His voice came out huskier than suitable for such an event. Findaráto's kiss of greeting, in turn, was utterly formal. Laurefindil's gaze followed him through course after course of the elaborate feast, until at last Findaráto's perfect composure cracked and their eyes met across the table. Heat flowed straight to Laurefindil's groin, and a flush colored Findaráto's milk-white skin.
Later, there was dancing, and he brushed against Findaráto as if by accident. Much later, the elite of the Noldor stood gathered in small groups, drinking stronger liquors, talking art, science, politics, and Laurefindil sidled up to Findaráto, giving a courteous smile to Arafinwë and Nolofinwë while he whispered into his ear how he would love to bend him right there over uncle Arafinwë's table.
Findaráto exhaled shakily, and after a moment, excused himself. Aglow with victory, Laurefindil followed him onto the deserted balcony to pin him against a pillar with his body, laughing into Findaráto's beautiful face that was wavering between annoyance and amusement.
“Ah, youthful arrogance.” There was admiration in Findaráto's voice, as well as exasperation. “Have you not yet learned that there is a time and a place for seduction, and that one of uncle Nolofinwë's gatherings is neither?”
“You like my arrogance!” Laurefindil's smile gleamed more brightly than his hair, and Findaráto rolled his eyes, though his answering smile proved Laurefindil's words to be true. Laurefindil stole a kiss, tasted his cousin's surrender.
“I've taught you too well,” Findaráto mourned.