Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 6/36
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. Heavier on the SM than the BD this time.
Betas: None
Cast: Erestor/Elladan/Elrohir
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elrohir's curiosity gets the better of him, and he learns a disturbing lesson.
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.
~*~*~*~
"I want to watch you kiss."
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Elladan's lips were soft; they tasted of wine and honey. He had not kissed Elladan like this before, though he supposed that in a way he had. Erestor had kissed Elladan, and Erestor had kissed him; if Elrohir had sought for it he might have tasted Elladan on Erestor's lips.
He had not meant to come back, had not even needed to consciously make the decision that he would not. He did not need time to consider it, to think it over. Erestor was right. Elladan had made his choice, and if his twin needed something more than what Erestor was giving him, needed something to replace what Erestor was taking away, then it was in his hands alone to change things. He couldn't do this for Elladan, would not, not when he could barely see the brother he had always known anymore. That Elladan had been overlaid by a vision of white silk and cream ruffles, of cut skin and frightening uncharacteristic docility. He didn't need to think about it because it was obvious that he could not do that again.
Since he had not needed to consciously make that decision, it came as no surprise to him that his consciousness hadn't seemed to involve itself in his quiet journey to Erestor's chamber door. Elrohir had dressed after his evening bath in a loose shirt and breeches, low shoes that could be casually kicked aside, and of course he had not been thinking that these were clothes that could be easily removed. He hadn't thought about stealth as he'd ghosted along the corridors, hadn't been thinking of anything at all.
Erestor hadn't gloated when he'd found Elrohir standing at his door, had only stepped aside and guided Elrohir in. His hand had been hot on Elrohir's back, rubbing in small circles, touching as if by right. Elrohir supposed he did have that right; that he had given Erestor that right when he'd rapped his knuckles against the heavy oaken door.
He had begun to undress, but Erestor had called Elladan forward as before. This time Elrohir did not shy from his brother's touch, not when bow string callused fingers skated over the smoothness of his chest as his shirt was lifted, not when his brother knelt to unfasten his breeches with his mouth. Instead he had stood, still yet shivering, lips parted as Elladan's face nuzzled at his abdomen and between his thighs. He had heard the click of enamel against silver buttons, felt the warmth of breath against bare skin as the cloth parted, felt smoothness of cheeks, lips and chin as Elladan performed his task while holding the backs of Elrohir's thighs.
And then Erestor had asked them, no, told them, to kiss. Something had quivered within Elrohir at the thought, but Elladan had looked up at him expectantly, perhaps even eagerly. He had been beautiful kneeling before him, and the quivering had subsided. He had sunk down on the floor beside him, gathered him into his arms, kissed him while Erestor looked on from the window seat.
Elladan fit against him perfectly, and Elrohir held him tighter, feeling ferociously protective even as he plundered his brother's mouth. This was not the Elladan he had always known, not the trouble maker, not the one who always excelled in sports and combat. Not the leader, not the one who was never afraid to back down. Elrohir felt the way Elladan's body conformed to his own, decided that perhaps this new version overlaid on the old was not so disturbing, so frightening.
His hands roamed over silk, and Elladan moaned into Elrohir's mouth. He remembered welts laid in a herring bone pattern down Elladan's back, and deepened his kiss, ran his hands slowly, heavily, methodically from shoulder blades to waist. Elladan whimpered but did not pull away, writhed in his arms and shuddered as Elrohir sucked his tongue.
Surely it couldn't hurt that much, Elrohir thought, hands now rubbing up and down, increasing pressure, now mimicking Erestor's touch on his own back. The wounds had been healing when Elrohir had first seen them, and he had seen Elladan take worse injuries than that on the practice floor. In spite of that he could feel the trembling of his brother's body, could hear the soft, muffled cries against his lips. He slipped his hands beneath the shirt, touched bare flesh, relented at the tension he could feel under his hands in spite of the soft enthusiasm of the kiss.
A shadow fell over them, and their lips parted. Dismay tangled oddly with arousal as Elrohir gazed into Elladan's moist, lust dilated eyes. His cheeks were damp, and Elrohir lightly touched the salty wetness before looking up at Erestor.
"Pen-rhoven," Erestor said softly, gently. He caught Elrohir's hand and pulled him to his feet. "You have so much to learn. Elladan, rise, turn."
Elrohir sighed at the demonstration of grace once more given as Elladan twisted sinuously to his feet. This time his brother did not wait for the command; he raised his hands over his head, touched his fingertips together to make a perfect, artful arch. Erestor raised an eyebrow at Elrohir, waved him forward.
His mouth felt dry, his throat scratchy as he grasped the hem of the night shirt and lifted it over Elladan's head. He felt oddly compelled to match his brother's gracefulness, and he rose onto his toes, stepped forward to lift the material cleanly. His arousal brushed against the cleft of his brother's buttocks, and for a moment he felt deliciously dizzy.
Erestor caught up the tail of dark hair hanging down Elladan's back and quickly pinned it up in a sloppy knot. He tapped Elladan's arm peremptorily, and he immediately placed his hands on the back of his neck.
"Did you have any objection to what Elrohir was doing to you, Elladan?" Erestor said as he ran a finger along the older twin's spine.
"No, sir."
