My Fanfiction +++
The Look of Love
Glorfindel had been acting strangely that
morning. He had stripped their bed, ignoring curious looks from
Erestor, who found himself soothed with a ‘you’ll find out later,
love. Don’t get too caught up in the evening’s work tonight, yes?
That, as well as the distracting kiss from an insistent mouth,
stopped Erestor from asking more probing questions.
He was seen off from their rooms after that lingering goodbye, but
he had not yet left the hall when he saw Glorfindel charming a maid
for a pair of worn-out bed-sheets. He also observed, with a wry
twist of the lips, how quickly his lover’s request was granted.
Glorfindel was very well liked around the Last Homely house, known
for his kindness, his willingness to help everyone, and his not
insubstantial good looks.
Erestor didn’t want them to think he was spying, so as soon as they
appeared to be concluding their conversation, he left and hurried
off to work. He arrived, thanks to his curiousity, late.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Differing work schedules kept Erestor and
Glorfindel apart most of the day, but they always met up together
where they could. Today was Glorfindel’s day off, and Erestor had
almost expected him to show up, lunch in hand - along with something
sweet - but his lover was absent. Erestor concluded he’d probably
spent the lunch hour wandering the market place, one of his favorite
places, looking at trinkets and talking to everyone he met. Even,
Erestor thought with a smile, the stray dogs who congregated around
the stalls, looking for handouts and scraps.
The day went on from there rather quickly, the parchment and inked
words of trade agreements and notes from Elrond and his assistant
occupying Erestor’s time. He was a studious worker, and by no means
an introvert, being able to deal with people quite well, with words
or in person.
The stack of papers on his desk became once more small and
manageable, and Elrond stopped by when the evening deepened, to ask
about the progress of the Lórien talks. They talked for a while,
with the easy familiarity of old friends, before Elrond left,
promising to pass Erestor’s information about the flower dilemma on
to Bri. It had been a busy day, a full day, Erestor reflected as he
locked up his office and stepped into the hallway.
He made his way toward their rooms, the events of the morning
forgotten. The smell of lemon and rosemary drifted up to him as he
opened the door, swinging quietly on new hinges. The room was
decorated in a mix of their own styles - Glorfindel’s sometimes
quite incomprehensible eye for colour was decidedly different from
Erestor’s own neat, warm eye for decoration, but as the days and
months and years had gone on since they moved in together, Erestor
had found that, in some strange way, their styles complimented each
He found from where the delicious scent had come when his eyes fell
on the table. It was set for dinner, and held a platter of summer
fish dressed and prepared with greens and vegetables from the
garden. It smelled wonderful, and his stomach growled. He had been
prepared to quickly wash up, change robes and eat in the dining
hall, but this was a much nicer way to end the day. It was a gesture
that had Glorfindel’s fingermarks all over it, but his lover was
nowhere in sight.
Erestor called out, and Glorfindel’s voice drifted from the bedroom,
telling him to eat. He would have preferred to have company, but he
shrugged, settled down in the seat, napkin over his lap, and tucked
in hungrily. He was eyeing the pastries stuffed with fruits and nuts
and drizzled over the top with honey, when Glorfindel - shirtless,
hair unbound, finger tips smeared with paint - emerged from behind
the closed bedroom door and went to their washroom, asking Erestor
about his day, the same light casual conversation they’d become
accustomed to with their years together.
He was a bit absentminded, which Erestor was used to – Glorfindel
was like that when he was working on a painting. The curious thing
was that Erestor had not remembered his lover working on anything
recently, and he would have been sure to notice it… then he
remembered Glorfindel’s request for the sheets, and the secrecy of
Glorfindel disappeared into the bedroom again, leaving Erestor with
a smile and an invitation to join him after the meal. Bemused,
Erestor stared after him, but finished his dessert slowly. His
curiosity had gone from a spark to a raging fire, but he didn’t want
to appear as such. He’d been teased thoroughly by Glorfindel because
of his curiosity, which was known to be quite strong, and the reason
behind a few scrapes in which he had found himself over the years.
The room was very well lit with candles, the wind from the balcony
carrying the lavender scent to him. Glorfindel sat cross legged on
the floor, low earthen pots of paint arranged neatly in the corner
of the drop cloth beneath him. Erestor watched, smiling fondly to
himself, as Glorfindel tested the thickness of a gorgeously sky blue
hued paint. “I’m here,” he said at last.
Glorfindel looked up, blue eyes meeting amber. “I know.” He set the
paint pot down, long, muscled legs unfolding neatly as he rose from
where he sat. “I need you, for something quite important.”
Erestor raised an eyebrow. “You know I’ll help you with whatever it
is. Just as long as you tell me, and it doesn’t involve burying any
dead bodies. The vegetable garden is getting rather full.” He
teased, dark humour a fall back when he was not entirely sure what
was asked of him.
Glorfindel grinned, and something in the way the corners of his eyes
crinkled made Erestor relax. “No dead bodies of all the people
who’ve annoyed us, at least for today, no,” he joked. “I need you to
Erestor blinked, a relatively slow motion, showing off the thickness
of coal black eyelashes. “What, now?”
