tuxedo_elf: (Marching Elves)
Title: Once Around the Sun 5/6
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Rating: NC17 (Eventually)
Beta: enismirdal
Pairing: Lindir/Namo
Summary: Namo answers a challenge to live with the Elves and learns a lot about life - and love.

Winter came and with it, the snow. Lindir, much to Námo’s amusement, took great delight in playing with and in it, dragging the Vala into games that he would long deny playing. Indwen often joined them, her happy laughter and enthusiasm even causing Námo to forget what people must think of him. To her, he was as any other Elf, not set apart, not feared – and that was a blessing to him.

His thoughts distracted him and he gasped in surprise when cold snow slid down his back, making him shiver. He turned, finding Lindir behind him with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. He glared at his lover, but by now Lindir was immune to the dark looks, his only response an unrepentant grin.

“You enjoyed that,” Námo stated.

“I did,” Lindir chuckled.

“That was cruel.”

“That is what happens when you lose concentration in a snowball fight!”

The Vala looked so ruffled by losing such a simple game that Lindir laughed, wrapping his arms around him. He was new to games and fun – perhaps that was the steepest learning curve yet.

“Pouting is very unbecoming a Vala,” he teased. “Oh feared and noble one!”

“You will fear me,” Námo threatened, but his words carried no weight, especially when he pulled Lindir closer, one hand sliding down his lover’s back.

“Ah yes, so I see,” Lindir laughed. “Very frightening!” He wrapped his arms around Námo’s neck and reached up to kiss him. “Or is it you who is afraid of me?”

The Vala’s eyes sparkled. “What you do to me is quite terrifying, I must say!” he laughed.

“And I have barely even started!” Smiling, Lindir stepped back. “Thórod will return from his patrol soon… let us take Indwen inside and make hot cocoa for us all. I am sure he will appreciate a mug upon his return. The borders are no place to be in this weather.”

“So thoughtful,” Námo praised. “That is an excellent suggestion.” He turned and called to Indwen, who came running eagerly. “Would you like some cocoa?” he asked her. “And perhaps a pastry?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes please! Will Uncle Thórod get one too?”

“He will,” Námo promised. “We shall all have cocoa and pastries.”

She gave a cry of delight and held out her hand for Námo to take. Always charmed by the child, Námo took it, ignoring Lindir’s amused expression.

As they walked back into the house, Lindir by his side and Indwen holding his hand, Námo realised that he had learned perhaps the most important lesson of all.

Life was good.


“I return to my halls tomorrow.” He spoke softly, gently, yet his pain at leaving was evident in his voice.

Lindir nodded, his own sorrow as plain as Námo’s. “What shall become of us?” he asked softly. He had no hope that he would manage to forget Námo, to move on and find another lover, yet he also knew that they could not be together in truth.

Námo sighed. “I cannot take you with me,” he said quietly. “The living have no place amongst the dead and I will not end your life for my own desires. Nor can I abandon my duties in order to keep this. My brother has already done much in giving me this turn of the seasons. I see now why he did – I have learned so much in coming here… life, death and love – none of them were as I thought they would be. Nothing will ever be as it was again, for the better, I feel.” He reached out, taking Lindir’s hands in his own. “All I can offer is that when duty permits, I will come to you. I know not if that will mean waiting weeks, years or longer still… but I will come to you.

“Then I will wait for you,” Lindir swore. “For as long as it takes.” He knew that would not be an easy path, but he could not simply let the Vala go. What had grown between them was far too strong to be cast aside. “There will be no other for me.”

At Lindir’s words, Námo stood close, reaching out and pulling Lindir to him. Tilting the minstrel’s head up, Námo leaned down and kissed him, slowly and deeply. Lindir let him, the Vala’s power washing over him, rendering him helpless in the face of such a passionate onslaught.

“Let me love you tonight,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Lindir replied softly, as his heart started to race. This love was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and he wanted all of it. He looked up, waiting for whatever Námo wished to do.

Strong hands came to rest on his shoulders, pushing his robe open and away from his skin. He moaned softly as Námo dipped his head, laying soft kisses on the newly exposed skin. The Vala’s hands slid up his chest, pushing the robe off his shoulders entirely, leaving the fine fabric tangled around his arms until he moved slightly, shaking the now cumbersome garment away. He felt rather than saw Námo’s pleasure as he was pulled close to the warm body of his lover.

A smile of his own formed as those curious hands slid down this time, tugging at his leggings until they came loose, allowing him to step out of them, utterly nude, displayed to his lover’s appreciative gaze.

Námo did not speak; he did not need to. His eyes said more than words ever could and Lindir was swept away by the intensity.

The minstrel found himself being gently urged backwards, towards the bed. The backs of his legs brushed against the soft coverlet and he sat, allowing his lover to press him into their softness.

Lying back, he reached out with his arms, pulling Námo to him and cursing the thick fabric of the Vala’s robes.

