meant- tonight, in bed.”

“So did I.”

Seeming in that moment every bit his own species, Elrond peered straight into Gil-galad, making him feel more than naked if not altogether inside out. The king moved his hand from chin to shoulder, trying to steer this. “Of anything that we might do, have you any qualms at all? Some tend to themselves while enjoying each other’s company, either in respect for propriety, or to build rapport with a new partner. We could start there.”

“You are kind to be so gentle with me…” Elrond’s eyes softened appreciatively, then narrowed with salacious intent as he shifted their joined hands to write some rune on Gil-galad’s palm, unexpectedly alluring. “I should be abashed to admit I had imagined more creative use of your fine company.” He brought their bodies close enough for their erections to nestle and rub with the deepness of their breathing. “Besides, are we not more familiar than that already?” He demonstrated with a penetrating kiss returned enthusiastically, and an opening of his consciousness, allowing Gil-galad to sense the extent of his comfort.

In response, the king made a fist around their cocks and began to massage them together as one. “This is what I imagined, the first time I felt your hardness against mine.” After an initial gasp of shock or delight or both, Elrond took a turn trying the technique, then they shared space between the top and base, finding a rhythm that filled the cavern of their joined mouths with moans while their tongues mimicked the friction.
Separating with a gasp of his own as Elrond’s thumb circled his glans, Gil-galad said, “Wait- move over here. My legs are wobbling already!” He went to the bed and threw aside the top blanket to claim his place in the center of the mattress. The silk sheets stretched under his weight like a net while the canopy overhead crowned him -regal even in nudity, even on his knees- where he watched hungrily as Elrond approached.
“Careful not to cut down the banister with that thing. By the stars, you are hung like a beast!”

Elrond laughed, surprised by the compliment as only one unacquainted with the average elvish dick would be. “I have what you have, fair lord.” As he crawled forward on all fours, beastly indeed, he added, “Except practice, as you know. Pray teach me, so I may surely satisfy you.”

“Then your first lesson shall be surrendering to my hand, for I will not be satisfied until I’ve made you swoon. Come, match me this way,” they moved to sit face to face with opposite legs over and under the other, lapping and folded like petals of a flower. Gil-galad stretched to retrieve a vial from the sideboard and anointed them with delicate oil before resuming how they left off, starting tender but rapidly maturing, exchanging kisses while they still had composure, then nesting their faces to pant as the race hurried into its plateau, the point of no return.
Captivated by the beauty of their bodies at the joining, Gil-galad rasped, “Mercy… you are ribbed like the spine of a great oak. I could mount you and relieve my shaft against the ridges of your cock like a proper scratching post! Ah, yet I cannot bear to abandon this now – look how we fit together, how our meat fills my hand.”

Hissing through bared teeth, Elrond grated, “Again I say your words are too much!” Though he obeyed, groaning at the sight of their oil-slicked rods, bruised and pulsating. He held on with his free hand behind the king’s neck with a grip that became claw-like in desperation. “Ai… I cannot compete with your skill, I cannot even think. How well you undo me!”

Hearing this as an invitation, Gil-galad eagerly commandeered of every inch of their most intimate flesh. “Let me finish this, I want to. Are you close now? Yes? Good – hold to me and let it take you, gift me with your release. I will repay you very soon.” He changed his grip to the cinch of a vice, slipping a finger in between while pumping at their roots to ripen the tips. Their moaning turned throaty from the bittersweet torment. “I am honoured to have you first, my favourite, my equal. Honoured and-” his own concentration tore between thought and body as deliverance neared. He sped and lengthened his strokes to reward the throbbing heads of their cocks, “humbled- by your-”

“Ereinion- please…!”

“-humbled by- your love!”

“Ai! Gil-galad- my King!” Elrond spasmed only once before Gil-galad too came hard and sudden, his own end ushered by a wave of pride at his title called out in such reverence, and the sight of the mighty Half-elven brought to orgasm by his own hand. Singing a wordless duet of supplication and gratitude, they quaked through the final throes of pleasure’s demise as Gil-galad milked them unto the very brink of pain. At last, Elrond fell backwards like a hewed tree, still gasping and half laughing, trying but failing to say something about stars.

Marginally better composed, Gil-galad disentangled their limbs to stretch out onto his side next to him, tickling his fingers up and down the stomach in languid brushes. He noticed there was no ejaculate after all, realizing at the same time such a strange newness would have excited him. Every little idiosyncrasy that differentiated Elrond from elf-kind excited the king. Would anyone ordinary ever excite him again, or close to this much? As of that instant, it mattered not: this scene was painted for them to belong.