Erestor turned toward Elrohir, and the expression he wore was identical to that which he had worn in the classroom after making a particularly trenchant point. He passed something from his left hand to his right, and Elrohir saw that hidden in the black folds of his robes Erestor had been holding a riding crop.
He swung the crop in a short, hard arc, connected sharply with the flesh over Elladan's right hip. The blow was followed immediately by another placed in the same place on the opposite side. Elladan sucked in a strained breath; Elrohir held his.
"And that? Do you object to that, Elladan?"
"No, sir." His voice was strained, harsh, the words pushed out from between gritted teeth. Erestor smiled, swung the crop again, harder. The blows came swiftly, seemingly at random, but as the marks rose Elrohir could see a pattern forming around the healing wounds on back, buttocks, and thighs. Sweat stood out on Elladan's body, every cord and muscle stood out in pained tension as Erestor continued to strike. Elrohir winced at the small, choked sounds he could hear his brother making, at the sight of knuckles clenched to whiteness where they laced together at the back of his neck.
"And now, Elladan?"
"No, sir."
"Good. You look quite attractive now, Elladan, very artful."
"Thank you, sir." Elrohir thought he could hear tears in Elladan's voice. He watched, stunned, as Erestor removed his belt.
"I'm going to ruin your design, lirimaer, but you are always beautiful to me." He looped the belt around his hand, buckle snugged against his palm.
There was no pattern to the rain of blows that fell now, no restraint in force, only one brief pause in which Erestor had slipped off his robe. Elladan trembled, rocked slightly on his heels, took air in gasping breaths. Inexplicably, Elrohir's desire had not faded in the least, no matter that he was shaking nearly as badly as his brother.
"On your knees, Elladan." Erestor spoke, and amazingly the advisor was not in the least bit short of breath. Elladan complied, though with less grace than he had previously shown, and Erestor nodded curtly. "Elrohir, open the wardrobe."
He immediately saw what Erestor wanted when he opened the door. A flail hung from a hook, and he stared at it, dazed. Behind him Erestor cleared his throat, and Elrohir removed the flail, turned to look from the implement in his hand to his brother's profile, from menacing strips of black leather to clenched eyes, to the too rapid rise and fall of Elladan's chest with each breath. He took the flail to Erestor, and at a peremptory gesture from the older elf he moved to stand in front of Elladan.
There was no warning given this time, and Elladan arched almost violently away from the flail's kiss, his back describing a nearly perfect arc. This time Erestor allowed for a pause between blows, gave Elladan a chance to recover in between strikes. Elrohir stood over his brother, watched the tension in his face shift to desperate contortion, saw the cords in his neck stand out, heard the hissed cries become louder, more frantic. Tears flowed freely, and at last Elladan cringed, twisted away from the rising and falling instrument of torture.
"Thorn." He hissed through trembling lips, and though Elrohir's eyes were fixed upon Elladan he heard the sound of the flail falling to the floor. Elladan collapsed back on his heels, rocked forward, covered his face. Erestor immediately settled down onto the floor beside him, catching Elrohir's arm and pulling him down as well. "I'm sorry, Erestor." He whispered, turning his face away, and Erestor gathered him into his arms.
"No, love, you did fine." He crooned as he gently stroked the dark, sweat soaked hair, rocked him against his chest. "It's over now, my sweet one, I'm proud of you. You always make me proud of you."
Elladan sobbed against him, and Elrohir wavered, uncertain as to what he should be doing. His desire had faded in the wake of Elladan's tears, the morbid fascination he had felt while watching Erestor strike his unresisting brother vanished. Elladan cried, and Erestor rocked him, whispering soft words of comfort to him as if he were a child. At last he turned his head to look at Elrohir.
"Do you see, Elrohir? He will let you know where the boundaries are, and within them you can do as you please."
Elrohir nodded, his voice gone. Erestor lifted Elladan gently and carried him to the bed.
"Stay here with him. I'll be right back." He picked his robe back up from the floor and slipped it on before leaving Elrohir alone with Elladan.
"Are you alright, Elladan?" He asked uncertainly, viewing the bruises and bleeding welts that covered his brother's back in no particular arrangement. It was a stupid question; of course Elladan wasn't alright. But his brother nodded against the pillow, eyes still closed. Elrohir laid down beside him, gently ran his fingers across Elladan's cheek. "I love you, Elladan." He said because he could think of nothing else to say, and Elladan scooted over the few bare inches between them until they touched.
Erestor returned a few moments later bearing a bowl of water and several towels. Elrohir watched mutely as he sat down beside Elladan and began cleaning the fresh wounds. Elladan winced, whimpered, buried his face in the pillow.
"How is he supposed to work with Glorfindel tomorrow like this?" He asked, meaning to sound angry, outraged. Neither emotion came through; his voice sounded small and childish on the background of Elladan's steady, soft cries.
"He will be well enough by then." Erestor finished up, set the bowl aside. From the top drawer of the bedside table he removed a jar and briskly twisted the lid off. The scent of sweet herbs filled the air. Elladan sighed and visibly relaxed as Erestor spread the healing salve over his battered flesh. "We heal quickly, and this will aide in that. Does this feel better, Elladan?"
"Mmmhmm." Amazingly, the elder twin wore a faint smile. "Thank you, Erestor."
"I love you, little one." Erestor replied, and Elrohir watched in confused dismay.
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