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The estate was located in a sprawling, lush forest, just as Maitimo expected. It was a simple albeit luxurious cabin: two stories, an overgrown garden, and the display of weaponry over the fireplace the most cared-for part of the whole place.
Not for the first time, Maitimo wondered, “What am I doing here?”
“You know, I was just thinking the same thing.”
Maitimo whirled around. On the stairs stood an elf maybe a few years younger than Maitimo. His features were so stereotypically Noldo that Maitimo felt the oddest sense of familiarity, like he had seen pieces of this elf all his life in other’s faces. The only thing notable about his appearance were the golden ribbons braided into his hair. Someone who knew they looked painfully average and were trying to make up for it?
It was a spectacular mane of hair, Maitimo had to admit. Not enough to entirely distract from how this elf could pose for a generic Noldo portrait, but lovely enough to make him striking despite it. The gold looked magnificent against the dark.
Maitimo brought an easy smile to his lips. “Forgive me if I trespassed, I was told to meet someone here in three days time.”
Unwittingly, his eyes were drawn back to the long sword with a decorative horse on the pommel hanging upon the fireplace. He had never seen it drawn, but he had recognized it at once.
It belonged to that mysterious Knight Valiant that had been plaguing his thoughts for a month.
The last time, the Knight Valiant had caught him unprepared and unawares. Maitimo had done his due research since then. He had read lyrics about the subject in five genres. He had scoured the library for treteses. He was, in all ways except physical, prepared.
Still staring at the sword on the wall, Maitimo's asshole clenched around nothing.
“Well, you’re early! Are you excited?” said the elf. “You must be, since you let yourself in!” Despite his words he laughed.
Maitimo kept his smile in place. “You’ve been warned of my coming, I see. I don’t suppose an elf calling himself the Knight Valiant has already arrived, then?”
“Oh,” said the elf. Then: “No, it’s just you and me here. You are early. But I’d never turn away a guest who came all this way to keep an appointment. I can hardly throw you out to sleep in the woods, can I?”
Considering Maitimo had been sleeping in the woods the entire way here, he hardly minded doing it for a few more days. At least the inside of the cabin looked significantly more cared for than the outside, by which he meant he really thought this place was half-abandoned until he saw the armory above the fireplace.
“Thank you,” said Maitimo, tearing his gaze away from the sword. He firmed his resolve. His father always said to pick a position and commit to it, even if you found yourself in the wrong - better to argue for the why’s and the nots later, than to waver at the start! His course had been set from the moment he left his family’s home to come here.
Of course, Fëanáro had never included any of this tomfoolery in his instructions. But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him!
The elf took the stairs down two steps at a time. He was surprisingly tall, which was to say: his head was level with Maitimo's shoulder. He grinned, and his smile lit up his face, turning stern Noldo features into a friendly invitation.
“Make yourself at home! Here, give me your pack. Are you hungry? There’s great hunting in these forests. I have too much food for just myself. Call me Findekáno. What’s your name?”
In short order Findekáno divested him of his pack, his cloak, and the full sordid tale of how Maitimo came to be in this remote little cabin. Wine was involved in liberal amounts, and it was the tasty, expensive stuff that went to Maitimo's head just a few cups in.
“He just showed up one day,” began Maitimo. “In full tourney armor! Seeking my father for a bout of skills, but obviously he wasn't even there. The Knight probably just showed up to boast. And boast he did! About how no one could beat him upon horseback, or in archery, or in battle - even though he brought no horse, no bow, and he never drew his sword. I’d suspect him of insanity, but sometimes I’m still convinced I stumbled into one of Yavanna’s experimental fields and hallucinated it all.”
Findekáno burst out laughing.
Maitimo found himself laughing along with him. “Surely you'd think the same! What else can you do when someone saunters in without so much as a letter of introduction, looking like that and acting like it’s the Tirion Athletic Games - all the way in Aule’s silver mountains? He never took the armor off either!" Maitimo had never even seen his face. Nevermind that Maitimo had seen - ahem. Quite a lot of his lower body.
“Of course we — my brothers — they took offense to all the boasting. My brother Tyelkormo was already gearing up to joust even though he was half the Knight’s size. He probably would have beat him too,” Maitimo said, with some annoyance.
“ Really?” said Findekáno, his voice thick with disbelief.
Maitimo shrugged. “Probably. I didn’t want him to try. He’s a menace. If he handled things they’d end up drawing swords. I wasn’t going to let him be beat up by an elf double his size because he wouldn’t know diplomacy if it bit him.” Maitimo paused, took a sip of wine. “Not that the Knight knew that either.”
Findekáno coughed.
“He was so irritating!” Maitimo burst out, and knew the wine was getting to him. He took another sip to calm himself, then ranted on, “I wanted to put him in his place so badly, so naturally I set about doing that. I could hardly let my brothers handle it. And then…” He trailed off.
“And then?” Findekáno prompted. Maitimo's cheeks turned ruddy when he was drinking; he could hardly get redder now.
And then the Knight Valiant had taken a long, up and down look at Maitimo. Going off his previous attitude and with the helm obscuring his features, Maitimo had assumed it was with derision. So when the Knight Valiant said, in a thoughtful voice, "I bet I can take you, easy."
Maitimo's lips had pursed and he had tartly replied: "You'll find me no weak fighter."
But then, the Knight Valiant said, "Oh, no, I meant:"
And the Knight Valiant made a gesture so lewd it left Maitimo blushing from ear to ear.
“And then we fought and I chased him out of Formenos,” concluded Maitimo. In a single drink he finished the rest of the wine in his cup.
If he wasn’t drunk enough to be questioning his every thought and action, he’d say Findekáno looked distinctly disappointed. “And now what, you’ve come to be chased away from here?”
“We’ve an appointment and an agreement,” Maitimo reached for the bottle. He sighed, sprawling further back in his chair. “As I’ve done to him, so he shall do to me.”
“So you’re definitely getting chased out,” said Findekáno.
“I hope not,” Maitimo muttered. “That would just be humiliating. I cannot be that bad at sex.”
Findekáno choked on his wine.
“Ah,” said Maitimo, then glared at the bottle in betrayal. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“No?” Findekáno wheezed out. Then, he burst out laughing.
“You could be polite about this!”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re fantastic in bed.”
“I might be,” Maitimo glared at Findekáno.
“Like I said! I’m sure of it.”
“Stop teasing me!”
“You could always prove it,” Findekáno suggested with a leer.
Maitimo groaned. “I regret not sleeping in the woods tonight.”
Findekáno pouted. “What, not even to practice?”
“I have plenty of practice!”
“Do you now? With dashing knights and lovely maidens?”
Maitimo hesitated. “I’ve read books.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It cannot be so different. I have seen it done. And he seemed to find it pleasurable enough,” said Maitimo doubtfully.
“For his sake, I hope he did!” Findekáno hesitated. “...Was your time with him so bad?”
“No.” Maitimo cleared his throat. “It was good. I did my best.” Again, doubtfully, he said, “He seemed to like it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to practice?”
Maitimo glared at him. “It’s not like I can - I can practice for this!”
"Really,” said Findekáno, that amused grin once more dancing on his lips. “I’m pretty sure you can practice for anything.”
“No, I. Must I spell it out?” Maitimo rubbed a hand down his face. “The last time, I fucked him. It was logical enough how it worked and he was quite vocal about what he liked and how he wanted it. But this time, it is me getting fucked, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it.”
"...Well!" said Findekáno, blinking rapidly and looking somewhere between taking fascinated notes to publish and utterly nonplussed. "Have you tried:"
He curled his left thumb and pointer together in a circle. His right pointer and middle fingers he thrust into the circle, and wriggled them suggestively.
Seeing Maitimo's blank face, Findekáno suggested, very eagerly, still wriggling his fingers, "I can help."
Maitmo's grip tightened on the wine bottle. He took a large drink directly from it.
The next morning, Maitimo woke with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar place. The place turned out to be Findekáno's guest room, a location he only had a fuzzy memory of stumbling to and collapsing face-down onto the mattress.
The headache was the consequence of his foolishness, and there was nothing to be done about it except wallow in self-pity, still-face down on the mattress, and contemplate the error of his ways.
This unplanned bout of self-reflection did not last very long. Before Telperion was even done shedding his silver leaves a knock roused him; Findekáno, dressed in full hunting garb. “Did you not even change clothes to sleep?” he asked incredulously.
“I drank significantly more than you did.”
“You’re also much taller than I am,” said Findekáno. “Well, no matter. You’re still joining me, right?”
Maitimo was many things, but someone who went against his word he was not. How true the word of a drunk agreeing to be ‘distracted from his worrying’ was could be debated. Maitimo, amongst other things, was also not a bad guest.
He went hunting with Findekáno.
The light slowly grew brighter as Laurelin blossomed, which made the ache worse and ruined what little the fresh air helped. Maitimo made no good show at hunting, but Findekáno's mockings were clearly jokes.
Findekáno, Maitimo suspected, was a good person. Not a nice person, because no nice person dragged a hungover drunk out for a hunt and then made fun about it to their face, but a good person nonetheless.
At the moment, he mostly found it disgruntling. Grimacing heavily he sat on a boulder with his head in his hands.
"Don't worry about it,” Findekáno said cheerfully. Findekáno had caught a deer and was preparing it with skill even Tyelkormo wouldn’t find lacking. “I'll share what I catch with you, these three days!"
Truly, what a good person! Maitimo grit his teeth to stop scowling. "I don’t intend to lay about your house and eat your food whilst doing nothing for three days."
"Well, it's not really my house, so your argument is void."
Against his better instincts, Maitimo lifted his head. Findekáno didn’t look up from where he was gutting the deer. “You live there.”
Findekáno shrugged. The sharp knife in his hand didn’t falter. “Not really. It’s more of an occasional thing. The place belongs to my grandfather.”
"...You know what I mean."
Findekáno huffed. “I don’t need anything in exchange for feeding you.”
“It’s the principle of the matter.”
Findekáno very obviously rolled his eyes. Maitimo couldn’t see his face, but he just knew it. "Then just give me something in exchange."
“Such as?” From their brief but informative acquaintance, Maitimo knew Findekáno was not crafty with words the way any of Maitimo's brothers could be; did not segway into dramatic, persuasive speeches whenever he wanted any little thing done. This did not mean that Maitimo would shed all his training against persuasive little brats.
“You decide,” said Findekáno, shrugging again. “You’re my guest, and I hope, after all you shared last night -” Maitimo dropped his head against his hands again with a loud smack that only hurt his brain more. Findekáno laughed. “I hope I can also call you friend.”
“You are an odd one,” said Maitimo, muffled into his palms. “But it is your house and you have been a gracious host to me.” He hesitated. “Very well, friend. It’s a deal. ”
Findekáno laughed. “So formal!” he grinned at Maitimo as he wiped his hands clean, and his smile held only joy. “Let’s get back so you can stop glaring the woods into submission whilst I make us some lunch.”
“Am I not even in a fit state to cook us lunch today?” Maitimo stumbled to his feet, breathed deeply to calm his roiling stomach, and hoisted the deer carcass over his shoulder before Findekáno could take it.
