The Grotto

Chapter Five

The Waters

 

How long you floated, you could not tell. It was so peaceful, so profound to drift holding tight to his hand. He too finds simple comfort in your undemanding presence and your heart is filled beyond describing to be able to give him this. The experience sinks deep in your being and you know, no matter what pleasures you find in the rest of your sweet life, this will be a moment you always remember. He moves. You feel it in the slow swell of water, in the sounds that echo oddly in the pool, and in the touch of his lips to your clutching hand. You look up and see him sitting beside you in the shallows, his blue eyes breathtaking in the sunlight. He pulls you closer and lifts your body into an embrace. Your arms reach around him and you hold him as tightly as you held his hand. He is your breath and your life, the reason for your being. You know you were born to be here with him and to love him is the essence of your soul. Nothing in all the world could make you more fulfilled. Tears flood your eyes again and drip down his wet back, but these are tears of joy, and perhaps he has shed some too. In the water you cannot tell.

Your heart is so full that there is hardly room for any feeling save joy, but as his arms glide lovingly up and down your back, you become increasingly aware of how very real he is in your embrace. His musk is heady perfume, his gentle strokes raise the hairs on your arm and the feel of his tender body against yours is a wonder. You notice the incidental touches first; where his thigh rests against yours, his firm chin catching your shoulder and the tickle of a wet tendril of his hair on your cheek. He smiles and you can feel it in the way his facial muscles move against your neck. You arch against him and the wet slip of your breasts against his chest reawakens your passion with blazing quickness. You can barely keep from squirming in your delight. He has felt it too and sighs in your ear, a yearning, hungry sound.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I will always love you, my lord, even were I never to touch you again. Even had I never been blessed to find this isle and come to you, I would still love you more than life itself.” You wrap your legs around him and he leans back to look at you. So beautiful, you think, but even more beautiful inside than out. Oh, how blessed am I to see his joy? You suddenly feel for your sisters. You share his body, but you hope that each of them have at least once seen him this happy, this content. It would fill their hearts as much as it is almost bursting yours. A tender smile hovers on his flushed lips and his face looks almost as if he is ready to burst into tears himself.

“I know,” he answers. “How could I not? And it is the wonder of my life that I have found such joy here. I could never have imagined it when I sought this place. I thought to find peace, either among the elves or in death, I cared not which, but to find you all here….” His voice faltered. “It was more than I could have ever wished for. I can indeed see how the Eldar could live forever. Though we are mortal and have not such space, I could find it in my heart to stay here an eternity with you all.” He drew you close and, with trembling lips, kissed you.

A feather touch, but it burns like fire into your brain. His hand cradles your jaw and his downy fingertips caress the sensitive space below your ear. You cannot help but respond, kissing him back, full, wet and passionately. He takes your lips, one at a time into his soft mouth and caresses them gently with his tongue, then, more urgently; he captures your mouth with his and feels his way inside you. He is so bold, fearless; taking that which you have not offered but that he knows is his. His hands reach behind your head and he presses your face against his own with deep urgency. You cannot breathe, you cannot think, you cannot imagine resisting his demanding lips. He did this to you in the grotto, only now, there is no reason for him to stop, and just when you think he can take you no higher with only his kiss, he does.

You are trembling with passion and are hardly aware that he rolls you over onto your back. You are at the edge of the pool, where the calcite rim rolls up onto green grass. He lays your head on the bank and continues to kiss you, plunging deep and then caressing you tenderly, carrying you to ecstasy with the skill of his lips alone. You tighten your legs around him instinctively, for no conscious thought can filter into your brain when he is doing this to you. You are flat against the smooth, slanting sides of the pool and can feel the silky touch of his body floating above yours. The sensation is too heady to be believed. Your hands reach around him to stroke his back, your fingers trembling in the hollow of it. You would not have asked for him, indeed, you did not intend for him to even see you this day, but the need he has awoken in you is so great, you cannot help yourself. The loving strokes you give him are an invitation that say, I am yours, my lord, for whatever purpose you wish. Find your pleasure if you desire it. He answers immediately with a hungry bite on your neck and you groan, completely consumed by his passion.

