Don't You Ever Look Away by Elrond's Library  

Chapter 4

“Marry me," Findekánë whispered into Maitindë’s shoulder. They lay in a cabin bed on a great swan ship, the waves slapping gently against the wooden hull. The bed was hard and barely wide enough for the two women to fit, especially with Maitindë’s height.

Findekánë had always been secretly relieved she had ended up being among the shortest of their cousins. Estë’s physician-priests could do, and had done, wonders in reshaping her hroä according to her wishes, but height was something they could not touch.

Maitindë kissed her braids, squeezing Findekánë even closer. “Why now? We’ve been together for nearly a millennia.”

Findekánë sighed. “I’m afraid,” she mumbled. “For these centuries I knew where you were, that you were safe in Tirion. There’s so much uncertainty in this harebrained plan of yours …”

“And you want certainty.”

“I love you so much, and a bond would strengthen our ósanwë,” Findekánë said, knowing logic would appeal to her lover’s sensibilities. “Doing so now would give us time to adjust before rushing in and trying to find …”

Maitindë laughed, kissing Findekánë’s braids again. “I’ve wanted to marry you since before the Darkening, darling. I was just waiting for you to want it too.”

Oh.

Findekánë pushed herself onto one elbow, meeting Maitindë’s grey eyes. “You mean we could have had this, had I just opened my mouth and asked.”

Maitindë smiled, and shrugged. “You’ve always led this. As I recall, it was you who kissed me first, who gave the first courting gift, who insisted on waiting until things calmed down between our fathers, though we saw how well that worked out.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “And you never brought the possibility up again after the Darkening. I thought it better not to push, what with the way things went in those last years.”

Findekánë blinked. “Well, I’m asking now,” she said, a touch petulant.

Maitindë grinned and pulled her down for a scorching kiss. “Yes. Of course, dearheart. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Findekánë pulled her lover into her lap, rucking up the pale blue skirt so Maitindë could easily perch on her thighs. Maitindë’s swift fingers undid dress laces, while Findekánë worked through Maitindë’s braids, unravelling the simple traveling style. The red tresses shone in the lamplight.

Maitindë showered kisses along Findekánë’s shoulder, neck, ear, cheeks, forehead, anywhere she could reach while Findekánë turned her attention to Maitindë’s dress. The bodice fell, the lace sleeves bunching around her upper arms. Maitindë shivered as Findekánë laid her lips over the curve of her pale shoulder. 

It wasn’t the first time they had had sex. So while the motions were familiar – the attention Findekánë paid to her lover’s ears and hair; the way Maitindë kneaded and pinched Findekánë’s breasts; the scraping of nails along backs and sides – it all did feel new, special.

Findekánë, panting with desire, buried her hands in Maitindë’s hair, pulling their foreheads together. She whispered her oath in the space between their lips, quiet and reverent as she called on the One.

“Eru Ilúvatar, witness me, Findekánë Ñolofinwiel. See the love I bear for this woman, Attëamíriel Maitindë Curufinwiel. Hear my devotion to her happiness and welfare, fëa and hröa. See my commitment to her, which extends from the earliest days of my womanhood, and will continue until the Second Music and beyond. Witness this marriage, Eru, today and all the days to come.”

Maitindë smiled, and whispered back, “Eru Ilúvatar, witness me, Attëamiríel Maitindë Curufinwiel. See the love I bear for this woman, Findekánë Ñolofinwiel. Hear my devotion to her happiness and welfare, fëa and hröa. See my commitment to her, my unexpected and most steadfast blessing, which will continue until the Second Music and beyond. Witness this marriage, Eru, today and all the days to come.”

They kissed, fëar reaching for each other, mingling, the new marriage bond a thread that grew stronger with each desperate moan.

Clothes were quickly discarded, Maitindë pushed onto her back and Findekánë settling between her thighs. She leaned into Maitindë’s thighs, keeping them open as she teased, alternately rubbing light circles into Maitindë’s clit and plunging deep into her opening. The bond thrummed between them, sensation and satisfaction and wordless urging ricochetting, growing higher and higher until they both reached their climaxes, Maitindë from the actual stimulation, Findekánë from the phantom sensation of the newly minted bond.

Findekánë rode the wave of her own orgasm, shuddering, hugging one of her wife’s thighs – her wife! – noting absently that her cock was still hard but not caring enough to move. They stared at each other, Maitindë cheeks flushed and eyes half-open, a lazy smile on her face.

Meldanya , Maitindë pushed the thought along their bond. My wife.

Findekánë grinned, hugging Maitindë’s knee tighter. “My wife,” she said aloud, revelling in the truth of it.

Maitindë pulled Findekánë over her knee, rotating them such that Findekánë took Maitindë’s place, back to the sheets, and Maitindë loomed above her. They kissed again, and again, and again, leaving Findekánë gasping. She stopped breathing when Maitindë lowered herself onto her lap, enveloping her cock in the warm heat and slick of Maitindë’s cunt.

They moaned together as Maitindë began to rock, rubbing her clit up and down Findekánë’s shaft. This, along with the attention paid to her tits and the kisses sucking bruises into Findekánë’s neck, brought them both over the edge again, shuddering in each other’s arms.

They spent the next few weeks of the ocean crossing trying, and failing, to keep decorum around the ship. But sailors and soldiers talk, and laughter and joy is a balm to the monotony of a peaceful voyage. Findekánë spent a great deal of time being glad that her darker skin hid her blushes, while her wife turned the color of a rose at the slightest jest.

Arafinwë just shook his head when he realized, laughing. “Finally,” he said, eyes up as if beseeching the Allfather. “Please let the countless suitors for the both of them stop bothering me about their marriages.”

Findekánë rolled her eyes, her after-dinner glass of wine making her bold, her patience thin. “They won’t. They’ll either be upset that neither of our fathers were here to bless us, or any of our brothers, or that we’re cousins, or that we’re both women and there’s no man to set us in our place.”

Arafinwë sighed. “If you need any help with that, or anything else, know that I am willing.”

“Thanks, Ara,” Maitindë smirked. “If Námo ever sees fit to let my Atar and brothers out of his Halls, I’ll be sure to point them in your direction.”

She cackled as Arafinwë visibly flinched.