Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 20/36
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: Erestor welcomes Elladan home. Erestor and Elladir have sex; Erestor and Elladan think; Elrohir begins phase one, and Erestor answers a question.
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.
"Missed you so much, Elladan." Erestor whispered into waves of dark brown hair. He had missed him, was grateful that he had arrived early instead of coming with Elrohir as had become their habit. The arranging and rearranging of three willing bodies was easy enough, but orchestrating hearts and minds was more difficult. Erestor had wanted time to greet his lover, to properly focus on him alone without having to divide his attention. Outwardly they were his toys, willing to be played with in whatever combinations or order suited him, but Erestor saw the shadows that darkened Elrohir's eyes when he was set to one side, knew the shadow that fell over his own heart when he saw Elladan in Elrohir's arms. The twins were not his, and he was uncertain if it was himself or Elladan who was being shared.
"I missed you, too." Elladan nestled in his lap. The nightshirt he wore was more elaborate than usual, ruffles and lace held together by ribbons and rows of tiny pearl buttons at wrists and throat. Erestor loved these shirts, loved the feel of soft silk sliding over hard muscle, loved watching Elladan's golden tanned skin revealed as he pulled the material over his head. Sometimes, as on this night, he loved the anticipation of unwrapping Elladan, of taking his time with small closures and fastenings, revealing that flesh an inch at a time.
"Did you think of me often?"
"Yes." Elladan purred. "I dreamt of you at night, and woke wanting you. But I was good." He smiled shyly at Erestor, gazing at him through a veil of long lashes. "I'm the way you said you wanted me. Wanting and needing."
The words stirred his blood, made him want to carry the young elf directly to the bed, lock his wrists to the posts, take him with a burning intensity that Elrohir's willing, sharp edged presence had not cooled. Elrohir would say nothing if he walked in on them; Elrohir would undress and wait, shadow eyed. It was that knowledge that gave him the will to remain, to hold Elladan's slightly trembling figure close in his arms.
"Soon, lirimaer, soon." He felt more than heard Elladan sigh against his cheek, clearly wanting but also knowing the rules of the game. "Did you miss, Elrohir also?"
"Yes." He said softly, nuzzled his face into Erestor's neck. Erestor did not ask whom Elladan had missed more, if his dreams had brought him both of them, or each of them separately. Instead he lifted Elladan's chin so that their lips could meet, took Elladan's mouth the way he knew Elladan wanted to be taken, wrists held behind him, shoulders curled back. He held the kiss until Elladan was panting, shaking, supple and bending as a young willow. Until he heard the soft click of the door. He did not look over to Elrohir, but Elladan did, sloe eyes shifting from his master to his twin thoughtlessly, unhesitatingly, naturally. Something constricted in Erestor's heart, something that felt like steel and ice.
Elladan felt his mistake in the stiffening of Erestor's body, in the sudden absence of enfolding arms. His eyes returned to meet those of his lover, but Erestor's gaze had fallen, was intent on the small buttons that he'd begun to undo. Slender fingers moved swiftly, efficiently, exposing skin with an alacrity that made Elladan's heart race with both tense desire and aroused anxiety. He maintained his stillness by force of long training, felt heat rising in his cheeks at the giddy twist of shame in his belly. That had never completely gone away, never completely faded. It arose in the absence of Erestor's approval, at the knowledge of what he would do to regain it, at what he was already doing. It blended slyly with the heat of lust, made it easy for him to turn his forearms so that Erestor could more easily unfasten the ribbons and buttons at his wrists, made it easy for him to keep his eyes on his lover's face.
Peripherally he could see Elrohir undressing, removing his clothes and setting them aside as if he were readying himself for bed instead of for a tryst. Elrohir knew that Erestor's eyes were not upon him, and unlike Elladan he felt no compulsion to perform without an audience. Elladan knew that if he turned his head to look his brother's face would be expressionless, his eyes flat and ungiving as a lizard's. Dressed, it was a look that could be interpreted as mild disgust or perhaps mild academic interest. Nude, he could not conceal the fact that his interest was more than mild, more than academic.
He folded his hands primly in his lap when Erestor had finished with his cuffs, maintained eye contact as Erestor's hands swept over the glossy silk of his hair to the slender ribbon holding it back from his face. Years of wearing it in braids held it in place even when those braids were removed; it took several finger sweeps to make it fall forward around his face in tangled tendrils. Out of the corner of his eye Elladan could see Elrohir running his own fingers through his hair, achieving the same effect for the cold stare of the full length oval mirror.
Reflexes brought him cleanly and elegantly to his feet when Erestor moved, rising without regard for the twin perched on his thighs. There was no gleam of praise in his eyes, however, when he reached to lift the nightshirt, pulled it in a single, swift motion over Elladan's head. It was not an unexpected move, and Elladan had raised his arms with swan-like grace in anticipation of it. Still, there was no faint smile, no warming of midnight depths as Erestor touched his fingers to Elladan's chin, turned him to face his brother.
They were matched. Elrohir had once snidely asked if the small differences of nudity to night shirt, hair bound to unbound were so Erestor could tell them apart. Elladan had chuckled, and Erestor had made no reply. The differences were not for Erestor, but for them. Elladan obliquely understood how such a confusion of self could take place, how easy it could be to lose one's identity here. A small shiver swept through him as he stared at Elrohir, studied the identical face framed by loose, dark hair, the exposed body that in spite of a preference for study still bore the same musculature, the same proud stance, and now, after a month's time spent in learning Erestor's desires, the same graceful posture.
