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Galadriel Noldor was no quitter.
An overthinker? Obviously. Slightly intense when it came to the crunch? Always. But she didn't ever quit. Not really. Any sign or demonstration of cowardice had been yanked out of her during childhood and buried underneath a bravo she often thought of as impenetrable. Galadriel was a fighter. Dogged, determined and very often right.
But at this present moment in time, she was feeling a little unsure of the decision she'd made under what she could only think back on as extreme duress.
Or maybe, that was just how she remembered it.
If truth be told, Luthien’s hen party invitation had caught her a little on the back foot. A lack of details being her main cause of ignorance. Their twenty member strong WhatsApp group had been full of ideas and suggestions, with everything from pottery making to a long weekend away at the beach offered up before the final decision had been made at some point in the last week. Unfortunately she'd been busy at work when the votes had been cast and a winner decided. It had been finalised after a landslide majority. The budget was pretty manageable, the evening decided on - thankfully one where she wasn't tied up, not that she had any excuses not to attend. Everything had seemed fine.
But at this exact moment in time, she found herself regretting her astoundingly empty social calendar more than ever.
By the time she'd realised exactly what she'd signed herself up for, she didn't have it in her to say no. Especially when the entire group seemed so keen to follow through on Aredhel’s idea.
“Come on Gal, loosen up. Nim just ordered shots. Have a couple and breathe for a second…” Her cousin's words already sounded tinged with a not so subtle lack of care, Aredhel's legs crossing lazily one across the other as she slipped back into the saggy yet comfortable looking seating that surrounded a low central table already covered in empty glasses. Her own glass of pinot grigio was still barely touched, still covered in condensation from the chilled bottle placed in a bucket of ice. She’d had the urge to buy the whole damn thing despite the extortionate price.
Low music thrummed around the group, dimmed red lights illuminating everything in a glow of restrained debauchery as Galadriel's lips pursed together tightly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
If she'd actually bothered to read back in detail when the destination and dates had been announced, instead of just agreeing quickly thanks to being distracted by a heavy load of building regulation paperwork, she might have realised that their intended destination for the celebration was a strip club.
As it was, she hadn't even noted the dress code that had followed the excited stream of love heart emojis and thirsty gifs. Everyone, including her own aunt, was dressed in varying shades of pastel pink. Long draped gowns, some a hell of a lot shorter than others, a staggering display of low cut necklines. The bright cerise sash she'd been given didn't exactly go with her green velvet suit, but she was desperately trying to make the best of a shitty situation. Despite the lack of glitter and shimmering sequins.
But she liked the suit. She felt confident in it in a way she couldn't quite explain. And right now, completely out of her depth, that was all that mattered.
“I'm fine, Hel. Don't worry about me, focus on the bride to be. She's the one that's probably going to need hauling out of here later.”
Galadriel fought back her sigh with a bright smile plastered on heavily for effect. The wine wasn’t the worst she’d had in the last few months, but it certainly burned in a familiar way when Galadriel raised it to her lips and took a deep gulp.
The Southlands Club had never really been on her radar. It wasn't exactly seedy in the traditional sense, but she was aware of it. Mainly due to a couple of minor fire safety infringements and an alcohol licence thing that had crossed her desk at city planning in the last couple of years. But she knew it had a reputation. Big blow out parties for important birthdays, somewhere a few of her colleagues had mentioned when it came to cutting loose on a Friday night with nowhere else to go. Infamous ladies nights she'd only heard about in giggling whispers around the water cooler on a slow day. Tanned, toned muscles and pictures she was sure shouldn’t have been posted on social media channels.
It wasn't that she was a recluse. She had a social life, almost. Only now she was spending a lot of time alone rather than in the company of her family and ex friends she'd somehow lost in the divorce the previous summer. She didn't know how he'd done it exactly, but Celeborn had apparently charmed most of her relations into thinking that their separation had been nothing but amiable when, in fact, she'd been suffocated for years. Back when they were married, a night out with the girls like this one would never have been in the cards. It wouldn't have even been an option. The weekend was their time, whether she liked it or not. Camping trips, wine tasting. Visiting his family, eating at expensive restaurants with tasting menus that barely filled her up. She couldn’t count the times she’s had to door dash from a local takeaway once he’d gone up to bed at a perfectly proper ten pm, under the guise of catching up on her latest read.
From the outside looking in, she supposed it had all seemed perfect. And it would have been, if it weren't for the hairline fractures that had become wide gaping chasms between them over the years. Emotionally she was a wreck, but outwardly no one could tell. Galadriel was used to papering over the cracks with a finesse she was sure they would envy if they knew just how much her world had dissolved over the last couple of years.
They'd married too young, she thought. She'd been barely twenty two and fresh out of university. He was only two years into his training as a surgeon. But time had run away with them as it had a tendency to do. But things hadn't exactly gone to plan, and all that had been left was an empty spare bedroom. One that had become filled with tension when her second round of IVF didn’t take.
But none of it mattered now. Not even the delicate line of lighter skin that still ran around the finger. The one that had formally held her wedding band.
“You're not on a curfew tonight, you know.” Aredhel's bright teasing tone peaked a little louder than usual as she leaned across Galadriel's line of sight, distracting her from her thoughts just enough for her to remember where she was and what was going on.
“Relax, finish your drink. This is meant to be fun and these guys are super fucking hot!”
Galadriel's eyebrows quirked upward as she rolled her lips together, forcing out a smile that she was sure would seem genuine to anyone else - but Hel knew her too well to take her words at face value.
“I know. I'm trying. Maybe I shouldn't have come straight from work…”
Maybe I shouldn't have come at all…
The truth wandered in as she leaned in to pick up her wine glass again. She should have taken the afternoon off, she'd accrued enough lieu time for it and a dozen more if she ever cared to use it. At least that way she could have taken a nap and a few hours to get ready instead of wandering in to be confronted with what felt more like a fucking fever dream than a smutty little hen party with the promise of oiled, naked flesh.
And that was the other thing, wasn't it?
The whole idea of it made Galadriel feel a little nauseous. Not that she judged anyone for how they made their money, knowing just how lucrative the business housed within the club’s walls could be. It was more about how it made her feel. Being on the receiving end of that kind of attention made her feel more ashamed than alive. Even now, the dim red lighting and pounding music from the dj set her nerves right on edge. She wanted to relax, wanted to lean into the fun and the feeling of adventure that everyone else seemed to be enjoying. Every table around them was filling up, groups of women of all ages taking advantage of the Friday night ladies only rule and the drinks discounts - or at least she could quiet her mind and kid herself by thinking that was the only attraction.
Wine. Wine would definitely help.
“Laaadiiiiessss!” The DJ heaved the word into his microphone, a taunting tease as the music dropped in volume just enough so that the pitchy, giddy screams from their neighbours and her own table filled the vacuum. Galadriel couldn’t help but notice their own set up was annoyingly close to the front of the stage, bright lights around the edge, the black and red silk curtains draped across the front pulling back to reveal a set up already ready and set from whoever was coming up.
A table, more like a desk really. Two padded chairs either side. It didn’t take much to realise that the chairs would either be for two performers or this would involve crowd participation. One seemed more likely than the other and the thought made her stomach plummet with an almighty rush of anxiety, her wine glass held tightly between her fingers as the crowd around her pounced on the tray of brightly coloured jelly shots that had been delivered to the table just in time.
“We’re getting ready for our first performer right now and I need to hear you all get loud!”
Galadriel placed her glass down quickly before scurrying back further into the plush padded seating at her back, fingers tugging at her sash and as irritable as ever. She needed to calm down, take a deep breath - she needed to try and enjoy this, or at least try and make everyone think she was enjoying it. It shouldn’t be too hard, a few smiles and maybe half the bottle of white would be enough for her to relax enough. Annoyingly her phone was tucked into the inside of her bag back in the cloak room, otherwise she could have happily scrolled through her latest book whilst everyone else was too far gone to care. It probably made her the worst maid of honor ever, but Lu hadn’t picked her for her aptitude for getting wasted and grinding on half naked dancers. Aredhel was good at bringing the fun, Galadriel brought an air of calm with her that the younger woman thought would be needed through endless dress fittings and seating plans. Plus there was the unspoken truth that she’d done this before. None of it was new.
“Are you good, honey?” Hel glanced over to where Galadriel sat, her sparkling dark eyes only seeming more probing thanks to the lights overhead rotating around and flickering across her sharp features.
“Yeah, just trying to settle in. I might need some fresh air actually, do you think this place has a smoking area or something where I could…?”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence before she felt a pair of arms loop around her shoulders, leaning down to press a minty kiss to the side of her cheek as Luthien's laughter rumbled against her skin.
“I’m so glad you came, Gal. We’re going to have so much fun! This is my last official night of freedom and I want us all to have fuuuuuun…”
Galadriel had the same feeling she had when a storm was rolling in, a strange kind of inevitability that made the small hairs on her arms pick up underneath the soft sleeves of her velvet jacket. But before she could reply, the music lowered again, pulsing into something darker and a little more dangerous.
“Ladies, I’m gonna need y’all to get louder! I know we have some brides to be in the house. Where y’all at? Come on!”
Luthien was around her one minute and screaming the next, Galadriel’s head tilting as she watched her friend throw her arms up in the air toward the flashing club lighting, the other girls in their group surrounding her and yelling as a couple of other tables around them erupted too.
“Well now I can see and hear everyone, I’m gonna need all the brides in the building and their maids of honour to make their way up here to the stage. Come on ladies, don’t be shy, we're gonna get this show on the road!”
The music was pounding again and Galadriel could feel herself moving even if she wasn’t the one controlling her body, Aredhel grabbing one of her arms and another one of Lu’s friends taking the other as somehow she was suddenly standing and being pushed around to where the overjoyed and half way drunk bride herself was standing with her arms wide open, before pulling her into a tight hug.
The room spun, rotating from left to right as she steadied herself on her semi-professional kitten heels, Luthien’s fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist as she followed her beyond the sunken sofa area around to where the DJ’s booth perched at the side of the main stage.
Breathe in a square, inhale count to five, hold it for five, exhale…
It hardly seemed the time for the coping techniques she’d learnt in therapy, but in the moment Galadriel didn’t care. The screams of their group were still ringing in her ears as she felt her palms start to clam up almost immediately, moisture forming over her top lip. Everything felt too hot and too much as she sensed what seemed like thousands of pairs of eyes on her as they made their way up to the stage to stand alongside four other women who all seemed just as happy as Luthien to be there.
She hadn’t done her research and that was her own fault, she had no idea what the guys here were like or what to expect beyond the gossip she’d overheard and a few remarks in the group chat she hadn’t bothered to evaluate thanks to an overflowing inbox at work. Usually the only way she could deal with situations like this was to over-prepare, but now she was standing like a spare part she felt woefully inadequate.
And if that wasn’t enough, the question the DJ, who was also apparently playing compare for the night asked, made her almost sway on the spot.
“Now if you don’t mind me getting too personal ladies, I have a few questions to see who our lucky winner is gonna be tonight…so we all wanna know, when was the last time ya’ll got down and dirty with your insignificant other?” The DJ’s laughter echoed around her brain, a sudden emptiness leaving her exposed as excited screams rang out around her.
It had been a year hadn’t it? No. More than a year. Over a year since they separated, just a few weeks off when their lawyers had had them sign the paperwork.
“Fuck…” Galadriel hissed out between her teeth as Luthien leant over to thread her arm through her own as one of the other women yelled out “This morning!” and the crowd went crazy at the edge of the stage. This wasn’t going to go well and as each participant replied it only got more explicit, just before Luthien started to giggle before hiccuping something about Beren making sure she was full before heading out to the club. Galadriel wanted the ground to split open and swallow her up.
“Okay lucky number six, what about you?” It took her a moment to realise what was going on. That she’d frozen and that Lu was poking at her arm through her jacket sleeve as the music hummed in the background and Galadriel swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat forming so quickly that she could barely bring herself to talk.
