a life freely given, a favor returned by skywardstruck  

Relaxing by the bank of the river Sirion, surrounded by the silent woods and willow trees of the vale of Nan-tathren, Finrod and Bëor found themselves yet again ‘lost’ on the way to Nargothrond. It had been Finrod’s decision to stop here, though, so it was more akin to an intentional detour, one of many little pauses along the journey that they treasured. Finrod had noticed Bëor struggling to match his pace, for Bëor’s breath was heavy, his back hunched only slightly. No matter how often Bëor insisted there was strength in him yet, Finrod could not help but worry for his beloved, afraid of losing him too soon. Though it was impossible for Finrod to change the fate of Bëor’s kindred, he wished to at least ease whatever afflictions he could.

And so it was, that Bëor came to rest in Finrod’s arms, the elvenking’s golden curls dangling over his shoulders, their hue reflecting the warmth of summer, all to remind him just how fortunate he was to have met such a beautiful, wise, kindhearted spirit as Finrod.

“Is there anything at all I can do, my Bëor, to wash away the pains of our long journey?” asked Finrod, gently rubbing circles over his mortal lover’s back as if by instinct, before kissing Bëor behind his ear. “I know I worry unceasingly–”

“Actually, Nóm,” said Bëor, “what you’re doing now, with your hands, it’s most pleasant. I would have you give more of it. Figure I could use your help, getting out a few sore spots.”

“Ah– really?” Finrod found himself becoming flustered. “You wish for me to knead your back for you?”

“If there’s any touch that can soothe me,” Bëor insisted, “it’s yours.”

“You give me too much credit,” said Finrod, his tone lighthearted, “but I shall not disappoint you.”

Finrod soon went right back to work, taking in the warmth of Bëor’s skin and the contours of his muscles through the light fabric of his shirt, searching for tense areas; it did not take long for him to find them. Bëor leaned over just enough for Finrod to get the perfect angle, with Finrod circling his fingers deep into Bëor’s upper back. As Finrod worked through the knots, melancholy came to him. The lives of the Secondborn were so fragile, Finrod was reminded, their bodies so easily prone to weariness. Though Finrod did not notice it, his sorrow, his fear of finality, his need to hold onto Bëor for as long as he could– all of it was being channeled into his touch, bringing Bëor into his world.

Bëor could feel his senses heightened, each gentle touch sending warm pulses throughout his body as reality itself seemed to bend around him. Sounds which were before an unremarkable part of the background now echoed in his mind like bells– the rushing waters of Sirion, the leaves blowing in the wind, even the conversing voices of the trees. Summer rays reflected off of the water with a sparkling, ethereal light, and Bëor found himself enveloped in a soft, comforting glow, sighing as the pain seemed to melt away.

By the time Finrod finished, Bëor wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was brought back to reality by the beautiful songs of birds, as if Finrod himself had summoned them; Bëor couldn’t help but smile, eyes widened from the otherworldly experience. But when he turned to face Finrod, he could sense the loneliness in his eyes; now it was Bëor’s turn to be worried.

“How did I do? I believe I softened most of the sore areas,” Finrod asked, avoidant of Bëor’s gaze after realizing what had come over him.

“How did you do? Oh– it was everything, you, you... brought me to another world entirely,” spoke Bëor in awe. “In your hands lies a powerful magic, for as you healed me with your touch, I found myself caught up inside a dream, with you at its center.” He smiled as he gently placed a hand on Finrod’s cheek, hoping to comfort him with his own touches.

“Ah, but you know that such ‘magic’ is only how you of the Atani see it,” Finrod reminded Bëor. “I’m glad that I could help, at any rate? I hope... it was not too overwhelming for you.”

“Not at all, you were wonderful, Nóm. Do not doubt your talents.”

“If you say so.” Finrod was nervous for a moment; he did not wish for Bëor to place him on a pedestal he did not earn. “Though I love you, I still worry that in your unending admiration, our sundered fates, we are much too distant... or much too different. I still fear for the day when I lose you.”

“Please, let your heart rest,” said Bëor, leaning in closer, “for I am here now, and I love you, all of you, and that is all that matters. We must live each day one at a time. Let us enjoy this moment together, and think only of each other’s company.”

“Ah... I suppose you’re right, dearest Bëor; I would not wish to waste our time together with the weight of my troubles.” Finrod sighed, accepting Bëor’s words. For even as one whose fëa was tied to Arda, Finrod had foreseen that his own time in Middle-earth was finite; he was to sacrifice himself for an oath of his own, as he confided to Galadriel. Finrod realized his path was not as different from Bëor’s as he first thought.

Finrod soon embraced the flame alight in his pounding heart, knowing what he needed to do. “But what better than your love, to distract me from such unwelcome thoughts?” he said, finally meeting Bëor’s gaze with a gentle smile. “We shall make this moment count.”

