“It’s fucking hot,” Glorfindel said.
Fin had a thorough grasp of the situation, Erestor thought grumpily. They were riding along a riverbank that meandered through a wide plain, the summer sun burning a fiery tattoo onto Erestor’s back. He felt smothered in his dark tunic and leather cuirass, smothered by his duties, by the trial of years. Always it was war, and politics, and piles of smoking orcs, and dusty archives, and long rides on missions that were hopeless. Depressed, that’s what he was. And hot. A gritty moisture had spread under his arms and trickled down his chest. Tarlanc, his horse, snorted and kicked up under his belly at a fly, which flung Erestor upward for a moment so that he lost his seat and had to grab a handful of mane.
“Hot as Morgoth’s arsecrack,” Glorfindel continued happily.
“You have a talent for stating the obvious,” Erestor grumbled in his best NOT AMUSED voice.
“Do I?” Glorfindel turned around on his horse to look at him, a glint of mischief in eyes as blue as the relentless sky. “I thought I had a talent for obfuscation. At least that’s what you said last night.” He had bound his long hair up in an untidy knot at the back of his head exposing the tender fair skin of his neck which had gone red in the heat. A burn would serve him right. “Last night,” Fin was saying, “at the meeting. Just before . . .”
“Yes, yes, I know when I said it and why. No one else would take a straightforward question like, ‘Will King Gil-galad support our proposition,” and turn it into an epic tale recounting half the history of Middle Earth and with more twists and bends than this brook.”
“It didn’t warrant a simple answer,” Glorfindel said.
“For Eru’s sake, Fin, it was midnight before you got done and it was only extreme politeness on the part of our hosts, not to mention a great desire for the alliance, that kept the smiles frozen on all those faces.”
“You, of all people, Counselor, are well aware of the need for subtlety in these matters.”
“Subtlety is one thing, testing my patience, not to mention my backside on that marble bench, is another.”
“Yes, well, they won’t ask the question again now, will they?” Fin said mildly.
“Humph,” Erestor grunted, knowing full well his lover was correct and wise, which made him even more irritating than usual.
“You seem in very ill humor, my pet,” Glorfindel said.
“I have every reason to be. I’m hot and tired and I want to sleep in my own bed for once. And don’t you dare try to cajole me out of my misery. I am gaining far too much pleasure from it.”
Glorfindel laughed. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
The stream rippled and shimmered in the sunlight, hurting Erestor’s eyes; while the constant drone of the gurgling water was making him sleepy. The landscape dipped into a fold of the hills. Up ahead he saw a copse of trees, their leaves rattling in the light wind.
Glorfindel rocked his seat and Aeglas broke into an easy lope. “Race with me to the trees, vanima,” he called.
“I will not,” Erestor said. “Beastly idea.”
Aeglas’ glorious white tail floated along like a banner as they disappeared around a bend. Erestor ambled along behind. The trees closed on either side and Erestor felt grateful for the thin shade. Up ahead he saw that Glorfindel had dismounted by the stream and was madly tugging at the straps on his cuirass.
No. Surely, he wasn’t. Yes, he was.
The leather hit the ground with a dull jingle, followed by his swordbelt, bracers, greaves, boots, then his tunic and undertunic. Erestor held his breath as the exquisite body of his lover was revealed, inch by muscular inch, looking so tender and pale and innocent after all that armor. “What do you think you’re doing?” Erestor called.
“What does it look like?” With a grin, Fin turned away, grasped the top of his breeches, and drew them off his hips with a sly wriggle. Erestor checked the sigh that the high rounded curves of his lover’s arse never failed to elicit. He was stark naked now except for the gold chain about his neck that Erestor had given him last begetting day.
“You’re going to take a swim. Right now. Just when we were making some headway on getting home,” Erestor said.
“You have a talent for stating the obvious,” Fin replied with an insolent wink, and waded into the water.
The stream was shallow and only went up to his thighs. Fin turned, saluted Erestor with the old Gondolinian gesture of clenched fist to the left shoulder, and fell backwards, sending up a great splash of water. “Oh, that’s delightful,” he gasped as he surfaced.
The water was quite clear. Through it, the light undulated in flickering dapples over his tawny flesh, stroking over that superbly sculptured chest and loins and into his lap where his flaccid organ moved gently in the current, almost as if beckoning. Erestor licked his lips.
“Come on, you old poop,” Fin called. “You’re not going to sit there on your horse, sweltering, when you could be in here where it is lovely and cool.”
Now the game was to see just how long he could hold out and how thoroughly he could annoy the impetuous Fin in the process. Erestor folded his arms.
Glorfindel spat a long stream of water at him, some of which managed to land on the bank.
“I fail to see why I should delay our trip, get all wet, and be forced to ride on a soggy saddle-cloth, when, if we push on, we could reach the palace tonight and I could have a lovely bath in my own room.”