What was she supposed to say? Sorry I dried up when my husband left me for another woman, I haven’t had sex in approximately fifteen months and I’ve become far too reliant on my womanizer. Sometimes I fantasise about the weight of someone else just laying on top of me?
“She’s diiiiivorceeeeed!” The vague shape of Aredhel, her apparent savior, standing up with one hand still cupped around her mouth and the other giving her an overly confident thumbs up fills her vision as Galadriel wished for the millionth time that night that she’d cried off with stomach flu.
Somehow, the mere mention that she wasn't shacked up was enough to set the crowd of women off again.
"Thanks, Hel….” Galadriel groaned, gritting her teeth as the entire club erupted with hollers and cheers, the music surging for a moment as the DJ laughed down the mic before steadying the crowd with a gesture, asking for a little quiet as her fingers kneaded at her forehead.
“Well, if that means what I think it means, we definitely have our winner. Or victim, depends how you see it. Lovely lady in green, if you make your way to your chair in a second. Beautiful bride, I got something for you to give to your maid of honour - if you could do the honours for me? Just make sure to make it good and tight…”
Part of her wanted to run, to shout out and verbalise the bubbling trepidation she felt into the ether as Luthien laughed, delighted to be taking the black silk mask the DJ had produced from his outstretched hand before making her way over to where Galadriel had suddenly found herself seated in the chair with her back to the side of the stage, unable to remember how she’d made her way over and into place. Her head reeled for a moment as she looked out into the semi shaded darkness of the crowd. The sound of Lu’s heavy breathing as she reached out from behind and tied the mask around and over her eyes suddenly elevated by her lack of vision.
“Have fun babe, don't do anything I wouldn't do!”
“Lu, wait, I don't think this is…”
But it was all happening too quickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her fingers clasping tightly at her knees. She couldn’t see if her knuckles were white or not, but she was sure that they must be.
A few more seconds passed as things started to settle and Galadriel found herself sitting bolt upright and far too alert, the sound of her pounding heartbeat filling her ears with a steady throb of tension just as the music started again. But this time, the crowd beyond her sight fell quiet - silent almost, aside from a few gasps. The steady rhythm that she could feel beneath her feet only seemed to get heavier as the music moved out across the stage, surrounding her entirely - only dipping for a moment as a slow, sure voice rang out around the room.
“Ladies, it’s my absolute pleasure to present to you, The Professor…”
Galadriel wasn’t sure if the mask around her eyes was a blessing or not. For all she couldn’t see a thing, she could feel everything. The uneven weight distribution of the thick wooden boards underneath her feet, every gasp and whine that came from the crowd that surrounded her. The thick, heavy tension as she tried to exhale slowly through her nose, her lips parting only slightly just before she felt a palm, heavy and sudden, come down to rest on her shoulder. It only lingered for a moment before she felt fingers trail across the expanse of her back, drifting over the soft velvet slowly, before another hand drifted down over her other shoulder. Whoever he was, he was barely touching her - careful fingers drifting lower to tug at the buttons of her suit jacket as she felt him flick them open quickly. It had to be a trick of the trade. No man she'd ever met would be able to get them open from that angle without being able to see how she'd twisted them into position. But she guessed he'd had plenty of practice.
“If you want me to stop, just say the word.”
His voice was steady, sudden and unexpected in her ear. As if he could feel the tightly pulled string of tension railing up her spine and making her feel completely statuesque. Galadriel huffed through her nose as her lips rolled together, a juddering lung full of air rushing out from between her lips. His tone was like honey, soft and smooth - an elevated English accent laid on so thickly that she couldn’t tell if it was put on or not.
“Okay.” Her voice was a hesitant whisper, the word barely leaving her lips as she felt him shift back. At least he'd asked. She wasn't sure how any of this was going to go, but at least the mystery man doing whatever he was doing behind her had the inclination to let her know she could opt out if it got too much.
But she was no quitter. Right?
Exasperation was the last thing she felt she should be experiencing, restrained by the blindfold and unable to see exactly what was going on around her - only the heat of his body, the roars from the crowd as he pulled back, any indication of exactly what he was doing as she felt him move around her. Galadriel wanted to see, to be able to understand how she was meant to react and watch what he was doing. The whole thing felt embarrassing as she willed her body to stay still. But his hands moved slowly and surely back on her shoulders, pulling gently at her suit jacket came as a surprise as she leant forward, allowing it to be tugged slowly from her shoulders and rolled down her back as her arms followed through the sleeves, exposing the cream pussy bow silk blouse she wore underneath.
Suddenly self conscious, her body recoiled a little, knowing that it was the same shirt she’d worn to the office in the morning. Galadriel prayed to whatever entity dwelled above, that she hadn’t managed to spill her lunchtime soup over any of the delicate material - and if she had, at least the bright pink sash was there to cover the worst of it.
She should have showered before coming out. What if he could smell her, what if she smelled like the fucking office…
It went on for what felt like an eternity, the cries of pleasure from the invisible crowd - the sound of the other chair being dragged backward and brought alarmingly loud and close as Galadriel’s heart pounded aggressively inside of her chest. Without warning she felt his hands land on her thighs, purposeful and heavy for a moment before becoming lighter as he shifted her legs apart slowly, before reaching for one of her hands and yanking it upward.
The feel of her palm placed on his bare chest made her head spin, her fingers twitching against a warm firmness, a light dusting of hair that she could feel as he tensed and shifted closer - to the crowd it must have looked like he was nuzzling into her hair, and his breath against the shell of her ear sent a wave of nervous energy right down to her toes as she longed to curl herself inward despite the unbidden thrill that shot lower and more definite into her core.
You can’t be enjoying this, it’s obscene…
“I’m going to lift you up, don’t worry, just hold on.” His voice was lower this time, the shocking intimacy of the whole making her swallow and nod silently despite how messy this probably looked to everyone else. But there was something reassuring at least, in the way his palms splayed out over her hips, how close he felt as she quickly felt her body being lifted with little effort as his hands found their way under the curve of her arse and Galadriel yet out a high pitched yelp.
It was more like a low rumble, but the laughter that hummed in his throat was definitely there. But she didn't have time to feel mortified at the idea of him finding her shock funny.
But you are enjoying it, aren't you?
Her legs coiled around his waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck for dear life, inhaling sharply and expecting to smell strong cologne or baby oil and finding neither. He was undoubtedly masculine, but instead of something cloying and fake he smelled more like fire, prickling at her senses and not at all overpowering. But there was something else too, a warm comforting scent; that somehow, reminded her of old books. Strangely familiar, but so alien all at once that for a second Galadriel wondered how and why he suddenly seemed so appealing without her even knowing what he looked like.
Spinning around, the inertia made her stomach twist, both of his hands finding the middle of her back as his palms splayed out now that her thighs were wrapped tight around his middle. Too tight, maybe. But now wasn't the time for relaxing. If Galadriel fell, she knew she'd never live it down.
“You're going back, just relax. Trust me, sweetheart.”
Swallowing thickly and trying to disguise the whimper building at the back of her throat, she felt him almost cradle her, obviously sensing the tension she was carrying in every single inch of her body as she clung onto him for dear life. She only hoped she didn’t look too much like a terrified cat grappling into a particularly tall tree as he moved them backwards together and her bottom hit the edge of the table behind.
It was so smooth, the way he laid her down, something soft cushioning her head as she tried to be as loose as possible as her body met the firm wood beneath. The music surged in her ears as she lost contact with him for a moment before feeling her legs being pulled apart again, the rippling of the air around her filling her mind with all the things he might be doing between her legs as the crowd of women screamed around her; only the gentle tips of his fingers perched on her knees as they lifted upward and Galadriel struggled not to squirm.
Somewhere in the middle distance, she was pretty she she just heard Luthien squeal.
Galadriel was enjoying this. In some weird, trepidatious way she wanted to sink into it for a moment, for as long as she could grasp it and stop thinking. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been touched by someone else, not like this. She couldn’t see him, she didn’t even know what he looked like or even if he was smiling or getting any enjoyment out of their position. The part of her that was well raised and used to the slightly sterile touch of one man wanted to run away, but the desperate side of her that had always wanted more willed her to stay. She wanted him to touch her again.
He does this all the time, he's not enjoying it you fucking idiot.
He moved again, his entire body adjusting over her own, the thud of his hands landing next to her head as she felt him hover over her. So close yet so distant, the weight of him so close above her, ghosting against her body. She had no idea how he was managing it, but despite how close they were he was further away than ever. Every ripple, almost as if he was encouraging her to touch him, her fists balled up instinctively — unable to move as her nails dug into the meat of her palms, stinging, the pain grounding her. He was on top of her, shirtless at the very least.
The sound of their audience seemed to drift away as Galadriel’s head tipped back into the softness below her head. It wasn't thick enough to be a pillow, but it was certainly enough to stop her from banging the base of her skull into the table, as her body arched and her cheek turned into the material that she realised suddenly must be his shirt or some other piece of clothing he'd removed. Without any hesitation, she felt his body drift lower down her own, the warm familiarity of lips catching against the buttons of her top. A warm, tantalising breath she could feel through the thin silk. The delicate graze of his lower lip dipping across the sliver of exposed flesh, peeking out from where her blouse had come away from where it was so neatly tucked in.
Did he mean to do that?
Biting her lip tightly, her teeth pushed into the plump flesh beneath and she was sure she felt him tense up for a second, desperately trying to gather herself up into something more respectable as the music surged and ebbed away. Her chest was tight for a moment, struck dumb by the atmosphere, the tension she was sure she must be imagining as she felt him shift himself to the floor again and move around to her side. His hands that had been on her thighs and dancing between her legs one second ago felt softer as he worked at the knot that had shifted to the side of her head, the mask coming loose as he tugged it away gently and the volume of the room hit her like a sucker punch.
Galadriel’s vision blurred instantly at the stage lights that sent her starry eyed, her lids falling tight and fast against what felt like a blinding light as she blinked and gasped for a lung-full of air. Fluttering lashes obscured everything for a moment, a sensory overload rushing over her as she gazed upward into a smile that was so soft and knowing that the blush that warmed upward into her cheeks felt blazing hot. The temptation to look lower was there, but she felt so locked in when the creases around his mouth deepened, that she found she couldn’t look away, focusing on the pointed shape of his canines and the almost boyish way his lips curled instead of what everyone else seemed to be cheering over. She wasn’t expecting the hair that stuck to the cut of his jawline to be an almost platinum blonde, or quite so long. His eyes, as her own lifted to meet them, were shark-like, grey and stormy. Intimidatingly intense. But somehow, it didn’t fit together properly at all. The moment drifted between them, her own mouth opening wider as the rush of knowing where she was hit her again, the strange disconnect from the whole event that blindfolded had afford her ripped away as the audience and her friends roared in her ears again and her dancer seemed to revel in it for a moment.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…” her words felt as dry as her throat, the apology tumbling out for no discernable reason as she watched his eyebrows knit tightly together for a moment in confusion. Her body was still tingling, the touch she vaguely remembered forming like bruises underneath her clothes as he took a step back and she tried to move to follow his lead, only to find it difficult to even pull herself up to balance on her elbows.
The strange tether between them fractured instantly as she heard more excited screams and the moment quickly shredded into nothing at all, more bodies flooding her vision from the side of the stage as another set of hands looped underneath her elbow to help her up, only to find the kind smile of another woman helping her get steady, as her other arm clasped across her chest.
Of course, the show had to carry on, Of course she was being taken off stage in a roar of noise. Of course, someone was offering her water and asking if she was okay. Somewhere between the table and the side of the stage her autopilot had kicked in, Galadriel’s legs moving without thought as another set of hands handed her the green velvet jacket she’d shed earlier. The whole thing felt like a fever dream, her mind buzzing with the sudden flood of stimulation as somewhere in the distance she heard both Luthien and Aredhel’s voices ring out.
