There was so much grace in Legolas' offer, so much liveliness, that Estel did not even feel as a man operating out of obligation or in spite of himself anymore. It was the Elf's usual influence on him and he had to admit, in his own mind and to no other, that it was part of what he rather unexpectedly liked about being them being together.

“You do not have to hold my feet for me,” he said.

“Because the force of your muscles would throw me half way across this room?” Legolas jokingly asked, his eyes expressing more mirth than one might think appropriate.

Estel chuckled and answered, “And would that not be a shame? I would hate for your tunic to get dirt on it.”

Legolas laughed and placed his hands on the knees of the man's already folded legs and leaned his chin on them.

He raised his head again abruptly and closed in on Estel, his left hand sent forward to the ground, his body to the left of his friend's legs and his right hand holding onto his surprised companion's left thigh. “I shall be careful then,” he said before retreating from this sudden, intimate closeness just as swiftly as he initiated it.

Estel exhaled, nervous for a short second, but he spoke truthfully as he was sure that, were this a test, he could not withstand to undergo it twice.

“I wish you would not do that again. It has an effect on me.”

As far as Estel was aware, since this was not unheard of in the Elven world, there was reason to be fairly certain of the Elf's understanding and subsequent withdrawal. He shouldn't have been.

Instead, Legolas leaned forward again and whispered in startled Estel's ear. “And what if I wanted precisely that?”

There was little talking, Estel had discovered, in Legolas' ways of seduction. The Elven Prince followed his non-regal tease with a practical invitation to his bedchamber, drawn out in helping his guest-to-be to his feet and suggestively leading the way rather than in words.

Estel was eager to accept, for he got over his initial surprise quickly in favor of a faster heartbeat and he found himself following in the Prince's footsteps as fast as he could, yet unable to catch up entirely with the Elf.

He was excited, aroused and, at the same time, fearful. So much so that he could not retain any of the details of this rushed walk, except for the corners, when the figure of grace before him would vanish from his sight for a few seconds each time.

One such corner lay right before their destination and Estel quickened his steps through an open door, hearing it close behind him. The drapes were shut and the darkness of the room was decorated by a single candle's light.

There was not much time to speculate on whether the Elf has prepared his room in advance, for Legolas stepped up to his side and softly whispered, “our own private night,” before turning the man's face towards his and passionately kissing him.

To be continued...