“If you think I will let a guest cook in my house - !” replied Findekáno, with empty heat and laughter still in his voice.
"I thought it wasn't your house."
"And yet you are my guest!"
“Your intentions are so innocent.”
“I am trying to befriend you.”
“That’s all?”
“You know my invitation stands.”
“The last time I made a bargain of this sort it ended with me here.”
“And I for one am glad for your presence,” said Findekáno. “Do you regret it already?”
“Not yet,” said Maitimo, and Findekáno grinned.
Whilst Findekáno set about making lunch, Maitimo dozed off again. A light knock at the door woke him, but not enough for him to get up to answer it. The dark, heavy curtains blocked out all the Treelight, and his headache had faded over the hours. Now, he was just lazily contemplating his life choices. On the whole, they were neither favorable nor intelligent.
The door opened silently despite his inaction. Maitimo did not need to open his eyes to know who it was. He cracked one open all the same as Findekáno came beside his bed.
“You’re a deeper sleeper than I thought,” said Findekáno, sitting by his bedside. “I could tie you up and keep you prisoner here in your sleep, and you’d be none the wiser till I came to rouse you.”
“You know,” Maitimo rumbled after a long moment, his voice still deep with sleep, “I haven't heard that one before.”
Findekáno laughed.
Maitimo smiled into the pillow. He rolled onto his side and lifted his head onto his arm. “Well, my captor, I readily surrender myself to your care, yet if you’d let me leave this bed I can be better company than laying down.”
“Don’t rise,” said Findekáno, and Maitimo paused as he sat up. “I think I’ll keep you here, and since you’re helpless to do anything else, I can talk with my prisoner as much as I want.”
“For someone who claims to want to befriend me,” said Maitimo. “You sure have a funny way of going about it.”
“Is it working?" Findekáno cupped his face, thumbs on his cheekbones. Maitimo was unsurprised when a hand moved behind his head, pulling him into a kiss. What was surprising was the chastity of it: Findekáno's lips gently pressing against his, their breaths mingling, spiced flavors of food on Findekáno's tongue, from where he must have tasted lunch as he prepared it. Findekáno's hands remained soft against his cheeks. Maitimo merely had to tilt his head to dislodge his grip.
He didn’t, staying still as Findekáno pressed a gentle, final pressure on his lips.
“I really don’t have bad intentions,” Findekáno murmured. They were so close Maitimo could see blue in the gray of his eyes; glimmers like the foam on the sea.
“A normal thing to say after kissing someone.”
Findekáno huffed. “You’re so eager to read ulterior motives in everything I do! I’m glad to be your servant. Whatever you will, I’ll do."
“I thought you were my captor.”
“Whatever makes it simpler,” said Findekáno, with a little roll of his eyes. “Just stop treating me like I’m going to stab you when you turn around.”
Maitimo flushed. “It’s not you I’m wary of being stabbed by.”
“...What, literally?”
“You know what I mean.”
“If I didn’t know better I’d think this Knight Valiant of yours was terrible in bed.”
“We didn’t exactly get to bed.”
“My poor little captured prince!” Findekáno exclaimed. “Tumbled in the woods without any care.”
There had been some care involved. Mostly it had been - well, Maitimo actually had chased the Knight Valiant off, after he corrected Maitimo that he would not, in fact, be taking him in a fight. Not fast enough for his brothers to not have understood his lewd gesture. The teasing had been insufferable. So, obviously, chased him away he had, using a candelabra as a weapon, irked all the while that the Knight Valiant, in full armor, was more than a match for him in his simple house clothing, and also that Maitimo was far too enraged and humiliated to call for proper gear and a fair match.
The Knight Valiant let himself be marched out from Formenos at candle-point, and said, “Sorry about the teasing, I have brothers myself - though it’s my sister who’d be awful about it. I should have waited until we were alone to proposition you.”
Maitimo, flushed and furious, had snapped, “You actually think I want to lay with you?”
“I don’t know, do you? All I can do is ask.” The Knight Valiant had shrugged his pauldrons.
Speechless, Maitimo's weapon wavered. Eventually, he found no good reason to keep it ready and lowered it. “Why me?”
“Are you seeking praise?” the Knight Valiant laughed. Before Maitimo could storm off, he said, “Well, I’m happy to give it. Because all say you are beautiful, and I came here and saw they were not lies. Because everyone praises your courtesy, and at least you didn’t curse me out! Because I saw you and I wanted you. And lastly, because you faced me wearing silks and put up a good fight, and nothing stirs my blood like a good battle.”
"You are so odd."
"I’ve heard that before," the Knight Valiant said without concern. "Have I convinced you?"
"To make you… take me." The mere idea baffled him.
"We can do it the other way around, if you'd like."
"Absolutely not. I don't even know your face."
The Knight Valiant made to remove his helmet. Panicked, Maitimo said, "Stop! Leave it on."
This time it was the Knight Valiant who was speechless. "That's… a first."
Maitimo could not flush any harder. His body tried anyway. He grit out, "What if I know you? I'd never be able to look at you again."
"...We've never met before today."
“And yet we may meet later.”
The Knight Valiant was even more speechless. “I take the courtesy thing back. You’re unexpectedly rude.”
“I’m not the one who propositioned me in front of my entire family.”
“Well, I had to take my chance, didn’t I? I didn’t think you’d actually want to do anything if we fought first.” The Knight Valiant regarded him. “Clearly, I was wrong.”
Maitimo's chest heaved. His heart beat like a drum against his ribs, and he was unsure if the quickness of his breath was from their earlier exertion.
The Treelit eyes of the Knight Valiant had glowed inside the slits of his helmet. It made for an ominous figure. Faceless, eyes only fathomable from their familiar light, elf in nature but not in appearance. The armor was masterfully crafted and well-fitted, clearly a respectable Noldo smith’s work. But the Knight Valiant occupied the same category as some Maia did: harmless, probably, despite the sword, but utterly unnatural.
Maitimo looked down. “Here on the grass?”
“You’re not one for romance, are you?"
“You didn’t come to me for romance.”
“Then I can't be disappointed.”
“Your horse is right there,” Maitimo said, pointedly. Then, his mouth fell open in outrage as the Knight Valiant actually went to the beast. He was still collecting his tattered pride when the Knight Valiant sent the horse away and came back to him. In his hand was a small bottle of oil.
“Well,” said the Knight, whilst Maitimo glared at him. “On the grass it is.”
Findekáno was still gently cradling his face, despite certainly having felt the edges of Maitimo's degenerating thoughts. "I'll treat you softer than he did, if you let me."
Maitimo rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. As expected, Findekáno's hands fell and fisted the sheets.
He looked, all together, disappointed and hiding it badly.
"Of course it would be softer," said Maitimo, looking away. "You're not wearing armor."
Findekáno sighed. "The more I hear about your dalliance the more I'm convinced it was so terrible it put you off sex entirely."
"Not so," said Maitimo, still looking towards the door. "It is just."
Findekáno waited for him to continue. His eyes were dark, their pupils dilated with desire. A simple anatomical reaction, explained not in the proper Laws and Customs of the Eldar, but in Appendix D.
Maitimo swallowed. "That was the only time I have done it."
It took a moment for Findekáno to get it. His eyebrows flew up, his mouth falling open, and his cheeks growing darker. "But - in the grass?"
"Yes."
"In full armor!"
"Yes."
"You'v never even seen his face!"
"Ye - how did you know that?"
Findekáno sputtered at him. "I mean - I inferred it?" Then, backtracking some more, "Also your memories were quite distinct just now. Can't help but wonder what he was thinking just showing up and propositioning you and —" he coughed, seemingly unable to continue.
Maitimo stared at him. Findekáno fidgetted. "I've often wondered that myself," said Maitimo.
"Yes, exactly. Who knows! Maybe he's ll massively embarrassed about it all by now - "
"By now," echoed Maitimo. "I was embarrassed in the moment of."
"Right, because - " Findekáno did a double take at him. "And you just agreed? In the grass! In full armor! What led you to agree?"
Maitimo contemplated valor and found it wanting. "Is lunch ready?"
"Maitimo! Come on, that is such an obvious evasion."
Maitimo hopped off the bed. With his hand on the doorway he looked over his shoulder. "If you actually wanted me to stay in bed, you should have just tied me up."
Findekáno let out a scandalized noise. Maitimo shook his head, smirking, and went to set the table and serve the food.
By mutual, silent agreement they didn't talk about it during lunch. The stew Maitimo had tasted on Findekáno's lips was warm and filling, seasoned well and thick with meat.
The conversation, after a few sputtering, awkward starts, turned to hunting and other forms of recreation.
"I don’t like it here full time - too quiet! Nothing to do but hunt and contemplate nature. Do I look like one of Orome’s faithful to you? Or worse, Vana or Yavanna’s." Findekáno snorted. "But if I stay in Tirion perpetually I'll go utterly insane. There's nothing to do there either! I can only take my sister's horses out so many times before I have all the mountains memorized."
"I've never actually been," Maitimo admitted.
Findekáno wasn't surprised. Of course he wasn't; otherwise he and Maedhros would have surely encountered each other by now. "I think you'd like it." With actual curiosity, he followed up, “Why not?”
Maitimo shrugged. "It just never came up." He watched Findekáno chase the last drops of broth around his bowl. "What's it like?"
"Boring."
"Be serious."
"I am," said Findekáno, rolling his eyes.
"It's the cultural hearth of our society!"
"Y-es," said Findekáno, drawing out the word. "And everyone cares so much about this or that discovery, and then the next one, and the next, and yet the highlight of any season is the music festival that, actually, takes place in Alqualonde."
"Alqualonde's Music Festival," said Maitimo, insulted on behalf of all the linguists and metalworkers and architects and jewelsmiths.
"I can appreciate it."
"I never said otherwise."
"You doubt me again," said Findekáno, whilst Maitimo pointedly drank his stew in silence. Findekáno pointed his spoon at him. "Stay there."
The chair scraped against the wood floor as Findekáno pushed away from the table. His feet were quick and light on the stairs. Maitimo had half a mind to move all the bowls and chairs one corner to the side, just to be contrary, but didn't get to do anything before Findekáno returned.
"You're a harpist."
"You don't have to sound so surprised," Findekáno huffed. The small harp fit nicely between his thigh and shoulder. "Well, what shall I play?"
"Musician's choice."
Findekáno pouted at him. "You're hardly any fun." But he strummed the harp almost absently and without further hesitation, began singing.
The Tree's mingled light shone on him, dancing off the golden braids and painting the entire cabin in a softer hue. Even the weapons on the fireplace did not seem so sharp, in the light, and Findekáno himself seemed to glow.
Maitimo rested his chin on his palm, the remnants of his meal entirely forgotten.
When Findekáno was done he tilted his chin up, a smug smile on his lips, and said nothing.
"Amazing!" said Maitimo, and laughed. "You hunt, you sing, you ride like a hunter of Orome - "
"I wouldn't go that far!" protested Findekáno, but the praise made him preen.
"I'm sure there's nothing you don't excel in."
"Well," said Findekáno."You left a lot of things out of that list."
"Fishing for more praise already? I'll be more effusive."