“Come on honey, I’ll get you a drink from the bar. It’s on the house, okay. You take it easy.” The woman’s voice was calm and soft as Galadriel found herself following the instructions but momentarily unable to really take her in, only noticing that her hair was dark and manner more like a doctor or nurse than a stage hand. She was sure she’d said thanks, saying it again as she felt something pressed to her chest underneath her palm — thinking that she would rather grab her bag and coat from the cloak room and get a taxi home than stay here for another second and embarrass herself.
It was only when she’d pulled herself away from the club without a single goodbye, the fresh autumn air rolling down the quiet side street, that she bothered to pay attention to the crumpled sheet of paper that she still gripped firmly in her fist. The chill in the breeze hit her hard as her eyes drifted down to the red ink that was scrawled across the page, something he’d left for her that she was sure wasn't a special thing Probably a part of the performance, a gift received from the professor she’d hardly seen. A bold strike across the page See me after class...written neatly in red cursive. Something that just for a second, alone on the pavement and trying not to shiver, she wanted just for herself.
***
Hey Gal, Your 10am appointment is waiting for you in the conference suite. I gave him the ten minute warning so he can get everything ready for you. Hope it’s a quick one!
She didn’t think she’d ever really enjoy the sound of a message coming through on teams, but it was enough, at least, to drag her out of her silent reverie as Galadriel carefully fingered through a stack of planning permission slips before finding the one she’d needed to scan.
Her exceptionally dull Monday morning routine at the office was exactly what she’d needed after spending Saturday and Sunday mainly laying in bed, trying to repress the memories of Friday night using the power of trash tv and good Thai takeaway. It had worked for the most part, and she was grateful, at least, for the lack of evidence. Thankfully the club had a pretty strict no phone policy, so there wasn’t a single blurry picture to remind her of what happened. Her racing thoughts were enough to deal with without actual solid evidence that she’d somehow lost her mind for several minutes on stage. The group chat hadn't helped.
OMG!!! Gal he was so hot!!!! I'm sooo saaaaaad we couldn't get any pictures :(
I swear to GOD he was into it, did you see how he was biting his lip when he was grinding all over her???? FML!!!
Girl you're so lucky. If that didn't shock your vagina into action I don't know what the fuck would??!
Infinitely muting the entire chat had felt like the best course of action.
But it was more than that. She hadn’t been able to shake any of the experience off. Not the embarrassment or the weird pent up arousal that had followed her around the entire weekend. The girls had would let it drop eventually, and it turned out that after she left, Luthien had received a dance of her own that people seemed to be much more obsessed with. Though from what she could tell, it hadn’t been the same guy.
It was a bitter pill for her to swallow, but deep inside Galadriel had to admit that she was happy about that little fact.
But worst of all, she was filled with regret. A bubbling, ugly feeling that she'd always hated no matter the cause. Maybe she just wasn't built for stuff like that, maybe she was the exception to the rule that most women seemed to enjoy the experience of losing their inhibitions and simply letting go of whatever bullshit taboo reasoning dictated that men shouldn't be fetishized.
At least she didn't have the time to think about it. At least she had her very dull preliminary meeting to attend and drag out as long as she could in an attempt to distract herself from the memories that bubbled away in her hindbrain. Building code checks and planning procedures were usually complicated affairs, and this one was a doozy. New building permissions, work regulations, various codes that needed to be worked out and explained. Eventually at least. Today was simply an information gathering exercise. Her chance to get a feeling for the new owner of the long-abandoned estate on the far east of the town that many had expected to be demolished rather than restored.
Galadriel felt as if she was one of the few in the office that actually wanted it to happen, rather than the whole place be bulldozed to make way for a new row of shops or a storage facility.
Best of all, her email exchanges with Mr H Maia had been refreshingly open and easy. He’d been surprisingly easy to communicate with over the last few weeks, and it had come as a surprise that he was willing to talk to her office and work with them, instead of pushing back on their information requests as most developers and homeowners seemed determined to do when it came to their vision. He was willing to compromise, willing to offer suggestions and ideas which made her job much easier. It was only a surprising bonus when he’d been so polite and charming about it all.
Checking the time on her computer screen, she realised she should be making a move. It only took a few seconds and she was out of her office, tablet in hand heading down the dull grey corridor to the equally dull meeting room she'd booked out on Friday before she'd left for the day and her world had been flipped upside down.
“Mr Maia? I'm so sorry for keeping you…”
Galadriel pushed in through the door without looking up, too distracted by opening the form, ready to start, to really notice the tall man standing with his back to her, staring out of the window with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark brown slacks.
“Not a problem. Ms Noldor isn't it? It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Galadriel stood stock still as he turned around, the curl of his chestnut brown hair wrapped up in an artfully knotted man bun making one of her eyebrows twitch upward. He wasn't exactly what she was expecting, even from the back. Younger by a good twenty years at least than the older real estate type she'd imagined would be standing waiting to greet her. It took her a moment to adjust away from her expectations, her eyes scouring his face as she wondered why he looked so strangely familiar. A face she'd seen before even though she couldn't quite place him.
The stubble was a few days old, curated a little by a razor and tamed back to the ghost of a beard. He was put together at least, the warm brown plaid sport jacket and the loose top buttons of his cream shirt he wore underneath looking a little rumpled, but artfully so. Like he'd meant to leave it less crisp looking, rather than ironed to within an inch of its life.
She thought he might move towards the manila folder he'd obviously left on the table in the centre of the room, but instead he paused. Looking back at her carefully as she watched him, her knuckles tightening their grip on the tablet she held against her chest.
He was first to break the strangely awkward silence.
“You don’t recognise me, do you?”
“Should I?”
His eyes creased at the edges, crows feet branching out as his jaw ticked again and Galadriel's eyebrows furrowed tightly together.
“I guess my hair is a little different, don’t exactly make a habit of wearing contact lenses if I can help it either. The coloured ones always make my eyes dry…”
Galadriel tipped her head, her eyes narrowing as she tried to place him. The coffee shop around the corner maybe? That didn’t make sense. Why would he mention his hair or eyes as if it should have been something obvious if they’d just bumped into each other in the morning rush?
Shit.
For a moment, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The cogs in her brain turned at an agonising rate as she gazed from his eyes down to his lips. Watched as they curled at the edges. The sharp canines. The boyish curve of his smile. It was familiar in a way that made the contents of her stomach curdle and the air catch in her lungs.
Big shit. Extra shitty shit. Fuck.
“It's you.” Galadriel almost choked on the words, her eyes widening for a moment before she realised she was staring at him. He didn't look the same, but that smile sure was. She felt like it had been etched on the inside of her brain for the last three nights. None of it added up in her head the way she wanted it too. Only she could be standing face to face with the man that had danced and stripped his way around her three nights ago in a professional capacity.
“It's me.” He grinned for a moment, his tongue sliding around the inside of his gums as Galadriel noticed the muscle at his jaw line tick with a sudden tension that made her want to claw at her throat.
“The club. You. The dance. Jesus…I. Well. This is embarrassing, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t have to be. I wouldn’t say there’s anything inherently wrong with enjoying yourself a little in your free time.”
His hands were still shoved in his pockets as she watched him sway back and forward on his heels jovially. As if this was actually normal. As if it amused him.
He thinks this is funny. Jesus, fucking, Christ.
“It’s not usually how I let my hair down.”
Galadriel rolled her lips together, her nose twitching - cold at the tip as a streak of fear railed straight down her spine.
“Ah.” A gust of warm rolling laughter followed as he stepped forward towards the table, pushing the folder over towards her, Galadriel’s eyes cast downward to the papers as she reached forward to pull the neatly bound envelope closer.
“So you were a virgin?”
“Excuse me?”
Looking up with an agitated jolt, she felt the lines in her forehead deepen into trenches as he grinned back at her, pushing his hands back into his pockets. Strangely, his eyes seemed to practically glow with that strange intense magnetism she recognised from the other night.
“First time at the club. Did you at least enjoy it?”
“Not particularly.”
Mr Maia—Halbrand, she realised as she looked down to see his name scribbled neatly in black across the light brown folder—looked a little puzzled considering the wind that had undoubtedly filled his sails moments earlier.
“You wound me.” One hand pulled out of his pockets, running across the plane of his chest and settling over his heart in a sincere gesture she figured was about as insincere as it could get.
“Can’t win them all.”
Galadriel managed an even tone in her voice as she huffed out her response, glancing down and flickering open the well-bound pages and making sure she looked as if she was carefully perusing the blue prints, maps and legal documents inside even if she absolutely wasn’t.
“I’m surprised you can remember me at all. It was a busy night. Full house if I remember right?”
She spoke as nonchalantly as she could manage, the chill that railed down her spine finally dissipating as she flicked the binder closed before looking back to find him moving around the edge of the table slowly.
“I don’t remember seeing you around later on. Don’t tell me you pulled an Irish goodbye right in the middle of your friend’s celebration?”
“I didn’t think you’d notice one less face. Once seen, never forgotten I suppose.”
He paused, frowning as he tapped his free hand down on the table before walking his fingers over the polished glass.
“Oh. I wouldn’t forget you. Couldn’t, actually.”
Galadriel cleared her throat more loudly than was polite, lifting the documents over the tablet close to her chest. Time to change the subject.
“So that’s your place? Across the river - the old Dol Guldur estate?”
“You’re surprised I can afford it on a stripper’s income?”
The way he smirked made her want to wipe it clean off his face, her own expression remaining perfectly neutral.
“No. It’s just —that place has been empty for so long. I didn’t think anyone would buy it as a fixer upper.”
“For the record, I prefer to be described as an exotic dancer.”
Galadriel paused for a moment, her nose twitching in irritation at his refusal to comply with the unwritten rules of conversation he was apparently happy to ignore. Teasing her just to watch her squirm.
“I can see it. From my bedroom window. My home is just over…”
She stuttered, thinking about what she’d just said as Halbrand’s eyes seemed to soften at the edges. The admission had come from nowhere, a slither of personal information she wished she’d kept to herself as she tried to rein herself back in only to hear herself gargle on the nervous word vomit she couldn’t seem to hold down.
“It’s not really my home. Not anymore. Collateral, I suppose. I have to be out in four weeks.”
She didn’t even know why she’d told him. She hadn’t really spoken about any of it with anyone except her lawyer and her parents.
“Ahh —” Halbrand nodded earnestly. “The divorce.”
Galadriel stiffened, looking back at him curiously.
“How do you —?”
“We can hear everything backstage.”
It made sense, but it didn’t make her feel any easier. Another beat of silence stretched out between them before a door adjacent to the meeting room slammed loudly and Galadriel had to will herself not to twitch at the sound echoing around her ears. Juggling the tablet carefully, she placed it down on the table, getting ready to tick a few boxes on the form she’d prepared to keep herself on task.
“Everything seems to be in order Mr Maia. You can leave this with me and send over the supporting paperwork that comes through from your architect when you get the chance. No rush…”
“Call me Halbrand.”
He spoke without missing a beat, pointing to the papers still clutched against her chest.
“I think we’re a little beyond the formalities at this stage.”
“Fine. Halbrand.” She conceded an inch, but it felt more like a mile.
“Why did you apologise?” Halbrand studied her face for a moment, before leaning across the table nonchalantly to grab one of the pens neatly placed together in the centre.
“What?”
“Afterwards, when I took your mask off. You said sorry like you'd done something wrong.”
“Oh.”
“I've never had anyone apologise. Usually they're just staring at my dick.”
“I uh. Well. I didn't think you'd appreciate me doing….that. Not that I would have, but it just seemed...”
“So you thought you'd apologise instead?”
Galadriel’s lips twisted into a frown as she looked down at the table, her fingers flickering over her tablet to tick a few boxes on her pre-prepared form and offering nothing but silence in return.
“You didn't have to apologise. You were perfect.”
