“What are you upset about?” Glorfindel asked only after spending the entire afternoon trying to work on the budgets for the Last Homely House, while watching Erestor sit at his desk and scribble something now and then as he mostly stared off at an empty space on the wall. The race was nearly three weeks in the past, and both Glorfindel and Gildor were packing – Glorfindel, with plans to join the Summerguard before they returned, and Gildor for Rohan with his followers.
Erestor closed his eyes and rubbed circles around them with his fingertips. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”
“If it was nothing, you would have been more productive this afternoon. Barely anything has been accomplished, and I have no idea how to motivate you. I can tell something is bothering you. If you tell me what, I might be able to help in some way.”
“Just a little mild depression.”
“About what?”
Erestor stretched his arms back behind his head and Glorfindel heard a few tiny pops and cracks. “I just thought maybe I had a chance with her.”
“With... Gilraen?”
“It seemed like Estel was really starting to bond with me, and since Elrond should not have technically been available for any sort of romantic encounter—“
“What makes you think she wants a romantic encounter?” Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest. “There are a lot of people in this valley who are looking for romantic companionship, and there are some who are not. I think she simply wants someone to commiserate with who can be a surrogate father to her child. As it stands, Estel still believes that Elrond is his father. Until something is said to the contrary, it would certainly not be proper for her to have some affair with someone other than Estel’s father.”
“Except that Elrond is not truly his father, and they probably... well... forget it. You asked me why I was upset, and I have told you. You can do nothing.” Erestor opened the bottom drawer of his desk and began to fix himself a drink.
“You should really cut down on that.”
Instead of putting the bottle away, Erestor poured out an extra portion. He lifted the nearly overfilled glass and barely tilted it, just keeping the liquid contained. “Cheers.”
Glorfindel took off his spectacles and folded them. Placing his hands together, he looked across the joined desks at his companion. “Not everyone needs to have a wife to make them happy.”
“Well, I do. I need someone, dammit.” He drank deeply from the glass, finished it, and brought the bottle out again. “I hardly know what to do anymore.”
It was not long before half of the whisky was drained, leaving Erestor slumped slightly, hand upon his cheek, giving Glorfindel a distant look. “I wish I knew what would make me happy again.”
“Are you unhappy?”
Erestor shrugged.
Glorfindel watched Erestor shakily raise the glass with his other hand. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked softly.
“Secret? ‘Bout who?” asked Erestor, his words slurring together without much care.
“A secret about yourself,” Glorfindel said. “Something you do. Or actually, something you do not do.”
“Do tell,” insisted Erestor.
“When you drink and get this drunk, you never remember it the next day. You blank out completely.”
“I knew that,” answered Erestor. He tipped his head back and swallowed the remaining liquid from his glass. “It just... ends up easier that way. Sometimes, I need to forget in order to keep going.”
“But you do things that you would not normally do.” Glorfindel stood up from his chair and moved around to the other side of the desk. “There are things... you have said. Things you have... revealed to me.” He smiled and knelt down in front of Erestor and put his hands upon Erestor’s knees. “Things... we have done.”
This seemed to startle and sober Erestor for a second. “So you know then?”
“Mmmhmm.” Glorfindel slid one hand up, between Erestor’s legs. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispered before he withdrew his hand.
Erestor moaned and licked his lips, the taste of the liquor obvious, his tongue swelled from the heavy drink. “Why have you never told me when I was sober?”
“I want you to come to me when you are ready – when you are completely ready. Ready to love me, accept me, accept this, and accept yourself.” Glorfindel rose up again and walked across the room where the door was. Instead of leaving, he locked the door and as an added measure placed a chair beneath the knob to prevent any sudden intrusions into the office. When he looked upon Erestor again, he sighed. “You are beautiful.”
“So are you,” offered Erestor as Glorfindel approached again.
The blond sized up Erestor as he picked up the bottle and poured another glass full for him. “Here. Keep drinking. It takes at least four of these to keep you from remembering in the morning.”
Erestor accepted the glass but did not drink right away. “You should really tell me. It would make life easier for both of us, and I have as much sense as a tomcat in a box at times.”
“Maybe I want to make you suffer a little. Hurt you the same way you keep hurting me.” Glorfindel bit his lip, surprised at how honest he had suddenly become. “You are so stubborn.”
“I am afraid.” Erestor took hold of Glorfindel’s arm and boldly pulled the blond onto his lap. “Liquid courage,” he said, holding the glass aloft.
“Mmmhmm.” Glorfindel nuzzled his cheek to Erestor’s chest. “I hope someday you do not need it any longer. Someday, before it is too late. I want to spend the whole night with you, not just bits and pieces throughout our lives that you never remember.”
Erestor put the glass down. One arm wrapped around Glorfindel, and his other hand smoothed back the blond mane. “My beautiful warrior. I wonder why you wait for me.”
