Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 4/36
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: Elrohir and Erestor have a talk. Elrohir finds out what it's all about.
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.
Okay, folks, this is the graphic sex chapter! Yay!
He was not as outgoing as his brother, not as swift to step forward, to speak out, to stand apart. Elrohir was no coward, however; the reasons for his reticence lay in the desire to consider his circumstances and think through his options rather than in fearfulness. He had had plenty of time to think after he and his brother had returned to the house on the previous night, and he did not hesitate in going to Erestor's office after the noon meal to speak to his father's advisor privately.
Elrohir was not surprised that Erestor seemed to have been expecting him. The dark haired elf viewed him with equanimity from behind his desk, slender eyebrows slightly raised in expectation.
"Good afternoon, Elrohir. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the straight backed wooden chair across from him. Elrohir's gaze flickered briefly over the offered chair as he strode to stand before the desk.
"This is about the conversation you had with your brother last night, I assume." Erestor said evenly, and Elrohir returned his bland expression, conversational tone.
"He would have told you what was said."
"Actually, no. We didn't discuss it."
The two stared at each other over the expanse of rose wood. Erestor's eyes were hooded, his lips curved in a small smile that could be interpreted as either mocking or amused. Elrohir did not rise to the bait. He had spent enough time as the advisor's student to know the game, if not the stakes.
"Elladan was not himself."
"No?" Erestor questioned, and now Elrohir was certain that it was mockery he saw in the lovely dark eyes.
"I am not certain I care for the effect you seem to have on him. You should have a care, my lord chief counselor."
Even to his own ears the words sounded impossibly pompous. Erestor's expression did not change, but something sparked in the depths of his eyes.
"Sit down, Elrohir." An order this time, not a request, and Elrohir found himself sitting out of force of habit, the long conditioning of classroom commands couched in polite phrases.
"I admire your instinct to protect your brother. Everyone thinks highly of your intellect, but they think you passive, do they not?" He nodded, not waiting for Elrohir to reply. "We know better, you and I. I know you would defend your brother to the death if need came to pass, but I assure you there is no need."
"He wept." Elrohir said, and his voice was stone.
"He is free to make his choices. As are you." Erestor paused, studied his former student's face. "Will I be seeing you later in the evening?"
Elrohir froze. It had been easy to tell Elladan that he would join them, easy to give his brother what he seemed to want and need. It was not so easy to give to Erestor. At last he nodded.
"Good. The second hour after the evening meal, then." He smiled, and for the first time since Elrohir had entered the room, the expression seemed genuine. "I am very demanding, Elrohir, as you may remember. Very demanding."
"I've gathered that." He said dryly, and Erestor laughed.
"No, pen-rhoven, you only think you have. I will see you tonight."
~*~*~*~
"You're over dressed," was the first thing that Elladan said to him after stepping aside so that he could enter Erestor's bed chamber. The words were not spoken seductively, but worriedly, his nervous gaze flickering from Elrohir's silk shirt, doublet, breeches and high boots to the figure seated by the window. Elrohir glanced at the elder elf silhouetted by Ithil's silver rays, and shivered. Elladan wore a long white silk night shirt. Cream ruffles swallowed his hands and frothed at his throat. A simple white ribbon held his hair.
"Elrohir was given no instruction concerning this." Erestor said mildly. "Why don't you make him more comfortable, Elladan?"
"Yes, sir."
Elladan guided him to a richly upholstered wingback chair, pushed him gently but firmly down into it. Elrohir's jaw tightened as his brother knelt at his feet. He could not even begin to number the times that Elladan had helped him with his boots, but none of those times had been like this. Elladan's hands had never shook when he untied the laces, his hands had never felt so hot even through the thickness of protective leather. He had never performed this task as if it were a strange, abbreviated dance performed for a single, silently avid spectator. Elrohir started to speak, but Elladan shook his head ever so slightly, reached forward to press an index finger against his lips.
He would have drawn away at the touch of hands on his chest, moving over the buttons of his doublet and then beneath it to the laces of his shirt. Elladan brushed his hands away, however, offered him an unreadable, skittering glance that went oddly with the dull red blush that had risen in his cheeks. It occurred to Elrohir that he had never seen Elladan's hair this way, pulled back so tightly from his face. He'd seen it loose and flowing, and he'd seen it braided, had helped comb it and plait it on mornings and evenings beyond counting, but he'd never seen him like this. It also occurred to him that hair was something that one could hide behind; to his view Elladan was left more exposed by this style than by the night shirt that only covered him to mid thigh.