Perfect. The word hung between them as he fiddled with the pen between his fingers deftly and Galadriel sucked in a deep breath. What did he mean by perfect? Why did she desperately want him to expand on his words?
Instead, she reached over to where he stood, closer now that he’d made his way around toward her. Calmly she plucked the pen out of his hand, watching to see if he’d react. It was irritating that he let her take it so calmly, the strange knowing smile she’d hoped to have seen the last of flickering across his features again.
“Did it bother you?”
His eyes sharpened for a moment at his question, pinning her in place like an insect stretched over a cork board for inspection.
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.” The response was cool, simmering with intent as Galadriel tried to sharpen her focus.
“So it was a point of pride then?”
She assumed it must have been, the way he paused to look her over again. Galadriel blinked, feeling exposed under his gaze, deciding at once that looking away to a particularly interesting monstera that was starting to grow out of control in the corner of the room would be a better option than staring him down in silence.
“How many wigs do you have, exactly?” Her eyes didn’t leave the corner of the room when she spoke, as if she was asking the giant plant about it’s own collection rather than H Maia. It seemed pertinent to change the tone of the conversation, though why she was asking about his wigs she didn’t quite know.
“Would you like to come and count them? Do you audit hair pieces in your spare time?”
Galadriel glanced back at him quickly, her expression shifting to one of confusion for a moment as he grinned.
“That’s not — I don’t. I don’t really want to come back and experience…”
“Not in business hours. During the day. We have rehearsals. Maybe if you come when the sun’s still in the sky it won’t seem as sordid.”
The word stung, making her wince inwardly at the implications. It wasn’t that she thought it was sordid. It was a living. One that apparently enabled him to invest a great deal of money in restoring and adding to a stunning historical home. Her awkwardness was her own to deal with, and she felt a sickly sort of guilt that he’d assumed it was her moral superiority that was the issue, when in fact it was the opposite.
“So what? I just come and visit you whilst you’re…?”
“Warming up, stretching. Getting my stuff ready for the night. Yeah. We don’t bite, and surprisingly I’m not always wearing my work wardrobe. You should come and have a backstage tour. Might even be fun.”
“I think you and I have a very different idea of what constitutes fun.”
“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem.”
Her lips twitched, a sudden smile of her own reflecting back just enough to scent the water and encourage his own in return. It was a brief thing, fleeting but true as she felt the pull of it at her cheeks.
“Saturday afternoon, one pm. Bronwyn will be around. She makes a mean turkey sandwich, and I’m sure she won’t mind having one extra mouth to feed.”
“I’m Vegan.”
Galadriel didn’t miss a beat as she moved closer to him, picking up her tablet again before holding it tight to her chest like a shield. Not that it could do much to make her feel less exposed.
“Don’t worry about it, so is Isildur. Or he was last week. I’m sure she can make you something equally as delicious containing absolutely zero animal products.”
“Do you always have an answer for everything?”
“Only when it comes to you.”
Her cheeks roared with heat suddenly, a sure triumph for him that she saw reflected back in his hazel eyes now that she was closer and could see them properly. No wonder the grey reflection from a few days previously hadn’t seemed right. He’d seemed so alien and strange in a way she couldn’t pin point. Now he was warm, the earthy tones of his gaze pulling her in the more she stared back.
“Listen, I’ll sweeten the deal. I can make sure all of this paperwork is completed and email the architectural blue prints over to you. Anything you need that isn’t digital I’ll make sure is ready for Saturday. I can even get you the original boundary deeds if you need them.”
“That would help. And make me more inclined to actually leave my house when I’m not at work.”
She didn’t exactly know why she was willing to give him this small victory, but the glint of triumph that deepened in his expression filled her with another sort of warmth. One she found she couldn't shake off.
“Then it’s a date.” He grinned, his eyebrows flickering upward. With what intent, she didn't know.
Galadriel nodded as she gathered herself up. Stepping to the side and indicating they were done as she tried to shake off the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, exasperated that none of this had gone how she’d planned.
“Thank you for coming in today. I know it probably feels like this could have been done via email but I think that it’s important to feel things out. And it was good to meet you. Properly, I mean.”
Halbrand tipped his head, making his way across the plush carpet with a wide gait, his long legs making the journey much shorter as he paused in front of her, removing a hand from his pockets to hold it out.
“Don’t worry about it, Galadriel. I just wanted to see you smile.”
His hand swallowed her own as she reached out to shake it, her fingers wrapping around his firmly as he repaid the gesture. Warm, not sweaty. Lingering for a moment as she wondered what was going through his mind.
“I’ll see you on Saturday.” She affirmed, nodding as calmly as she could manage as the need to sink into the floor almost overwhelmed her.
Halbrand smirked, nodding politely before he pulled away to walk through the door and down the long corridor without looking back.
Galadriel couldn't help but watch him go, taking her a moment to realise he’d used her name.
***
He’d been right about one thing. The club was completely different in the daytime. Not that a scrap of natural light permeated one inch of the plush space, but the stark overhead lights that had been turned on made everything look so different now. Galadriel’s attention momentarily focused on how pedestrian everything seemed. Instead of dark and alluring, every crack in the seductive veneer was obvious, every water stain on the low tables was plain, despite how well they’d been cleaned.
Halbrand had been waiting outside at the reception desk when she’d pushed through the door, surprised to find it open and thinking she might have to knock.
It was disarming how unlike his previous two iterations he looked.
Baggy basketball shorts that sat at his knees, a worn hoody and his hair tied up on top of his head. He looked less put together than either of the ways she’d previously met him but his smile was still disarming, lopsided as she’d given him a polite wave, feeling just as awkward as she had the first time she’d stepped inside his domain.
But he seemed determined to put her at ease, guiding her through the club with an easy familiarity and a hand hovering at her back that was utterly disarming. Instead of alcohol and chicken wings there was an offer of coffee and pastries. Bags were laid on every couch, making everything appear more lived in and alive. Voices and laughter replaced the heavy beat and bass of the music that has been played by the DJ nights ago. Eventually, she’d been deposited on one of the couches with the stack of paperwork he’d handed over, with a promise of his return and a real backstage tour in a while after the dance rehearsal and Galadriel had settled back to go over the damp smelling deeds that had definitely seen better days.
If his colleagues were bothered by her presence they didn’t show it, a few of them waving over to her as Halbrand pointed to her from the stage where they’d started to warm up. Despite her reservations, it all felt strangely cozy. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been the feeling of contentment that washed over her as she watched Halbrand bend over to share a joke with another younger dancer as he stretched out his quad.
It helped that he’d delivered on his promise. His file would be completed in record time. She might even be able to clear the paperwork and get planning permission sorted sooner than either of them would have expected. Humming to herself and trying not to stare obviously at where he was limbering up, Galadriel decided to flick through her phone to try and distract herself momentarily, wondering if she could take pictures and forward some things to her drop box.
“I didn’t expect to see you back here again.”
The coffee that landed in front of her in a large white mug was unexpected as she glanced up from the papers on her lap and the phone in her hand into a pair of warm dark eyes.
“You left pretty quickly. I tried to come after you but you’d already disappeared into the night when I finally got outside.”
This was the woman who had tried to get her a drink and put her back together after her not so casual breakdown. The memory made her cheeks warm as she tried to smile back in the most friendly way she could manage.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about all of that. I just needed fresh air and the next thing I knew I was in a taxi and trying to remember which pizza shop was the best to stop at on the way home…”
“You don’t need to apologise. I was just worried you’d decked it in the toilets.”
The woman’s smile lit up a little more as she sat down on the worn leather seat next to Galadriel, crossing her legs and looking up at the stage for a moment before returning her attention to the papers that threatened to loosen from their perch on her knees.
“I bet you don’t get a lot of people fleeing the scene after a performance like that?” The words might have been flippant, but there was a bitter taste that followed them as Galadriel shifted.
“You’d be surprised actually. The mask is a little daunting. Not everyone reacts well to sensory deprivation. I tried to explain that to Hal, but sometimes his ideas get the better of him. You can take the boy out of the ballet but apparently the storytelling stays.”
“I’m Bronwyn, by the way.” She smiled kindly, giving Galadriel a small nod. “I look after these idiots when they’re not removing their clothes.”
Looking up at the stage, she watched as Halbrand stood in front of the others, going through what she assumed was a run down of whatever routine they were rehearsing. So he’d been a ballet dancer? The sudden and unexpected lore drop caught her off guard as she watched him limber up, flicking one of his legs up to pull at his ankle up behind him and stretch out his quad. What had she missed whilst being slightly hypnotised by the grace on display?
It took her a moment to remember her own name.
“Galadriel.”
“So why are you back? Don’t tell me he managed to track you down? That’s a whole new level of…”
“No, no. It's fine. Turns out we’d been talking for months actually. I’m handling a property thing for him with the council.”
Bronwyn looked more than a little relieved, reaching for her own cup of coffee and lifting it to her lips.
“Does this mean it’s almost done? He’s been driving us all fucking insane with his plans. I’ve never seen a man so fucking demented over a forge and doing up a bloody house. I swear to god half the reason he turns up for work is so he can use hot running water regularly.”
“I hope so.” Galadriel raised her eyebrows, knowingly. “Can’t say I’m not looking forward to drawing a line through the property file.”
“He says he’s going to retire once it’s all done. Sell this place off.”
“He’s the owner?” Galadriel’s eyebrows furrowed together earnestly.
“Yeah, he bought it all cash from the previous guy, which was a blessing honestly. Used the payoff he got from his injury to invest in the club and employ new dancers.”
He didn’t look injured. In fact, he looked perfect as he moved from side to side - Halbrand’s hips rolling from right to left so perfectly she found herself wishing he wasn’t wearing such horrifically baggy shorts.
“No idea why. I mean, he has a performance background but the pipeline between classical dance and exotic isn’t exactly one that’s well tread.” Bronwyn continued, before gesturing down to Galadriel’s drink with a nod of her head.
“Don’t worry, it’s oat milk. Hal mentioned you’re vegan and I always make sure we can cater for everyone. Valandil’s on the keto thing right now, I had to bulk buy mixed nuts last week.”
Galadriel smiled, reaching for her drink and taking a sip of the frothy top as some music started and the guys on stage lined up to count off. She hadn’t expected it to be so distracting.
“Well I appreciate it, and this is a great latte.” She hummed, enjoying the warmth under her tongue and shifting a little to focus on Bronwyn instead of the scene that was unfolding in front of her.
“It’s a little weird seeing how the sausage gets made, right?” The other woman raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the group who were now laying flat on the boards, lifting themselves up into something that looked more like a sports stretch rather than a choreographed routine.
“It’s a little confronting, honestly.” Galadriel chuckled to herself as she watched each one of them move in turn. Halbrand seemed to be in control of the whole thing, pointing over to where he wanted each of them to stand before moving himself out of the way. She found herself glued to how he moved, how he seemed so comfortable. But if he had a background in all of this in some way or another, this was surely just something he could slip into.
She hadn’t noticed she was staring at him quite so hard when he turned to look over his shoulder, catching her steady gaze, the corner of his lip curling up before he winked in her direction. Galadriel blinked hard, trying not to give in to the roar of heat that flushed up her neck.
God, he's hot. And this is completely inappropriate.
“He’s a good guy, you know.” Bronwyn sighed and she hoped that the other woman hadn’t clocked whatever it was that flashed between them. “He might not always demonstrate it, and he’s a taskmaster, but he wants this place to succeed. He wants the guys to get their bag.”
“I’m sure he does. They deserve it. He does too. This is hard work and thankless sometimes I guess. Especially if the excitement in the crowd doesn’t add up to actual cash tips.”
“We do okay at the bar. Generally, people are generous but there’s always the odd night things are a little off. It’s why he only actually performs every once in a blue moon now. Prefers to watch everything in the back and keep an eye on the crowd.”
