Title & Chapter Number: Paramour 2/?
Author(s): & - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own any of the characters except Tinuvel. The rest are property of JRR Tolkien and others. This is just for fun, no profit is made... blah blah blah...
Warnings: Devirginizing hot sex between two males.
Betas: EmberVixen and Leanan
Cast: Saelbeth/Tinuvel
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Young Saelbeth was found as a parentless Elfling and has been raised in Imladris all of his life feeling he belonged with no one until he meets Tinuvel, a healer's apprentice taken to Imladris by Erestor as a favor for an old friend. The two Elflings become fast friends, until one day, Tinuvel's feelings for Saelbeth begin to change. When did his friend suddenly become so attractive. . .and so arousing?
Notes: Tinuvel is entirely Leanan's creation. Enjoy him. He's a hottie. Hehehehe..... And as for Saelbeth, he is a non-canon character, so I made him like I see him. And I see him this way. He rocks.
Tinuvel rolled another length of binding and set it upon the table. It was a tedious job, but it kept his mind from its lurid wanderings, and he indeed would be glad of the extra rolls should an injury present itself.
Since he was nearing the end of his apprenticeship, Elrond had taken to leaving him on his own in the healing room, trusting that if he was needed word would be sent and he could be there at a moments notice. Tossing another rolled binding on the table, the young healer found himself quite comfortable with the solitude. While Elrond was a wonderful teacher, and a superb healer, he did tend to use his gifts to get Tinuvel to speak of things he would not necessarily volunteer. Like the time he and Ella had put a snake in Arwen's tapestry basket and she had carried it all the way to the solarium, hissing and wiggling in its tiny prison only to burst forth like a spring when she set it s down. Never had anyone heard such a commotion as what issued from the lady's chamber that day and when Arwen was seen trundling down the corridor towards her fathers office with the wriggling menace in her fingers, the two had made themselves quite scarce.
Elrond had begin a lesson on snake bite antidotes and when the time was right tossed the offending wriggler onto the table, his eyebrows raised in the way that only the Lord of Imladris could manage. Of course a lecture of a different sort ensued about the proper conduct of a gentleman and when Tinu had finally succumbed to the reprimand with a soft... "I am sorry"..... Elrond had just smirked and said, "try a spider next time.... they are harder to catch and the screams last longer!"
Tinuvel smiled to himself...for all of his pomp and decorum, Lord Elrond was indeed a very special Elf.
A light rapping on the door drew Tinuvel away from his reminiscing and he tossed the binding onto the table and stood brushing the fluff from the bleached fabric off his breeches.
"Come in.....," he called, turning his attention towards the doorway.
In limped the last person that Tinuvel wanted to be left alone with.... Saelbeth. The Elf gripped the doorsill in pain and despite his personal feelings on the matter, he hurried to the threshold and put his arm around the injured Elf's waist, spiriting him to the couch.
"What in all Arda has happened to you?" he inquired, trying to be as professionally distant as he could.
"Well, I was only trying to hit the target," Saelbeth replied with a grimace of discomfort, striving to suppress the urge to whimper like an injured Elfing.
He then added with a sheepish grin, "while walking a birch limb that may have been a bit too young for me to tread upon."
The breath hissed from between his clenched teeth as Tinuvel gently removed the boot from his left foot, for he was unable to properly point his toe to aid in the process. An angry swell of red marred his pale skin along the curve of his ankle and he flinched as Tinuvel's finger barely grazed the tender flesh.
Mordor fires, that hurt! Determined not to show just how badly the injury actually throbbed, Saelbeth ground his teeth once more, fusing his jaw shut with what he hoped was a calm expression. Every stroke of Tinuvel's hand sent searing pain through his foot, but he held as still as possible, enduring the examination as best he could.
Tinuvel slid his hand along the side of Saelbeth's boot hoping beyond hope that it was just a minor twist and that this would be as far as he had to go. A heated lump on the inside of the ankle was all he need to feel to know that the boot had to come off lest it swell so much that it needed to be cut off.
Supporting the Elf's leg with his arm, Tinuvel slipped the boot off with as little tugging as he could manage, but feeling Saelbeth tense under his efforts he knew that the injury was quite tender and would probably need further attention. He could do this....He had to do this.