Then he was being pulled to his feet. The doublet fell back from his shoulders; the shirt was pulled over his head. Elladan knelt before him once more, and this time he did not look up to his brother's face as he began working the intricacies of belt and buttons, as he began to slide the fabric down over his brother's hips. This time Elrohir did step away, stood uncertainly for a moment before completing the task that Elladan had begun. His brother sank back on his heels, head bowed, and for a moment Elrohir felt a sense of dislocation. This pose was not so different from the one he had seen him in when he had knelt beside Erestor in the garden. It was strange, discomfiting, sickly arousing.
He met Erestor's eyes squarely when the counselor rose from his seat and crossed to stand before him, the hem of his dark robes lightly brushing the whiteness of Elladan's night shirt.
"This is how I want you when you are here, Elrohir. If you choose to return." He ran his knuckles gently against the younger elf's cheek, began unbraiding his hair without breaking their gaze. "Do you understand?"
Elrohir nodded. A hand clasped his ankle, tightened, and it took all of his effort of will not to look down. Erestor stepped closer and the clasp vanished; silk brushed against his bare skin. He felt his own face heating as his arousal slipped against the soft folds.
"Speak when you are spoken to, lirimaer."
He licked his lips. "Yes, I understand."
"Sir." Elladan murmured from somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. This time Elrohir did look down. His brother still knelt back, eyes fixed to the floor. His dark hair gleamed with red high lights in the glow of candles and lamps; his face was turned downward, half hidden in dark silk. "Yes, I understand, sir."
Erestor pressed two fingers beneath Elrohir's chin, raised his head so their eyes met once more. "Your brother is trying to help you. Will you waste his efforts?"
"No, sir." He breathed. Felt dizzy. Nothing to steady himself upon.
"Good." He smiled, pleased, and Elrohir was reminded incongruously of the classroom. "Rise, Elladan. There is something your brother needs to see."
He should not have been astonished by his brother's gracefulness, but he was, nevertheless. He had seen Elladan dance, and he had seen Elladan fight with both blade and bow. Elrohir knew he possessed the full measure of elvish dexterity and agility, but there was something in this delicate unfolding of self from floor to feet that caught his breath. He watched ambivalently, painfully aware of the coiling heat within him, the evidence of his desire stiff and unyielding between his legs.
Erestor stepped aside, and Elrohir nearly gasped at the sudden absence of cool cloth against his fevered skin. The advisor was not looking at him, however, but at Elladan who stood facing Elrohir, eyes fixed somewhere over his left shoulder. Neither he nor Erestor seemed to even be aware that he was standing there naked and aroused. It was disconcerting, even more so than if they had been blatantly staring, and Elrohir struggled with the urge to cover himself.
Erestor gestured and Elladan turned, again gracefully, slowly, swan-like within the thin layer of white silk and cream lace. Now Erestor turned his attention to Elrohir, and his expression was smooth, the tone of his voice didactic.
"Look, Elrohir."
Elladan raised his arms over his head, and Erestor grasped the slippery fabric, lifted it over his hips, past his waist, over his head. Elrohir sucked in a harsh breath, shock temporarily turning his thoughts into a blur of white light.
Welts crossed Elladan's buttocks and thighs in an obviously intentional pattern, lay at each side of his spine in a herring bone design. They looked to be a couple of days old, red fading to pink at the edges, partially healed. Elrohir swallowed hard. He had noticed no sign of physical discomfort when Elladan had sat with him on the bedrock river shore, but the welts had to still be painful. He reached forward, arm moving seemingly of its own accord, fingers trembling in fascinated curiosity and dread. He snatched his hand back at the last moment, held it clenched at his side. Erestor chuckled.
"You may touch, Elrohir."
He did not touch. He cast Erestor a look that was meant to be empowered with anger and disgust. Only mute confusion was readable among the emotions milling behind his dark eyes though, and when Erestor crooked a finger at him, silently asked him to circle Elladan, he obeyed.
Elladan's face was impassive save for the tightness of his jaw, the too wide eyes fixed on Erestor. Elrohir stared. And stared. It seemed alright to stare at Elladan this way, as if this pose and the improbable marks on his body had made a statue of him, a morbid objet d'art rather than a person. Elrohir stared, and he did not object when Erestor wrapped an arm around his waist from behind, pulled him up against his body so that he stood pressed against him, nearly cheek to cheek. He gasped when Erestor's hand circled his cock.
"I am very demanding. Do you understand now?" Erestor spoke into his ear, and Elrohir nodded, replied in a voice that sounded faint and alien.
"Yes, sir."