“I suppose I was just lucky then.” Galadriel smiled a little, before taking another sip of her drink.
“Oh, luck has nothing to do with it, babe. He clocked you at check in.”
The cough that hummed in her throat as she cleared it threatened to explode out in a mess before she swallowed the hot coffee sharply, discomfort rattling down her throat.
***
“It’s bigger back here than I thought it would be.” Galadriel looked around, trying to drink in her unusual surroundings and finding herself strangely charmed by the art deco architecture as she followed Halbrand down a winding corridor.
“This place was built in the mid twenties. Used to be a bingo hall and a cinema before it was converted back to a performance space again. The old owner at least did us all a favour when he had it refurbed back here.”
There was pride in how he spoke about it, even if he hadn't been the one responsible. Almost as if he was a caretaker of everything that had come before. Galadriel nodded, pausing briefly to look up at one of the almost floral architraves before catching up with Halbrand and his annoyingly wide gait.
“So does everyone get their own dressing room, or do you all have to share? I can’t imagine that’s fun when you’re busy...”
She tailed off as he finally stopped as he came to an abrupt halt in front of a red door, waiting for her to catch up.
“I have my own. The guys are split into shifts and spaces so it doesn’t work out too badly. I need my own space for all the admin. Can’t deal with any velcro related emergencies when I’m trying to balance the books.”
Opening the door with a shove of his shoulder, Galadriel peeked around him to look inside. This wasn’t the aforementioned office. This was something a lot busier and much more vibrant. Rows of racks circled the perimeter of the room, each one overflowing with different outfits - some in bags, some completely loose. Several polystyrene heads filled the shelves, mostly filled with wigs of long blond locks, but the occasional one was black with a couple styled in a rich deep burnt copper which caught the light from the lights above.
“You can have a closer look if you like. I can’t say they’re in a presentable order but…”
“Is that a chef’s outfit?” Galadriel smirked, interrupting him moving around his much larger body quickly to finger the chefs white’s draped on a padded hanger.
“Yeah, I strung together this whole Bear thing once. It ended up being more like a fucking Shenanigans than a actual Michelin star performance, though. I don’t dance with food products available anymore.”
Galadriel snorted, glancing back to see his arms folded over his chest, watching her like a hawk as she moved on to the next outfit. Predictably, it was a complete cop outfit that actually looked realistic, with stiff looking handcuffs attached to the belt. Next to that was a fireman’s protective gear, a leather and steel suit of armour and something that looked suspiciously like a priest’s ceremonial robes.
“I mean, you have options for everything. This is like a sexy dressing up box…”
Habrand chuckled, the rough warm sound of his laugh from behind her making a shiver creep unbidden up Galadriel’s spine.
“Funnily enough, I used to love messing with costumes when I was a kid. My dad used to call me a shapeshifter. Always playing in his wardrobe. I suppose that didn’t change as I grew up. Though he decided eventually it was just me shirking my responsibilities…”
“So you ran away to join the circus?”
“The Metropolitan Ballet by way of Vaganova, but close.”
Galadriel ran her fingers over the richly embroidered robes carefully, too detailed for stage work surely. It was beautiful and her mind quickly flickered to an image of Halbrand behind closed doors, taking confessions. It seemed utterly ridiculous until she pictured herself on her knees, the scent of incense filling the air, his palm resting on the crown of her head.
“And now you do this instead?”
Bless me father, for I have sinned.
“I tore my meniscus. Can’t really pirouette like I used to. It healed but there was no way back. I worked in choreo for a while, took up a junior director position but it didn’t feel the same. When an old friend offered to sell me this place it seemed like a good idea. A fresh start.”
A fresh start sounded wonderful. What she’d hoped for when the papers had been signed all those months ago. But ever since then Galadriel had felt like she was stalling. Running into hurdle after hurdle. At least her work life was fine, her finances correct - except for the part where she was having to sell the home she loved so much. But it was one thing, a sacrifice at the altar of moving on. She could deal with it.
Galadriel nodded, letting out a quiet sigh of contemplation before looking up at the wigs again.
“And theatrical.” She paused, looking back to Halbrand again, wondering if he minded any of this. “So why are you planning on retiring?”
“I’m tired.” Halbrand folded his arms, leaning into the doorway with one shoulder, his gaze fixed on her face as she turned around. “I want to do something on my own terms. Use my hands in a different way.” The smirk was back and Galadriel’s eyes hardened for a moment, narrowing as her eyebrows flickered.
She’d called him sexy, in a passing, irreverent sort of way. But he was. Tall, muscular. Not in an over the top sort of way, but he somehow still demanded her attention in a way that no one else had ever managed. The coil that tightened in her gut was enough to let her know just how attractive she found him, despite the niggling feeling that she should rein herself in. It was a problem then, when she hadn't realised she’d started to move toward him until just before she was right in front of him, looking up indignantly from her much lower position. His eyes, his real eyes, were warm. Swirling and hazel, but darker at the centres. His slowly expanding pupils, a pair of perfect black holes just begging to swallow her whole.
“You don’t think you'll miss it?” Her words felt syrupy and soft, barely formed as they tumbled from her mouth.
“Not really. I’ve been sharing myself with other people for far too long. Maybe I want to be more selective from now on.”
Whatever tension she was carrying seemed to dissipate in a second when he reached out slowly toward her, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind one of her ears. The touch alone set her tingling, the brief feeling of his fingers against her ear enough to make her lips part - an eager sign that made an odd amount of shame bubble up inside of her. Did he want her? Was she misreading the entire situation? He’d invited her here; he’d been strangely flirty in a competent way that made her chest tingle. Couldn’t she want this? For once. Something for herself and no one else?
What am I doing?
“Well, it sounds like a plan.” Her words sounded oddly huffy when they escaped her, Halbrand’s eyes crinkling at the edges a little as he stared her down without any sort of concern. A hardness in his jaw, a spark of something far too deep in his stare. It reminded her of how he'd watched her after he'd peeled her mask off days before. How he'd looked at her in the conference room whilst she's tried to stay so perfectly professional. She wondered if that's how he would look when he was making someone come…
“Galadriel—”
“If you need to take a shower, you could always use mine.”
She didn’t know why she’d said it, the embers of the words coating her mouth in ash as she felt herself gawp back up at him, Halbrand’s eyes narrowing. Questioning silently as she shifted from one foot to another. The tension between them didn’t seem as obvious as it felt now, heavy and humming away between them as his jawline ticked. A heavy pulse that throbbed against the stubble of his cheek.
“I mean, if you don't—”
“That’s awfully neighbourly of you.”
There was a tease in his words that made her cheeks flush, the presumptive nature of her question creeping up on her quickly. What must he think of her?
“The water pressure here is shit. So, if you’re offering, I wouldn't mind.”
The dread that washed over her wasn’t fear exactly. But it did make her wish she could rewind back and ask again. Or not. She wasn’t entirely sure.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s fine. Bronwyn mentioned you haven’t got hot water at home.”
“Did she, now?” Halbrand’s eyes narrowed slightly again, Galadriel’s heart hammering in her chest as she attempted to busy herself smoothing out one of the outfits in his collection.
“Let me grab my bag. I’ll meet you out front.”
So that was that. Galadriel attempted to toss him her most cheery carefree expression as he nodded, the thread lingering between them tightening suddenly. A strange sort of tether that pulled her into his orbit as she felt the light in her expression dim just a little. This was all just nerves. Nothing more. She’d never had a man back at her home, not since Celeborn had left with little ceremony. But strangely, the thought of Halbrand settling into her couch and looking through her coffee table books didn’t feel so weird when she actually settled on the image that appeared fully formed in her mind's eye.
***
The twenty minute car ride back across the river into Lorien Estates was apparently all she needed to feel more settled, and surprisingly it passed without issue. Polite conversation was easier, she found, when trying to navigate Saturday afternoon traffic with the promise of coffee at the end. Halbrand seemed relaxed, leaning back into the passenger seat of her mid price sedan - he’d reached down almost immediately to push his seat back, making space for his long limbs. Reclining easily and crossing his ankles one over the other in the footwell like he belonged there.
Maybe once she’d have carried a little shame, letting him inside her cottage style front door only to be confronted with rows of neatly stacked boxes. Most of them were empty, mainly due to the fact she couldn’t quite bring herself to start packing in earnest. But if the jumble of junk and cardboard bothered him, he didn’t show it. It wasn’t like she never had guests. Aredhel and Luthien had been coming over sporadically for a drink and to keep her company for months. But they lacked the judgement to fuss over the way her life was upending slowly the closer her moving date got.
Halbrand was hardly a stranger now, but the way he strode inside easily made her breathe a little easier.
“This is a nice place. Shame you have to let it go.” He spoke easily, his black duffel bag slung back over his shoulder, his other hand shoved into the pocket of his grey sweatpants as he looked around the wide open hallway that led to her kitchen and living room.
Galadriel dropped her keys into the small golden bowl on the small table next to the door, running a hand back through her hair.
“All good things must come to an end, I suppose. I’ll miss it, but I can make a home anywhere. We moved around a bunch when I was younger so it's nothing I can't get over…” She shrugged, not knowing what to do with her hands for a moment before slipping them into the back pockets of her soft, well worn jeans.
“True enough. I’ve never really settled anywhere long enough to really make myself comfortable. But I’m hoping that’s going to be a thing of the past soon. As long as the council approves my plans, that is…”
His grin expanded with wiggling eyebrows toward Galadriel from across the parquet floor, as she shifted from one foot to the other.
“I don’t think you have much to worry about. From an impartial point of view. Obviously.”
He looked almost wolfish, his teeth poking out from underneath his lips as he cleared his throat, looking back over his shoulder.
“Want to point me in the direction of your bathroom? I need to try that superior water pressure out.”
Of course, obviously.
“Yeah. You can use the en suite in the guest bedroom. At least then you have a little room afterwards to sort yourself out…”
Galadriel strode past him, tipping her head and gesturing for him to follow her up the winding staircase. She tried to ignore the sound of his footsteps following behind her as they ventured up into the first floor of the house, the wooden steps creaking under his weight before they reached the plush carpet of the upper level.
“Just in here. The shower is pretty self explanatory.” It seemed easier to flee the scene as Halbrand peeked inside the room, decorated plainly with creams and browns. A perfect blank canvas she’d once had plans for. Not that any of that had ever come to fruition.
“Thanks—” He smiled, moving his large body through the door frame as Galadriel took him in from head to toe. Something he definitely noticed as she cleared her throat, trying to ground herself. Definitely not imagining what he’d look like under the running water, where he would touch himself, wondering what his soap smelled like as he rubbed it over his chest, lower down over his thighs and the inside of his—
“I’ll leave you in peace. Do you want a drink or something?” If her voice had been a tad pitchy that was no one's business but her own.
“Coffee would be great if you have it.” Halbrand spoke smoothly, placing his bag gently on the edge of the double bed and stretching upwards towards the ceiling, his lithe frame extending in a way that was almost feline.
Galadriel tried not to stare.
“Yeah, no problem. Oat milk okay?”
Well, wasn’t this the most pathetic exchange she’d ever had at a bedroom door? Galadriel winced internally as he took a few steps forward and she retreated back over the threshold.
“Whatever you have is fine, I’m the guest remember? I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”
Was that meant to sound as suggestive as she’d heard it? Probably not, but Galadriel’s ears filled with a ringing sound as his hand curled around the edge of the door, his long fingers tanned against the stark white gloss that covered the wood.
“Yeah, sure. Great! I’ll get started on that.” The pitched tone in her voice couldn’t be that obvious, could it?
The door clicked closed as Halbrand’s smile disappeared, leaving her alone in the hallway, unbelievably close to melting against the closest hard surface.
***
It had taken her twenty minutes to get over herself and manage the task of making two drinks. Neighbourly, she thought to herself. Friendly. It was easy enough to play hostess and make herself useful, assuming that Halbrand seemed like an americano type of person and that he probably wouldn’t see much value in a milky latte.