Findekáno blushed. "Stop! Stop! You are a tease. I can't believe I ever thought you were prim and proper and dignified."
Maitimo said, "Yes, well - wait. What does that mean? I have plenty of dignity." He drew himself up from the slouch to his full seated height.
"Oh I'm so sorry to have doubted you. Tell me all about your dignity again, mister 'upon the grass in full armor on my order'."
"He took off the cuirass and gauntlets!"
Findekáno laughed so hard he nearly dropped his harp.
After the cleaning was sorted they moved outside. Amidst the derelict garden was an equally abandoned set of nicely-woven chairs, still sturdy underneath all the dust. They were made for someone of a similar height to him - by which he meant, they were somewhat too tall for Findekáno, and somewhat too short for Maitimo.
His legs extended outwards into the garden. Unpruned bushes, weeds everywhere. At least the birds appreciated it. If Maitimo squinted past the overgrowth, he could almost make out a vegetable patch.
Findekáno brought the harp with him and played idle melodies as they rested with more of his absent-minded focus. It was not the sort of talent that Makalaurë boasted, but no one could mock his skill.
Now, his opinions on the worth of music craft over other crafts…
A wrong, surprised note twanged when Maitimo abruptly stood. Leaves smacked him in the face, branches providing mild resistance before Maitimo snapped them out of his path, until finally he could crouch beside that vegetable patch and wrap his hands against what was, indeed, a very handsome carrot.
“Um,” said Findekáno. He stared at the carrot like it was an unfamiliar specimen. Maitimo set it on the table beside him and brushed the leaves off his shirt.
“You must have gardening tools somewhere nearby. This place is not so bad off as to be perpetually abandoned.”
“Was that meant to be an insult?” asked Findekáno unimpressed.
“A bit of pruning wouldn’t be amiss.”
“I’m not the only one who uses this cabin,” huffed Findekáno.
Maitimo said, “The gardening tools?”
“...There’s a shed somewhere outback. They’re probably in there. Oi! Are you seriously going to garden right now? There’s vegetables in the forest, you know, we can forage for them easily enough - “
The tools were still sharp and clean when he found them. When he exited the shed, he ran nose-first into a horse that was suddenly standing by the entrance.
“You can’t be any normal wild horse,” said Maitimo, clutching his aching nose. The horse was none the worse for wear by the impact, and though Maitimo lacked Tyelkormo's skill with animal tongues, he felt distinctly judged.
The horse huffed at him, flicking its ears before entirely dismissing him. It walked off towards the cabin, around the house, and distantly Maitimo could hear Findekáno's surprised voice rising and then falling into hushed, rushed, and unintelligible words.
The horse, Maitimo reflected, was too familiar with elves to be any wild beast. And the horse was too familiar to Maitimo to be just any horse.
If he had to guess, it looked exactly like the horse his overly cocky sir knight had boasted about. But then again, Maitimo was three days early, so it could not be him.
Bemused, Maitimo rounded the cabin to find Findekáno feeding the carrot to the horse. His mouth fell open. “That was for tomorrow’s food!”
Findekáno startled badly. He didn’t stop rubbing the horse’s nose, though he had the grace to look flustered. “Was it? You never said.”
“I could not have predicted this.” He gestured to the horse.
“Sometimes she shows up so we go riding together, if we haven’t in a while.” Findekáno looked to the distant light of the Trees glowing through the forest, and bit his lip.
“Oh, just go.”
“I can’t just leave you here!”
“You can and you will,” said Maitimo. He placed his hands on his hips like his parents did when arguing with each other, which he knew made him look larger and thus more likely to get his way. “What good will it do to salvage your vegetable patch if the horse eats it all?”
“What kind of person comes all the way here for gardening,” Findekáno bemoaned. The horse had finished with the carrot and moved onto nibbling at his braids. Without looking and with the ease of familiarity, Findekáno shoved her away.
“Well, I came all this way to get fucked, so this is much milder in comparison.”
Findekáno choked on air.
Maitimo pointed to the forest and said, “Out!”
“I’m going, I’m going!” To the horse Findekáno said, “Chased out of my own cabin! Will the injustices never cease?”
Maitimo said, “And don’t come back until Laurelin stops blooming!”
“I’ve invited a tyrant into my house,” said Findekáno to the horse, and laughed as he mounted her and rode into the woods.
Alone, Maitimo waited until they were out of sight, until Findekáno's voice rising in riding-song was only a melody brought by Manwe’s winds. Then he put the gardening tools on the table and went inside the cabin to snoop.
By the time Findekáno returned, Maitimo had added some vegetables to the reheated stew. The vegetable patch had been aggressively cleared, and Maitimo had discovered six more carrots, a dozen potatoes, and more mint than anyone rightfully needed. There was a plant he was mostly certain was tomato and some small strawberries near the edges of what turned out to be an overly large blueberry bush. There was also some ungainly new variation of squash Maitimo hadn’t dared to poke. It had taken over an entire patch on the edge of the garden. In his opinion, it could stay there.
There were clearly more vegetables in the garden, but whether Maitimo's mediocre skills with plants could unearth them was a better question.
Findekáno returned with a pack slung over his shoulder, full of vegetables and fruits. “I told you it would be easy enough to get them!” Despite the riding, he was covered in far less grime, sweat, and dirt than Maitimo was.
“I’m surprised your friend didn’t eat them all. Where is she?”
Findekáno waved his hand dismissively. “She comes and goes; she’s got free reign of the area, and will come if called. Too well-trained not to.”
“She’s yours?”
“Is anything here mine?” Findekáno asked, his smile crooked as Maitimo continued reheating their food. “I borrowed her from my sister’s stables. Which, truly, are my grandfather’s stables that she commandeered. So she’s as mine as this cabin is, which is to say, not at all.”
Maitimo hummed. He helped Findekáno store his haul and they ate outside, as Laurelin’s glow faded over the mountain-tops. Telperion was not yet bloomed again, and as they ate, the perpetual light in the sky cleared away to a million stars.
“Oh,” said Maitimo, staring up. “I had forgotten how beautiful it is.”
“This isn’t even a good place for stargazing,” said Findekáno, his neck also craned back against the chair. “The trees obscure too much. Up in the mountains is better, there’s places where the light doesn’t reach, so it always looks like this. One moment everything is gold, and the next it’s just you and the black sky, and all of Varda’s gifts.”
They stayed there until the first glimmers of silver light reached them. “You wash up while I clean,” said Findekáno, and showed him to the bathhouse.
Maitimo cleaned himself perfunctorily, his mind strangely calm and silent. The bathrobe Findekáno had left for him smelled of clean wash, and reached only to his mid-thigh. When he reappeared in the central area, Findekáno looked up from tending to his hunting gear. His gaze drifted down Maitimo's body, almost unbidden, lingering on his legs, and then snapping upwards to his face.
“I refilled the bath for you,” said Maitimo.
Findekáno jumped. “Thank you. I’ll just.” He cleared his throat. “Go wash. Sleep well!” Saying thus he rushed towards the steps. With how quick his feet were, he would make it to the top in just a few breaths.
Maitimo said, “Wait!” and Findekáno stopped at once. “Come down again,” said Maitimo, and slowly, confusion furrowing his brow, Findekáno did so.
Before he reached the bottom, Maitimo intercepted him. This way, with Maitimo's feet on the floor, and Findekáno on the stairs, they were almost of a height.
Maitimo studied his face. Findekáno swallowed, meeting his gaze without hesitation, even as he slowly flushed under the scrutiny. “If you want to stare at me you only need ask,” said Findekáno with a nervous laugh.
He fell silent as Maitimo's hands lifted to his cheeks.
His lips were just as Maitimo remembered, soft. This time they parted in a gasp that went straight into Maitimo's own lungs. Unlike Maitimo, who upon being kissed stayed still, Findekáno leaned his entire weight onto him. This kiss was not chaste in any way; Findekáno's breath mingled with his, his fingers wrapped around Maitimo's shoulders. Maitimo wrapped a hand around Findekáno's braids, tugging slightly, and Findekáno moaned into his mouth.
With a shaking, gasping breath, Maitimo pulled away.
Findekáno chased his mouth, so Maitimo lifted a finger between them. It rested on Findekáno's bottom lip, plush and wet. Findekáno licked his lips, and in doing so licked his finger. His eyes rose from Maitimo's mouth to his eyes. “What was that for?”
“Our bargain,” said Maitimo.
Findekáno's brow furrowed. “In return for the food? You don’t have to - “
“In return for the kiss,” said Maitimo. He smiled. “Sleep well, Findekáno.”
The Knight Valiant obviously knew what he was doing. He set the oil bottle on the grass, unstrapped his sword holster, then unbuckled his gauntlets, pulling them off to reveal blue gloves so dark they were almost black. These he tugged off to reveal honeyed skin, gold like Laurelin in full bloom. "Are you just going to watch?"
Maitimo jerked his gaze away. “You have it well in hand.”
“One of us has to.”
Maitimo's lips pursed. "And what do you want me to do, exactly? Hold your hand and stroke your hair? You seem a bit busy for that."
"Stars, you are rude."
Maitimo breathed out harshly. His hands shook, so he fisted them and pushed them into his thighs as he sat down. The Knight Valiant stood above him, still in full armor, and dropped his gloves and gauntlets unceremoniously to the ground.
Then the Knight Valiant said, "Since you're down there already, at least help me with the cuisse."
"...Leave the armor on."
"It's your skin it's going to dig into! And besides, it's annoying with it in the way."
So Maitimo kneeled beside him. The Knight Valiant let out an appreciative noise that Maitimo glared away. The skirt was lifted out of the way for him. Maitimo's arms and fingers encircled each muscled thigh to release them from their metal casings. He placed each cuisse on the grass with care, and stayed, unmoving on his knees afterwards. He was eye-level with the Knight Valiant’s manhood and, truly, had no idea what to do about it. No dry explanation of child-making had ever covered this.
"Help me with the leggings too, would you?" Through the metallic echoing of his helmet, the Knight Valiant’s voice had gone distinctly low and rough.
Maitimo's fingers trembled as he hooked them to the fabric of the leggings. They clung to the Knight with sweat and the tightness of their make. His nails scraped down golden skin until the tights rested on the greaves.
He could not bear to look at the crotch he had just bared. Instead, he let the skirt drop, and tilted his head back. But the helmet was impassive, and the edges of the Knight's thoughts only clear in intent, not emotion.
Finally, Maitimo said, "You're excited." His voice shook. He took another steadying breath.
“I’ve never been harder. I’m honestly disappointed in myself. This is what stirs my blood?” the Knight Valiant laughed mirthlessly. “You won’t even look at my face. And yet, this stirs your blood too. Should I be smug I affect you so?”
The arousal felt like a betrayal. To what or whom, Maitimo did not know. It pooled into his belly like an uninvited friend. He was at once unfocused and aware of everything. The soft grass under him, the singing birds up above, the stream nearby bubbling water over rocks.
Uncaring if it was rude, he shuffled back on his knees. His thighs were almost certainly grass-stained.
The Knight Valiant, shedding only just enough armor to reach under his skirt, watched him. Only the faint glow of his helmet revealed his eyes lingered on thr growing bulge in his crotch. A match for the one the Knight Valiant sported, which Maitimo still did not know what to do about.