There were different marks across Elladan's abdomen, fewer than on his back and older, but also clearly applied with an eye for artful effect. Not lash marks; Elrohir leaned back in Erestor's embrace, knees nearly buckling under the advisor's slow, sensual touch. A riding crop, perhaps, he thought distantly as Erestor's hand moved up and down, squeezed, stroked.
Between Elladan's thighs he could see angry red lines, carefully placed on the delicate white skin. Elrohir could easily imagine how that might have been done, wondered if Erestor had bound his brother with legs wide spread to apply the lash to his inner thighs or if Elladan had somehow, impossibly held still for it. He moaned at the thought, shuddered in Erestor's grip, allowed his gaze to move slightly higher to Elladan's heavy, engorged member, then higher still to Elladan's face.
Now his brother was not intent upon Erestor's face. The expression of completely focused fascination that Elrohir had seen in the garden was not gone, but the advisor's dark eyes were no longer the anchor holding his gaze. Instead he stared enrapt at Erestor's hand, at it's movement around Elrohir's cock, at Elrohir's cock within it's expert circle, and Elrohir shattered in an orgasmic rush that was two parts purest ecstasy to one part dismay.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be supported by Erestor. Felt warm slickness across his skin as Erestor's hand skated upward over his belly, chest, throat, and chin. Knew what the advisor wanted when he felt wet fingers pressed to his lips, flicked his tongue over them at the thought of red welts crossing his brother's back. Tasted salty viscousness.
"Very good, Elrohir." Erestor whispered against his hair, and Elrohir clenched his eyes shut tighter, clenched his fists at his sides tighter, sucked the offered fingers into his mouth. He could hear Elladan's harsh breathing, and knew that he was watching this just as he had watched while Erestor was touching him.
He was guided back to the chair, allowed to sit. Erestor batted his hand aside lightly, warningly, when he reached to wipe sticky wetness from his lips. Again his chin was lifted, his face turned toward Elladan.
"Watch. Do not touch."
"Yes, sir." He whispered, wondering dazedly how he could touch from this distance. Then it dawned on him; Erestor was telling him not to touch himself. He blushed in a combination of embarrassment and disappointment.
He had been afraid that he would have to remain still while Erestor hurt his brother, but that was not the case. The strong hands that guided Elladan's arms back to his sides were gentle, the caresses that he lavished on the younger elf's flanks and thighs were soft and loving if distant, removed. Elrohir watched, lips parted, as Erestor's hands glided over shoulders and collar bones, circled nipples, slid over the expanse of chest and abdomen only to slide back to hips and then to thighs. Elladan moaned, and was quietly hushed.
Erestor did not face Elladan when he finally removed his robe, but remained behind him. The soft sound of silk falling to the floor was the only indication given to the older twin of what was to happen next. Elrohir stared at Erestor's body, at the stream lined musculature that was not at all what he would have imagined. He had not the build of a warrior, but neither was this the slender form of a sedentary scholar. Dark trousers were unbuttoned and removed, revealing a narrow waist and hips, strong thighs, well shaped legs. Erestor fished a small jar out of a pocket before letting the garment fall atop his robes, and Elrohir unconsciously touched his upper lip with the tip of his tongue.
Erestor turned Elladan slightly, and Elladan parted his legs further, bent smoothly at the waist, placed his palms flat on the floor. Elrohir gasped softly, cringed back into the chair. He could now see his brother's flushed face clearly, upside down between Erestor's calves. His eyes were shut, his expression strained. Elrohir's fingers dug into the chair's wine upholstery as he watched the shift of tension to desire as Erestor unstopped the jar, spilled clear oil over his hand and between Elladan's marked buttocks.
Elrohir whimpered faintly as Erestor stepped to one side and placed his left hand on the small of Elladan's back, allowing Elrohir a clear field of vision. The inability to open his eyes had been replaced by an inability to close them as first one finger and then two were slowly inserted into Elladan's body. Two became three as the advisor stroked in and out, corkscrewed, scissored. Elladan moaned again, rocked against the intruding digits as much as he could within the confines of his position. The movement was rewarded with a sharp slap across the healing welts arching over the top swell of his buttocks, and his hiss of startled pain was echoed in Elrohir's sympathetic gasp.
A fourth finger worked its way inside, and Elrohir found himself leaning forward, eyes wide and unblinking. Sweat stood out on Elladan's back; tension was evident in every line of his body, in the lines that had formed at the corners of eyes and mouth. Elrohir's cock strained against his belly, desire renewed, and he shivered as Erestor withdrew his fingers from Elladan's body only to replace them a moment later with his cock.