“Are you decent?”
Galadriel leant in and tapped at the door with her elbow, both hands busy holding two mugs carefully as she closed her eyes and waited for the response. There could be no way he was still in the shower, unless he was really enjoying the hot water - and his response came soon enough. A slightly muffled Yep her only indication it was safe to enter as she pushed the door open softly with the ball of her foot.
It seemed Halbrand’s idea of decent was very different to her own.
The larger white bath towel was draped low at his waist, his head bent over slightly as he toweled at his hair carefully, scrunching it up in the soft fluffy cotton she’d spent far too much on once upon a time. Water still clung to the long sculpted shape of his back, her eyes landing softly on the toned muscle and smattering of freckles before he turned slowly. The phrase deer in headlights had never seemed so appropriate.
“Oh—”
Halbrand simply cocked an eyebrow as his eyes traversed the slightly shell shocked expression Galadriel could no longer disguise, feeling as if the colour was both rushing from and flushing at her cheeks simultaneously.
“What? It’s not something you haven’t seen before.”
“That was different.”
Galadriel reached out with his drink, offering it as he stared at the blue striped mug for a moment before taking it carefully from her hand
“Well. Unlike you, I don’t have a problem with being objectified.”
“Excuse me?” Galadriel almost dropped the mug in her hands, her jawline suddenly hardening as she felt her expression shift into something she couldn’t hold back.
“With being desired, wanted. Being attractive in a way that’s purely physical.”
“I know what it means.”
He looked amused, fucking amused, as he stood there barefoot in her spare room. His towel hanging low at his waist like some kind of grecian statue brought to life. Casually, she noticed that whatever was bulging underneath the artfully draped towel was not at all accurate compared to what she’d seen carved in marble on her graduate trip to Athens.
“I see it all the time. People who deserve to be cherished, worshipped. You’ve fooled yourself into thinking you’re not worth it when you very much are.”
“And you’re the expert on that are you?” Galadriel almost spat the words out in surprise, placing her warm cup down on the oak dresser with a resolute intention, not caring a jot about the fact it would probably leave an annoying ring for her to deal with at some point.
“I like to think I know a thing or two about pleasure.”
“I'm sure.”
But he looked like he did. Halbrand looked positively serpentine as he tossed the second damp towel he’d used on his chestnut curls on the floor next to her. Galadriel tried to suppress the full body shiver that fizzed up and rattled at the tension in her shoulders. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as he moved closer, both of his large hands wrapped around the cup of coffee and making the delicate bone china sandwiched in between his palms look tiny.
“There's no need to be so defensive, Galadriel. I'm just telling you what you don't want to hear, apparently.”
“Don't say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know what I want.”
It sounded quiet when she said it, caught in her throat - a whisper of the forbidden. Like he’d managed to peel back her layers so easily. Or maybe it was simply obvious to someone like him. Maybe he felt sorry for her. His pity was the last thing she wanted.
“But I think I do. I think you need someone to show you exactly what you're capable of. You need a reason to stop hiding.”
“You're full of shit. I’m not hiding from anyone.”
Liar.
“Let me show you—”
When he leant in beside her, reaching around her body to place his mug down next to hers, the sudden proximity sent her reeling. The heat of his body so suddenly close, pressed through the thin white cotton and broderie anglaise of her blouse.
“Let me show you how gentle I can be.”
“Halbrand.” His name felt heavy on her tongue, rolling off in an exasperated growl that only seemed to inflame him more.
She liked how it sounded. So did he it seemed, the back of his knuckles moving to chase down the exposed goose pimpled flesh of her forearm, her untapped need riled up underneath the easiest of touches.
“Say that again.” The words sounded guttural, rasped and dragged out from somewhere deep as his body moved against her own, crowding her with the clean mineral smell of whatever he’d used in the shower.
Galadriel bristled, looking at him and letting her eyes rove. His chest, peppered with a dusting of dark hair. His eyes, so black now that she swore they’d never been any other colour. Her chest heaved with a lungful of air as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip slowly and watched his gaze follow its path.
“Halbrand, I don't think…”
Galadriel’s fantasies had been pretty mundane once upon a time. A happy little fuck somewhere quiet with a firm hand placed over her mouth. A decent orgasm if she was lucky. But everything had shifted within her since the divorce. She’d dreamt about teeth dragging against her, about firm hands that pinned her down - a mouth that feasted on her and inside of her. She’d wanted heat and steel and something more than her ordinary bland existence, something more uncomfortable. She’d never wanted the weird little cookie cutter life she’d been dragged into in the first place - and now, standing before him feeling positively adored and desired in equal measure, she felt she’d finally discovered that the thing that made her tick wasn’t so basic after all.
She barely knew him. She ought to stop him. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. There was something she needed, and being trapped under his singular focus made her feel more alive than she’d been in months. Years, even.
Halbrand tasted like coffee when she opened her mouth in surprise, only to find him filling the gap between them so quickly she could barely stop the breathy little moan that escaped from between her lips. He latched on to her lips with his own so softly and perfectly, that Galadriel pitched up on her toes to meet him. Their height difference stark as she felt herself being moved, pressed back against the heavy wooden door. She let out a needy little groan that matched the sudden low rumble in his chest perfectly.
She felt her tongue push back against his in a swirl of pleasure, lost in the slow pulsing rhythm as he pressed up between her legs and through the rough material of her jeans, against the silk that lay between the apex of her thighs. His hands roamed at her waist as her own came up between them to press against his bare chest, up over his warm shoulders - her fingers curling into fists as she felt the heat that exuded from his skin and ran her fingers over the muscle that corded beneath. She could feel her nipples hardening underneath her bra when he touched her, turned on as the shame of him doing this bled out of her with every press of his clever mouth.
He’d been right. So right.
This was better. This was more, and she wanted more.
Galadriel smiled. She couldn’t help it. The guilt didn’t factor any more, but her hunger for him certainly did.
She wanted to pretend. God, she wanted to pretend she was his. So she did. She pretended. Her ocean eyes flickering up to meet his own, imagining how nice it would be to play house with him. To come home from work and feel fucking wanted like this for once. She allowed herself to try it on for size, brushing her nose against his own and smiling, peppering a small kiss against the corner of his mouth - her voice so soft and sweet it was almost musical.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I told you,” he reminded her in the same rasped tone as he drew back, his eyes fixed on hers. “I couldn’t forget you. I don’t ever want to.”
There was no time to think about anything. No time at all to consider that she might be making a monumental mistake with a man she barely knew properly. But it didn't feel like that. It felt like coming home to him might be the beginning and end of everything. They were playing pretend, surely. But it felt so real she wanted to lose herself.
“I can drive you insane with how gentle I am.”
Maybe she was meant for this all along. To be someone else's. As if the universe had tried to tell her so many times to give up on a regular sort of passion. But willful, stubborn Galadriel Noldor had simply known better. She was barely holding on when he picked her up to wrap her legs around his waist and carry her across the room, her mouth greedy to taste every inch of him as she kissed at his throat, brushing up against the stubble at his jaw with a warm giggle that filled the empty cracks inside of her. The buttons of her shirt strained against her chest as she held onto him tightly. Galadriel sank against the crook of his bare shoulder and hummed his name against the tanned skin that filled her vision. He smelled so fucking good, she couldn't quite stop the tip of her nose from nuzzling at the soft damp tuft of hair tucked in behind his ear.
She had no idea how the towel wrapped around his waist was holding on. But it was. Even when he dipped down to flick at the button at the top of jeans and pulled at the waist band, gently loosening them from the curve of her hips a little, it didn’t budge.
“If you want me to stop…” He kissed the words against her knee, barely there as Galadriel shook her head, her eyes finally opened to how good it could be to actually let go.
Halbrand couldn’t stop touching her. Kissing her hip bone as he dipped, praising her in a way she’d always wanted. The worship felt right, an itch she’d never been able to scratch — finally sated and right, her heart full in a way she knew it should always have been as her thighs rippled and a long shudder ran up the length of her spine right to the top of her head. She was a mess underneath him, pulled apart so easily - giving in entirely when her legs hitched to tug him closer on top of her as he laid her back deftly on the crisp white sheets of the untouched bed, Galadriel’s ankles wrapping around his slim waist and locking over his hips.
In a manoeuvre she thought briefly must be well rehearsed, Halbrand flicked at the button on her jeans. Unzipping them quickly and reaching underneath across her thighs and arse to tug at the light blue denim. The tip of his chin indicated that her hips should come up and they did with his silent command, the material slipping down her legs to reveal the pale blue silk panties underneath. Expensive, but barely there.
“I can't help myself, you're…” His words echoed, bouncing around her head over and over as she struggled to retain her grip on reality.
Galadriel gazed up at him from below, watching his eyes darken as he slipped from the bed with her jeans, grabbing her softly by the ankles and tugging her closer to the edge as he settled himself on his knees at the foot of the spare bed.
“Galadriel.” Her name sounded testy falling from between his lips as she glanced down the plane of her stomach to watch as he nuzzled into her thigh with his cheek. The mop of dark, damp hair felt soft against her skin as he moved closer, his hot breath dancing across her mons. She was wet already, she could feel it as she let out a soft needy moan, the sound rising upward as she tipped her head back unable to watch him move closer as she felt the rumble in his chest reverberate up and against her skin
“—Ask for it, like the good girl you are.”
When he touched her, she huffed indignantly, her eyes rolling back as her hands gripped the sheets - everything feeling slippery and slick, larger than it should as his praise dripped down her spine like a thick yolk - so sensitive as she felt his thumb course roughly upward, hovering over her swollen clit beneath her underwear. She should have seen it coming really, though she’d been too lost in the moment to care. But now she cared. She cared when she felt his lips at the apex of her thighs, her legs shaking and overwhelmed. She cared when she smiled at him.
“Please…please just, fuck.”
Galadriel felt like she might melt when his mouth lapped at her, knowing how messy she must be - her wetness pooling between her thighs, coating her with his tongue as he moved over her, refusing to be kind about any of it. But as he pulled at the soft silk he lapped cautiously at her as if she tasted like the most wonderful thing - his jaw latching at against her cotton covered folds for a second and making her squeal, a pitchy delicate thing against the sloppy wet sounds of his mouth that pushed her closer toward something that had felt for the longest time, unattainable.
How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? Since she’d felt so wanted and not like an obligation? His fingers hooked around the edges of her panties, tugging urgently as she lifted her hips again, completely bare in no time at all before he returned to his central focus. His mouth felt warm, deliciously competent as he nuzzled between her folds and gave her full attention. Sucking and licking at her clit as if his life solidly depended on it.
“You taste so fucking sweet, knew you would…” he huffed against her as she writhed against the sheets and pushed herself up against him. Without any effort he seemed to get the point quickly, focusing in like a laser to drag his tongue roughly against her in a concentrated pattern that made her toes curl.
Suddenly, everything felt definitely too much, the pit inside of her opening up into a chasm of twisting, blooming, aching pleasure she could barely stand - her knuckles whitening as she whimpered out a low moan, Halbrand’s tongue pushing inside of her for a moment in time that made everything else, every other single thought in her head, crumble away in a landslide of bliss.
She couldn’t help the sharp little tears that burned at the edges of her eyes, prickling as they ran down the sides of her cheeks as she tipped her head to push it down into the bedding, to choke back on a pathetic sob that he somehow had no trouble dragging out of her. Her entire body shook, feet tensing against his knees as she tried in vain to ground herself. Clinging on as she started to spiral.
“This feels - so, God you feel so good....” Galadriel finally wailed, an admission as her nose scrunched up - not a plea for him to stop or pause, but to share a feeling that raced through her as he pushed, forcing her closer and closer - a deep sharp burn of pain and pleasure that expanded out and quickly became something so much better, as her hips bucked upward sharply to push herself closer, grinding against his perfectly torturous mouth.