He should have read the Laws and Customs of the Eldar with greater care, instead of dismissing it as an antiquated treatise. His father still had a copy in Sarati of all things. And his father bore seven sons, so surely he must have gotten some wisdom from the thing. Wisdom that Maitimo could have used right about now.
Metal plating clinked together as the Knight Valiant sat beside him. Maitimo couldn't look away as he opened the bottle, rubbing the oil between his fingers. Logically, Maitimo could intuit why he needed the oil. It was still a surprise, punching the air from his lungs in a startled gasp, as the Knight Valiant reclined back on his forearms, spread his knees, and reached under his skirt.
The Knight Valiant let out a shaking breath as the first finger breached him. Maitimo could not look away. Logically, this was how it would go - where else did they have to put things? The Knight Valiant had not left to the imagination the shape of his desire, what he expected Maitimo to do for him.
But desire, this uninvited friend, did not come often to him. It grasped him by the hand now, but it was as unfamiliar as this Knight, prepping himself with little gasping sighs and pleased moans that echoed all the stranger for the helmet that hid his face.
Maitimo focused on what he could see. The Knight's left hand, braced on the ground. His thighs, trembling yet keeping himself spread as much as he could. The tights tangled his legs together, limiting his angle. They were also catching on the metal, and would split if he were not careful.
Maitimo told him so, his voice unfamiliar to himself, low and throaty and rasping.
The Knight Valiant said, "Let it, or better, rip it yourself."
Swallowing, Maitimo did so, hooking his fingers into the fabric and tugging it apart. It was sturdy, resisting him, and when he ripped it apart with a sudden jerk, the Knight Valiant’s thighs fell abruptly askew from lack of resistance.
The Knight Valiant cried out. The action had thrust his fingers into a deeper angle. Maitimo, crouched between his spread knees, had the perfect angle to see his rim stretch around his fingers, his dick leak steadily onto his armor, his chest heave underneath the breastplate, his neck bob as he moaned.
Only his face was still unfathomable. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the Knight to remove his helmet after all. But he hesitated, and the moment passed. The Knight Valiant said, "That ought to be enough, I think. Even you can't be larger than four of my fingers."
How many was the normal finger number? This too Maitimo did not ask. His hands rested on the Knight Valiant’s knees, digging into the bone and muscle.
"How," began Maitimo, and stopped. Reworked the sentences in his head until they were less desperate, less confused. "How do you want me?"
"Isn't it obvious?" The Knight Valiant laughed. "Lay down."
"How is that obvious?" asked Maitimo tersely, even as he sat back onto his haunches. Even slower, he laid down in mirror image to the Knight Valiant, his knees bent, his upper body propped up by his elbows, his head unbowed.
The Knight Valiant pushed himself up and crawled onto his lap. He had been right: the metal dug into Maitimo's flesh. With his luck it would bruise. "After all that time," said the Knight. "Sweet of you to ask, for once." Through the metallic distortion, his voice was dry as kindling.
"Shut up and get to it," Maitimo retorted. His hands hovered without purpose, then fell to each side of the Knight's waist. The metal was still cool to the touch, despite the exertion and the heat burning through Maitimo's veins.
He could hear the grin in the Knight Valiant’s voice. "Not even going to say please? You looked so good on your knees. Beg for it, yea?"
"You're the one desperate to have me," Maitimo said.
"What a cruel love I've found myself!" The Knight relaxed his thighs so his full weight rested on Maitimo. The armor must make him significantly heavier, but all Maitimo could focus on was how the Knight’s leaking dick pressed into the tight, painful bulge in his own pants.
Impatience made the Knight fumble as he freed Maitimo's dick. There was no hesitation as he grasped it, making Maitimo arch and gasp.
"You are proportionate," said the Knight Valiant. "I wondered."
He stroked a finger up the prominent vein in Maitimo's dick; calluses that were never left alone long enough to heal rippling texture up his spine, gentle touch and raspy fingers contrasting against the soft skin of his dick.
“Get on with it,” said Maitimo, buckling slightly. The armor was heavy indeed; Maitimo could not move even that much. Bruises would bloom on his thighs and hips from the attempt.
“Patience is a virtue.”
“I’ll just call upon the Valar to commend you for it, then? Oh, Namo, who judges us all,” said Maitimo, “Behold this Knight’s - ah!”
The Knight Valiant sank down a finger-width onto Maitimo. He was warm inside, and tight despite the four fingers. Maitimo's breath turned shallow and shaking. His nails scratched against the armor for lack of better purchase.
“Oh yes,” the Knight Valiant breathed out. He wiggled, and Maitimo moaned as he sank down further, until the warmth of his thighs and butt rested against Maitimo's hips.
Was this always like this? No wonder the Laws and Customs got written. He could not imagine why anyone would ever stop doing this, unless laws and customs were placed to prevent total societal decay.
“Doing this in full armor is a challenge, isn’t it?” The Knight Valiant laughed at his own proclamation. For a disorienting moment, Maitimo could not tell if it was Ainu or Quendi seated upon his dick.
Then the Knight Valiant placed his very warm, sweaty, slick with oil palms upon Maitimo's chest, and began to bounce.
And then he was thinking everything at once: nothing at all.
Upon waking Maitimo found Findekáno already up, brooding at the banked fireplace.
There was, notably, a boar pelt that hadn't been there before they went to bed draped over the pillows.
"You didn't hunt and skin that whilst I was asleep, did you?" Maitimo asked in lieu of a greeting.
Findekáno jumped. Maitimo kept his smile light and friendly, and it was entirely genuine pleasure that filled him as Findekáno's eyes met his.
"No, well. Yes, I did shoot it. Not while you slept."
Maitimo arched a brow. "Whilst I was awake, then?"
Findekáno looked at him unimpressed. "It was drying out during both, if it matters that much."
Maitimo's smile stayed in place. Findekáno looked physically fine, but there were any number of things that could have fouled his mood. Maitimo easily discarded craft project (usually the most likely culprit), but could not deduce the problem. Findekáno's eyes were dark, and his mood impenetrable. "What happened?"
"What happened what?" Findekáno echoed.
"You didn't sleep."
Findekáno bit his tongue and averted his gaze. "I spent all night thinking of you."
"...Is that meant to be flattering?"
Findekáno's cheeks flushed. He dragged a hand down his face, slower and more tired than he had been just a few hours ago.
"Well. I am flattered," said Maitimo, though he was not. Or was he? Findekáno's mood did not imply it was good thoughts.
Maitimo wanted it to be good thoughts. He wanted it with sudden, fierce certainty that surprised himself. Without thinking about it he found himself standing in front of Findekáno, and this too slotted itself in the certainty of his mind.
"Maitimo?" Findekáno asked. He sat back, straighter, and at once Maitimo knew what he would do.
He crawled onto Findekáno's lap. His knees pressed against the outside of Findekáno's thighs.
Findekáno's eyes were blown wide. Maitimo was more sure of himself than he had ever been as he leaned in to capture Findekáno's lips with his own.
Only. Findekáno's lips weren't that calloused. Maitimo tongue peaked out to lick what was definitely a palm.
His eyes snapped open.
"You shouldn't do this," said Findekáno, all in a single rushed breath.
"What," said Maitimo, still against Findekáno's palm.
"I feel like I sent you the wrong message," said Findekáno, firmer.
"What," Maitimo repeated.
Findekáno stood up, which forced Maitimo to stand or sprawl on the floor. So Maitimo stood, his shoulders tense and nearly at his ears, and his face grew splotchy with horrified embarrassment.
"You offered to put your fingers in my ass," said Maitimo. "And you don't want me to kiss you?"
Findekáno blushed. "I offer a lot of things! Doesn't mean anything!"
Oh. "Oh really," said Maitimo, coolly.
"It doesn't mean I want anything from you," amended Findekáno, which was somehow worse.
"Well," said Maitimo. "Maybe I will go sleep in the woods, and you can have some peace!"
Findekáno finally turned to look at him, glaring. "Don't be so dramatic! I'm trying to be nice!"
"You're not good at it," said Maitimo, and stormed out of the cabin.
Maitimo stomped all the way to a beautiful, bubbling stream. The birds were singing lovely songs, a few little fish swam gracefully down stream, and it was so very nice. Maitimo wanted to rip his hair out.
“Shut up!” he yelled to the birds.
The birds fell silent for a moment. A few flew off. One of them tried to poop in his head. What were parrots even doing in these woods?
A moment later, the bird song resumed. Maitimo sat down heavily on the wet streambed. He had not been wearing shoes when he fled the cabin, and his feet were crusted in mud and leaves. The stream was blissfully cool. A handful of curious fish swam up and tried to eat his toes.
“Your life is easy enough,” said Maitimo resentfully to the fish. “Try being an elf and see how you like it. Nothing ever goes like how you’d expect it to.” He wiggled his toes, but the fish just returned. He wiggled them again. As the fish nibbled on him, he looked up to the golden sky and sighed. “I don't suppose there's Divine wisdom for situations like this?”
A patch of dandelions by the river suddenly bloomed. Little white flowers on the grass sprung up alongside them. Leaves rustled and weaved together, and at the end it very clearly spelled out: don't shout at the birds.
Speechless, Maitimo pulled his feet out of the water. “That wasn’t the advice I was hoping for.”
The flowers untangled and did not reform into a better message. The fish swam on. The birds, even the parrot, continued in their cacophony of joyous woodland noise.
“Fine,” snapped Maitimo. He returned to the cabin with his feet dragging with every step. What would he even say to Findekáno now? Extremely grudgingly I respect your opinion even if it's stupid? Maybe don’t kiss me first? Just how many guests do you seduce and then reject, or is it just me in particular you found wanting?
He was sulking by the time he returned. Luckily, some Divine goodwill was clearly on his side. Findekáno was not in the cabin. The stupid boar pelt was still thrown over the chair. The sword with the decorated horse pommel was gone from above the fireplace.
Maitimo stared at it unmoving for a long time. His hands clenched into fists, so tight his nails dug bloody crescents into his skin. He whirled around and grabbed his pack, still mostly packed - because why unpack, for three days? It was the only intelligent decision he had made since arriving.
Findekáno was not back yet when Maitimo hoisted the pack over his shoulder. Maitimo had not heard any movement nearby when he returned. He could leave now, and be far on the road before Findekáno returned.
The empty place on the armory seemed to mock him. He glared at it.
And it was only a day longer, wasn't it? He was neither a coward nor a quitter, and least of all someone who did not keep his word.
On his way out, he grabbed the boar pelt too.
He went past the little stream with the curious fish and rude birds and talking flowers. The stream joined a small river with water still mountain-cool. On its waters he could almost feel the glimmer of stars upon the snow-tops of Taniquetil.
Near it he set camp, letting the rushing water lul away forest noises and resolutely not saying anything to any of the birds.
Then he sat there, still fuming, and quickly growing bored with the anger, himself, and the beautiful, idyllic river, and the lovely singing birds that never shut up.