Elladan's face twisted in indescribable pleasure as he rocked forward precariously, trusting in Erestor's grasp to keep him from falling. Soft, ululating cries passed his lips as Erestor thrust inside of him, cries that became sharper and more keening as the pace increased. Elrohir flinched at each impact of flesh against injured flesh, but Elladan did not seem to be hurt, showed no discomfort or pain in his expression. His hands had curled into fists on the floor, knuckles skidding bruisingly against wood with the increased rhythm and forcefulness. He was no longer supporting himself so much as hanging, allowing the hands on his hips to hold him in position.
Erestor shuddered against him, growled low in his throat as he exploded deep within Elladan's body. The young elf mewled piteously as Erestor slipped his length out of him, his shoulders, arms, and legs trembled as he was held in position for a few moments longer, just long enough for Elrohir to see Erestor's essence beginning to make a slippery trail on his thighs.
His eyes were still closed when Erestor pulled him upright, turned him to face Elrohir. His cock was still hard and slick from the near constant flow of pre orgasmic seed. His lower lip quivered, but he did not flinch away when Erestor kissed his cheek, lightly touched the now damp hair drawn back from his brow.
"Your brother is uncomfortable, Elladan." Erestor murmured. "Wet and sticky and needing to be cleaned."
"Yes, sir." Elladan said in a voice now characterized by jagged edges and breathless want. He did not look at Elrohir as he approached him, dropped to his knees before him. Elrohir stared blankly, then gasped in shock when Elladan insinuated himself between his legs, brought his lips to Elrohir's face.
"No!" He hissed as Elladan lapped at the now cool essence slicked to his chin. Elladan drew back, smiled strangely.
"Thorn." He said, and Elrohir blinked, panting in both anger and want. "Say 'Thorn' and it's all over. Everything stops." Then his mouth was on Elrohir's chin again, his tongue working a steady, merciless trail down the column of his throat.
The word danced just beyond Elrohir's reach, the magic word that Elladan had given him, the word that he should say, should have already said. His tongue pressed to his teeth in the beginning of a lisp, ready to form the single syllable that would make Elladan stop teasing him with his tongue, make that hot wetness cease to incite lust and desire in his traitor body. He could feel Elladan's cock pressed against the smooth skin of his thigh, could feel his breath tickling saliva slick flesh, had only to look down to see dark hair, to see hands holding his hips in a hot, firm grasp. Yet still he was speechless, speechless as Elladan moved lower between his pectorals, to his belly, down until he could feel the heat of his brother's chin over the head of his cock.
There was a moment of lightening when they touched, and Elrohir could not keep from crying out, hands rising unbidden from the arms of the chair. Then Elladan was gone, and he lay back against the soft cushions, shaking.
"Enough." Erestor's soft voice again, and Elrohir opened his eyes to see him standing beside Elladan, hand on the nape of his brother's neck. "Come here, Elrohir."
And Elrohir did, aware that Erestor was once more fully aroused, aware of Elladan's eyes upon him, not caring about either. He came forward into Erestor's embrace, moaned softly as he was pulled flush against the older elf's body, as his rock hardness slid deliciously against Erestor's. Elladan whimpered, but he found that he did not care about that, either. He was being propelled towards the bed, and Elladan had been left by the chair with no further instructions, and it did not matter, did not matter at all.
The counterpane was cool and then warm beneath him; Erestor's hands were hot upon him. Elrohir writhed beneath that touch, twisted sensually like a cat in a patch of sunlight. He had never had a male lover before, though he had thought about it many times during the turbulent years of his adolescence. Females he had had, yes, fumblingly in the heat of youthful enthusiasm and then with more skill as enthusiasm blossomed into experience. He knew what it was to have soft flesh twist beneath him, to feel himself engulfed in tight wetness that was a completion in and of itself. Those things he knew, but he had also imagined this, though not with Erestor, not with Elladan looking on, not in this context. It didn't matter, though in an incoherent fashion he knew that later it would.
Erestor's tongue lapped at his nipples, nipped at them with his teeth, and Elrohir bit back a cry of mingled pain and pleasure. Elladan had not licked him there, had assiduously followed his assigned trail from chin to cock, caught within invisible bonds that Elrohir only vaguely understood. There were no such restraints on Erestor, and Elrohir arched upward into him, shoulders pressed into the pillows, collar bones standing out sharply, sweat sheened.
He felt the touch between his legs, a touch more intimate even than that which Erestor had given him earlier. He held his breath, forced himself to relax. Elladan had enjoyed this, had clearly welcomed this wanton openness followed by a joining of flesh. Slick fingers stroked, pressed against his opening, and Elrohir opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling as he was slowly, carefully penetrated.
