“Is the guest room ready for Fingon to use?” asked Feanor.
Nerdanel gave her husband an odd look. “What guest room? The one you turned into a nursery for the Ambarussas?”
“I forgot about that,” muttered Feanor somewhat unconvincingly. He turned back to Fingon and stated plainly, “I suppose you shall have to share a room with one of your cousins. Maedhros would be most logical; he has the settee in his room.”
Fingon glanced at Maedhros, who looked a little uncertain. “I would not want to be an inconvenience.”
“It would not be a bother,” said Maedhros quickly. “I will go and get some extra sheets from the linen closet.”
“I think I have some extra pillows in the drawers under our bed.” Nerdanel hurried away down the hall, leaving Fingon and Feanor alone.
“I hope it will not be a problem for you to sleep with Maedhros. In his room, that is.” Feanor very carefully kept from smiling, but he snuck his worried nephew a wink as Maedhros returned with an armful of blankets and sheets. “Good night,” added Feanor as his wife returned.
Nerdanel walked purposefully past and into her eldest son’s room. She fussed with the pillows until satisfied and did the same with the blankets until Maedhros admonished her by reminding her that he, too, could make a bed. “Call if you need anything, dear, anything at all,” said Nerdanel. She gave Fingon’s cheek a pat and made sure he saw the knowing look she gave him before she exited the room.
As soon as they were alone, Fingon dropped himself down onto the bed and looked up at Maedhros accusatorily. “You told them.”
“Told who what?” Maedhros diligently made up the settee. Despite the fact they both knew it would never be used, he tucked the sheets in and fluffed the pillows yet again.
Fingon stood up and wedged himself between Maedhros and the couch. “You told your parents about us.”
Maedhros looked away and finally nodded with his eyes closed.
“When?” Fingon’s voice jumped nearly two octaves. “I thought we promised not to say anything to anyone?”
“I... I had to see you, and... mother asked me if I could watch the Ambarussas so that she and father could go to see the competition. I tried to get them to leave the twins with Maglor, but he was busy, and then Caranthir, and then... the conversation just led to it. I was baited,” added Maedhros as Fingon wandered away from him. Maedhros switched tactics. “There are a lot of people who already know, or, they think they know. Eventually, everyone is going to know.”
“Not if you learn to keep your mouth shut!” Fingon stood at the window with his arms crossed over his chest. “My father will have a royal fit if he finds out.”
“Your father is going to have to come to grips with the reality that his son – that both of his sons, in fact – are grown and should be treated as adults. That he still acts as if you are seven and Turgon is two, and that the two of you allow for it, is astounding.”
Fingon snorted and shook his head. “My father is protective, and while I live beneath his roof I plan to respect that.”
Maedhros joined Fingon at the window and placed his hands upon Fingon’s shoulders. Although the elder was extremely tall for an elf, Fingon was taller than average as well. Maedhros barely had to dip his head to kiss Fingon’s neck. “I did not mean to upset you. If you want to sleep on the settee, I would not blame you.”
Fingon took a quick glance over his shoulder across the room. “It does look cozy, but I need somewhere to stretch out. I know – you take the settee, and I will sleep in the bed.” He turned back to the window with a smirk unseen by his cousin.
Maedhros blinked in surprise. “Well, if you would rather I not... I did not mean any offence.”
At the window, Fingon snorted, but secretly grinned to himself.
Quietly, Maedhros went to the settee. He shrugged himself out of his clothing and sat down with a sigh. “Sweet dreams,” he said hesitantly. “I hope you sleep well.”
Fingon counted to ten and then turned around. The sight he saw was far too adorable not to memorize. Maedhros, whose height exceeded his own father, was draped across a sofa far too small for his frame. His legs were bent and hanging over one end, and his head was propped up on the arm. “I suppose you could sleep in the bed with me, if you promise me one thing.”
“What is it that you want of me?” asked Maedhros, now seeing the smile on Fingon’s face. He was already pushing back the sheet that covered him.
