Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 11/36
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 thinks, Elladan and Erestor talk, Elladan and Erestor do other things. Does anyone actually read these stupid summaries I write? Can I please quit writing them?
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.
He knew his words had not come close to describing how it had been for him in those early days of his relationship with Erestor. He had told Elrohir that he'd been afraid, but fear was not quite the right word, and it certainly had not been as easy as he had made it sound. "It made me nervous... I went to see him." As if it were only natural to confront the dragon in its lair, to dance elegantly to the discordant jangle of one's own nerves.
He'd gone riding with Erestor, and things had progressed from there. That was what he'd told Elrohir, and again, that barely served as any explanation at all. He could not explain to his brother how a picnic could seem surreal even though nothing had been out of place, how young and uncertain he had felt sitting across from Erestor by the river caverns. He had barely been able to follow the conversation, though he had finally realized that the looks he was receiving over the picnic basket were admiring, had blushed in awkward pleasure when Erestor had complimented him on his hair. He had agreed to go on another outing when Erestor had asked, had felt light headed and delirious at his own recklessness.
Things had certainly progressed, and alarmingly quickly now that he looked back on it. How many days and nights had passed between that day at the river, and the night in Erestor's bed chamber? Not many, Elladan knew that much. They had not made love on that night, though Elladan would have let him if he'd wanted to. He remembered it with a clarity that first picnic lunch had lacked, remembered how Erestor's body had felt locked between his thighs. How it felt to be on his lap that way, to rock against him, to feel the heat of Erestor's desire answering his own through layers of constricting clothing. Elladan had wanted to cast that clothing aside, but Erestor had not; Erestor had divested him of his shirt and had teased him to the edge of despairing ecstasy, but there had been no completion.
He remembered hands on his face, neck, ears, chest, belly, thighs. Hands sliding over his torso, making him squirm in wanton desire. Fingers and lips dancing over his nipples, and then fingers pinching, hard, for a brief moment too hard. By then Elladan had been lost, though, and when Erestor had whispered in his ear, - Let me - he had given his consent.
And so it had gone, back and forth, lips replaced by teeth, stroking fingers switching to hard pinches, finger nails. Erestor's mouth had soothed the hurt to liquid bliss, made him feel as if he would climax from no further contact than that, and then he would make him writhe in exquisitely centralized pain. He remembered that clearly, too - how it felt to lock his hands on Erestor's shoulders, clench his thighs about Erestor's, gritting his teeth against the small whimpers that wanted to pass his lips. By the end he had been flinching at any touch on his pectoral muscles, want and dread mixing in a delicious stew, wanting both the electric flares of pleasure and, perversely, the sharp agony of sensitized, abused flesh.
It had been a small thing, a foretaste of things to come. Nights had passed in a silken blur after that, in a carnivale of dark pleasures he had never dreamt of, never even imagined. There was always Erestor's voice asking him - let me - always his consenting until eventually Erestor quit asking him because it was understood that he would give Erestor what ever he wanted. They had remained on that exhilarating plateau for yet a while before Erestor had given him a way to say "no" to replace the loss of his privilege to say "yes."
Elladan knew Erestor loved him, and it infuriated him that Elrohir refused to see that. Why else that rarely spoken word between them, that small modicum of control that rendered the weight of chains, pain of clamps, and humiliation of obedience superfluous? Elrohir refused to see beyond the obvious, insisted to himself that love could not exist side by side with the dark imaginings made real in Erestor's bed chamber. The hypocrisy of it, the conceit that lay behind that thinking, was frustrating. Elrohir joined them willingly enough, yet he did not doubt Elladan's love, would have been appalled if Elladan had accused him of uncaringness. Did he think that he was more capable than they of separating night from day, the only one of them with sufficient depth of character to support multiple facets?
He wondered if it would surprise Elrohir to know that he knew what they did all day long in their office, knew as much about the business of Imladris as either of them. Stepping into Elrohir's place would be easy when the time came. Erestor talked to him, told him everything while they lay together in his wide, libertine's bed, sometimes while holding him, sometimes while smoothing soothing balm over injured skin. He told Erestor everything, also. They were very different, but their differences made them complimentary to one another, their separate needs drawing them together into the wholeness of fulfillment.
Erestor was his compliment; Elrohir was his other half. It was impossible for three halves to make a single whole, but the logic of mathematics did not apply to divisions of the heart. He loved Elrohir, his other half, his shadow and conscience, and Erestor had seen that, had manipulated events to make it possible for this strange realignment of pieces to take place. Of course Erestor loved him. How else could he do such a thing as this?
~*~*~*~
Erestor frowned over the letter that was the cause of his presence in the office rather than in some other, more pleasant place on this day of rest. Elladan sat on the corner of his desk, quietly watching him, head tilted inquisitively. He had come here after leaving the barracks since Elrohir had promised to take Arwen to the market later in the afternoon, and Elladan had no interest in comparing ribbons and trinkets with his little sister.
"Is something wrong?"
"Yes. Your grandmother is organizing yet another week of awkward pretenses at sociability in an effort to strengthen the nearly non existent ties between the elven nations."
"Isn't that overstating things a bit?"
"Well, a bit." Erestor glanced up at Elladan, grimaced. "I hate these things."
"I should think you'd be quite at home in the midst of political and personal tensions."
Erestor's grimace faded, turned to an honest smile. "You know me too well, melme. The timing is abominable, though."
"This will be soon, then?"