As the boot came off in his hand, the healer ran his fingers over the swelling, manipulating it slightly in his palm, rotating the ankle and stopping when Saelbeth winced. Looking up at his friend, he could see that the Elf was in pain, and pushing down any thought he may have that would impede his actions, Tinuvel set forth to heal the injury.
" `Tis badly sprained," Tinuvel announced, rolling up the archers breeches, exposing more of the muscular leg then perhaps he needed to.
Grabbing Saelbeth's foot be braced it against his chest and leaned forward putting enough pressure on the ankle to make the young Elf sweat just a bit. He did not want to hurt him, but he could not have him move. Swallowing hard, and suppressing a shiver, the healer wrapped his hands around the swollen flesh and sent healing energy into the tendons. Within minutes the warm flesh was mended and Tinuvel released Saelbeth's ankle to the ground, but not before caressing the still bruised flesh a bit longer.
Embarrassed by his lack of self control, Tinuvel simply handed Saelbeth the boot, and stood.
"That should be all that is needed," he replied rather flatly." If you have pain come back and see me." The healer knew that he was being rather curt with his dismissal of the archer, but he was quite afraid of what might come out of his mouth should he allow him to linger.
~*~*~*~
Sitting still was not a favorite activity of the young archer. In fact, he positively loathed it. How utterly embarrassing, laying there with his foot propped up on a pillow like some pampered pouffer partaking in a pedicure. Too bad he couldn't feel his toes, much less wriggle them, for they were bound so tightly by Erestor's worried hands. No matter how he had balked, Erestor had insisted on wrapping his ankle and sending him off to bed like some stricken Elfling. Never mind the fact that Saelbeth could limp about fairly well and with very little pain. His foster father would have none of it.
Saelbeth groaned and stared longingly towards the balcony where the sun still shone brightly, the breeze carrying the voices of young Elves practicing their archery skills, whooping like children when a target was soundly struck. And here he was, stuck with a fine view of his bandaged foot and the water pitcher. Could life have been any more thrilling?
A timid knock roused him momentarily from his profoundly pouting state and he grumbled a forlorn, "come in," as he flopped back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh of frustration.
Tinuvel's heart skipped as Saelbeth's voice called back through the door. He had almost hoped that the archer would not be there so he would have no excuse to come in and check on him. Well, at least that what he had conned himself into believing, he was only there to make sure that his friend was in no pain and then he would leave, just like that. Tinuvel sighed......just like that.
Pushing the door open, the healer was struck by the fact that Saelbeth was laid out on his bed, his healed ankle bound tighter than a rind on green cheese. And tunicless at that. Closing the door behind him, the healer sort of hovered near the door, not really entering the room, but not quite far enough form the door to say he wasn't just leaving.
"I ....um.... I just came to see how your ankle was getting on.. I mean you were getting on...It was really quite a bad sprain and well I don't think I was at all very pleasant to you......I am sorry......" Tinuvel continued to natter on, his fingers fidgeting with the healing pouch that hung from his belt.
"Ummm.... Saelbeth.....why is your ankle all trussed up? Do you have pain?" The healer had taken a few steps forward, but was still treating the young elf as if he had some sort of communicable disease.
"Erestor," Saelbeth groaned, rolling his eyes. Waving his hand about, he mocked in his best authoritative voice, "Saelbeth, you cannot simply go around flinging arrows from all manner of odd angles and expect to maintain your balance!" He cast his foot a disapproving scowl while tossing an imaginary braid over his shoulder. "Look at your ankle, young one! To bed this instant! No, wait. . .let me bind it so tightly that you get absolutely NO blood flow to your toes, then perhaps they shall fall off and you shall trouble me no more with your antics, oh Footless One!"
He gazed helplessly at Tinuvel. "Would you kindly get this thing off of me, mellon-nin? I can barely feel my toenails! Do I even have toenails? I am not sure anymore!"
Tinuvel chuckled to himself. He should have known. Erestor meant well, and really he would be lost without his support and friendship, but he could be a tad over protective. The healer recalled an incident with a sliver in Elrond's hand, that had him quite in a flurry of concern. He had the poor Elf disinfect the wound about a dozen time before he finally conceded that perhaps it was healing properly.
"Of course I will, Saelbeth," Tinuvel agreed, crossing to the far side of the bed, the Elf's joking behavior easing his awkwardness a bit.