“Don’t stop - don’t…” The palms of her hands pressed suddenly, moving up to drag her nails though his damp hair, the air around them thick with a heat and pressure she could feel as Halbrand pushed back against her, parting her thighs wider slowly with his shifting weight.
“Do you want to come, sweetheart?” Now his voice was so soft, so close and desperate to please her that Galadriel could barely hold on. “How long has it been since someone paid attention to exactly what you need?”
Too long. Far too fucking long.
Galadriel’s vision blurred at the edges as she felt the sudden impending orgasm rocket forward, a tingling warmth spreading out over her body as she started to pant harder. Greedy, desperate whilst he held her close to the mattress and worked at her clit, sucking and moving his tongue in a steady rhythm that pushed her close.
“Don’t hold it in—Be a good girl and let it all go for me…”
It broke like a heavy storm rolling over her as she came, loudly and assuredly against him. The wave hit her solidly as he hummed into her clit and his name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, her body shattered into a million pieces as he pulled back slowly and she tried to focus against the frantic over stimulation that had knocked her entirely off kilter.
“Halbrand…”
His name was barely a whisper as she tried desperately to prop herself up on her elbows to see him, only to be greeted by a wide smile and white teeth, his lips swollen and soaked with her as his eyes softened.
“That’s better isn’t it? Fuck, you look gorgeous like this.” He grinned, all charm again as she felt her eyes roll back, her white cotton shirt bunched up over her cotton blue bra as his gaze raked over her. She didn’t care how he looked at her now, she wished he would look at her like that forever. Especially when he moved again, pushing himself back to stand up and his towel dropped away from his waist.
At least he was proportional. His hands alone should have given that much away. But god, she felt hypnotised when she stared at the heavy, perfect length of his cock. His low chuckle was the only thing that brought her back, her cheeks flushing hot as she swallowed thickly and looked up to find his eyes locked with her own.
He didn’t say a word when he reached down to his bag, pulling at the zipper on the side to reach in and pull out a foil packet between his fingers before stalking closer back to the bed.
“Is this what you want?”
Galadriel felt loose limbed as she stared up, exposed and running hot, nodding swiftly as he smiled again. She watched as he tore at the edge of the condom packet, his warm hazel eyes never leaving her own as he moved closer. At least he’d come prepared. She wasn’t ready to consider if this was something he’d planned. Either way, at this present moment in time, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
“You’ll have to use your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes. Please. Yes.”
Halbrand smirked as he came to a stop at the end of the mattress, his focus never leaving her as he rolled the latex down his length slowly and surely. Galadriel’s eyes flickered up and down rapidly as she watched his dick bob up against his stomach, right before he took himself in his fist and slowly stroked the length of it. For a moment, she thought she'd forgotten how to breathe.
He curled down over her body so easily and slowly that time seemed to stand still for a moment, one of his hands threading with her own, the other planting down next to her head as he stroked the head of his cock over her clit, coating himself in the wet slick between her folds he’d encouraged. Running the full length of his dick against her felt like torture as Galadriel shifted below him, lining herself up around him and feeling him dip slowly but so surely it made her toes curl up. Just the domed head was enough to make her eyes roll back as the arm above her shifted and she looked down to watch his thumb guide the tip of him in smoothly, curling his hips and pushing as she felt him move so carefully and slide further with a low hiss. Slowly.Torturously slow. Feeding her inch by perfect inch.
“More…” Galadriel whined as her eyebrows furrowed together. It was tight, so tight that the pressure started to send her into a spiral of sweet pleasure and pain as Halbrand huffed over head, his forehead dipping to meet her own, the tick at his jawline working overtime.
“If it hurts, tell me to stop.”
“No, please don’t stop. I can take it.”
She could feel herself relaxing, breathing deeply with every slow measured stroke inside of her as he moved again, her free hand coming up to tangle in his half dry curls, her hips coming up off the bed as much as they could to move him closer inside of her.
“Breathe, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me—”
She hadn’t expected his words to rattle her so much, her mouth coming up and meeting his own, desperate to taste his mouth again as the hand that had guided him moved so that his thumb brushed slowly over her clit and again, the coil of pleasure making her hips tilt up desperately.
“God, you’re perfect. So fucking tight—”
With another breath, she felt Halbrand slide deeper, her pelvic bone finally meeting his own and a guttural groan falling from his lips as she drank in every sound he was offering.
“—Do you like being full of me?”
For once in her life, she didn’t know how to respond as he growled against her lips, his hips curling over and over, dragging himself in and out as her legs spread wider to accommodate him. His thumb still worked over her clit, pressing harder as an affirmative whimper was dragged out of her chest.
“Move with me, sweetheart…”
He didn’t need to ask her twice as the hand threaded through hers moved away and underneath her waist to drag her further up the bed. In a flash, both of Halbrand’s hands found the frame of the bed above them as her body curled up underneath him.
“Harder, please, harder…” Galadriel moaned against his throat, unable to stop herself from glancing down to where he sank inside of her again and again, the soft rolling of his hips and the way his cock thrust down deeper and deeper. Galadriel’s head sank back against the pillows now positioned underneath her head. Her hair splayed out wild and untamed behind her as she bit into her lip and moaned against the soft flesh that almost split beneath the pressure, eyes closing as she wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer.
She needed him to carve his way into her, free hands reaching up from the tensing muscles of his back to run through the dark mussed curls. Thick and beautiful, her fingers pressed and swirled through them. His hips lurched, fucking her so hard and definitely that her over sensitive cunt felt the tension, the pulse of pleasure as he curled inside of her deeper than anyone else ever had.
His thumb had left her, replaced by the steady pressure of his pelvic bone dragging against her clit as their bodies curled closer to one and other, her second orgasm building inside of her as Halbrand shoulders shuddered and he brought his lips down to meet her own to press a searing kiss that seemed to reach just as deep inside of her as every single one of his demanding thrusts.
“I want you to come on my cock.” He muttered against her, his hot breath still scented with coffee as Galadriel smiled against him. “I want to feel it, Galadriel.”
Hearing her name was enough. The gentle rumbling purr of it as the sounds of him fucking into her became too much to bear.
“You’re so close, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me want this perfect tight cunt again, wish I could - I wish, fuck. Fuck, Galadriel…”
“Halbrand…” It was coming, inevitable and hot and all encompassing as Galadriel felt herself tense up beneath him, her orgasm spreading out and setting every single nerve ending in her body aflame. The edges of her vision blurred as she looked up to him quickly, his pace shifting again into something more frantic and desperate as a high pitched whine was dragged out of her throat and his lips moved to her ear, her name spoken over and over again as his own climax hit and he pressed inside of her deeper than she’d thought would be possible.
Whatever he’d said to her, whatever strange words were dancing around her head didn’t seem to matter in the moment as he held onto her tightly. Her body ached, sated but sore already as he kissed at her temple and nudged his nose lower down as he adjusted himself, leaving a trail of soft kisses in his wake as he pulled out of her slowly with a groan of satisfaction. Leaving her feeling shockingly empty.
The silence between them was only broken by the heavy sound of their breathing, the thundering of her heart in her chest as her body curled up, rolling onto her side as he drifted back towards the foot of the spare room bed. Still partially dressed, although her bra and shirt had now shifted upward to expose her breasts, Galadriel tried to adjust her clothing to no avail. Somehow she found the will to reach up and tug at the back fastening of her bra, shucking her clothing as quickly as she could manage and pushing the bundle of cotton and lace off the side of the bed and onto the floor.
It was only the tentative touch of Halbrand’s fingers at her ankle that brought her back around, rolling her head to look over at where he now sat, sweat beading along his brow as he touched the shape of her, the bone where her foot stretched outwards, stroking her skin gently with the tips of his fingers.
“You good?” He breathed out the words, glancing over his shoulder, his lips parted softly as Galadriel’s eyes closed slowly, nodding with a slow creeping smile of her own.
“Great. Perfect, even.”
At least that brought the boyish curve of his grin back fully, the palm of his hand slipping higher to stroke against the curve of her calf muscle.
“I’m going to go clean myself up, stay put and I’ll bring you a cloth, then I can…”
“Stay?”
She’d never been one to beg for attention, she’d never thought of herself as being needy. But the thought of him leaving after what they’d done together made a curdling feel settle in the pit of her stomach as she lifted her leg against his knee. He didn’t have to leave yet. That wouldn’t be right. It certainly wouldn’t be very neighbourly of her.
“Only if you want.” His thumb settled into small circles, drifting across her skin and grounding her. Simple words, her choice. And for now, she wanted to choose him. Even if it was only for a little while longer.
“I know what I want, but it’s your call. I’d at least like to make sure you eat tonight.” He sounded soft when he spoke, his fingers dancing a light pattern up and underneath her knee and making her squirm at the simple pleasure of his touch.
It’s caring in a way she hadn’t even considered he’d want to be. Caring in a way she hadn’t realised she’d craved for so long until the words had left his mouth. She felt as if all of the tightly bound protections she’d placed on herself were falling away, the armour that surrounded her heart peeled away piece by piece.
“That sounds nice.” Galadriel smiled into her pillow dreamily, inhaling slowly and evenly as the throb between her thighs reminded her of what they’d just done together. It was what he wasn’t saying, as much as what he’d offered. He wanted to stay a while, she wanted to spend more time with him. It seemed like such a simple, easy thing. Maybe it could be. Or it wouldn’t. Either way, the feeling of being finally saturated with the bliss of being so close to someone else made her want to let him stay as long as he’d like.
“It sounds really nice.” Halbrand smiled as he stood up, his fingers lingering on the delicate shape of her foot for a moment before he seemed to shake himself off. “Don’t get too cosy, Ms Noldor—”
Her eyes struggled to meet his own before he turned, her chin tilting up to watch him stretch, her eyes traversing the long line of his back and down to the curve of his perfectly sculpted arse.
Thank God for ballet. Actually, scratch that. Thank God for exotic dancing.
“—I have some other moves I think might impress you even more.”
***
He’d written his number down on the back of an envelope in her kitchen before he’d left the following morning, and in truth Galadriel had been too elated to think too much into at at the time when he’d asked her to write her own in a small address book he’d pulled out of his duffel bag. A little old fashioned maybe, but nothing concerning.
The night in question had left her with a rush of feelings she’d tried to smother, especially the following morning, when he’d stripped the spare room bed of its sheets and placed them into her washing machine on an extra hot cycle before she’d even managed to leave the shower. Even now, sitting at the desk in her office several days later, she’d taken to running the afternoon and following evening back in her head over and over. How long they’d spent wrapped up together on top of and then underneath the sheets, how he’d talked more about his career when she’d asked, how he’d wanted to know about her childhood and where she’d grown up. They’d danced around her separation, but he’d seemed to take the hint that talking about her ex whilst pawing carefully at another man’s chest wasn’t exactly on her sexy to-do list.
It all seemed like a dream now when she’d thought back on it. Although he had messaged her later in the day and everything had seemed friendly and thankfully flirty enough in the few days after, in the last forty eight hours everything had dried up. Her last text had gone unanswered and as much as Galadriel was trying not to dwell on it, she found herself reaching down for her phone at the side of her desk more often than she’d like, just to check if she’d missed a message somehow.
But nothing had come through since he’d asked if she wanted to grab dinner with him on Friday night and she’d answered with an enthusiastic affirmative. He was probably busy with work, she hypothesised. Busy with the house or some strip club related catastrophe. But after another day of nothing and no response on his business email either, a niggling doubt was beginning to grow at the back of her mind.
In fact, it had niggled enough that she’d decided to drive over to the club. After all, Friday afternoon meant an early finish and free time. Free time meant she could make up some kind of excuse rather than admitting she was simply looking for proof of life from her hook up who had done nothing but indicated he wanted something more. He’d wanted to see her anyway. That was the logic she’d used when she’d keyed The Southlands Club into her satnav and followed the winding roads across the river to the other side of town.
