Glorfindel had always preferred to use the public bathing rooms, liking how the boisterous company of his warriors often turned the ritual of cleansing into a merry social occasion. Although there were some forms of washing that were better done in privacy he thought, grinning, as he again laved his tongue around the puckered entrance of his lover's trembling body while Melpomaen, who was bent over the edge of the sunken pool, futilely scratched at the foor tiles as he writhed and moaned under the Balrog Slayer's definition of a ' washcloth'.
They had been getting ready for the evening meal, when both were suddently overcome by a need to sate a different kind of hunger. Glorfindel spread the younger elf's thighs further apart before replacing his tongue with one finger, begining the pleasurable ritual of preparing his lover for the joining that was to come. Melpomaen propped himself up onto his forearms, as he moved back into the digit impaling him.
" More...saes...more..." He implored.
The golden Lord's shaft began to throb urgently as he added another finger, while his other hand drizzled more drops of opalescent bathing oil down the cleft of those enticing globes. He widened the opening gently, then crooked those fingers inside to rub on his young love's hidden gland.
" Ai!...aah...aaah, meleth nin!... Take me!... saes...saes, meleth...saes!."
Melpomaen's hoarse cry was an entreaty Glorfindel could not deny. He positioned himself at the center of their shared need and watched, with glazed eyes, as his cock slowly dissapeared into his lover's body. The two began to move in a rapidly-quickening rythm as their burning desire sped them to the point of no return. The Balrog Slayer tightened his grip on Melpomaen's slim hips, the sight of the younger elf's back arching as he met him stroke for stroke, inflaming the seneschal's senses. Melpomaen reached down to furiously pump his own pulsing shaft as the urgency of their coupling rached the final melting point. For a moment, they both hung in exquisite suspension. Then they tumbled over the edge, toguether.
As they sank back into the soothing waters of the bathing pool, Glorfindel broke the string of kisses that had accompanied them down and looked at his beloved with a mischievous grin, before holding aloft a wet washcloth...
A short while later, Melpomaen finished putting on the clothes he had worn that day back on as he prepared to leave for his own quarters, in order to don fresh garments to wear to dinner. Glorfindel watched him depart, before turning his own attention to the matter of dressing. Although he could not help but notice how empty his rooms felt once the other elf had gone.
In his chambers, Elrond had just finished tying the wide sash belting his gold-embroidered burgundy robes. Had anyone been there to remark on the fact that he had seemed to take special care with his appearance on this particular evening, he would have surely scoffed. He was simply going to dinner and then to a well-deserved few hours of entertainment, nothing more. And yet, the powerful Lord could not quite control the slight flutter in his stomach as he left his rooms for the dining hall...
He met up with Glorfindel and Melpomaen at the entrance and pretended not to notice the seneschal's subtle look of speculation as they all went inside. As they crossed the vast room, Melpomaen began to move away towards his usual seat, only to have Glorfindel clasp his hand as he lead him to a chair beside the golden Lord's own place at the head table.
The usual din of laughter and conversation seemed, to Melpomaen's reddened ears, to come to a complete stop and he could feel the other elves' stares boring into him as he took the proffered seat, keeping his eyes firmly glued upon the tabletop. Glorfindel calmly surveyed the crowd and was pleased to see that even though all wore expressions of surprise, those expressions were quickly turning into pleased smiles. Although more than a few were tinged with regret at knowing that the Balrog Slayer's sexual talents were now obviously reserved for the shy assistant's sole enjoyment.
" Do not fret so, meleth nin." Glorfindel said, sitting down beside his love. " If you would but look up, you would see that all are pleased at our union."
Melpomaen shyly lifted his eyes and saw a sea of smiles and good-natured ribald winks cast in his direction. He smiled in return, even as the blush on his cheeks deepened. He could admit to himself that the small, insecure elfling residing always in his heart had expected that the Balrog Slayer would keep their romance a secret, not wanting all to know that he had fallen for such a mousy and insignificant elf.
But if he had only been able to look at himself through the other elves' eyes, he would have seen at that moment a striking young elf, made even more beautiful by the glow of love that shone forth from his gentle being.
One of the pairs of pleasantly surprised eyes in the room now turned their attention away from the shy assistant, as their owner looked at another figure seated at the head table. Sea-green orbs perused the finely-clad form of the Lord of Imladris appreciatively, as sensual lips curved in an enigmatic smile.
Torture.
That was the only word that could appropiately describe what the outwardly-calm elf seated in the Hall of Fire was going through. The sustained surge of desire pooled in his discreetly covered lap, was threatening to cut off what little supply of blood remained in Elrond's upper head, until he feared he would swoon from want.
And still, that wretched minstrel played on...
But at last, the entertaiment came to an end. The elves gathered quickly began to disperse, for the morrow was a working day, their light laughter and banter giving testimony to the evening's success. Glorfindel, who had been surreptitiously observing his longtime friend's reaction to the minstrel, cocked an amused eyebrow as he and Melpomaen took their leave. The Balrog Slayer hoped that what he had seen would come to fruition, for it would fulfill the selfless wish the Lady Celebrian had confided to him before her departure.
Elrond suddently realized that only he and Lindir remained in the Hall of Fire. Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair.
" I commend you on an exceptional evening. Imladris is indeed blessed to have the gift of your unequaled talents."
With that, Elrond turned and began to rapidly make his escape. Until a dulcet voice brought him to a rigid stop.
" My Lord..." It said.
TBC...