He is too buoyant to force you down and the slick stones make it difficult for him to get any foothold but you feel him, his ready hardness touching you briefly, fleetingly, in the dark, secret places you open to him alone. He cannot take you in the water. With a mighty arch, he pulls himself, and you wrapped about him, further up onto the bank. You feel his hips pushing against you, driving you onto the grass, and it enflames your desire. You gasp and wiggle backwards till your hips drape over the rim. There he stops you. You are arched backwards over the edge of the basin, but the angle is gentle and it is not uncomfortable. Your hips lie just below the water and the small of your back is pressed firmly against the stones. Your legs float easily in the foam. You feel him there, between your thighs, errant touches as he moves towards you. You whimper softly, pleadingly, then, with a rush of delight, you realize there is no one here to be silent for. You can be as noisy as your fervor demands. You cry out again, loudly in frustrated need as he searches you. You want him. You need him. The purity of your desire rings in his ears but does not enter yet. It is as if he enjoys hearing your passion voiced. Your fingers dig deep into the moist grass and you burn….

He finds you and pauses at the muscular edge, then, slowly pulls himself into you, delving deep, parting the waters of your body. Overwhelmed, you are unable to even groan with the pleasure you feel. You focus on feeling every inch of him enter you, as if by doing so, you can hold onto the sensation for an eternity. This is the satisfaction of your love for him. His deep-throated moan of fulfillment echoes in the hollow. It thrills you and carries him deep into your heart. He is feeling this as profoundly as you are. Slowly, held up by the waters, he drifts back. In this sphere of indulgent light, you can feel everything. Every round, corded muscle, every slip of wet skin, the trace of every hair on his body as it touches you. His hips tense and you can feel him tipping upwards as he pulls into you again. The waters support him as he eases himself forward. It is so gentle, so slow, so rich with sensation that your hips tremble. You open wider and find your voice again. Low and throbbing, your cries match his and it is as if you both have joined into one soul. You know the pleasure he feels, and he knows yours. He feeds it with a love neither of you can contain. Again he floats back and pulls himself into you.

With trembling hands he strokes your sides; his forehead rests on your chest and you can feel the muscles of his belly sliding and tensing against yours. With the water supporting him, he does not tire, but his body is starting to shake, torn by his sweet control. This fever of desire is almost too much to be borne. Your world narrows to just the little space of sunlight on grass and water around you; you are suspended in this one time for far too brief an eternity. I have never felt anything before this… Your tattered, astonished brain grasps at sights briefly glimpsed… blue, blue sky, a soaring bird far off amid blazing white clouds, the dark, almost black line of the tree’s canopy, but all these are remote, not a part of the narrowing circle of your universe. Nothing is real but this dark haired beauty who strives into you, fierce and perfect. You force your shaking hands to encircle his shoulders, move down onto his arching back, stroke the soft skin at the small of it. This touch is not as much an invitation as a appeal… you cannot bear this another moment…you will be overcome… he must…

And then you feel him change. He has understood your wordless plea and answers with joyful abandon. He grips the turf and drives into you hard. You are being pushed up onto the grass, completely out of the water, by the force of his thrusts. He is suddenly as ferocious as he was controlled before. Your world crashes back to wild, primal reality. He has given, and now will take what is his. You arch against him, aching to give him all he desires. You meet again and again, perfectly, in this rough, sensual dance, but all too quickly it peaks. Frodo’s back arches and you see his lip curling in a grimace, almost of pain. He shudders and groans deep in his chest. The sound shakes your own body and you feel the warm glow that spreads within you. That sensation is last distinct thing you can feel before the firestorm erupts in your brain.

You feel it coming, growing like a wave of light, overwhelming even at the edge of your senses. He fills you again with a trembling, groaning drive and the brightness breaks over you, burying you beneath a wave of sparkling crystal. You know you are howling in response, arching up into him, but your mind is filled, swamped and smothered with your own fulfillment. It can no longer control your body. Rippling waves rise in answer to the rush, coursing through your body and setting even your fingertips on fire. Your knees tighten on his lean hips as if to hold him inside you forever. Bliss and sunlight whirl around you and you hold on to the one solid part of the maelstrom; Frodo. He is easing too and you become aware of the sound of his panting breaths, the rise and fall of his breast above you, the bright glitter of wet skin in the sun. He is solid, real and with you. You heave a great sigh and fold his trembling body into your arms. He settles gently upon you and holds you tight.

TBC

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