Drabble for lauand

[twopoint]

Title: Truth Serum
Fandom: LotR
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating:  PG-13
Word count: 620
Summary: Erestor looks at a familiar view from a different angle, but he might regret it in the morning. Fluff for lauand  who suggested the prompt G/E and vodkacon, or, as the case may be dwarvenmeadcon.

And many thanks to levadegratchets and questails  who put up with me, sentence by hair-pulling sentence, every day.

 

The mead had been chilling all day in the stream that flowed past Erestor’s bedroom window.  Skillfully crafted by dwarves, the rare drink had been left in Imladris as a weary traveler’s token of thanks and Erestor had hidden it behind the other stock, stashed it away for an early spring evening when the chill of the air was soothed by the lazy warmth caught up in the rocks.  He was not surprised to find that the mead tasted like liquid sunshine.  It also tasted like Glorfindel’s hair, but maybe that was because Glorfindel’s hair was in Erestor’s mouth when he reached for the flask to take another sip.  Luckily, he hadn’t swallowed.

He picked the strand free from his lips and examined it inscrutably by the fire light before his eyes closed again.  At some point a pillow had appeared beneath Erestor’s head and he welcomed the warmth of it, deep warmth like the mead, like Glorfindel’s voice coming from a spot just behind him.

Erestor reached back to adjust the pillow and his palm collided with an implacable hardness of a knee.

“Your leg makes a serviceable pillow,” Erestor said, and sighed.  Everything was altogether too warm; Erestor’s head on Glorfindel’s lap, the rest of him sprawled across the stony floor in front of Glorfindel’s hearth. 

“I’ve been told worse,” Glorfindel said from somewhere not too far away from Erestor’s eyes, a puff of breath against his eyelids.  He opened them a crack and discovered that either the room had been diffused by a mead-golden veil, or Glorfindel’s hair hang to either side of Erestor’s face.  Maybe the latter, because Glorfindel’s own face hovered, upside down, above him and if Erestor lifted up, just so, he could bring Glorfindel into focus.

“How did you get there?” Erestor asked, but there wasn’t any time for an answer.

It was the warmth that made him do it.  It had to be the warmth, because Erestor had been so cold, ages of cold, cold as long as he could remember, and if he lingered here long enough he could soak it all up like the stones beside the river.

Glorfindel’s lips tasted like the mead, or Erestor tasted his own lips on Glorfindel’s, it was hard to tell with their mouths mixed up together, and weight of it all rushing through Erestor from his toes to the tips of his fingers.

When Glorfindel drew back, just a space, and they stared at each other, forehead to chin, a slightly delirious perspective, Erestor reached out and groped blindly for the flask because he wanted to taste it forever.

“You’re a fair kisser,” Erestor said, very quietly.

“I’ve been told worse,” Glorfindel replied, an inverted expression at the corners of his mouth, and took the flask from Erestor’s hand, the thief, and downed the last of the drink. Erestor watched him swallow. 

And that was the last he remembered.  It had been too comfortable, too warm, and then Erestor woke to find the sunlight slicing like infernal blades across the unfamiliar bed he half hung off of.  He opened his eyes to find a pair of upside down boots on the floor beside the bed and allowed his aching gaze -- had he received a blow to the head?  --  to follow the boots up, up to a very familiar face.
Erestor winced and smiled weakly. 

Glorfindel bent low and whispered in Erestor’s ear, “It could be worse. “  And he lingered there a moment before he pressed a kiss to Erestor’s cheek and turned to walk loudly across the too-bright room. 

As the door closed behind him, Erestor righted himself on the pillows and cursed the practicality of the dwarves.
 

 

Comments

[dr-zook.livejournal.com]

Oh, how very lovely! I also adored the part with Glorfindel's hair in Erestor's mouth and Erestor drunk way of thinking. And Glorfindel's golden hair hanging like a veil/shield over/around Erestor, asdfghl! *wibble* Nasty Glorfindel: implying nasty possibilities - and acting not according to them. XD (But his kisses were perfect, really.)

And what, hm, what? Some virgin Saiyuki fic?? I can't wait to read it as well; bring it on! :)

[two-point.livejournal.com]

Thank you! If Glorfindel would stop being so very Glorfindelly noble . . .Erestor's just so much more fun when he's drunk. Too bad he can't hold his dwarven liquor.

Ah! Saiyuki -- the obession's only gotten worse since I was bugging everyone for recs, and the logical progression to obsession is that I'm forced to write something and then my fingers get all tangled up because trying to get the voices right the first time (and the second and the third and the fourth) is soooo hard. We'll see how this one goes once it's typed. *sigh*

[dr-zook.livejournal.com]

Nah, maybe Erestor should just try again. Harder, this time. *nudges him* Come on, I know you want to. And Glorfindel just mocks you, obviously. You could try next time not to pass out before the nastier parts. *nudges him again*

Oh, yeah. Obsession. Obsessions can be quite ... demanding, yes. I'll keep my fingers crossed, you awesome writer, you. <3

[two-point.livejournal.com]

Obsessions are like burning and they won't stop!!!!

I'm not reading anything new thing in anything for a year at least and then I'm going to plug by ears and go "lalalala" so as not to be sucked in.

I doubt that will help.

I'm desperately in love with Hakkai. Oh, dear lord, flawed and flawed and then more flawed. And the art, thank goodness, is good so I don't have the reservations as I have with say, WK, when I tell someone to look at something.

This is terrible.