"Maybe the problem is me," he thought to himself out loud, testing the words and finding them wanting. Try as he might, he couldn't figure out how he'd misread the situation. "It's obvious he wanted to fuck me," he told the boar pelt lying beside his pack.
He laid it across his lap, critically analyzing the size and the fur. "You should have seen the way he looked at me! And he kissed me first."
The boar pelt did not answer. Even if the boar had been alive, Maitimo did not speak in animal tongues. Its wisdom was as useless to him as that of whatever Ainu had answered him by the stream.
"Of course I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss him back at first. Let alone anything else! Are you truly just meant to know?" Doubtfully, he considered the golden sky. "My grandfather saw Queen Indis and knew he would wed her, my parents barely traded glances before having me. Even the Laws and Customs say you look them in the eye and suddenly know the shape of your desire!" Then, more ruefully, "What does that say about me?"
His head dropped. The pelt was still on his lap. Why had he taken it? "I'm turning you into a jacket."
Maitimo did not have any heavy duty sewing equipment with him. He had to roughly guess at the cuts and sizing, pin the hem bit by bit in a slow, unending weave. It was thoughtless work, after the initial puzzle. He was passable at it; he'd never wear this boar coat with company, or even around the house. It reeked Orome's devotee returned from a wilderness adventure sort of look.
The sky turned full gold, then was streaked with silver as the mingling burst across the clouds. Maitimo noticed it only in the reflection upon the water, and how the light shifts reflected on the boar pelt coat. He frowned at it.
"Is that my boar pelt?" Findekáno asked.
Maitimo jumped. He had not heard Findekáno approach, but there he was amidst the leaves, looking like an actor in a reenactment play about the trek from Cuivinien. His hair was plastered to his face and even at this distance he stank of sweat.
Findekáno came closer from the treeline. "What did you do to it?" His voice was somewhere between awe and horrified fascination.
Maitimo considered the costs and benefits of pushing him into the river. "It's a jacket. If you squint."
"Wow."
Maitimo scowled at nothing. "I'll unpin it and fix your stupid pelt again."
"It's for me?"
"No."
"You're lying," said Findekáno. "I can tell."
"Even if it was, I'm throwing it into the river. "
"No, and you can't take it back. It's mine. I want it."
"It's horrifically ugly."
"Do you think I care?" Findekáno laughed. He came right into Maitimo's space, his knees beside Maitimo's shoulder. Only then did he seem to remember they had quarreled. His smile grew strained, lips tipping down, his brows pinching together.
Maitimo stood, dusting himself as he rose to his full height. Findekáno once more had to look up at him, instead of down. He did not step back.
Maitimo shoved the jacket at him. "If you want it you can have it."
Findekáno stared at the jacket in his hands. The furrow between his brows slowly smoothed out. "I'm never taking this off."
Maitimo was horrified beyond words. He would, wouldn't he? Straight into Tirion. "Please don't."
Findekáno put it on right now, clearly just to be contrary. It fit well, but good fit could not make up for the disgustingly ugly make of it, with uneven hems and bulging sections and the undyed boar fur in total disarray. Maitimo should apologize to the spirit of his grandmother for disgracing her craft.
"It's warm," said Findekáno approvingly. He stepped away from Maitimo, holding his arms out. "How do I look?"
"Hideous."
"Tell me your true opinion!" Findekáno laughed.
Maitimo bit his cheek. He took a deep breath. "Listen, about what happened earlier - ”
"Oh. Yes, about that," said Findekáno.
Maitimo talked over him. He had rehearsed this. "I respect your decision, even if I think you sent some mixed signals - a lot of them, if I'm being honest - "
"Well - "
"But! I acknowledge you are fair to change your mind and to desire in thought but not practice," the Laws and Customs had an entire section about it, but only in Appendix B. They really ought to just amend the main text. No one read the appendices. "And I will respect your wishes."
Impatiently Findekáno said, "I think we should fuck."
The rest of Maitimo's speech died in his throat and came out as a choking, strangled, "Excuse me?"
"Not right now!" Findekáno hastened to say. "After your - uh - duel," he added an euphemistic gesture, as if Maitimo didn't get the point. Findekáno paused and said, with less bravado, "If you're still around after that."
Maitimo's mouth opened and closed silently. He worked his jaw.
"Well?" Asked Findekáno, brash even as he fiddled nervously with his braids.
"Fine," said Maitimo, and pushed him into the river.
He wasn't surprised when, still yelling wetly at him, Findekáno hauled himself out of the river to tackle him, and they both tumbled back under the water.
"Mixed signals!" exclaimed Findekáno as they went back to his cabin. "I've never before been pushed into a river as an answer!"
He was laughing despite it. And he was still wearing that hideous jacket. It dripped wetly all around Findekáno, making him look like a small wet bear. The soaked mass of braids didn't help the impression.
Maitimo smiled. "We can fuck right now, if you want to go against your resolution," he said, sweetly.
"Gods," said Findekáno. “You’re going to be the worst about this, aren’t you?”
When they returned back to the cabin, the sword was hung up again, clean, as if it never left. Maitimo ignored it in favor of digging through the kitchen. All they unearthed was two piles of vegetables.
"We can just whistle a prayer to Manwe that a bird comes to us," said Findekáno, dubiously. He did not dry himself properly before entering the cabin, and now dripped onto the floor. Maitimo itched to suplex him out the door. He restrained himself by violently chopping carrots.
Findekáno's braids dripped onto the counter. "Or Orome. There's bound to be some devotee nearby to show up with game."
"I'm making vegetable stir fry," said Maitimo. "And you are going outside and drying."
Findekáno blinked at him. He looked down at himself as if his state hadn't registered. "I'll dry off eventually."
Maitimo gestured at the door with his knife. "Out!"
"You spend so much time bossing me around!" Findekáno complained, not looking particularly bossed. "Rather than my guest, ought I to call you my lord?"
"You said to make myself at home. I am."
Findekáno's grin was toothy. "Is my wet and disheveled state bothering you? Distracting you?"
"It's making me murderous," said Maitimo.
Findekáno laughed. He stood and disappeared only for a moment, returning with a towel to squeeze out excess moisture. After he was done he threw it onto the floor where the puddle was largest, seating himself and lifting his brows as if to say, well, what are you going to do now?
"Your parents must be sick of you," said Maitimo admiringly.
Findekáno bared his teeth. "I try."
"No wonder you choose to live in an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere."
"It's hardly in the middle of nowhere if it's already been charted."
"I'll tell my father to destroy the maps so you can truly feel isolated," said Maitimo, rolling his eyes.
"Tell him he could have at least left some corners unexplored for the rest of us."
"No joy in exploring charted territory?"
"Well," said Findekáno, with a sudden leer. "If it's your charted territory - "
Maitimo leveled a flat look at him. "You think my father hasn't fully documented the holdings I'm entrusted with?"
Findekáno's face scrunched. "I meant your body."
"All this pillow talk of cartography fooled me."
"You're being difficult on purpose."
"Am I? Surely, I have no reason to do that!"
"Urgh," said Findekáno. He picked the towel off the floor. "Fine. Have it your way! I'll return when there's food."
Maitimo laughed at his retreating back.
The next day Findekáno once again barged into his room whilst Maitimo dozed. "I'm noticing a pattern," said Maitimo, not rising from the bed.
Findekáno stood in the doorway, unabashed. He was still in sleep clothes, his hair half braided, his eyes wide and wild. "I was thinking," Findekáno began.
"Oh dear," Maitimo muttered into the pillow.
Findekáno glared. "Don't be rude! I'm here to help you!"
Raising his head ever so slightly, Maitimo looked out the window. "Could it not have waited until the Trees finished blooming?"
"Yes," said Findekáno. "Anyway, you don't know anything about sex!"
Maitimo was too stunned to reply.
"And we have both made our feelings clear on me helping you with it today - "
"Tulkas, give me strength," Maitimo finally managed to mutter. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"So I have made infographics," Findekáno went on, breathless and excited and determined. For someone so stereotypically Noldo in appearance, surely he could not be lacking their brains? Surely he had something other than looks? "And I have brought you oil, so you can practice - "
Maitimo rolled face down. Namo take him!
A weight dipped the mattress and settled across his lower back. Findekáno's firm hands shook his shoulders. "This is serious, Maitimo! What if you tear something? What if you don't stretch enough or use enough oil?! What if you don't have a good time?!"
"What if you shut up?" Maitimo flipped them over and tried to smother Findekáno with a pillow.
Afterwards, Findekáno sat cross legged at the edge of the bed. His half-done braids had unraveled in their fight; his hair was utterly tangled and mussed. Maitimo himself did not look much better.
“I never knew this existed,” said Findekáno. In his lap was Maitimo's well-worn copy of the Laws and Customs of the Eldar. Calling it such was a matter of debate, actually - you’d be surprised how many laws and customs three kindreds could come up with over a thousand year journey to the Utmost West of the world. Which was why Appendix A was added approximately ten hours after the first volume of the Laws and Customs of the Eldar was published. And Appendix B some two hours after that. Appendix C took three entire turns of the Trees to be written.
Appendix D, the one Findekáno was reading, took significantly longer to be added.
“The drawings are much better than my infographics,” said Findekáno. He did not sound particularly insulted or disappointed. He shoved his nose deep in the pages of the book. “What a realistic dick!”
“They’re all realistic dicks.” Somehow, Maitimo's voice was level.
“No, see, this one has veins - you can almost see it pulsing!” Findekáno turned the book around to show him. Maitimo had to agree it looked particularly prurient.
Findekáno flipped through more pages. He, eventually, cycled back to the bookmarks Maitimo had for anal sex. “As far as instructions go, it is much more concise and explicit than the marriage songs,” he said thoughtfully. “But it lacks a certain romance. Could they not have made the artwork both informative and titillating?”
“Findekáno!”
“I’m just saying! It would be much more popular if it were. I would like to find the author and talk to them about amending it. Appendix E: ‘Now that the boring information is out of the way we will get you raunchy and ready’. Where did you find this? I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever read the copy we have in the palace, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t full of detailed margin notes.”
“My parents added those.”
Findekáno dropped the book as if it were burning. A look of pure horror overcame his face. “No!”
Maitimo burst out laughing. “They have four sons and are planning a fifth baby - what did you expect?”
“I don’t need to know about what they consider erogenous zones,” groaned Findekáno, like his worldview had been permanently contaminated.
“They’re just common guidelines.”
“When I take you to bed, I really hope you aren’t thinking about that - “
“If I am when you ‘take me to bed’, then surely one of us is doing something wrong.”
“Just don’t think about your parents!”
“Should I think of yours?”
Findekáno groaned. He tilted sideways and flopped down upon the bed. His messy hair spilled entirely over the edge. “You are the absolute worst.”
Maitimo flopped beside him to mock him face to face. “Come now! I can tell you all of my father’s silica mines, and you can tell me about your father’s - “ he cast his mind for whatever Findekáno's father did. Surely, Fëanáro had mentioned it at some point? “ - politics?”
“My father’s politics,” repeated Findekáno flatly.
“Yes,” said Maitimo. He paused for a long, considering moment. “Actually, I am curious - “
“Good Gods,” groaned Findekáno. “Do you even know who my father is?”