He sat on the edge of the bed his fingers gently following the edges of the bindings until they found the knots that secures the wrappings. Deftly, Tinuvel worked at the bandages, focusing all of his attention on the tangles bindings and trying desperately to ignore that fact that he was sitting on Saelbeth's bed while he was inches away and barely clothed.
The healer groaned in frustration at his own in ability to stay focused even upon a task as simple as this. With a tug that was perhaps a bit too hard, the binding snapped beneath his fingers and his fist moved forward and knocked Saelbeth square in the injured ankle. The young elf's body tensed and he let out a yelp of pain, causing Tinuvel to jump back from him in shock. How could he have been so clumsy? By the Valar, what the heck was wrong with him lately? He didn't seem have control over any aspect of his traitorous body any more.
As Saelbeth's pain echoed thought the room Tinuvel did his best to soothe him.
" Oohhhh, Saelbeth! I am so sorry!" he stammered, touching the Elf's leg and then pulling back when he seemed to reel in pain.
"Sael......Ohhh, by the Valar, I am sorry ....!" Tinuvel's hands hand made their way to the Elf's arms and then his shoulders.
"I'm sorry....." he repeated, his voice becoming softer as he panted out his apology. " I'm sorry...."
His hand stroked the smooth curve of the archers cheek. In a voice that was almost inaudible Tinuvel repeated his plea one last time.
"Saelbeth....I'm...I'm..." The healer's words were lost as his mouth closed over the prone elf's his lips pressed hard in a desperate and very inexperienced kiss.
Pulling back as quickly as he had descended, the healers eyes widened at his own brazen actions, his breath shallow and panting. Squeezing his eyes shut, for he could not bear to look at the young Elf, Tinuvel began to speak yet another apology when he faltered, his breath leaving him in a shuddered gasp.
Saelbeth cocked his head to one side, running a finger over his bottom lip where Tinu's mouth had pressed so wantonly. . . and clumsily. What in all of Arda had just transpired here? Surely Tinuvel had not meant to. . .
One look at his awkwardly fidgeting friend told him otherwise. Yes, he had meant to. And badly. How could Saelbeth have possibly missed such a desire? Usually, such things were of second nature to him. . . and he was quick to pick up on them.
But not with Tinuvel. . .
The healer was beyond mortified. It was bad enough that his body had these urges that he could not seemingly control, but that he had acted upon then in such a shameless way, taking advantage of Saelbeth's pain and infirmity. It was far too bold. He should just get up and walk away, and then hurl himself off the nearest cliff. How could he have done this...?
Saelbeth watched as his friend agonized over what had just transpired. The young healer was clearly embarrassed by his brazenly blundering efforts, sweet though the intention had been. Or had it? A fine sheen of perspiration glistened upon the pale forehead, the dark eyes hauntingly frightened with the newness of this strange desire.
The archer found it hard to believe that his friend had never. . . well.. . certainly he must have. . . hadn't he? After all, Tinuvel was far from unattractive. In fact, he was growing into a stunning specimen of an Elf with his lushly dark hair and compassionately somber eyes. . .not to mention a rather well-toned frame to complete the picture.
With a gentle hand, Saelbeth reached for his friend, threading his fingers lightly through the thick curtain of hair that hid his expression, pushing it aside. His arms slid around the slumped shoulders and he drew the younger Elf against his bare chest, holding him there for a moment, stroking the dark mane reassuringly.
The healer continued to berate himself and in fact was about to rise when Saelbeth's hand came up to tangle gently in his hair. Tinuvel stopped breathing, sure that the young Elf would push him away, bracing himself for the embarrassment. But it never came. Instead he found his body being pulled against the object of his desire and held tightly in the most reassuring of actions. Daring to take a breath, he exhaled, his body relaxing against Saelbeth's chest, the Elf's intoxicating scent of fresh dewed grasses surrounding his senses, drawing him closer.
The nearness of his body seemed to calm the healer somewhat. . . but Saelbeth found it to have a profoundly unexpected affect on his own person. He slipped a hand beneath Tinuvel's chin and tipped the shy gaze to his own.
Languidly, lost in the moment, Tinuvel found himself gazing into his friends eyes of palest blue, ones he had been avoiding before, but now surrendered to.
"Merilin," Saelbeth breathed rather huskily, the raspiness of his own voice surprising him. "Aniron. . ."
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