And Finrod seized the moment, closing the space between them, pulling Bëor into his warm embrace as he pressed his lips to Bëor’s own. Finrod poured everything into the kiss, as if every second of his love could add more years to Bëor’s life; and Bëor returned that same fervor, his heated breath mingling with Finrod’s, the hairs of his beard brushing up against Finrod’s soft skin and driving the elf wild. Resting his hand against Bëor’s cheek, Finrod took in more of the texture of his beard; no matter how many times Finrod caressed it, it was no less beautiful to him, no less satisfying and tingling to the touch.

Bëor, as he kissed Finrod with such tenderness, could only think of how far they had come together. He remembered how he and his people had thought Finrod a god at first, only to discover he was something better, more human than the radiant glow around him suggested, perfect in all his imperfections. They’d shared songs, recipes, stories, traditions; they’d learned each other’s languages. They had become truest friends, and found something more. Bëor’s kiss was one of gratitude, sliding his fingers gently through Finrod’s curls, brushing over his ear, making it twitch, lighting another spark of passion between them.

Finrod soon parted his lips just slightly, allowing Bëor’s tongue to slip inside and press against his own. He couldn’t help but moan, for as Bëor held him tightly, he delved deeper in Finrod’s mouth, sending shivers through the elf’s body. And as his body grew hotter, Finrod knew that this was no ordinary kiss. For every second when they had to part their lips to catch their breaths, he found himself hungry for more; he wanted to feel more of Bëor, more of the mortal he loved.

When the kiss finally ended, Finrod sat in silence, clinging to the memory of Bëor’s soft lips against his own. Sweat was forming between his legs, tension in his loins. Finrod was still left wanting, and desperately, as he looked down at the unexpected bulge in his trousers. He couldn’t quite understand why, what made this kiss so different, to bring to the surface that feeling of desire he’d suppressed for the longest time– it bothered him. One worry had replaced itself with another, and the more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

Then, all of a sudden, Finrod was hit with a memory, from his time in Valinor, and reminded exactly why he had not allowed himself to feel this way.

Finrod never forgot the tears that had fallen from Amarië’s eyes that day, when they were forced to part for their transgressions, their natural desires. Though he longed for more of Bëor’s touch, his guilt and shame had come back to haunt him; he continued to stare down at his erection, breathing heavily, nervously.

“Nóm... are you alright? You have worried much today.” Bëor was filled with concern, noticing Finrod’s troubled expression. It was only after following Finrod’s glance that Bëor realized he’d gotten him hard. “Oh,” he muttered. “I... I apologize, if I went too far.”

“Ah– No, not at all, I wanted this, I... I do want more,” Finrod insisted. “But I... have not felt this way, in a long time, desiring another like this. It feels wrong to me, that I should want it so.”

“Wrong? In what way?” Bëor was taken aback. “Are the Elves often this restrained about sex?”

“It is our custom,” stated Finrod, “that bodily union should be reserved solely for marriage.”

“But you say you have felt this desire before.”

“Yes. These urges are normal for my kind, as they are for yours, though we are expected to be careful about how we react to them, and I was not always so,” Finrod explained. “Long ago, I felt them most passionately– for one I had to leave behind, in the land of my birth. We were never formally betrothed. Yet, she desired me, as I desired her, and one night, we gave in...”

“And you were punished for this?”

“Rumors had spread about us, people were asking questions... we were not permitted to see each other, after that. I accepted full responsibility.”

Bëor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Stars, I’m sorry, I can’t even imagine such a thing, being treated so cruelly, for what came so naturally to you,” he said carefully, gently holding Finrod’s hand to comfort him. “Surely, you don’t agree with these rules?”

“No, of course not, though it was never about what I wanted,” Finrod said with full honesty, more at ease now from Bëor’s touch. “I always found them to be nonsense, and horribly unfair.”

“Then why do you force yourself to follow them? You know they’re ridiculous, your body is saying the same.”

“I... fear the consequences,” Finrod admitted, not fully believing his own words.

“But didn’t you tell me you left your birthplace, to escape such constraints? You shouldn’t be bound by them here. You are the king of your realm. These customs are for you to decide.”

Finrod paused to take in Bëor’s words, resting a hand on his temple– you are the king of your realm, he repeated inside his head. So often, Finrod found himself forgetting his own title, even only for a moment, as he spent more time travelling, exploring, discovering than actually ruling his own kingdom; it was a habit for which Galadriel rightfully criticized him. Finrod realized, through Bëor’s simple advice, that leaving Nargothrond to explore more of Beleriand was not the only way to seek freedom for himself. In his own realm, he could grant himself the freedom he longed for, he could allow himself to accept his bodily desires, and in turn, grant that same gift to others.

Bëor always seemed to have the right words to say. And as Finrod fell more and more in love with the Atan, he knew he would never forget those words.