“Yes, now. Strip
and go lie on the bed,” Glorfindel said firmly, and turned his
attention back to his paints, adding a finely ground powder to
adjust the hue of one colour.
Erestor shrugged and removed his clothes, quickly and efficiently
folding them and putting them on the chair in the corner of the room
before he walked over to the bed. He sat down on his regular side,
taking a moment to try to piece together what Glorfindel was
planning, then swung his legs up and laid back. He noted the sheets
the maid had given his lover that morning, cool underneath his skin.
He shivered, a rare show of vulnerability from him.
He didn’t have long to wait before Glorfindel was seemingly
finished, satisfied with his colours. Erestor felt Glorfindel’s eyes
on him, sweeping over his body, almost like a touch.
“Move over, love. More towards the center. Relax. Relax for me.”
It took a wriggle of Erestor’s bum and a small push and he was
there. The relaxing took a little more effort, but was worth it,
when Glorfindel turned and saw him on the bed. The appreciation in
his smile made Erestor’s breath catch.
Glorfindel came over to one side of the bed and leaned over him,
fingers cupping Erestor’s cheek. “Now, he said softly, “I am going
to paint you.”
Erestor had no sense of time anymore. He had lain still for a long
time – minutes, hours – they had all blended together after a while.
The tickle of the paintbrush had only lasted as long as the shock of
slightly cool paint on his bare skin. He had hissed a bit at first,
and laughed, but Glorfindel had shushed him, looking at him and his
body with a thrilling intentness that Erestor hadn’t seen before.
Erestor’s reality narrowed, the outside world disappearing into this
entrancing one. There was nothing but the two of them. He watched
and felt as Glorfindel painted, retrieving each progressive colour
in its turn as he worked up Erestor’s body. Deep purple, soft but
bold yellow, earthy brown, dark as night black, burnt orange, and
crimson. The colours made no sense to Erestor, but somehow they did
to his lover, he could tell by the small comments Glorfindel made to
himself while he reached for different colours to paint light
Erestor had been coaxed into the state of absolute relaxation,
almost to the point of slumber, and the feel of the paintbrush on
him sent his skin to a hypersensitive state. With time, he didn’t
care what the over all picture looked like, he just wanted to feel
where the brush went next, and see the look in Glorfindel’s eyes as
more and more of his vision was realized.
With a murmur in his ear and a hand on his hip, Glorfindel guided
him onto his hands and knees and slide the thick, black braid of
hair over his shoulder and out of the way, the pale line of his back
exposed and ready for painting. At that point, Erestor’s patience
had worn thin, his eagerness for this to be done and over and
Glorfindel’s hands to be on his body made apparent by the thickened
flesh hanging between his legs, but Glorfindel steadily ignored it,
and Erestor found himself frustrated with the single-mindedness that
on occasion came out damnably strong in his lover.
The backs of his arms and thighs, along with the painstaking care
lavished on his buttocks drove him slowly mad, and he bit back a
demand for Glorfindel to hurry it up, already. The fineness of the
bristles, the slickness of the paint, now drying, hearing how
Glorfindel breathed – this all filled Erestor’s mind, and it was
difficult to stay still.
Finally, the paint brush left him and did not return. Erestor looked
back over his shoulder questioningly, and he received a nod in
“You can get up now, love – careful, watch where you put your
Erestor got up gingerly off the bed, walking over to where the
mirror stood. He stood there, looking at himself and wondering,
until Glorfindel came up behind him.
“I look – like nothing I’ve quite ever seen,” he said, eyes
wandering over his chest, which was covered in an array of colours,
each mixing and blending seamlessly into the next, his arms and
legs, dark whorls of jewel and earth toned colours. He turned his
back to the mirror, looking over perhaps the most intricate piece,
down the length of his spine to his tailbone, dark and exotic over
“I’ve never worked with a living, breathing canvas before.”
Glorfindel commented, and Erestor looked up, turning his attention
to the artist. Glorfindel’s eyes looked almost tired, but were
filled with a different sort of energy, one Erestor quite
recognized. His blonde hair was also braided and pulled back,
something that must have happened sometime while Erestor was on the
bed – Erestor had heard him cursing once about getting it in his
paint, and from then on insisted that he tie it back – and paint
smudges marred his high cheekbones. Glorfindel had even managed to
get it on his forehead.
“Did you like it?” Erestor asked, curiously. He felt like the paint
was a mask, covering him and yet leaving him exposed in an entirely
different way. He moved closer, wanting to touch his lover, but
unsure of what to do paint-wise.
“It is perfect,” Glorfindel said seriously, “and it was hellishly
difficult to concentrate.”
Erestor’s smile widened. “Oh? Why?”
“Because it’s hard to touch you that much and not want more.”
Glorfindel stepped into Erestor’s space, arms going around him. “And
nothing should break a painter’s concentration when he is working on
“Wait, aren’t you worried about the paint?” Erestor fretted, even
though the touch felt excruciatingly good.
