22 August 2010 @ 12:00 pm
Title: Gallery of Lovers
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Pairings: Glorfindel/Legolas
Words: ~720
Warnings: Implied rape
Rating: R
Summary: It was fashioned after his favorite, one whose name and face he will always treasure. This elf was also his least willing partner...
Disclaimer: Belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Prompt: sex toys (non-penetrating) via [info]kink_bingo {my card}
Author Notes: Prequel to "Interrogation." Part of a series of short fics that explores Glorfindel's crime against and obsession with the Mirkwood prince.

Every side of his room was adorned with shelves of deep mahogany. Some were full of his books, others with little gifts offered to him from elves and men alike during his travels. Glorfindel treasured each of these presents, and he took great care not to let a single speck of dust taint them.

But none of these gifts compared to the objects on Glorfindel’s favorite shelf, the one he kept in his own private room. On this shelf there were rows of objects Glorfindel had personally crafted. He lovingly varnished each piece with the purest gold, molding them into the shape of the cock of every lover that he had ever taken to his bed.

This was a way to remind himself of their tender bodies underneath him, for each lover he took was a reward he had given himself. On nights when he did not take a lover into his bed he would take one of the golden members and suck on it as he pleasured himself.

On one of those nights, he was proudly observing his gallery of lovers when his eyes fell on one particular piece. It was his best work, and it had taken him weeks to finish for he wanted it to be perfect in every way. It was fashioned after his favorite, one whose name and face he will always treasure. This elf was also his least willing partner, but Glorfindel could not understand why. His caresses were only soft and tender; the elf received none of the harsher treatment Glorfindel often enjoyed giving his other lovers. When he had seen how nervous the elf had been, he spoke softly to him and gave him kisses so soft they barely touched his skin.

“Why did you deny my love, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood?” he whispered, his long fingers delicately stroking the golden rod before taking it off its stand. He settled on his couch and brought the rod to his lips, giving it tender kisses. With a peculiar heaviness in his heart akin to sorrow he wished the young elf could be back in his arms, giving into his caresses and moaning in pleasure, for that was not what had transpired between them.

The elf had cried and begged for him to stop though Glorfindel could never give into that request. His body was on fire, screaming with the need to feel himself inside the young prince, and it took every ounce of his strength not to revert to his usual rough manner.

“I was gentle, far more gentle than with most. What more did you want?” he asked aloud as though the prince was still before him, quivering on the bed, his body racked with heavy sobs. Glorfindel trailed the rod down the side of his face before giving it a few more kisses. He then slipped it into his mouth, moaning out the elf’s name with every suck.

His other hand slipped into his breeches, caressing his member to hardness as his mind traveled back to that night. He relived each moment, but the events occurred differently. Legolas moaned his name and begged him to never stop his sweet, tender lovemaking. And as the night grew on the young elf became bolder, allowing the elf lord to tug at his hair till a few hairs parted from their roots, to be bitten and slapped and called filthy names till he broke down in Glorfindel’s arms.

Glorfindel opened his eyes, slipping the golden rod from his lips. With a discontented sigh he removed his hands from his breeches. No release could give him the full satisfaction, no matter how vividly he imagined it. He needed to have the prince back in his arms, at least to understand why he couldn’t return his affection.

“I was gentle and will always be nothing but tender with you,” Glorfindel said, sighing again as he twirled the golden rod on his thigh. He studied his handiwork, smiling at the memory of how Legolas looked as he spread kisses over his slender body. At the very least, his body responded to his touches.

He stood up and gingerly placed the rod back on its stand. Then he gathered his traveling cloak and set out, his decision made. He will find the elf whose heart he most yearned for.
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