“Nóm you call me,” said Finrod, “yet I have allowed the weight of my past to blind me to the most obvious truth.”

“But you are no less enlightened for it,” Bëor insisted, “for the wise are made greater still through the counsel of another.”

“Very true. With that resolved... perhaps now, we can finish what we started?” asked Finrod, a bit nervously. “I do still want you.”

Bëor nodded. “Consider it returning the favor, for the lovely work of your hands. My hands may not hold the same magic as yours... but I can work some of my own,” he teased.

“And... what magic would that be?”

“Taking your cock in my hand,” Bëor said plainly.

“Oh.” Finrod blushed up to his ears- he wasn’t sure what else he expected. “Well, in that case... I hope you don’t mind giving me a bit of help?”

Finrod soon got on his knees, with Bëor helping him slide down his trousers and the shorts underneath; his cock, still a little hard from before, gently sprung free as Bëor tossed the garments off to the side. Finrod could feel his heart pounding from nervous excitement; before now, he had only let Amarië see him like this. But he was smiling all the way, and he couldn’t wait for Bëor to pleasure him, relaxing in the grass against a nearby tree and spreading his legs just a little, making himself comfortable.

Bëor, laying down before Finrod, took a moment to gaze at his beautiful form– the curves of his thighs, the strength of his legs, a bit of plumpness in his stomach– he felt truly blessed to have Finrod as his lover. Bëor’s hand hovered over the elf's cock, his eyes widening as he admired its beautifully curved shape.

“You’re... breathtaking, all of you,” said Bëor, nearly at a loss for words, his awestruck voice almost at a whisper. “May I?”

“Please do, my Bëor.”

Bëor started slowly, carefully holding Finrod’s cock and circling the tip with his thumb before gently stroking his length. Finrod gasped a little at the sensation, leaning into Bëor’s touch, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mmm... more of this, please...” he mumbled, as Bëor began to stroke him faster, harder. Bëor’s hand was so thick, rough on the outside, while caressing Finrod’s cock so tenderly as if it was always meant to be there, a perfect fit.

Finrod let out a breathy moan as Bëor left kisses on the inside of his thighs, the coarse hairs of the Atan’s beard brushing up against his skin and turning him on even more. Bëor noticed this, of course, and it only led to more kisses, calloused hands tracing his curves. Chills ran through Finrod's body, his cock twitching, dripping wet with need.

“Bëor, I want– ah–”

“Tell me,” said Bëor, his breath ghosting over the tip of Finrod’s cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth, on me,” Finrod begged, “please–”

“Gladly.”

Bëor licked a small stripe up Finrod’s curved length before placing his lips around the tip, swirling his tongue to tease Finrod, making him whine for more. And Bëor delivered, taking more of Finrod’s cock in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down and building up to a steady pace.

Finrod matched it in kind, shifting his hips, his cock engulfed by the wetness and warmth of Bëor’s mouth. Placing a hand on Bëor’s head, Finrod curled his fingers into the Atan’s dark locks, his touch encouraging him to continue. And as Bëor began to take more and more of Finrod’s length in his mouth, earning more moans from him, Finrod could only think about how much he loved this, how unfair it was that he’d denied himself this experience for so long.

Bëor let Finrod’s cock slide out of his mouth with a pop, playing more with his tongue, gliding it up the elf’s length from base to tip. Finrod’s legs were shaking from the pleasure, he could feel the pressure building inside him like a geyser– until Bëor got a new idea in his head, pulling away suddenly and leaving Finrod wanting again, denying his release.

“Ai–! But I was so close, Bëor, why... why did you stop?” Finrod whined. “Do you intend to tease me further?”

“Have you ever stimulated your ass before? Put anything in there?”

Finrod was taken aback by the question; Bëor had gotten straight to the point. “Erm– I've thought about it? But no, I haven't–”

“Would you like to try it?” Bëor inquired, eyebrows raised. “I would only use my fingers.”

“Oh, but you know how I love your fingers, Bëor! Please, show me,” said Finrod, enthusiastic. “I do like trying new things. Especially if it's with you.”

“Hand me the bow grease, then.”

“Bow grease?”

“To help my fingers slide in there. Not ideal, but–”

“...I understand we must be resourceful,” acknowledged Finrod with a chuckle, quickly picking up on Bëor’s intent. “Worry not; I trust you.” He stretched his arm around the tree to reach for the bottle, passing it to Bëor; though he couldn’t help but stare at his needy cock, still upright, excitement running through his veins.

“I’ll need you to spread your legs more for me,” Bëor instructed, helping Finrod adjust his position.

“Is this enough?”

“Perfect,” said Bëor, dipping his fingers in the bottle before they lightly graced the rim of Finrod’s hole, preparing him for the sensation. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Finrod answered, his gentle smile alluring, inviting. “Show me your magic, my Bëor.”