“Yes,” said Maitimo. Findekáno stared at him. “You aren’t subtle.”
Findekáno wrinkled his nose. “Wasn’t trying to be.”
Silence fell between them. Abruptly, Maitimo was all too aware of their positions. They were both sideways upon the bed, laying so close their hands nearly touched. Their lungs nearly shared breaths. He licked his lips and Findekáno's gaze dropped to his mouth with the same quick prey reflexes of a hawk.
Maitimo's fingers dug into the push bedding. He would reach out, or Findekáno would reach out, and they would roll over into one another like frenzied rabbits. It was not even the Mingling! And yet his lips parted softly in anticipation.
Findekáno sighed and rolled over again, away from him, straight off the edge of the bed. He yelped loudly as he hit the floor.
All the breath left Maitimo's lungs. He dragged a hand down his face.
“Urgh, my butt.” Findekáno stood, rubbing his behind. For Findekáno's sake, Maitimo had tried not to notice how firm and round it was.
“Better yours than mine.”
“Famous last words for someone getting fucked tomorrow!”
If you weren’t so stupid, thought Maitimo, I could be getting fucked today.
The idea came into his mind unbidden, yet would not leave once it established itself there. After all, why should he not be getting fucked today? Findekáno wanted him. Maitimo wanted Findekáno. It was simple logic.
“Are you sure you do not want my oil, though?” asked Findekáno.
Without a word, Maitimo pushed off the bed and returned to his pack. His copy of the Laws and Customs had taken up a significant amount of space. It had entirely hid the medium sized bottle of unguent Maitimo had mixed up (the recipes in the margins of Appendix B, were, honestly, extremely useful). It was half empty already. But that didn’t matter; Maitimo had a larger bottle in a different pack pocket.
He threw it at Findekáno. Findekáno caught it easily, then nearly dropped it once he realized what it was. “Oh! Well. You - “
“I’ve been practicing,” said Maitimo.
“But you said - “
“Would you like me to show you?”
Findekáno turned to him. His eyes were very wide. His face was more flushed than Maitimo had ever seen it. He let out a strangled, high pitched noise, and fled.
Maitimo's shoulders slumped. Intense eye contact and lowering one’s voice to convey desire did not a successful seduction make, apparently. He'd have to write to the authors of the Laws and Customs and complain.
“Wait,” said Maitimo, to his empty room. “Findekáno, give me back that bottle!”
Findekáno left the bottle on the kitchen counter. Every time their eyes met he blushed hotly and fled.
“He has good instincts,” Maitimo acknowledged. “But I have the Laws and Customs on my side.”
The Laws and Customs did not reply. Actually, he had to entirely disregard the first fifty or so pages. They were about invoking the One and the marriage habits of the three Kindred upon these shores, with footnotes specifying that technically, one did not have to be in physical congress. It just made it very easy; beware of calling upon the One accidentally whilst being carried away when the divisions between hroa and fea are blurred, etc. Now onto Teleri wedding feasts -
The Laws and Customs advised going up to the object of one’s interest and making your desire known. This had already failed Maitimo. The next suggestion was to spend time together and look deeply into their eyes to discern if your interest was reciprocated. This Maitimo had already succeeded at. The next step - converse about it - seemed redundant and circular.
Findekáno was only Vanyarin distantly; even if Maitimo knew any of the love poems famous in Valimar, he doubted the imagery would convey its meaning. The Teleri customs of long walks in the beaches (but not sex on the beaches, on account of sand in miserable places) were void due to this being a forest.
No one recommended fucking in the forests. ‘We invented beds for a reason,’ wrote a contributor to the Laws and Customs, ‘and while it’s good to honor our roots from Cuivinien, it is much less pleasant to have roots digging into thine skin whilst in coitus.’
Frankly, they were too fussy. He had been taken on a forest floor with only his clothes for comfort, and it had been pleasant.
He slammed the book shut.
As his mother would say, when the wisdom of your elders is not enough, make your own.
After the Knight Valiant had finished using Maitimo to completion, he collapsed sideways, heaving. “I am never doing this in full armor again.”
Most of Maitimo's mental functions had been entirely subjugated by the tight warmth around his dick. Now that the warmth had pulled itself off him, he blinked the crusted wetness out of his eyes. “So you don’t make a habit of this?” He tried joking, but his voice still ached from crying out. He was certain he had started actually crying at some point.
Was sex always this intense? How did people do it often without going insane? Or immediately marrying whomever it was they were taking?
Once again, his hands curled into fists.
The Knight Valiant rested a hand upon his helmet but still did not removed it. Maitimo had this elf’s come drying on his stomach, and he had never seen his face. He opened his mouth.
The Knight Valiant heaved himself to his feet before he said anything. “That was fun,” he said, no longer sounding quite so winded. He extended a hand to pull Maitimo up, and the strength of his grip was considerable. Maitimo already knew this; he could feel the bruises.
His legs shook under his own weight. It would have been nice to remain laying upon the grass, stained with cum and dirt and sweat, if only he knew who he was laying with. Again, he considered asking. Again, he hesitated. How cliche! To do the deed and then only afterwards wonder who it was with. What was he, the protagonist of a sordid romantic ballad from the Great Crossing?
He kept his mouth shut.
The Knight Valiant kept looking at him.
A sudden burst of irritation filled Maitimo. “What do you want now?” he asked.
The Knight Valiant sighed and shook his head ruefully. “A kind word too much to expect.”
Maitimo bit the side of his cheek. “It was good,” he said shortly. “You got what you came here for.”
“I didn’t come here for you,” said the Knight. “Or this! No, this was unplanned and un-thought out. Obviously.” He picked up his armor and looked down at himself. “I can’t believe I let you tear my pants off. I’m going to have to ride a horse after this, you know.”
“That’s not my problem,” said Maitimo, pulling up his own pants and lacing them. He patted himself clear of grass and dirt, but there was nothing to do for the stains.
Or the cum.
It was drying sticky upon his stomach, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. He swiped a finger through it and rubbed the viscous substance between his fingers. What in the world did this taste like? What was it made of? Absently, he brought his hand to his mouth and licked.
Bitter. His face scrunched in distaste.
A strangled noise, distorted by metal, escaped the Knight Valiant’s helmet. His gauntlets were hanging loosely in his grasp. He was once again staring at Maitimo.
Maitimo had come inside him. It had dripped down around his cock, afterwards, but did not leak, as such, that Maitimo could see.
What would that feel like?
“How fast can you get it up again?” asked Maitimo, while the Knight Valiant continued staring at him.
“What?”
“I want you to fuck me,” said Maitimo.
The Knight Valiant let out another noise, this one significantly more distressed. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not,” said Maitimo. “Not yet. I want to know - “
But then they both froze. A voice echoed throughout the forest, lilting, teasing, not quite yet concerned. It was Makalaurë, seeking him.
Through the helmet, Maitimo could not meet the Knight Valiant’s eyes. They still managed to share an anxious look.
The Knight Valiant whistled for his horse. To Maitimo he said, “Were you serious?”
“I never do anything I’m not committed to,” said Maitimo, frantically trying to rub cum off of himself. He crouched, grabbed a tattered rag - formerly the Knight Valiant’s leggings - and used that to clean himself.
“Manwe help me,” said the Knight Valiant. His horse trotted up to them. “Do you want to just go and do it?”
Maitimo shot him a disbelieving and contemptuous look. “You have siblings too. Mine are already looking for me. Do you want to explain this to them?”
“I can’t just leave you unfulfilled.”
“Then let’s agree to meet again.”
“Meet where?!” the Knight Valiant exclaimed. Then he said, “Actually, I can probably get a place without annoying siblings.”
“Where?”
“Near the forests of Orome,” said the Knight Valiant. “Though they are all the forests of Orome - you know, the one near Vana’s fields? My family has a cabin there. I can ask them to leave it alone for my use. Not right now though. In a month maybe?”
“A month.”
“Look, we all use it. I can - “ he took out some crumbled sheet music from a pack on his horse. Makalaurë's voice grew louder over the wind. On it he scribbled a map. “Here. If you agree.”
Maitimo had not gotten this far by backing down. He took the paper. “Very well. In exactly one month I will go to you, and you shall do to me as I have done to you.”
“Lay back and do nothing?” The Knight Valiant laughed. His voice was still heavy with disbelief. “Shall I keep the armor on as well?”
“Yes,” said Maitimo through gritted teeth.
“Fine. We have a deal,” said the Knight Valiant. He hoisted himself onto his horse. “I shall see you in a month exactly. If you don’t forget.”
“Do not be late,” said Maitimo.
The Knight Valiant shook his head and laughed. “Good luck with your brothers. I think you’ll need it.”
Without another word, he rode off.
It was only afterwards - after Makalaurë found him, and teased him, and Tyelkormo exclaimed, did you actually fuck him? and little Carnistir asked, what does fuck mean? - that Maitimo stopped to actually think about the situation.
A cabin in the woods. To go and fuck a stranger. Whom he had already fucked. Whose face he still didn’t know.
Anally.
He tried to remember the approximate dimensions of the Knight Valiant’s dick. It had been plump and warm in his grasp. And his own dick had felt. Tight. Inside the Knight Valiant.
Would he be tight inside too? How many fingers would he need for the Knight Valiant’s dick?
“What exactly have I gotten myself into?” he wondered.
But he had already given his word. He would not be backing down. He had a crudely drawn map and a month to prepare.
It was time for research.
Findekáno was not an easy mark. It wouldn't be fun if he had been. Maitimo was no hunter, but there was greater joy in the chase that pushed you to your limits, that made the first taste of blood on your teeth quenching for thirst, than in the prey that gave up before it had started.
Maitimo's grandfather had followed Orome across the lands to islands unknown. Findekáno's had done the same (they were, after all, the same elf), and his Great-Uncle Ingwe too.
Even as Maitimo stalked through the house clad in only a too-small bathrobe, Findekáno already knew the game. The air was electric with anticipation. The storm of Maitimo's desire swept through the cabin like thunder.
"I would use less metaphors, myself," said Findekáno from somewhere behind him.
"I said nothing," said Maedhdos, straighting from his crouch. If he just pretended hard enough, no one could tell he had been spying on Findekáno's empty bedroom. Unlike Maitimo, Findekáno locked his door.
"I can feel you," said Findekáno. His eyes were bright and dark in the stairway, Laurelin’s bloom kissing his skin to rich honey. "You aren't subtle."
"Is it working?"
Findekáno snorted. He turned back down the stairs, taking each one two at a time. Unlike Maitimo, he was actually dressed for the woods. He smelled rather noticeably of horse.
Embarrassed, Maitimo pulled his robe tight around his chest and followed sedately. Findekáno was waiting for him. His arms were crossed, and his normally genial mien was frowning, his jaw clenched tight.
"You need to stop," said Findekáno. "It's not right."
Maitimo groaned. He rubbed his forehead, even though that meant his robe slipped. He clenched it tight with the other hand. "Not this again."
"I'm serious."
"You're unbearable," said Maitimo. "There has surely never been another couple as miserably convoluted as us."
"We're not a couple," said Findekáno impatiently. "Not yet."
"Not for lack of trying. I'm trying. You’re so difficult."