Fin’s horse Aeglas waded into the water, put his head down and drank deeply. Tarlanc took a hesitant step forward, asking for permission to follow. With a sigh, Erestor dismounted and let the animal splash into the stream.
“You have no idea how good this feels,” Fin said. “Nor will you, if you persist in standing there like a mule.”
By now he had floated into the shallow mud flats with a mere couple inches of green water. Sitting with his knees bent, leaning back on his hands, he reached up and pulled the thong from his hair and shook it free. Rippling briefly in the breeze, the golden cloud then settled damply about his shoulders and down his back. Glorfindel tossed the thong at Erestor, who ducked. He was considering whether or not he wanted to dive in. After all Fin did look very happy, wiggling his fingers and toes into the fine clay along the bank. Fin picked up a handful of the stuff and squelched it through his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.
Erestor took a hasty step backwards. “Do not even THINK of throwing that at me or you’ll sleep alone for a month.”
“You are a prig,” Fin declared. He pitched a small clot of mud but the aim was wide. He must have taken Erestor’s threat seriously.
“What did you call me?” Erestor challenged.
“A prig, a priss, a nancy-boy. Yes, you heard me aright.”
“Invective will get you nowhere,” Erestor replied. How they both loved this. “I would like to observe that for all your thousands of years, you have never grown up. You are still playing in the mud like a naughty little boy.”
Glorfindel picked up another handful of the soft clay. Sitting up on his haunches, he dribbled some of it onto his leg and then smeared it all the way up his thigh. He twisted his body artfully and spread it over one buttock, very deliberately. He cupped the decorated flesh and squeezed.
“You are disgusting,” Erestor said, his eyes riveted to Fin’s hand.
“You love it.” Glorfindel looked up at him wickedly as he smeared more mud all over his chest. “You, my dear prig, love it when I act like a naughty boy.” He tweaked his nipples, pulling them up into little points. “You LOVE it when I’m . . . dirty.” Here, his hand dropped down and picked up his cock. He began fisting the mud over it, up and down, now adding a little twist to his motions. It unfurled enthusiastically into the gorgeous thick ramrod that Erestor so worshipped. Here and there white skin poked through a coating of brown sludge. The slurping mud was making a sticky, snapping sound, just like, just like . . .
“You like to protest,” Glorfindel continued in a voice purring with sin. “You like to play the prude, acting like you’ve got a pole up your arse, when in truth what you want . . . is a pole up your arse.”
“Ngyh,” Erestor said. It was so disgusting, and well, maybe somewhat erotic . . . all right then, very erotic. Erestor was growing hard, pushing uncomfortably against his fine silk breeches, felt his balls tightening. Head on fire. Sweat trickled down the small of his back. He tugged at his neck fastening.
Glorfindel closed his eyes and his hand moved faster. “Oh gods, ‘Restor. This feels so good, so slippery, and wet. The texture is divine. I think I’ll fetch up any moment.”
“No, wait.” Wait for me. To Mandos with all my fine sensibilities, Erestor thought. His fingers were on the buckles at his shoulders, madly pulling them apart, then at the buckles on his sides, and the hated cuirass slid free. Shortly thereafter, the rest of his clothes hit the ground in a tangled pile. Without his clothes, he felt light, uninhibited. He could hear Glorfindel laughing. A gentle breeze fingered him, drying the sweat, alerting the skin. He splashed into the water. Ahhh, it did feel good. He fell into it, rolled about to cool himself off, then rose, stalked over to Glorfindel and stood over him, dripping. “A prig am I?” he said.
Fin gave him a delighted smirk. “So, it is possible to coax the prim Counselor out of his clothes. Who would have thought it?”
Erestor threw himself on his muddy lover, grasped his long, supple waist and pulled his hard body under him, sliding against his slick skin, rough in places with the cool clay. That glorious rod pushed firm against his belly. Erestor growled in Fin’s ear, “How many defamatory words have you used to describe me now? Prig, priss, prim?”
“You forgot prude,” Fin grinned. “Some nice alliteration there, don’t you think?”
“I’ll give you alliteration,” Erestor said as he ground himself against his lover.
“Ooff, careful of the goods,” Fin said.
His mouth was warm and wet and sweeter than honey. His tongue an aggressive companion to Erestor’s agile one. He sucked and bit those lips. Such succulent lips, such firmness all over. Oh bloody Mandos but his lover was magnificent! Erestor set about possessing Glorfindel with his hands, with his mouth, with his body. They both opened their mouths wide, devouring each other, burning their lips. Glorfindel moved down to chew on Erestor’s neck.
“You,” Erestor breathed, “are a wicked, wicked elf who deserves a spanking.”
“And who is going to give it to me?” Fin mumbled into his neck. He rolled, flipping Erestor over with ease that took Erestor’s breath, and landing his full weight on top of him, pressed him down into the squelching ooze. Erestor could feel his hair becoming muddy and he didn’t care because Glorfindel had reached down, taken Erestor’s cock in a muddy, slippery grip and was bringing it to full fruition. Miraculous.