"Toward the end of next month. Enough time for everyone to send messages back to Lady Galadriel explaining why they can't attend, and for her to open the invitation sufficiently so that polite refusal will become impossible."
"Will Elrohir and I be going?"
"No. Elrohir will be taking over my work while this is going on, and, forgive me Elladan, but I imagine that Glorfindel will be taking more experienced fighters for your father's entourage."
Elladan looked down at his hands, and Erestor rose, circled the desk.
"You are adorable when you pout, pen-neth."
"I'll miss you." He said, ignoring the teasing compliment.
"I will miss you, too." Erestor pressed his finger tip under Elladan's chin, lifted his head so that their eyes met. "But I am not entirely unhappy that you'll have time alone with your brother."
"I can be alone with him whenever I please."
"That's not what I meant."
Elladan's eyes cut to the right, apparently caught by the view outside the window. Erestor hissed a wordless warning, and Elladan's gaze flickered back to meet his lover's.
"Do you want him, pet?"
Elladan licked his lips, parted them, closed them again.
"Tell me, Elladan. Tell me the truth, whatever the truth is."
"Yes." He whispered, eyes large and lost, and Erestor pulled him close, kissed him. "I love you, Erestor." He said when their lips parted.
"I know, I love you, too. It is well between us, Elladan." He said reassuringly, rubbed his cheek against Elladan's silken hair when the young elf collapsed against him in relief. He slid his hand to the small of Elladan's back and pulled him to the desk's edge.
"Do you imagine him touching you this way, Elladan?" He whispered in Elladan's ear as he ran his hands along the young elf's thighs. His fingers followed the inseam of his lover's leggings, touched the growing bulge at his body's center. Elladan moaned softly, and Erestor smiled against his temple. "Do you want him to touch you like this?"
"Yes..." The word was barely heard, more vocalized breathing than speech. Erestor cupped the heat of Elladan's arousal in his hand, gently rubbed.
"Has he ever touched you this way? Anything beyond kisses and embracing?"
"No." Elladan gasped, swallowed hard as his leggings were unlaced. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, shivered expectantly as his body was bared from waist to ankles. Erestor turned him to face the desk, and Elladan bowed over it unhesitatingly at Erestor's gentle push.
"But this is what you really want." Erestor traced a finger along the cleft of Elladan's buttocks. "You want him to take you."
"Yes..." Elladan gasped as Erestor dropped to his knees behind him. He trembled as strong hands parted him, sucked in a sharp breath at the tickle of warm breath against sensitive, secret flesh.
"What do you think it would take to persuade him to do this for you? Do you think he'd do it if you begged?"
"Please, Erestor, please take me." Elladan moaned, thrusting backward until Erestor swatted him on the hip. "I want you in me, please..."
"Mmmm," Erestor licked beneath the bottom swell of Elladan's buttocks. "Not me. Imagine that it is he who is here with you now. I want to hear you beg him, want to hear his name on your lips when you reach fulfillment."
"Elrohir." He whispered, and was rewarded by warm wetness gliding upward, touching the tight ring of muscle guarding his opening. He parted his legs wider, crying out in frustration when his efforts were stymied by the leggings about his ankles. "Oh, please, Elrohir, do not stop..."
His cries became incoherent as Erestor licked him, only Elrohir's name distinct as Erestor's tongue danced in delicate circles, then pressed inward. Elladan's hands knotted on the desk top, and he imagined that it was Elrohir holding his hips, stabilizing him, stabbing into him with hot wetness that was near to driving him mad. He ground his cock against the desk top, desperate pleas trailing away into a sensual repetition of his brother's name.
Erestor rose to his feet, pushed a finger into Elladan's writhing body, pressed a hand upon his back in a silent command of stillness. One finger, then two, then three, unmoving. Elladan sobbed in frustrated pleasure, rubbed his cheek against the smooth wood. He remained motionless, and Erestor's digits remained motionless within him.
"What do you want him to do, Elladan?" Erestor asked silkily, and Elladan ground his teeth, raised his head.
"Take me, Elrohir, move, please move!"
Slow friction, fingers sliding in and out, brushing the hidden pleasure spot within him in a tortuously lazy rhythm.
"More, Elrohir, dammit, I want you..."
And then there was more, as swiftly as Erestor's fingers left him they were replaced. Elladan cried out at the sudden penetration, the way prepared by nothing more than saliva. He gritted his teeth, moaned at the exquisite dance of nerves, of muscles convulsing involuntarily about the thick length stretching them, fell over the edge of pain and then rose again on an ephemeral cloud of pleasure. Erestor took him hard and fast, slid over his pleasure point with merciless insistence that left Elladan gasping, clawing frantically at the desk top. Elladan panted Elrohir's name, would have screamed it when he reached his climax if it had not been for Erestor's hand reaching to clamp over his mouth.
He hung over the desk, sated, while Erestor rode out his desire. When it was finished Erestor pulled him into his arms, and Elladan lolled backward trustingly, rested his head against his shoulder. He licked clean the offered fingers after Erestor had skated them through the cooling essence on his belly, knelt and bowed his head to the desk top when Erestor gently lowered him to the floor. The familiar salt flavor filled his mouth, and he allowed some of the fluid to smear across his lips before raising his head.
"Very convincing, lirimaer." He ran his fingers through Elladan's soft, tousled hair, and dropped to kneel in front of his lover. Their lips met, and Erestor delicately licked Elladan's wet lips. "I promise that you will have what you want."
"Thank you, Erestor."
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