“If you make me wait too long, I will end up Gildor’s bed permanently,” warned Glorfindel gently. Though these encounters were few and far between, he hoped that perhaps one of them would result in Erestor finally being honest about his true feelings. Too much pride was always in the way, coupled with the fact that Erestor seriously seemed to forget everything which transpired. “You are the other half of my soul, you old fool. I wish you would understand that.”
“I wish I was not so frightened.”
“What frightens you so?” asked Glorfindel. “I wish you could tell me,” he added when Erestor did not answer.
“I will. Someday.” Erestor nuzzled against Glorfindel’s neck, and gave a nip to his jaw. “Your scent turns me on.”
Glorfindel could only groan, and push out of his mind how much his heart would hurt in the morning as it always did. Sometimes he thought about keeping the door unlocked in hopes of having someone walk in and catch them. He thought of replacing the liquid in the bottle with water and making Erestor remember in the morning, or leaving the curtains pushed back (when they sometimes stumbled into Erestor’s quarters with a bottle of whisky late at night). He never did, because he still wanted that perfect moment of clarity.
“What are you thinking about?” Erestor had pulled back and looked concerned.
“Us... just wondering how good it will feel when you finally stop playing this silly game. When you finally decide you need me more than anything else, and we spend the whole night together to the morning. When I can finally say good morning and you understand why it is such a good morning every day I see you.” Glorfindel silenced what was sure to be a weak protest and string of excuses from Erestor by pressing his lips to the councilor’s. “Let me find the blankets.”
Glorfindel went to the storage closet where spare quills and paper and other supplies were kept. In this room was also a large lidded crate, and inside of the crate were two soft blankets. One was spread out over the floor, and the other was dropped off to the side. From the bottom of the crate, Glorfindel pulled out a somewhat flat yet adequate pillow. “Are you going to join me?”
“In a moment,” drawled Erestor. He sipped from the glass and slowly unfastened the clasps of his vest. “You look a little overdressed.”
Closing his eyes demurely, Glorfindel stood up and began a slow striptease. Each piece of clothing was removed with care. First his shirt, the laces untied and pulled loose so that the front hung open. Then the pants were unbelted, leather slipping back through each loop separately. Next he unbuttoned his pants, three on the left side, three on the right. They drooped down, and he shimmied out of them.
“Keep the shirt on for now,” advised Erestor.
Glorfindel moved his hands away from the hem of the shirt and stepped out of the trousers. His house shoes were slid off and kicked aside as Erestor chuckled. Glorfindel blew him a kiss and removed his loincloth, pushing it down over his hips and letting gravity pull it the rest of the way to the ground. Erestor let out a low whistle. Finally, Glorfindel reached his head and untied the strip of leather that kept his golden mane tied back. He shook his head, tendrils bouncing forward over his shoulders. “Now can I take the shirt off?”
Erestor shook his head back and forth and set down his glass. He walked over slowly until he was standing in front of Glorfindel. He shrugged off his vest to join Glorfindel’s clothing on the ground, and then pulled his own shirt off over his head.
Grasping Glorfindel at the hips, he pulled him forward with a quick jerk. “You look delicious.”
“Going to eat me up?”
“I just might.” Erestor kissed Glorfindel deeply, and moved around to his jaw and then to his neck. “You taste so good.” He licked Glorfindel’s neck, and then bit the moist flesh savagely. Glorfindel gasped and dug his fingers into Erestor’s shoulders. He was cautious, not too hard, though he wanted to claw at him as he knew Erestor drew blood with his bite. Glorfindel was always careful not to leave any marks that would last into morning, while Erestor was far less cautious.
Then they were on their knees, hair and fingers tangling together, tongues and teeth demanding. Erestor was bold, bolder than usual. “What did you do with Gildor the night of the race?” he suddenly demanded once they were entwined on the floor.
“The race?” Glorfindel panted, eyes opened as he tried to think, distracted by the hands upon him. “Before, or after it happened?”
“Either.” Erestor pinned Glorfindel down by the wrists with one hand, pushed the shirt up with the other, and ran his tongue along Glorfindel’s skin from his navel to his neck.
“N-nothing,” gasped Glorfindel. “He spent.. all night preparing.. and the next day.. he was so angry..”
“Good,” purred Erestor. He finally removed Glorfindel’s shirt and threw it aside. “And when you are with him, do you think of me?”
“Oh… oh, yes. Yes!” Glorfindel gasped as Erestor bit into the fresh wound a second time. “With him, it is never like this. Never like you.”
Erestor kissed and licked across Glorfindel’s skin. “Do I kiss better than he does?” he whispered against Glorfindel’s lips before giving a demonstration and pulling upon Glorfindel’s bottom lip with his teeth.
“Much better,” breathed Glorfindel.
“And his caresses, do they excite you like mine?”