"I’m difficult?” Findekáno grit out, “The only reason you kissed me is because of that stupid bargain we made!”
"Oh, so I'm not capable of approaching someone without being coerced?" Maitimo scoffed. His eyes narrowed. He let his hand fall down, and the robes slipped loose, baring him. Findekáno's eyes stayed on his face. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Maitimo took a step forward, and Findekáno's chin jerked even higher up to keep their gazes locked. “Do you really think you can force me to do anything I don’t want?” He spread his arms wide. He was taller than Findekáno, and broader, and stronger, and his spirit burned as bright as fire. “Look at me. I'm a grandson of Finwe as well!” Maitimo threw his head back. His hair was unbound, and it spilled down his back like molten copper. "It would take a greater strength than yours to force me down."
“I don't need force,” said Findekáno. “You’re too honorable to not hold to your word.”
“Do you honestly think,” said Maitimo, “That I am not capable of simply not coming to the absolute middle of nowhere, bound only by a ridiculous and unsworn oath which only those involved know exists?”
Findekáno's mouth set in a mullish line. “I think you stubborn and prideful enough to do it anyway.”
“You must think me stupid.”
“No, you think me stupid.”
“I think your reluctance is stupid.”
Findekáno glared at him. “I want to be your friend, you asshole. ”
“Then stop worrying!”
Findekáno dragged a hand through his hair. “What kind of friends do you have?”
Not many, for whatever that amounted to. “You. Ones like you.”
“And as your friend I refuse to do things just when you want them done,” said Findekáno hotly. “I do want to fuck you. And I won’t.”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet,” Findekáno agreed, and they glared at one another.
“Well,” said Maitimo frigidly, “If I am not stupid, and you are not stupid, then the only explanation is that we both want to be here.”
“It is!” said Findekáno, still glaring.
Maitimo glared back.
Findekáno deflated first. “You’re the worst. I think I may hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“I can’t believe I ever thought you were nice.”
“What gave you that impression?"
“Must be Feanorian propaganda.”
“Propaganda! I'm sure whatever you've heard is true.”
Findekáno snorted. “Your father only ever sang your praises,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Clearly, his impression of you is clouded by paternal affection. The actual you is as bad as any of us.”
Maitimo did not have an answer.
Findekáno was already moving on. "I will leave tomorrow before your appointment." He looked studiously away from Maitimo, by all appearances fascinated by the ceiling. "For obvious reasons."
"...Right," said Maitimo. "You hardly need to. I'm sure we'll fuck in the grass again."
Findekáno let out a scandalized little choking noise. "But there's beds here!"
"Maybe I enjoy the forest floor," said Maitimo. "Does it not bring to mind our ancestral connection with Cuivinien? The stars, the grass, we'd just need a lake - "
Findekáno finally looked back at him, full of disbelief. "You are the worst."
Maitimo laughed at him.
When Maitimo next woke, Findekáno was true to his word. He was not in the cabin, his room was empty with the sheets messily made. There was food in the kitchen.
The sword was still above the fireplace.
"This is no time to get nervous," Maitimo told himself sternly whilst staring at the blade.
He should prepare himself, but the Knight Valiant had done it right in front of Maitimo. To wait or prepare in advance? How many fingers ought he to use?
Oh, if only Findekáno had not left yet!
But there was nothing to it. He packed the bottle of unguent and readied himself. His cleanest traveling clothes, his hair pulled down from the quick ponytail and braided properly with copper threads that glinted fetchingly. His shirt and pants both easy to unlock and redo. His cloak, in case the ground was not soft.
When he could no longer delay and the mingling approached he left the cabin. For a moment, he thought himself alone in these woods. Findekáno had surely left him, and any humiliation would fall on Maitimo alone.
But no. Murmurs reached his ears; on one of the garden chairs sat the Knight Valiant, lightly petting his horse.
What a strange figure he made in these distant woods. His armor was suited for flashy tournaments, not hunting.
It had been a month to the day, and Maitimo's memory had not failed him. The shine of his armor, the strangeness of him clashing with the familiar.
The Knight Valiant noticed him and sent his horse away. This too was familiar.
His voice, when he spoke, was still distorted by the helmet. “You came,” said the Knight, failing to sound surprised.
“So did you.”
The Knight Valiant laughed shortly. The metal distorted this sound as it did all others; yet it was as familiar as an old friend. “Shall we get to it, then? I recall you weren’t much for romance or foreplay or sweet words before-hand.” He pushed himself up, all clinking and shining metal from head to toe.
“Wait!” said Maitimo. The Knight Valiant froze. “Take off the helmet.”
The Knight’s voice was so startled, yet so distorted, it did not sound like a question when he asked, “What?”
Maitimo swallowed his nerves. “Take off the helmet.”
The Knight Valiant stared at him through the slits in the metal. “What happened to ‘I don’t want to see your face’ and ‘if I ever met you my embarrassment will kill me?’”
“I changed my mind.”
“Really.” His doubt was entirely clear.
Maitimo closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. “Findekáno, you’re going to fuck me. Just take the stupid helmet off.”
The Knight Valiant did not move. “...How did you know?”
“You really aren’t subtle.”
The Knight Valiant took off his helmet. Underneath it, Findekáno's braids had been tightly bound so as to not spill out. His face was sweating slightly. “I’m a bit relieved,” admitted Findekáno, with a rueful smile. “I wasn’t honestly looking forward to doing this again in full armor.”
Maitimo cleared his throat. A blush spread across his cheeks. “Actually, keep the rest of it on.”
Findekáno paused as he was reaching for his pauldrons. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.
“I have thought about this for a month,” began Maitimo.
Findekáno's eyes lit with glee. “Well, if you’ve thought about it.” He dropped the helmet and kicked it away for good measure. Unmasked, he came to Maitimo without hesitation. His head was held high. Even in the heeled, armored riding boots, he did not reach Maitimo's height. The last time, he had spent too long laying on his back being overwhelmed to appreciate this fact.
Now, Findekáno looked up at him an arms-width away. His eyes glimmered with youth and adventure and lust for life, and for Maitimo too. “What else have you thought about?”
“You,” said Maitimo, and found his tongue faltering.
“Go on.”
“I have wondered,” said Maitimo, “if my memory of your girth and length was correct.”
Findekáno's pupils dilated.
“Because,” went on Maitimo with renewed confidence. “I have spent a month waiting for this moment, and wanted to be prepared.”
“The Laws and Customs surely don’t instruct you to think of my dick,” said Findekáno, a laugh in his deepened voice.
“And yet I did anyway,” said Maitimo, as he bridged the gap between them. This time there was no hesitation they met in a kiss. Findekáno's hands clenched tightly in the braid of his hair; he was rising on his toes to match Maitimo height. Maitimo steadied him with an arm around his back, pulling him up and tight against him. Findekáno in armor was all cold metal, warming underneath the heat of Maitimo's desire for him. Maitimo would take it off of him, piece by piece, ripped undercloth by undercloth, until Findekáno, too, lay bare upon the grass under the stars with come drying on his stomach.
Catching the edge of Maitimo's thoughts, Findekáno moaned against his lips. “I ought to rip your clothes off,” he said, in a quick, stolen breath before Maitimo slotted their lips together again. And not constrained by hesitation of any sort, his hands left Maitimo's braid to scratch at his collarbone and pull at his cloak until it fell to Maitimo feet. Then his fingers gripped Maitimo's shirt and tugged it loose.
He pushed Maitimo downwards, who fell with an armored elf on top of him without any breath left in his lungs. He tore away from Findekáno's lips with a gasp. “No, roll over.” He shoved Findekáno sideways until he fell, chestplate-first, onto the grass beside the cloak.
“Urgh,” said Findekáno. He slapped haphazardly at Maitimo before he turned himself over to lay on his back. “You know, a chestplate isn’t the most comfortable thing to fuck in.“
“Bear it,” ordered Maitimo, straddling him. “I will rip it off of you soon enough.”
Findekáno snorted, then gasped as Maitimo sat upon his hardened length. He could feel its heat and intent even through Findekáno's chainmail skirt, and his own pants. He shrugged off his pack and took out the large bottle of unguent, and Findekáno burst out laughing as he recognized it.
Rolling his eyes, Maitimo pushed onto his knees. He unlanced his pants and Findekáno said, “Let me - “ and took the lacings in hand, undoing them swiftly despite his gauntlets, and once he had bared Maitimo's crotch and pulled his pants to his thighs, he ripped the cloth in twain.
Unbalanced, Maitimo braced himself on Findekáno's chest. “What was that for?!”
“I recall the agreement being ‘as you did to me I do to you’,” grinned Findekáno. “Have you ever ridden a horse with your bottom bare after being fucked?”
“I am not going to. This is beyond petty.”
“It’s not pettiness. It’s retribution. Commenpauce! My sincere and heartfelt desire to rip off your clothes.”
“I liked those pants,” said Maitimo resentfully. “They were my best traveling pair.”
“I’ll get you another and rip those off as well,” said Findekáno cheerfully.
“So this is what Tirion does to princes. Wasteful, petty, scheming - you think this is going well enough for a next time?”
Findekáno rested his gauntlets upon Maitimo's bare hips, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumbs. With his shirt hanging open and his ruined pants clinging to his thighs, there was nothing to hide how his dick was dripping onto Findekáno's armor. “Yes,” said Findekáno, and his eyes were dark and pleased.
Maitimo scowled down at him. Findekáno's left hand left his hip to cup his dick. He had never felt cold metal on it before nor the thick fabric of armor-padding gloves. His hips bucked of their own accord.
Findekáno's gaze never left him as his hand worked over Maitimo's dick. Maitimo could see all of himself reflected in the glow of his eyes. His flushed face, and how the blush traveled downwards to the tight peaks of his nipples. His abdomen clenching and unclenching as Findekáno's thumb swiped over the head of his dick. His clothes clinging to him by miracles alone. Maitimo shrugged off his shirt and pushed himself on his knees.
Findekáno's hand returned to his hip. He stayed there, seemingly content to only look. When Maitimo had been the one upon the grass, it was hesitation, not indulgence, that spurred inaction.
“I’ve only opened myself whilst lying down,” said Maitimo.
Findekáno blinked at him. His knees rose behind Maitimo to bracket his back. “Brace yourself on me,” he said. “I want to watch.”
Maitimo swallowed his nerves. He poured more unguent than he needed onto his fingers, and it dripped onto Findekáno's armor like a premonition. With his left hand he braced himself on Findekáno's knees, his back arched under the position, half twisting sideways as he reached underneath himself.
Findekáno's hands on his hips steadied him, helping bear his weight. They also unbalanced him ever so slightly as they encouraged Maitimo to shuffle forward. To give Findekáno a better view.
His rim clenched tight against the first intrusion. Maitimo breathed out, sharply, and pushed past the resistance. The intrusion ached as it always did, pushing muscles open that did not expect it. “Steady,” murmured Findekáno, his eyes down and intent.
Maitimo breathed in and out. He relaxed his muscles, pushing down with his hips and up with his hand, until all his finger was inside himself.
Two more, he had calculated. Two more, for Findekáno was not as long or wide as Maitimo was.