“Me, I’ll give it to you. A good hard spanking,” Erestor said. With effort he reached over and slapped Glorfindel sharply on the rear.
“Ow,” Fin declared, and quickened his hand.
Erestor slapped him again and again, feeling satisfaction in Fin’s slight shudder and moan with each blow. At the same time he was squirming in Fin’s grasp. The glow was spreading, hotter and more spicy with every jerk of Glorfindel’s fist. “Gods, gods,” Erestor moaned. “Fin, you’re evil. Stop that, oh crap.”
“Do you want me to stop? Really, Erestor? Because I will,” Glorfindel said, redoubling his efforts.
“Mandos, no, don’t stop. I mean, I want, I want . . .”
“Speak, my friend, you’re becoming faint.”
“Fuck you Fin! Want. Your pole. Up. My. Arse. Hurry!”
Glorfindel roughly pushed Erestor’s legs to either side, held his rear up slightly, and without further preliminary thrust deep within.
“Oh Mandos in Arda, yes,” Erestor yelled as he was penetrated, stretched wide. “Fuck me! Yes, like that. Harder! Yes! More!”
“Like that? You want it like that?” Glorfindel growled, wrapping his arms around Erestor’s thighs and administering several particularly wicked thrusts.
“Yes, yes, just like that. You’re magnificent. Uhhhh.” For the life of him, Erestor couldn’t remember why he had objected to this so, or where he was, or even who he was, overwhelmed as he was with the animal urge, the primitive desire to . . . “Yes, Valar in glory, I’m going to . . .” Erestor moaned, reaching down and aiding himself in that quest. And then it hit him, surging upward in a rush which pulsed and convulsed. Hot drops escaped his hand, hitting his belly. Gods!
Fin arched into him, flinging his head back and roaring joyously. Inside, Erestor could feel him pulsing as he continued to thrust forward. Again, again, again. Slower, more slowly, Glorfindel rode out his pleasure, each stroke striking sparks anew within Erestor.
Finally, Fin threw himself forward onto his lover and lay panting for moment. “Gods, that was good,” he said. He availed himself once more of Erestor’s mouth, kissing gently. “Mmmm, you are so beautiful,” he crooned.
Erestor closed his eyes, allowed himself the luxury of pure feeling - the heaving of his chest, the murmuring of the stream and the leaves overhead, birds chirping in the distance, the cool water purling around his shoulders and thighs, his lover’s delicious lips and the weight of his body, the happy thrumming between his legs. A moment. Out of the countless others in his life, this was one to remember and cherish. He opened his eyes meeting Glorfindel’s. They were sparkling with mirth.
“Look at you, Counselor, all covered in mud and thoroughly debauched. If only the rest of the Court could see you now, you’d never leave your room you’d have so many suitors.”
“Up. You’ve got to get up,” Erestor groaned, flailing about. Glorfindel shifted his weight and Erestor sat up, pulling himself from the mud with a great sucking sound. “Uck,” he said, shaking gunk off his hands. “No, if they could see me now they would be scandalized or laughing their arses off. Only you could get me to do something like this.”
“I would send all those suitors packing. No one else may have you,” said Fin. He took Erestor’s face in his hands and leaned forward for another kiss. Then he pulled back and laughed.
Erestor reached up, felt the smears of clay on his cheeks. “Toad!” he declared. And launched himself at Fin, rolling him over and over as he attempted to make him eat a handful of mud. They floundered into the deeper water, thrashing, struggling, and laughing heartily. It was exhilarating. Erestor caught Glorfindel and pushed him under water. Fin pulled him down as well. Popping back to the surface and struggling into the shallows, Erestor attempted to flee. Glorfindel grabbed him from behind and pulled him back down abruptly into his lap. Erestor squirmed around to face him, took Fin’s chin in his hands and kissed him, hard. He could feel himself growing again, the blood throbbing and pounding, the desire mounting . . . Glorfindel was in a similar state.
“Again!” Glorfindel declared.
“Again,” Erestor agreed.
Later, they lay on the bank, warm and drowsy in the sun, legs intertwined. Glorfindel was drawing patterns with his fingers on Erestor’s back as they kissed. Erestor’s body vibrated with good feeling. He couldn’t imagine why he had been so reluctant earlier to drop his heavy garb and get gloriously dirty and wet. Glorfindel was good for him, he mused. He freed him from the restrictions he imposed upon himself, brought out his playful side. Without him, he would have long ago shriveled into a dry and bitter thing. He sighed and settled his fingers in that tangled cloud of golden hair, pulling Fin closer as if he could pull him into himself.
“It seems we won’t reach the palace this evening,” Glorfindel murmured. “We’ll have to camp out here. Do you hate me for depriving you of your hot bath?”
“I hate you deeply and thoroughly,” Erestor said against his lips. “You are the most vexing creature in all of Arda and yet I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. A mud bath will have to do.”