Seeing the minstrel’s frustration invade his desire, Námo chuckled. He stood back, undoing his robes and casting them thoughtlessly aside, along with the rest of the now unwanted garments.

Moving back to the bed, he lay atop Lindir, breathing deeply as he enjoyed the simple pleasure of skin touching skin. A soft groan escaped him as their arousals met[…]{,} the friction both delicious and unbearable all at once.

“Lindir…” At last he spoke, his lover’s name escaping his lips almost unconsciously. He moved against him carefully, testing the feeling. “Oh…” The small gasp of surprise slipped out of his lips, for had never felt the like before.

“Please… do not just lie there,” Lindir pleaded, looking to his lover. “Touch me…”

Námo did as he was asked, one hand sliding between them to caress the hard flesh. Lindir hissed, his whole body aching to be touched, loved. “Please,” he begged again, as though it was the only word he knew.

“What do you want?” Námo whispered. “Tell me, my minstrel, and it shall be done…”

Lindir fumbled for the words, struggling to break through the haze of desire that almost overwhelmed him. “You… in me… please…” He looked imploringly at Námo, impatience threatening to break through.

Nodding, Námo moved back, pausing as he ran his hand over Lindir’s smooth, pale chest. Vala though he was, he wanted to worship this Elf, to hold him far above himself. This minstrel, who had given him so much and taught him how to love.

His hand closed around the bottle of oil and he opened it, never taking his eyes off Lindir. The Elf lay there, beautiful and open, waiting for his touch. Oil trickled over his fingers and with his free hand, he urged Lindir’s knees up, exposing him.

Reaching forward, he lightly touched the entrance to Lindir’s body, teasing for a moment until the Elf’s cries of protest caused him to finally relent and push a finger inside.

Lindir’s moan of approval caused Námo to smile and he moved the finger carefully, exploring the willing body. He delved deeper, searching for the spot that he knew would make his lover scream.

Finding it, he applied slight pressure and was rewarded by a howl of delight from Lindir.

“Ah, so you like that,” he chuckled. He carefully added a second finger, stretching and preparing his lover. His eyes rarely strayed from Lindir’s, his own pleasure increased by watching the Elf’s reactions.

“Enough… teasing…” Lindir gasped out, propping himself up on his elbows. “In me… now… I can wait no longer!” His face was already flushed with passion and Námo could only imagine what their coupling would do to him.

“As you wish,” he smiled. Sitting back, he coated his own hard flesh with oil, before lifting the minstrel’s slender legs over his shoulders. Leaning down, he kissed Lindir deeply as he pushed inside the waiting body.

Lindir’s moan was muffled by the kiss, his hands gripping the sheets to steady himself. It had been so long since he was loved like this and he gave himself over to his desires without any resistance. He breathed deeply, his body slowly adjusting to the fullness.

“Are you well?” Námo enquired softly, though his body ached to move.

Lindir nodded, struggling to find the words. “Yes… just move…”

Námo obliged, needing and wanting the same. He kissed Lindir again as he slowly began to move, taking his time as they sought a pace that suited them. In and out he went, the tight pressure threatening to drive him mad. “Ah, Lindir…” he breathed. “You feel so good…” His eyes closed for a moment as he wallowed in the overwhelming sensation.

Lindir reached up, cupping Námo’s face with a hand that trembled. He did not speak, simply felt, as lost in the pleasure as Námo was.

Letting out a low moan, Námo’s head dipped, his forehead coming to rest against Lindir’s. Their bodies started to rock as the pace increased, and then Námo found that sweet spot again.

Crying out with the intensity of the pleasure, Lindir tried to drive Námo into him harder and deeper than he already was. His hands now gripped the Vala’s strong arms, as though they alone anchored him to the world.

Thrusting again, Námo unerringly hit Lindir’s pleasure spot and their moans and cries of joint pleasure echoed around the room.

“Perfect,” Lindir groaned, his arousal tormented by the friction of being trapped between their joined bodies. “So perfect… cannot last…”

“Nor I,” Námo whispered, his usually pale face flushed pink. “Come with me, love…” He thrust again and just moments later, spilled inside the hot, tight body, his lover’s name rolling off his lips.

It was all Lindir needed. He bit his lip to stifle his scream he has climaxed, his warm seed spilling between their joined bodies.

They stayed that way for a long moment, still joined, quiet, the only sound that of their harsh breathing.

It was several minutes before Námo reluctantly withdrew and reached down to the floor, using his discarded robe to clean them up.

“The laundry mistress will love that,” Lindir chuckled.

“I do not care,” Námo smiled, pulling Lindir into his arms. He kissed his lover tenderly. “I do not wish to lose one moment of time with you… fetching a towel was out of the question.”

Lindir was warmed by that and rested his head on Námo’s chest, hearing the solid, steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” he whispered softly.

“I love you too,” Námo replied, stroking the long, pale hair. “I always will.”

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