He was not aware of when Elladan joined him on the bed, but when he turned his head on the pillow Elladan was beside him, watching him. Erestor had pushed Elrohir's legs apart and back, and Elladan held one of them against his hip as he lay on his side, head propped on his hand. For the first time since he had entered this room, Elrohir felt no urge to look away. The finger within him probed, pushed him to the edge of pain and then slightly over it as another digit was added. He bit his lower lip, winced, and Elladan touched his cheek.
"Relax, Elrohir." He whispered, and Elrohir nodded, tried to comply. His tongue danced against his teeth in the beginning of a simple, one syllable word as a third finger was added. Then the angle shifted. Gently thrusting fingers brushed against some secret place inside of him, and he arched upward, gasping, and thought vanished in a haze of starlight.
His hands went to the backs of his knees, spreading and bracing them, and for a split second he imagined Elladan this way, saw his brother in this pose while Erestor wielded the lash, thought he could understand why Elladan would be willing to lie thusly. Instead of dampening his desire, this exquisitely clear image fanned the flames. He rocked forward against Erestor's fingers, imagined the cutting bite of leather on his own inner thighs, felt steel beginning to turn molten within him at each inward thrust.
Then the fingers were gone, and he had no time to voice his disappointment. His lips parted, but no sound passed them as Erestor's cock stretched him, slid inside not quickly but without pause, filled him. Elladan's lips were pressed to his cheek; a hand was on his cock. Elrohir did not know whose, nor did he wish to know. His arms shook, legs quivered, and Erestor remained perfectly still within him, too much, too suddenly, and he felt as if he had been split apart. All words were gone in that moment of crystalline shock and pain, even words of one syllable.
It seemed that an age had passed before the worst of it had settled into discomfort, until he could hear and understand the soft words of encouragement being whispered in his ear. He whimpered when Erestor moved within him, tried to speak. Then language failed him once again as Erestor rubbed against that magical spot within him.
Elrohir had no idea how Elladan had kept from climaxing while Erestor had been taking him. There was no way he could last like this, no hope when Erestor was stroking deep inside of him, when the mysterious hand was stroking his cock in delicious counterpoint. He arched upward off of the bed, hips raised, knees held apart as he was overtaken by ecstasy. Then Elladan was poised over him and behind him, holding his legs back for him, and he could only lay trembling with the after shocks of bliss while Erestor continued to rock in and out of his unresisting body.
He felt the convulsing within him as Erestor reached his climax, felt the burn of his seed. The grip on his legs was loosened, and he allowed them to collapse bonelessly to the mattress. Erestor covered him, kissed him He felt impossibly tired, dreamy, disjointed. His head lay between his brother's bare thighs, and as Elladan leant forward for his own kiss Elrohir felt his cock brush against his cheek.
"You too, little one?" Erestor asked, and Elladan swallowed.
"Yes, please."
"Since you ask so sweetly." He slid off of Elrohir's body, settled to one side and curved his arm over the younger twin's chest. Elrohir's heart beat, which had just begun to resume its normal rhythm, sped up as he realized what Erestor was doing. Elladan moaned above and behind him, and Elrohir's eyes widened at the sensation of Erestor's thumb slipping back and forth against his braids. He closed his eyes tightly and flinched a few moments later at the hot rain that splashed against the side of his face. Then Erestor was covering him once more, lapping cat-like at the warm liquid sliding toward the pillow.
Elladan scooted down from the head of the bed and laid down next to Elrohir, snuggled close against him. For a moment Elrohir stiffened, and then relaxed in his twin's embrace. The situation was simply too surreal to do anything but go along with it. Erestor had finished his ministrations and now lay at his other side, gazing down at him.
"So, then?" He asked, and Elrohir could only stare. Elladan giggled. Erestor smiled. "Will you stay the night?"
"Yes, stay with us, Elrohir." Elladan mumbled against his shoulder. Impossibly, the older twin looked as if he were already half asleep. "And could you get me my nighty, Erestor?"
"Your nighty?" Elrohir managed, and was almost beset by a fit of hysterical laughter at Elladan's response.
"You don't expect me to sleep without a night shirt, do you?"
"Definitely not." Erestor rose from the bed, fetched the requested night shirt. Elladan sat up sleepily and pulled it over his head. When Erestor rejoined them, he gently but firmly pushed in between the two. Elladan immediately nestled into his arms and after a brief, uncertain pause Elrohir did likewise.
"Love you, Erestor." Elladan mumbled, and Erestor kissed the top of his head.
"I love you, too, little one."
Elrohir said nothing, stared at the ceiling long after the other two had drifted into reverie.
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