Finrod soon let out a quiet gasp as Bëor’s finger pressed slowly, gently into his entrance– it was tight inside, and even just one of Bëor’s fingers was quite thick. Bëor gazed up at Finrod, watching the rise and fall of his chest, keeping a close eye on him to make sure he could adjust.

“Does it feel alright to you?”

“Ah... it’s strange, but... I want to feel more,” said Finrod, relaxing his muscles more. “Please...”

Bëor’s finger probed further inside Finrod’s hole, twisting, sliding carefully in and out. Finrod felt a shiver run up his spine. This was such a new sensation, but it felt so good at the same time. His moans fell from his lips like music as Bëor added a second finger, stretching his hole even more and delving deeper still. Bëor curled up the tips of his fingers, pushing against something soft; he had found that most pleasurable spot within Finrod, and it unravelled him.

Finrod let out a sudden gasp, a pleading moan, much louder than before. He could no longer form words anymore, the pressure building inside of him as Bëor began to press harder, faster. But Bëor wasn’t done, as he took Finrod’s cock in his mouth again, this time going all the way, as Finrod moved his hips to Bëor’s rhythm.

Bëor treasured every reaction from Finrod, for he looked beautiful like this, a great elf lord coming undone by Bëor’s hands. But Finrod was so much more than that, he was a ray of hope, a beloved friend. All Bëor could think about was how lucky he was to have met Finrod after traveling so far, being able to share this moment with him.

And Finrod could sense every bit of Bëor’s love. For just as it was when he massaged Bëor, Finrod couldn’t help but pour his emotions, his love for his Atan, into every movement of his hips, every gasp, every moan, until the world became like a dream for the two of them. As Bëor bobbed his head over Finrod’s length, fingers inside him, massaging his most sensitive place– Finrod could feel the pressure building again, sparks flying, everything threatening to burst from beneath the cracks.

“Ah–! Bëor...!”

And oh, how it burst when Finrod finally reached his climax, the pleasure coming over him like a wave, devouring him from both inside and out as he spilled his seed into Bëor’s mouth. The guilt he felt before had evaporated, the bliss of his orgasm taking hold. He felt free, basking in this high; the chains had been broken and Finrod could finally be himself. Bëor held onto Finrod tenderly as he came, tightened around Bëor’s fingers. He swallowed every drop of cum he could, licking away the rest once he pulled his mouth off of Finrod’s cock. After carefully removing his fingers, he graced a hand over Finrod’s soft curves, listening to his beautiful cries of pleasure.

But what truly caught Bëor’s eye, was the sight of his lover, overcome by ecstasy, alight with an ethereal golden glow, bright like the sun, shining from his skin, hair, every part of him; it was more radiant than Bëor had seen from his beloved. He was completely taken aback by Finrod’s light, staring in shock.

“Mm...?” Finrod’s eyes fluttered open once his high began to subside, returning Bëor’s surprised gaze with a comforting, relaxed smile. “Is there... something wrong, melda?”

“You- you’re glowing,” Bëor observed; could Finrod truly not see his own brilliance? “I have seen your light before, but never like this... Is this normal, for your kind?”

“Oh, that? I suppose so,” answered Finrod, “though I wouldn’t think much of it. This light is not my own, merely a reflection of one that shall never return, and even in me, it will fade.”

“On the contrary,” said Bëor, knowing Finrod spoke of the light of the West. “It is indeed your light now, as it shone for our love. It will not fade, for as long as it lives in memory; I plan to cherish it, for the rest of my days.”

“And those days, you have chosen to spend with me...”

“I would follow you anywhere, my lord.”

Finrod sat up, taking in breath, getting teary-eyed, drawing Bëor closer to him once more. Do I deserve this? he asked himself. And he did not have to wait long for an answer, as Bëor pulled him into another passionate kiss, comforting him, making him feel whole. When they parted, they exchanged tender, knowing smiles, gentle hands on each other’s cheeks; everything had fallen into place in that moment.

“You have given me so much, something greater than magic,” said Finrod, his voice soft, heartfelt. “It was through your gift that I remembered what it means to be free, to live as myself. I must repay you, somehow...”

“To be able to live the rest of my life with you is enough,” Bëor promised.

“Oh, but I insist!” Finrod asserted, the tone of his voice becoming more playful as he placed a hand under Bëor’s chin. “Have you not been wanting the same pleasure you gave me?” Finrod glanced briefly, down to the bulge in Bëor’s trousers. “I am a swift learner, I assure you. Do not neglect your own needs, your desires, for my sake.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Bëor laughed, and he let Finrod kiss him again, pull down his clothes. They would surely be delayed in reaching their destination, Bëor knew; but it was the journey, and the beautiful man he’d chosen to spend it with, that he would come to treasure more than all of the riches in Nargothrond’s halls.

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