Once Elrond had regained enough wits to make eye contact, he smiled lazily into the gaze examining him. “What? Did I do something silly? I feel silly. And wonderful.”

“Not at all. I stare because I’m awestruck. That was marvelous. How does it compare for you?”

“Compare?” Elrond laughed, “Oh, poor me. What would I have to compare it to aside from my own lonely hand in solitude?”

“Well, compared to whatever you thought you knew, however you learned it, I don’t know. Books, fireside bragging, dreams...”

Suddenly serious, Elrond popped his head off the mattress. “Ereinion, there is no comparison. I tried to explain before, this is unreal, surreal, too good to be true – you are. Kiss me again before I wake up!”

The king obeyed, made both satiated and ravenous by the bounty each gave. His hand wandered from the center of that prickly chest, sweat-dampened and still heaving from exhilaration, back down to that impressive dick, subdued until caressed, when it resonated with purpose like the plucked string of a harp. “Your suspicions may be true, if this is what I can do to you with one mere touch. Perhaps we are having the same dream.”

Elrond trembled, his hyper-sensitive erection bucking like a penned stud to be handled again so soon. He collected himself to rasp out, “Sometimes you inflame me so with only a glance.” A pattern he traced on the king’s chest lingered over his nipple, then moved to follow the curve of his ear and receive the same encouraging whimper there. “I have been hard inside of your clothes more times than you know, how you watch me.”

“Not I alone. Many eyes have searched you lustfully.” Gil-galad’s pride kept secret the jealousy incited to see another covet the object of his own affection. His grip became possessive, thumb undulating over the frenulum as he asked, “Does any other stir you thus? Has one ever?”

“No one, never!” Elrond arched up to devour the neck and shoulder within reach. By the time his own hand dropped to encircle the king’s member, it too raged with renewed need. “Do unto me as you would enjoy, fair lord, I will mirror you until I’ve learned your wishes.”

“Nay – we can do better.” Emboldened in the arms of his new lover (and determined to outclass any competition), Gil-galad dared to endure that penetrating stare and willed himself open, allowing Elrond -warm as sunlight, safe as home- to touch his mind. “I do not have a Half-elven’s gift in Ósanwë,” he admitted, “yet with you it comes easier to me. And since I entice you as no other, also I want to feel you as none before. I want you to know my needs how I do, from the inside.”
Meeting in the timeless depths of star-lit eyes, they shared a wordless exchange of guidance and gratification so that what one willed the other enacted and the pleasure echoed between them – thus conjoined, they worked each other’s cocks with the precision and zeal of master craftsmen, achieving their second climax within minutes, powerful and simultaneous, almost an aftershock of the first and redoubled in intensity being experienced from both sides at once.

Crying out in unison and shuddering to ruin, they collapsed anew, panting hot against the cool sheets, their limbs boneless and criss-crossed and the world forgotten as they sank into blissful repose, utterly sated.
Some uncounted time later, Gil-galad awoke from a stir beside him.
Elrond straightened himself and sat upright, rubbing his eyes to peer at the window, then the door.

The scene whelmed Gil-galad in turn, how the starlight captured him twixt night and dawn, himself a creation between the fates of heaven and earth. Perhaps he, better than any, could be trusted to thread the needle that weaves obligations of duty and desire, he whose very nature is a patchwork.

Elrond lowered his feet to the floor.

Dreading the loneliness and nagging doubts that invade a new lover’s hasty absence, Gil-galad reached out, drawing his hand down the strong back, its scars muted in the dimness. “You need not scamper from my quarters like some shameful plaything cast back to its shelf after sordid use – not you, son of Eärendil, not ever. Keep your place at my side.” When Elrond sat unmoving, his insides shrank with a pang of insecurity. “Unless you wish to leave, of course.”

“No…” finally Elrond cast back a smirking glance, equal parts mischievous and adoring. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Laughing, Gil-galad flung a pillow in playful rebuke, then pulled another under his shoulders as the Half-elven swiveled to unfurl along his side.

“Though I should warn you, my brother oft complained that I cling like a drowning vine in my sleep.”

“Oh, I’ve slept through worse none the wiser. Ask Círdan sometime about the hurricane – telling that tale is his sixth-favourite way to embarrass me.”

They settled together in perfect balance, Gil-galad ruling their embrace as bedrock with that most dear to him held close to protect, Elrond as molten steel that fills void with curling tendrils to link sundered parts into one whole.

Adrift in the unbridled honesty of slumber’s self-reflection, it occurred to the High King that an uncommon dalliance by another name would not inaccurately be called love.