But as she turned the corner to pull up into one of the loading bays across the street, she’d found them already occupied by two police cars and a black SUV. The outside of the club had looked quiet even for a weekday afternoon. The doors were closed when she crossed the street, tugging at one of the handles to find it open before making her way inside.
From behind the empty security desk, she could hear Bronwyn’s voice firmer than anyone else’s, the tone of it louder than she’d ever heard the woman speak the last time they’d met, louder even than the volume she’d used that night she’d helped escort her off stage. Something was wrong, that much was clear. Her mind skittered over the possibilities. Licensing, a noise complaint? But then why would there be two police cars? Why would there be a suspicious blacked out vehicle out there too?
Galadriel pressed against the door with her shoulder, walking into the room as quietly as she could manage and hanging back for a moment hearing another male voice she didn’t recognise cut off the floor manager.
“None of you are under any kind of suspicion, we’re simply here to investigate a lead. Now tell me again, how long has Mr Smith been in ownership of the club?”
“I told you, he’s not called Mr Smith. Not as far as any of us know anyway. The name is Maia on the paperwork, look. I can show you again if you don’t believe me. Everything is signed by H.Maia. All of the cash receipts are in there too.”
“Fine. Maia then. How long?”
Galadriel’s eyes narrowed as she peered around the edge of the tall bar top, her eyes running between the man who was asking questions and the tall woman in a dark navy trench coat standing next to him.
“Eight months, but it’s all here in the documents if you want to take a look.”
Galadriel watched as Bronwyn thrust a manilla envelope forward, her other arm wrapped tightly around her waist in a stance that was as defensive as it was protective.
“What does this mean, are you going to shut us down?”
It was Isildur’s voice she heard next, coming forward to stand beside Bronwyn and looking down at her as she shrugged in response before turning back to the two she assumed were police.
“Yes. We’ll be shutting you down. At least until we’re satisfied - there are proceeds of crime wrapped up in his purchase of the lease. You have to understand this case is bigger than this one thing alone, and unfortunately you’re just another link in the chain…”
“What do you mean, chain?”
Galadriel hadn’t meant to speak out loud, only realising she had when every other pair of eyes in the room turned to face where she stood at the entrance to the lounge area.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed.” Bronwyn’s chestnut eyes flashed toward her for a moment before her brows sank into a frown, letting out a sigh as Isildur ran his arm around her waist.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” The tall, female officer demanded quickly, her lips quickly pulling into a tight frown.
There was no point in lying.
“Galadriel Noldor. I work for the local council. We have property dealings with Mr Maia and I was just here to collect some extra information from him regarding planning. Though I see that might be pointless now.”
Not that her words were the truth either. But it was as close as she could get without wading into something that seemed so utterly unexpected.
He wasn’t here. They were looking for him but he’d gone. At least the last forty eight hours of complete silence made sense. Not that anything else did.
“Well, that’s a stroke of luck. We were just headed over there once we were done here.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she made her way across the room, extending her hand which Galadriel took out of sheer confusion. Her grip was firm as she shook her hand, giving her a small nod.
“I’m Miriel Tar, this is Elendil Andúnië. We’ve been looking for Mairon Smith for quite some time.”
Mairon Smith. Halbrand Maia. One and the same. Galadriel’s own eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she tried to straighten up, her body suddenly feeling heavy as she shuffled against the soft maroon carpet beneath her feet.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow?”
“Mairon Smith is wanted for the murder of Adar Moriondor. Though, we can now add fraud and money laundering to the long list of associated crimes after this meeting.”
Pausing, Galadriel swallowed hard. Murder?
Halbrand had killed someone?
She’d laid next to him in bed. He’d fluffed her fucking pillows. He’d ordered them both chinese food and they’d both laughed at the fortune cookies together. He’d touched her so possessively and knowingly she’d thought for a while he might be the only one she’d trust to ever touch her again.
Nausea overwhelmed her for a moment, blinking hard as she struggled to compute what was going on, her eyes drifting over to where Bronwyn, Isildur and a few of the other men from the club stood looking just as shocked as she felt.
Murder.
This wasn’t happening.
“Oh.” It was all she could summon up, overwhelmed for a second and trying not to show it as she steadied herself from swaying on the spot.
“Anything you or your colleagues could offer us in terms of information or his whereabouts would be helpful, Miss Noldor. Did you know Mr Smith well?”
Well, he made me come at least four times in one night and after that I stopped counting.
“No. Not outside of work. I only know he owned the club because of details we’d kept on file from his planning applications. He’s been out of contact for a few days so I was trying to follow up.”
Galadriel felt herself lie. A white lie perhaps. After all, how well did she know him? Beyond work, she’d only really begun to understand who he was and what he was doing, why he wanted a clean break. But all of that had been a lie too. Had any of it been real?
“We understand he recently purchased land through a broker, again with cash.”
This time it was Elandil who spoke, walking up beside Miriel and looking her over closely. Galadriel stiffened, running her hands into the pockets of her trousers, trying not to idly fiddle with a loose thread inside of the material.
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the purchase of the land. Only that we have a duty of care to oversee any work that takes place there. It’s only recently been marked as an area of natural significance.”
At least that part was true.
“We can discuss this further on Monday, Miss Noldor.” Miriel nodded curtly, as if excusing her as Galadriel looked back across the room to find a pained expression painted on Bronwyn’s features.
“Absolutely. I’m sorry for the interruption.”
That and a curt nod was all it took for Galadriel to back up a couple of steps and turn around, heading back the way she came toward the doors that led out of The Southlands and back into the open fresh air of the street she was suddenly craving.
“Oh, and Miss Noldor.” It was Elendil’s voice again, stopping her in her tracks - her feet glued to the floor as she looked back over her shoulder.
“If you can remember anything, any emails or conversations you’ve had with him that seemed strange, please, let us know.”
***
What Happened?
It was the only message she could think to send him. Asking where he was would be pointless. Asking if he was okay even less so. Not that she expected any response. But as soon as Galadriel had climbed back into her car it was the only thing she was able to do, before driving on autopilot back to her house then sinking into the couch as soon as she arrived home.
The weight of it all had hit her like a tonne of bricks. But there was nothing she could do. No way of knowing what had happened to him. No way of knowing if she would ever see him again. The wave of sickness hit her suddenly, a sweat at her forehead that came on quickly as she ran through to her kitchen and curled over the sink to heave up the contents of her stomach into the steel below.
She’d spent at least an hour googling the names she remembered. Moriondor. Mairon Smith. He’d looked different in the pictures she’d found. A story painted like a lovers quarrel in various news reports, but with an undercurrent of something more sinister and precise. A lie that had sprawled into something more. Deceit. An unforgivable betrayal. A picture of Halbrand with longer, darker hair. Clean shaven. A picture of him with another older man, his arm wrapped around his shoulders. A picture of him performing, mid leap - his long limbs extended upward towards the bright lights above a large stage. All she could think was how graceful he’d looked. How different.
All she could consider was what he had done.
None of it made sense. None of it aligned with how he spoke or acted. He was calm. Intense but unwavering. He’d been nothing but good to her. She couldn’t imagine him shooting someone at point blank range. More like an execution than something messy. But that was how the newspapers and online blogs had painted it. None of it added up. Not the motive, not the method. Not one bit of it.
Sinking against her kitchen cupboards, she settled on the floor wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Making sense of the last two weeks was difficult enough without the sudden revelation that she’d managed to become so open, so quickly, with a man who appeared to have lived two very different lives. Only sharing one of them with her. He could have shared absolutely nothing and it would have seemed more acceptable, more right.
She needed a bath, a long soak and at least two glasses of wine. She needed to sleep for long enough, so that time would pass and she could put another day between him and what had happened.
She had no right to feel betrayed. But she did.
From her couch, she heard her phone chirrup twice in quick succession. Part of her wanted to leave it there for the rest of the night and see if she could forget it existed entirely. But the more curious side, the side of her that wanted to know what had happened couldn’t rest without checking it.
[ Unknown Number: ] I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to interrupt your life.
Well, it was a little late for that, wasn’t it. Galadriel wondered just how deeply they would want to look into her own communication with Halbrand. She wondered if Bronwyn would mention anything about her being at the club out of hours. If they’d been following him for long. If they knew he’d been inside of her home.
The message wasn’t from the number she’d saved and marked under his initials. Not that she was surprised at all. Even the address book made sense now.
Another chirrup from her phone, another text.
[ Unknown Number: ] None of this is what you think it is. It’s not what they think either. I hate that you think badly of me. I never wanted that. I had intended on taking you out tonight. None of what we shared was a lie.
Galadriel wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
[ Me: ] I probably shouldn’t even be sending this.
Well isn’t that the understatement of the century.
[ Unknown Number: ] No, you shouldn’t. But I’m glad you did.
[ Me: ] You’re not going to deny any of it?
[ Unknown Number: ] It would be better if we could talk about it. But this isn’t the time and I certainly don’t want to do this over message.
Galadriel huffed, leaning forward on the edge of her couch where she now perched.
[ Me: ] I’m not sure there is a good time. Whatever it was you did to him, whatever happened. I can’t understand. I just. Look, I don’t know what to feel.
The words didn’t feel like enough. None of it did. She should have been scared by all of this but all she could feel was something unsure and defiant eating away at her. Galadriel held the phone in her hands, her eyes closed against the tidal wave of emotions that washed over her, drawing any self preservation she should have had.
When three dots appeared, she watched them for a moment before they disappeared again. Wishing she’d never reached out.
[ Unknown Number: ] Galadriel, being with you. I felt, if I could just hold on to that feeling. Being with you that night, it meant more to me than you realise.
The words hit her one by one, reading them over and over as Galadriel fought her better judgement. Whatever it was that had flickered to life between them should never have even happened. But it had, and she couldn’t deny herself one last admission. And it had to be the last.
[ Me: ] I felt it too.
She sucked in a tight breath, her fingers grazing the screen of her phone as she swiped through her contacts list and deleted his number and name before blocking the number he was currently using, erasing the thread of messages in a deft stroke.
The silence in her home felt overwhelming, the quiet eating her up inside as she wondered how she could have been so drastically wrong about trusting him. How could she have let him in as easily as she had? Had she been blind, how could she have known?
Tomorrow was going to be a normal day. She had plans to meet with Luthien mid morning to order some last minute accessories for her wedding, a trip to the farmers market. Astoundingly regular and mundane behavior after something so utterly abnormal. Elrond was coming back into town to help with the prep too, the one person she always felt she could share everything with. The only person who really knew how much Celeborn had fucked her up. How could she even start to talk about this when she barely knew where to begin with her own feelings.
Beyond the house on Lorien estates, darkness filled the void across the quickly flowing river, a few flickering lights in the distance illuminating the empty building that took up most of the Dol Guldur land. Years ago, the locals had thought the old decaying house cursed. Ruined by darkness, the land rotten and barren, unable to sustain anything living. But Galadriel had always thought it was nothing more than superstition. Rumours drummed up by people who had wanted the land but could never make it work for them.
Maybe it was cursed. Maybe she should have paid more attention to what people had told her about those that had once lived there. Or maybe she was just a terrible judge of character. But as she stared out from her bedroom window in the pitch black of her room, her phone shoved into the pocket of her jeans, she crossed her arms and let her eyes adjust to the darkness.
It was all consuming, but even now the moon illuminated the water that stretched between her home and his. However briefly he had been there.
Even now, she couldn’t pull herself away from the place across the river. She couldn’t let go of the feeling there had been more to him, that she had barely begun to scratch the surface. That there was more to Halbrand, to Mairon. That perhaps the grace she was trying to allow herself wasn’t enough to sustain the flickering bright flame that he’d ignited inside of her. One she’d thought had gone out forever.
She didn’t owe him the truth, but his own seemed to be far more complicated than she ever could have known. And perhaps she owed it to herself, to find out exactly who he was.