“My work is done, we’ve seen it, appreciated it, now it’s time for
me to appreciate you.” Glorfindel said before he leaned in, hand on
Erestor’s neck, and kissed him deeply, with all the fervor of
someone who’s restrained himself almost past forbearance.
They melted together, guided by years of experience, knowing all the
places to touch to produce a moan or a muffled curse, the sharpness
of pleasure. Erestor soon found himself on the bed, waiting for
Glorfindel, breathless and entirely too hot, the hair on his head
prickling with sexual tension. He watched Glorfindel settle on the
bed, bringing the pot of oil they used for such occasions, and a
simple look had Erestor moving to his hands and knees. He had been
there not an hour before, but this time it was different. No brush,
just him and Glorfindel.
“Have me,” Erestor pleaded, his voice husky, inviting, needing. He
closed his eyes, slickness against him, felt Glorfindel moving
behind him, thighs to buttocks, prick pressed against him, nestled.
Erestor reached back, grasping him and guiding him in, firm
pressure, almost too much. “Please.”
Erestor gasped as Glorfindel swore and slid fully inside. They
froze, Erestor adjusting, arms shaking slightly – didn’t matter how
many times they had done this, it still felt good, so good…the burn
was there at first, as always, but soon it faded. “Move, damn it,
Glorfindel laughed, but started to make slow rolling motions with
his hips. Thrust after thrust, they rocked together, Glorfindel’s
hand on a hip, the other wound in the black silk of Erestor’s hair.
Glorfindel tugged and, guided by the grip on his hair, Erestor’s
head curved back, the skin of his throat, marked only by one swirl
of azure paint, exposed in one long line. A hissing curse left his
lips, pain sharpened pleasure.
It spurred Glorfindel on, for he moved in several sure, deep thrusts
before he leaned over, seeking Erestor’s vulnerable throat and
sucking a love mark on the place between neck and shoulder. The
burning, twisting coil of lust inside Erestor sparked and flared
higher, as though he were being burned from the inside out. He felt
Glorfindel move inside of him, firm, large heat, over and over until
it all stopped with one shuddering thrust and swearing. Erestor
stilled, every muscle taut, with nerves alight and sensitive to a
touch. Glorfindel left him, and Erestor marked his absence with a
soft sound, before he was turned over onto his back by strong hands.
Glorfindel seemed like a great big golden cat, looking down at him
with darkened, satisfied eyes. He felt them sweep over him, seeing
everything, his body, his feelings, his need. Their eyes locked and
Glorfindel reached out to him, fingers brushing his cheek. Words
didn’t seem to matter then – they knew. Erestor closed his eyes,
body thrumming with need and no more desire for his feelings to be
He heard Glorfindel move, felt the brush of hair on his thighs – it
made him shudder – but nothing really prepared him for the wet heat
of Glorfindel’s mouth. A low groan left him, and his hips jerked up
to push inside. A knowing hand held him down to the bed, lips and
tongue working his sex. Trapped between the bed and the pleasure
given, Erestor’s paint-whorled hand fell to Glorfindel’s head,
touching the wavy strands. He spread his legs wider, his lover’s
large frame in between them. After Glorfindel’s fingers slipped back
inside him and found that place that made his toes curl and caused
him to swear, it was only a few moments before he was lost to it,
reaching the high.
Erestor felt, rather than saw, Glorfindel let go of him gently,
moving up to gather him up in strong arms. Erestor moved into them
and put his head on the broad, sweat-slick shoulder with no protest,
still breathing heavily. There was no where else he’d rather be.
They were quiet for a while, the aftermath of pleasure, but soon
Erestor looked up.
“You had better not be falling asleep on me.”
“Me? No, never.” Glorfindel replied, languidly. “Merely resting my
eyes.” He slid his arm down to grasp a firm ass, pushing up, guiding
Erestor to move closer to eye level. “And enjoying my time off.”
Fingers tracing the strong jawline, Erestor raised an eyebrow. “You
planned this. Who knew you could be so…inventive?”
“I can make plans. Seen you like this in my head for – a while.”
Glorfindel admitted, bringing Erestor’s hand up to kiss the finger
tips, and admiring his – slightly smudged – handiwork. “You look
“Really? Looks different from when you put the paintbrush down.”
“Oh, that’s even better. Nothing quite like knowing I got you to
look…” He paused for a moment, looking for the right word. “…wild
and thoroughly taken care of?” Blue eyes smiled at Erestor, and
Glorfindel’s mouth curved in a distinct grin of male pride.
Erestor shook his head – boys would be boys. He took the extra bit
of distance and kissed Glorfindel, heart in his mouth. Hands wound
in his hair, and under Glorfindel’s touches he felt – alive and
desired, but sad as well, as after-love could be.
They lay intertwined for a while, quietness reigning as Erestor
mused about his own feelings. Then he looked over and saw a
now-sleeping Glorfindel, eyes closed, arm still curled possessively
around Erestor’s waist.
Erestor’s heart gave one painful throb before he poked Glorfindel in
the shoulder – hard.
Glorfindel awoke with a start. “I’m awake, I’m awake!”
“Liar. Now get up. No sleep for you until you have personally
scrubbed me clean.”