“By far, your touch I yearn for more,” Glorfindel answered with a groan as Erestor’s hands explored the bare flesh. Glorfindel closed his eyes as he was stroked, massaged, groped, and teased by tempting fingertips. He cried out as an open palm struck at him, but he did not move away. Instead, he rolled upon his stomach, heart thumping as the hand struck three times more, and each time, Glorfindel raised his hips a little more, begging for another impact, yearning even for these bursts of pain for the contact they allowed.
And then Erestor was atop him, pressed close, breathing in his ear. There was no mistaking his intentions. “And when he fucks you…” Erestor paused to tug at Glorfindel’s lobe with his teeth.
“Only you do that,” he gasped, hopeful, wanting, needing.
Lying.
And Erestor, drunk though he was, could tell.
Glorfindel trembled at the loss in contact, and bowed his head. “Please.. Erestor..” Glorfindel turned his head to the side to see Erestor sitting on the ground, hands to either side, fingers splayed, disappointed. Or disheartened. Distant. “It would feel so good, if you did. I know it would – I can feel it in my core,” he babbled, still on his hands and knees, until he could tell that Erestor would not try again. Glorfindel crawled over and stroked Erestor’s cheek. “It will. I promise you, someday, it will.” He followed Erestor’s gaze, frowning at what he saw.
The glass had yet remained untouched, but Erestor was eyeing it wistfully.
“It takes more courage to remember than to forget,” stated Glorfindel. “Do this for me?” He took hold of Erestor’s dominant hand and kissed the palm. “Stay with me tonight.” The kisses continued up Erestor’s arm. “Throw caution to the wind. Free yourself. Be one with me. Love me. Love yourself. You are so beautiful,” he tried in one last, desperate attempt.
“I want to, but...” Erestor freed his hand from Glorfindel’s grasp. “I do not mean to hurt you, but I am not yet ready for this.” He reached out and hooked a finger around the glass, pulling it nearer. “Tell me about this someday, though,” whispered Erestor as he lifted the glass to his lips. “This, and all the other times? Promise me?”
“Of course I will,” lied Glorfindel. They had gone through the same conversation many times. Glorfindel watched painfully as Erestor downed the glass in a few swift gulps, and then poured another. “Just... do not make me wait too long.”
* * *
Insistent thumping on the door moved Gildor to answer the summons. He found a very distraught Glorfindel on the other side. “What happened to you?” asked Gildor. He saw, even in the shadows of the hallway, the marks on Glorfindel’s neck. “Who were you with?”
“He was drunk again, and I took advantage, and—“
“You said you were never going to do that again.” The tone was not angry nor condescending, but sympathetic as Gildor rubbed at the dried blood on Glorfindel’s skin. “You promised. After last time—“
“I know. It was stupid.” Glorfindel had obviously been crying before he arrived, but fresh tears were flowing now. “I just keep hoping, and I do not know why, and I am so sorry.”
Gildor frowned, more in pity than anything else. “Come in here, honey. Shhh. Come on. It will be alright.” He moved aside and ushered Glorfindel onto the other side of the door. Once he was inside, Gildor shut the door. “I am not mad. I just worry about you. Erestor is... I could tell you some things, but I know he is your friend, so I try to let you be.”
Glorfindel settled his hand upon Gildor’s bicep. “I do not want to talk about him right now. I came to see you. To be with you. We should go to the bedroom.” He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. “I love you, Gildor. I want you make love to me tonight.”
Momentarily in shock, Gildor took one of Glorfindel’s hands in his. “Do not say that you love me,” directed Gildor. He lifted his hand and drew a finger down Glorfindel’s lips to his chin to tilt it up again. He then used his thumb to wipe away the tear trails under his eyes before he kissed the swollen lips. He could still taste the whiskey that had been on Erestor’s breath. “Just tell me that you want me. Just say that you need me.”
“Just take me,” pleaded Glorfindel as he began to cry again. “Have me. Now, forever – we can even keep on as we have been,” he suggested. “I do not care how many other lovers you have on the side. I will never ask. I will never be jealous. All I want is us, tonight.”
“Why? Do you really want me to? Or is it so that he cannot have you that first time?” Gildor did not expect nor receive an answer. He brought Glorfindel swiftly to the bedroom, and felt his lover begin to tremble with anticipation. “I cannot do as you are asking me,” said Gildor as he drew Glorfinel near and held him tightly. “You are not ready for that. It would be like breaking a beautiful, wild stallion.” Gildor stepped back and cupped Glorfindel’s cheek in his hand and stroked the soft skin with his thumb. “You are beautiful. I want you to stay that way. I will not steal the light from your eyes simply because you want to hurt him. I am better than he is, and you are better than us both. There are other ways to make you feel better.”
Glorfindel looked to Gildor with pleading eyes and swallowed his sobs. “Show me.”
“I have every intention.”
