Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 9/36
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: More sexual acts and resultant discussion.
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.
Erestor was kissing him, slowly and deeply, holding his wrists behind his back while Elrohir perched on his lap, kissed him as if there was nothing in the universe but him. Elladan has said something to him about this, that when he was with Erestor he felt that all of Erestor's attention was on him, that he was the only thing of importance. Elrohir felt the same way, even with Elladan at their feet, leant against his dangling leg.
It had been several days since their discussion in the garden, and Erestor had been unusually gentle with him, less reserved, more affectionate. He had been so with Elladan, also, and the older twin had been lapping it up like a cat at a bowl of cream. Elrohir wanted to feel unsettled, disgusted. He didn't.
Erestor knotted his fingers in Elladan's hair with his free hand, but there was no pull as the elder twin rose from the floor to join them in the wingback chair. He unfolded himself from the floor, settled onto Erestor's thigh, perfectly gauging the upward movement of hand in hair, never feeling any pressure, never outstripping the speed Erestor set. It was a simple movement, nothing obvious. It was a movement that typified Elladan. He was water flowing gracefully within the channel set for him, a river made remarkable for doing no more than remaining within its banks.
His back and shoulders ached from Erestor's hold, his chest thrust forward, mouth open beneath Erestor's lips. He could not move, felt his shoulders on the verge of dislocating. Didn't want to move. Elladan nestled in the warm comfort of Elrohir's encircling arm, and Elrohir moaned as his twin's hand similarly circled his arousal. Not a new sensation, but new to be touched thusly by Elladan, new to be held, now with an ankle hooked about his as well as with his arms held back, while Elladan did this.
Slide and hold, pearls of milky essence appearing and then slipping from his slit, and Elladan's thumb gliding in it, swirling over the tip with an expertise that made Elrohir want to squirm, want to twist away. His muffled cries became pleading even as his hips moved, pumped into his brother's grip What motion he was allowed contradicted the screaming in his mind, and when Elladan slid back downwards and Erestor released his mouth, even his lips could not translate those cries.
He was as skilled with his mouth as with his hands. Elrohir shuddered with pleasure while tears made silver trails down his cheeks. Elladan's mouth was hot, wet, the suction rhythmically maddening. He took his brother's length to the back of his throat, swallowed convulsively, and Elrohir arched forward, no longer caring if his shoulders were wrenched from their sockets.
Erestor's hand was hot on his face, keeping his visage tilted and turned so that he could see Elrohir bared in this deeply primal way, this nakedness that went so much further than the removal of clothes. Elrohir moaned, a cry of negation that went oddly with his wanton tone, with his wide spread legs and thrusting hips. Erestor's gaze was hotter than his hands, so much more intense. Elladan swallowed him again, and between that and the perversely erotic sense of being watched he was propelled mercilessly into ecstasy.
He collapsed backwards as his wrists were released, grateful for Erestor's arm immediately enfolding him. Elladan's head rested against his inner thigh, lips brushing against his softening member, and Elrohir did not know if he wanted to scream, cry, kick or kiss the elf resting so peacefully between his legs. Erestor kissed his temple, gently ran a hand through his hair, and he felt as if something within him was breaking. His aching shoulders began to shake, his lips trembled. Elladan kissed his thigh.
"Precious one." Erestor whispered in his ear, "My lirimaer. Whom are you doing this for?"
"Not you." He said. His words were frail and transparent, barely a breath.
"For Elladan?" Dance of hair against the inside of his knee as Elladan glanced up. Elrohir refused to open his eyes. Refused to answer. Erestor touched his cheek. "Will you return the favor?"
"No." His lips barely moved. "I... no. Please."
"I won't force you to do anything, Elrohir." He stood, lifting Elrohir out of his lap as he did so, set him aside. "And now, if you two will excuse me, there is something I forgot in my office that I must retrieve before morning." He strode to the door, and Elrohir stood beside his kneeling brother, staring, unbelieving.
"You... you can't..." He stammered.
"I can't what?" Erestor glanced over his shoulder, hand on the door knob. Elrohir licked his lips, and Erestor shrugged eloquently, opened the door, left.
~*~*~*~
Silk tore as he hauled Elladan to his feet. No gracefulness of flowing water this time, no erotic, obscene ballet. His brother stumbled as he was jerked upwards by the heavy lace at his neck line.
"That was premeditated." Elrohir said flatly as he jerked his brother forward until they stood nearly nose to nose. Elladan's eyes narrowed; he grabbed Elrohir's wrists, twisted and pulled. With a pained cry Elrohir lost his grip and would have fallen if Elladan hadn't caught him.
"So you were the one in the dark this time. So what?" Elladan's face was dark with defensiveness, shame, fear. Elrohir regarded him in frustrated, humiliated anger as he rubbed his wrists.
"I shouldn't have to answer that, and I don't believe I have to."
"Oh?" Elladan stepped closer. His voice sounded small. "Let me love you. Do you remember saying that?"
"That wasn't love."
Elladan's face tensed, then grew still. "You deny that I love you, then?"
"No, Elladan, dammit, you know that's not what I mean!" He ran his hand through his hair, worn loose as per Erestor's request. "You know I love you, Elladan, but this... This is. Something else."
Elladan shrugged. "So, where is it that you draw the line, then? I didn't ask you to come to my room that night."
Elrohir's face colored. "I care about you, Elladan. I am concerned."
"Oh, so that was... concern." Elladan smirked, but the sarcastic expression did not hide his hurt. "You kissed me as if I were your lover, the way Erestor likes to see us kiss." Elrohir said nothing, looked away. Elladan grabbed his chin, forced him to look into his eyes.
"Very well, then. I'll say what you're afraid to say. I want this. You. And here I can do what I want."
"It doesn't look that way to me." Elrohir said through gritted teeth as he knocked his brother's hand away from his face. "You do what Erestor wants."
"On the surface." Elladan smiled. "If I have no choices, then I have no guilt either, do I?"
"Oh, please." Elrohir's tone was impatient. "After all you've said to me about choices."
"You've never asked him to stop. Could you, really?"
"You did."
"That was different."
Elrohir did not waste time arguing the obvious truth of his brother's statement. He bowed his head, pressed his fingers to his forehead. He could feel the beginning of a dull throbbing headache, a steady ache that would follow him through the night.
"You want this."
"I love you, Elrohir." Elladan said, and Elrohir stared tiredly at him through his spread fingers. More truth, plain, simple, immutable truth that could not be argued, fought, or denied. Elladan loved him. He loved Elladan. They were statements of menace that could be spoken over the dinner table, the innocent surface of something previously, blessedly undiscovered.
"I couldn't do this alone." Elladan glanced down nervously, picked at the torn lace at his throat. "Erestor, though... I can do what Erestor wants and have what I want. And it's not my fault." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, in his expression. "Do you see?"
It reminded him hideously of Erestor's words in the garden. "You draw a fine line, brother. More so even than the one you've accused me of drawing."
"Perhaps. But still." His lifted his eyes to meet Elrohir's, and in spite of his nudity Elrohir felt that it was his brother who was more naked, more painfully exposed. "Will you... Do you still?"
"You know the answer." He reached forward, took his brother's hand. It seemed that he bridged an immense gulf, reached further than was possible, too far. "I won't say 'no' next time, Elladan." He turned towards the bed, drew Elladan by the hand and shoved away the image of Erestor leading him in this very same way. "Come to bed."
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