“You know what I want,” said Fingon as he backed up against the bed. When his knees made contact, he sat down on the edge. Maedhros left the settee, and crawled willingly over on his hands and knees.
---
Minutes later, they were snuggled against one another in bed, still too young and inexperienced not to rush things. They laughed quietly about it without mentioning a thing, and spent some time catching up before they slept. Fingon’s training for the competition had been the focus for him during the previous year, while Maedhros had his apprenticeship taking up the majority of his time. Neither of them was much for writing letters, so correspondence had been limited to a message here and there passed along by Turgon or Maglor, and meetings had been irregular at best.
Fingon slid out of bed to relieve himself in the chamber pot, and when he returned was unexpectedly pulled down and wrestled onto his side. “This is nice,” decided Maedhros as he wound one leg around Fingon’s thigh. “I rather like this position,” he added as he ground against his lover’s back.
There was a little scramble and tussle as they each attempted to best the other. Fingon used the headboard for leverage and shoved back to dislodge Maehdros before pouncing him; Maedhros took advantage of the move and momentum to roll from his back to end of the bed so that Fingon was beneath him now. They continued their rough play until a sharp knock on the door made them freeze.
“The twins just woke up and thought that there was a bear in the room,” whispered Feanor. “They are going to come and sleep in the room with your mother and I, but do try to keep the noise down.”
“Sorry,” whispered Maedhros back. Fingon pulled the bit of sheet he could reach over his head, mortified.
Feanor made sure he could be heard leaving the door to walk down the hallway. Fingon peeked from behind the cloth and Maedhros grinned back at him. “This is not funny,” scolded Fingon. “I do not want your father to stop letting me come here because I cause disturbances.”
“Father likes you,” Maedhros assured his cousin. “You have nothing to worry about... except maybe this!” he said as he flipped Fingon onto his stomach and pressed himself down against him. “Mmm... I love having you in my bed.” Maedhros nipped at the back of Fingon’s neck and shoulders, while Fingon closed his eyes and gently groaned in pleasure. “I wish you could be a permanent resident.”
“I should like to be able to get out of the bed some of the time,” said Fingon, though his response was mumbled as Maedhros kissed his way down his back.
“Maybe I would let you out once in a while,” conceded Maedhros. He lowered himself down onto the floor next to the bed and knelt there to get a better look at Fingon’s nude form. His lover was stretched out, head rested in his arms. Maedhros took hold of the sheet that was under his cousin and pulled it toward him until Fingon’s legs were off the side of the bed positioned on either side of him.
The thighs were too inviting not to grope and nibble; Fingon moaned appreciatively. There were two finely sculpted legs to worship, and Maedhros did his best to pay homage. When he took note of how Fingon rocked his hips against the bed, Maedhros slid his hand under to fondle what was hidden from him; Fingon rubbed against Maehdros’ palm.
“See what you think of this,” said Maedhros. He pulled his hand back, and then kept his thumb out as his fingers slipped back underneath. His thumb slid along the cleft of Fingon’s backside, and playfully poked at his entrance.
Fingon clenched up, his muscles firm. He crawled away just a little before he sat up and faced Maedhros. “Please do not do that,” he said in no uncertain terms.
“Why do you not like that?” pressed Maedhros.
The sheets were pulled up so that Fingon could cover himself. “You do not like it, either. I have never tried to force the subject with you. I would just rather you not do that to me. Is that so much to ask?”
“No, but...” Maedhros got back up onto the bed. The blankets were repositioned and cautiously, Maedhros pulled Fingon into his arms. When there was no resistance, he snuggled him as well. “I just thought you might like it, and that we might try to do something like that some time. A lot of couples like us do that, at least once in a while.”
“I do not enjoy it when you try to shove your finger in there, and I doubt I would enjoy it if you shoved... I would rather you not do that anymore,” Fingon reiterated.
Maedhros nuzzled Fingon’s shoulder. “I will not do anything that will make you uncomfortable. Maybe someday, you will change your mind.”
“Maybe,” said Fingon, but he was quite doubtful of it.