A kean threatened to burst past his lips. He swallowed it, panting, his hand clenched tight around Findekáno's knee. Findekáno's hand swiped through the spilled unguent on his armor and returned to his dick. It had not softened, yet he cradled it firmly, giving it a sharp tug. Maitimo's hips bucked.
“I really can’t believe you,” said Findekáno absently. His fingers were tight around Maitimo's cock, firm around the base, gentler as they caressed him upwards to the tip, then tight down again. “We have two perfectly good beds inside. They’d be much more comfortable than the grass! But no! It’s not exactly tradition anymore to do it outdoors. More like, raunchy adventure.”
“Shut up,” panted Maitimo. He pulled the finger out of himself until only the tip remained. Back again, easier this time, still intrusive. He had done this so often this past month, yet the fullness felt more urgent this time. He curled the finger inside, but could not get a good angle like this, on his knees leaning back for another’s enjoyment.
“I like it,” said Findekáno, as though he had not spoken. He tugged Maitimo's cock again.
Beads of white cum formed on his tip. They were not enough to smooth the dry, tight grip Findekáno had on him. Even if they were, Findekáno did not use them, but let them drip onto his chest plate and past his gauntlet.
“I’m going to pull a muscle at this rate,” said Maitimo, staring into the trees and trembling. Had it not been for the armor Findekáno was wearing, Maitimo's grip on his knees would have surely bruised. “How much of my weight can you take?”
In response, Findekáno's hand left his dick. His grip shifted lower, down the small of his back to cup his butt. The metal edges of his gauntlets dug into the sensitive flesh, his fingers cupping all the way round each and spreading him wider. His grip almost, but did not quite, reach where Maitimo was preparing himself.
Maitimo pushed down against him. Findekáno had planted his elbows on the ground; the grip held. “So you are good for something,” he said, releasing Findekáno's knee and shuffling forward. He rested his upper back on Findekáno's bent knees and got back to task. Two fingers, to make it quicker. The stretch burned and filled him, and still he had not yet created a place for Findekáno inside of himself.
“I’m pretty sure I’m more involved than you were,” said Findekáno, too distracted by the improved view to sound truly exasperated. He licked his lips as Maitimo's preparations made his dick bob near his mouth, but even lifting his head did not put him in reach of it. His head thunked back down against the forest floor. To the sky he said, “Next time I’m making you sit on my face.”
“You are scandalously blunt,” laughed Maitimo. “There are so many euphemisms you could use, but it’s always sit on my face, Maitimo. Let me rip your pants off, Maitimo. Fuck me, Maitimo.”
“Let me fuck you, Maitimo,” quipped Findekáno. His hands groped appreciatively at his butt. “I’m so hard for you, Maitimo. I could burst untouched for you, Maitimo.”
“Really?” Maitimo gasped out. He had shoved a third finger inside himself too early and the ache spread from his loin to every other nerve in his body. He had to pause and breathe through it, and bite his cheek to contain a whine.
“No.” Findekáno groped him again. “Maybe.”
“Don’t,” said Maitimo. “I held out for you.”
Findekáno rolled his eyes. “Hurry up, then.” His eyes fixed on where Maitimo was three fingers deep inside himself. “Or don’t. It’s not fun if it hurts.”
“I don’t mind a bit of pain.”
“I do,” said Findekáno. “Me being soft again would be counterproductive, yeah?”
Maitimo shook his head at him. He pressed back and down, the metal knee pads warming against his shoulders. His fingers spread inside, wide. He pulled his arm back until only the tips of his fingers kept his rim open. “Do I look prepared enough for your tastes?”
Findekáno swallowed. “I could taste - “
Pulling his fingers free of himself, Maitimo laughed at Findekáno again. He pawed behind himself at Findekáno's skirt, hefting the chainmail and cloth over his stomach. His leggings were wet and straining to contain the bulge distorting them.
Gentler than Findekáno had been with his pants, Maitimo tugged Findekáno's dick free of its confines. Maitimo's memory had been true; the shape and girth of him was familiar in his hand. He and Findekáno were in sync, no words needed as Maitimo pressed against Findekáno's hands and Findekáno adjusted him to hover over his dick.
Maitimo splayed his hands over Findekáno's chest. He had not practiced this. Findekáno's length was warmer, wetter, than his fingers had been. His head pushed at Maitimo rim once, twice, until Findekáno's hips thrust upwards at the same time Maitimo pushed himself down, and then it was all inside him in a single, smooth, endless push.
The air fled from his lungs. He sat heavily, hips flush with hips, unclenching his muscles until his lungs remembered how to breathe.
“Steady, steady,” murmured Findekáno. His eyes were shut tight and his eyebrows clenched together. His face was wet with sweat. He was warm and hard inside Maitimo, and it was no surprise at all that he was close to coming. He clenched around Findekáno, who choked off his self-reassurances into a moan, and then did it again, and Findekáno's eyes snapped open as his hips snapped up.
Suddenly, Maitimo was moving, lifting his hips slowly and dropping down faster. His first attempt was hesitant; by the next, Findekáno got the idea, and then the sound of their flesh meeting and their labored breaths filled the air.
When Findekáno was taking him, Maitimo had been but a spark caught in the windstorm of Findekáno's desire. Taking Findekáno, he was the bonfire, and Findekáno the wind that fed his flames. Every time he pushed down, Findekáno met him halfway. His hands migrated up Maitimo's hips, past his torso, tracing the muscles of his arms. Maitimo caught his hands and pinned them beside his head, and when his nails dug into the earth they crushed wildflowers and grasses beneath them.
Without noticing Maitimo's body had collapsed half on Findekáno. Findekáno turned his head to the side and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to Maitimo's cheek. His chestplate was still cold; it rubbed Maitimo's suddenly sensitive nipples to stiff peaks. Maitimo shut his eyes, the grass below and the sky above disappearing until only Findekáno beneath him remained. He spread his spirit wide around him, clutching Findekáno tight with the force of his desire, and with a choked-off cry Findekáno spilled inside of him.
Maitimo stopped moving. He pushed all the way down, until their hips were flush, and breathed harshly over Findekáno's neck. The slide was made easier by the new, excess wetness. Maitimo clenched tight. Even softened, Findekáno was immovable inside of him.
“Oh, God, give me a moment’s breath,” wheezed Findekáno. His mouth was still by Maitimo's ear, which flicked at the puff of air on its sensitive membrane. All of Maitimo's body felt sensitive. It only took a brief lowering of his body for his cock to press against Findekáno's skirt, but chainmail and metal did not a pleasing surface make. He shuddered, and Findekáno shuddered with him. “Maitimo,” Findekáno whined, slipping his hands from Maitimo's hold to grip his hips and still him.
Spitefully, Maitimo clenched again. He opened his crusted eyes - had he cried again? He had not even released yet - to bite at Findekáno's chin.
“You’re so impatient,” said Findekáno, pulling him up and off his cock and encouraging him to shuffle forwards. With his knees spread across Findekáno's body, and his rim struggling to close, nothing prevented Findekáno's come from dripping out from him.
“Oh,” said Maitimo. He shoved a finger inside himself, and it just dripped out anyway. “This is a disconcerting feeling and I’m not sure I approve of it.”
Findekáno laughed. He pulled Maitimo forward until Maitimo's crotch was by his face. “Let me - ” said Findekáno, and then buried his face in Maitimo's butt before he finished the sentence.
He licked around the finger Maitimo had inside himself, and then tugged at his arm to remove it. Maitimo cupped his dick. Findekáno pulled away from his rim long enough to say, “No, leave that for me too.”
Maitimo curled down around Findekáno's head. He planted his hands on the earth, ripping grass staining his nails black as his fists clenched. Findekáno kissed where he had spread open, licking inside him, cleaning out the mess he had made. “Do you actually like the taste of that?” Maitimo gasped out.
Taste doesn’t matter, said Findekáno through Osanwe, biting lightly at his rim. It’s hot. It’s hot and you like it, and I like it.
“Taste matters to me.”
Noted, said Findekáno, and spread his cheeks wider. His chin must be dripping with cum and unguent.
Maitimo collapsed onto his forearms. His cock was dripping steadily, red as he had never seen it. His head was nearly purple with need. “Fuck me again,” he gasped out. “I will surely die if you don’t.”
Dramatic, said Findekáno, pulling away with a noticeable slurping noise. His chin was indeed a mess when Maitimo looked down. Findekáno adjusted his grip, bringing Maitimo's cock to his mouth, mouthing at the head, and frowning. The angle was all wrong. Maitimo had just enough time to catch the frustration in Findekáno's thoughts when he rolled them both over.
Maitimo landed on his cloak. He had forgotten it was there. Dazed, he watched Findekáno settle over him, rolling his shoulders - the armor was weighing upon him, clinging strangely; he rarely wore it for so long, and he had worn it as soon as he woke, long before Maitimo rose, just in case. “You’re so stupid,” said Maitimo fondly. “It was obvious I knew.”
Findekáno cleared his throat. His voice was raw as he said, “No mocking the person with your dick in their mouth.”
“If my dick was in your mouth, I don’t think you’d be talking.”
“I’m multi-talented,” said Findekáno. He hefted Maitimo's legs over his shoulders.
The minute he caught Maitimo's cock with his mouth, Maitimo had to admit his point. He was multi-talented, and it felt like mere seconds after Findekáno sucked at his head that he was spilling inside his mouth with a choked cry.
Findekáno hummed, pleased with himself. He swallowed Maitimo's come and took more of Maitimo's softening cock into his mouth, until he got halfway down and pulled away, coughing. He wiped a white stain from his lips and said, “That will take some practice.”
Maitimo grunted at him. His legs slipped down to the earth, nerveless, and his chest heaved as he stared skywards. Laurelin’s rising glow blocked out the stars, but he could still see a few bright dots of light in the sky.
Findekáno curled over him, face to face, and his own eyes were as bright as star-light. “Satisfied?” He grinned with the self-assurance of someone who knew the answer.
“I remember you being more humble last time,” said Maitimo.
“Humble!” Findekáno laughed. “Now that’s something I’ve never been accused of.”
“Nor restrained, or forward thinker.” Maitimo curled a hand in Findekáno's hair, and it did not matter his nails were stained with dirt. Findekáno's braids were covered in stray grasses and flowers. He plucked one out. Its petals were mostly intact. He pressed it to Findekáno's nose. “Here’s your romance.”
Findekáno wrinkled his nose, sneezed a little, and ate the flower. His canines dragged down Maitimo's fingers.
“I don’t recall those last two things being part of our bargain,” said Maitimo, pressing his hands to Findekáno's face and tracing his cheek.
“If we were really doing this one-to-one, this would be the part where you flee bare on horseback from my siblings.” Maitimo looked flatly at him. Findekáno grinned. He turned his face to kiss the veins on Maitimo's inner arm. “I’m nice, though, so I won’t make you.”
“You better not,” said Maitimo, reaching for the buckles of Findekáno's armor. “The other half of my thoughts involve taking this off of you. You don’t want to leave me unsatisfied, do you?”
“Never,” said Findekáno, and though they swore no vows and called upon no higher power, Maitimo took it for the oath it was.