Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 2/36
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these settings or characters, and am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this story.
Warnings: BDSM, twincest, angst
Betas: None
Cast: Erestor/Elladan/Elrohir
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elladan's perspective on matters.
Notes: This was an idea that struck me a while back when I was tossing around ideas on what to do when I'd finished with Glorfie and Erestor. Seems I haven't quite gotten Erestor out of my system. This is NOT the same Erestor as the one I wrote in my previous series.
This is more bondage and discipline than sadomasochism, but I figured I'd tack the whole thing onto the warning in case I decide to get really frisky in later chapters.
He knelt in his own personal darkness, felt the warm, velvet softness of the blindfold as a tactile form of night. Deprived of his vision, it seemed to him that his other senses came to the fore. He could hear the song of the night birds with perfect clarity, the wind rustling tree branches, the distant sound of a gurgling fountain. The scent of night surrounded him, the cool air's touch caressed his bare body, the floor boards felt smooth and solid under his knees.
He strained to hear more, to feel more, but there was nothing. No sense of Erestor in the room with him, though he knew the other elf was there. Thought he was there. He could not have been kneeling in darkness for that long, no great length of time could have passed since he'd felt Erestor's hands tying the blindfold at the back of his head, on his shoulders pushing him to his knees. He knew Erestor was there, but he could have left, couldn't he? Erestor could move quickly and silently when he wished to; it was not beyond belief that he could have slipped out so stealthily that Elladan might not have heard even the smallest click of the door opening and closing.
Was the door closed? Elladan realized with rising alarm that he did not know. In this chamber everything became skewed, his normal reactions of observation and quick witted verbal defense fell to pieces. He did not think Erestor would have done this to him with the door open. No, he was sure of it. Still, if the door had never been shut behind him he would not have heard any click of opening and closing. Surely he would not have missed that, not when he could hear every cricket in the garden, could almost believe that he could hear the sound of dust settling slyly on shelves, tables, and casements.
Erestor had left him, blindfolded, nude, kneeling in the middle of the floor with the chamber door standing open. His heart thundered in his chest as alarm began to escalate into panic. He had to move, had to take off the blindfold and shut the door, or better yet, put his clothes back on and get out.
But if Erestor was still there... The thought trailed off into confusion. The last time he had heard the click of the door and had bolted, but Erestor had been there. He could still feel the memory of the flail's touch burning against the skin of his inner thighs, could feel the heat that had come later, that he had been left with until earlier this afternoon in the garden. He remembered the lash, but more importantly he remembered the heat, heat of lust and heat of sun, dampness of black earth under his knees, indirect contact spiraling him toward excruciating ecstasy until he felt himself at the brink of madness beneath both Erestor's unblinking eyes, and the sun's unblinking eye.
Elladan trembled, schooled himself to stillness, to straightness. -It doesn't matter if he's there or not.- He thought desperately. A bead of sweat slipped down his spine in a shocking trail of cold, and his nipples hardened, tightened even as he clenched his eyes shut behind the velvet band. Confused tears threatened, and he willed them not to fall. Contradictorily his cock was hard as rock, as steel, as mithril, maintaining straightness if not perfect stillness and weeping unashamedly in a way that Elladan could only envy.
His hair was lifted; fingertips brushed the nape of his neck. Elladan could not suppress a hiss of surprise, a startled flinch.
"Very good, Elladan." Said the soft voice behind him, a voice that was never raised no matter the circumstances or provocation. It was gentle and soothing, and in the knowledge of Erestor's presence Elladan's tears began to paradoxically fall.
~*~*~*~
Afterwards they lay together in the incongruously wide bed that dominated the otherwise austerely appointed chamber. Elladan had not wondered about that bed past his first night spent in Erestor's room, had not wondered at the reasons that might have impelled Erestor to possess such a large and heavy piece of furniture. He knew now that the posts were hollow, that bars of mithril lay concealed within them, that the frame was likewise made of mithril rather than mahogany. He knew these things just as he knew that within the bottom drawer of the bedside table lay a silk lined box, and that upon the silk a set of jeweled manacles gleamed silent menace. His knowledge of both left him feeling light headed, fluttery, desirous.
He settled back, head cushioned in the hollow of Erestor's shoulder, idly toying with a strand of raven hair. This was the gray area, the softness of linen sheets and simply embroidered counterpane, comfort of pillows and downy mattress. Their outward life lay within the blacks and whites of stark concealment; their secret life followed its own set of unspoken and often uncertain rules. Here though, he could touch and speak, ask, be someone whom no one else knew.
"Earlier, in the garden." He said lazily, nuzzling against Erestor's throat. "Someone might have seen."
"Someone did see, lirimaer."
Elladan froze, the pleasant exhaustion of satisfaction abruptly vanished, replaced by various aches and strains. He twisted to look into Erestor's face. The dark haired advisor met his gaze with equanimity, a faint smile curving his lips. -Will you voice an objection?- That look said, and Elladan looked away. Perhaps the after love refuge of the bed was not a gray area; he bit his lip.
"Who?"
"Your brother."
"Elrohir." Elladan said redundantly. His mind was blank, his flesh cold. Erestor pulled him closer, kissed the corner of his mouth.
"He won't say anything, pen neth. I think we made him curious."
"After supper he asked me..." His words trailed off. It was not unusual for his thoughts to come slowly or in elliptical phrases here, and Erestor waited patiently.
"Tomorrow night we're supposed to go to the river. Fishing maybe."
"You think he has questions?"
"Aye. I think maybe he's already begun asking them." He glanced up at Erestor again. His fair brow was furrowed, an expression of gnawing doubt darkened his eyes. "Did you mean for him to see?"
"No, Elladan. At that hour he should have been with your father. Afternoon in midsummer is not a popular time for strolling in the garden."
"Mmmm." He tightened his grip on his lover, clung to him. "I wonder if it's worth the effort of dancing around the question tomorrow."
"Probably not. Elrohir is neither stupid nor easily diverted. And who knows, perhaps it's not such a bad thing."
"How so?"
"You are both quite beautiful, pen neth."
Elladan felt a tightening in his groin, a renewal of hardness combined with a fluttering feeling in his stomach. The two sensations twined sinuously together in a queasily sensual dance that was deliciously, frighteningly familiar to the young elf, so familiar that his body automatically associated one with the other, could no longer remember what it felt like to experience them separately.
"You love me?"
"Always, lirimaer."
"Because of what I let you do?"
"No."
"Then why?" He closed his eyes, strained to hear the answer as if he were once again blindfolded and bound as well.
"Just because I do."
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