"Center rug. Kneel facing one another."
They complied, Elladan with simple acquiescence; Elrohir with an insolent grace that Erestor had not yet succeeded in beating or shaming out of him. Only a few bare inches were needed for them to be within kissing distance; Elladan could see the flecks of gold in his brother's eyes, could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin.
A tap on his shoulder indicated that he should move back; Elrohir did likewise. They moved away from each other until they were separated by a distance of roughly a foot and a half. Now Elladan held Elrohir's gaze perfectly, did not shift to follow Erestor's movements as he should not have shifted to watch Elrohir's entrance. Now it didn't matter, though; present perfection did not make up for past failure.
Elrohir stared back, but his gaze jittered and shook, almost drifted before snapping back. There was a tightness around his mouth that had faded in the weeks preceding Elladan's absence. Elladan studied those taut muscles with interest; what could have happened in seven days to bring that tension back? There were no fresh marks on his brother's skin, but he knew that not all of Erestor's games left marks. He considered that, uncertain whether he was pleased or displeased at the thought.
Only a faint, muffled jingle gave away Erestor's movements by the wardrobe, a muffled jingle that could mean a variety of things. Elladan relaxed, waited, watched his brother's eyes almost cut sharply to the right to see what Erestor was doing. He caught himself, and Elladan inhaled deeply, unaware until that moment that he had been holding his breath.
"Watch, Elladan." Erestor said in that familiar didactical tone that spiraled Elladan back to the classroom, back to the place where he didn't know the answers, where further explanations and examples were always required. His cheeks colored, but he did as he was bade, following the motion of Erestor's hands from the box he had set beside him on the floor to the smoothness of his brother's chest.
A slender chain appeared between those hands, and at each end of it a metal clip. Elladan barely restrained a sigh at the sight. He knew the cold kiss of these toys, knew the sensation of mounting pressure as the tension wheels at the side of the clips were spun, electric pleasure turning to discomfort and then to pain. No punishment here in Elladan's opinion; even the pain was no more than a counterpoint to further layers of pain, pleasure, or both combined. These were something both he and Erestor liked playing with, had made a part of their stylized acts of eroticism since the beginning.
Elrohir was no longer looking into his eyes but past his shoulder as Erestor teased a nipple to hardness between thumb and forefinger. A blindfold would have been a kindness; unlike Elladan, Elrohir seemed to take comfort in the loss of sight, the inability to know what was to come. In a small way the option of disobedience was removed with the use of the blindfold, and it was for this reason that Erestor had begun leaving it off. Elrohir struggled not to look down as his flesh was manipulated just as Elladan would have struggled to remain still if he had been in the dark.
Cold metal touched flesh; Elrohir gasped softly as the clip held his stiff nipple. Erestor studied his face as he spun the wheel, slowly tightening the device until the strain showed on Elrohir's face. Instead of attaching the opposite end, he retrieved an identical set of clips from the box, affixed that one likewise. The tip of Elrohir's tongue danced out to touch his upper lip, and Elladan stared, caught between parted lips and dangling chains.
"Very good, Elrohir." An echo of the past, strangely rendered in the stillness of this room. Erestor ran an appreciative hand along Elrohir's flank, briefly encircled his waist with his arm. Elladan watched, tight lipped, knowing what was coming next.
Elladan's nipples were already rock hard, and it took only a bare moment to link Elladan and Elrohir together. There was no need for slow adjustment; Erestor knew exactly how to set them, at what point Elladan felt the bite as discomfort or pain. He teetered on the edge of pleasure fading into discomfort, arched his shoulders slightly backwards to feel the fullness of the device's sting. Elrohir winced, and a smile ghosted over his lips. His brother had tried to be brave about it. Elladan knew the current of pleasure would fade into a steady, dull ache through out his pectoral muscles, that eventually the slightest touch on the chain would bring searing agony. Elrohir didn't know that, but he was sure that next time Elrohir would not hesitate to subtly indicate his feelings as the clips were tightened.
A pair of tear drop shaped weights appeared next, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, solid black and deceptively innocuous in appearance. Distress was visible on Elrohir's face as each was hooked neatly at the half way point of the connecting chains. Erestor kissed his temple gently, loosened the clips at his nipples. Elladan's eyes narrowed at his brother's unrestrained sigh of relief. It was not usually Erestor's way to make allowances for their mistakes. Then Erestor was tightening his clips in response to the loosening of Elrohir's, and Elladan understood. The image being created was two as one, and as long as the original tension between them was maintained on both sides no change had been made.
Erestor moved behind Elrohir, settled his hands lightly on his hips. He drew the younger twin's hands to the base of his spine, cast Elladan a sharp look of command from over Elrohir's shoulder. Elladan copied the pose immediately, gritted his teeth against the sting of the clips.
He watched as he had been instructed, watched as Erestor kissed the soft skin of Elrohir's throat, lifted his hair to graze the nape of his neck with his lips. Small shivers racked Elrohir's body as Erestor's lips moved downward along the path of his spine. Elladan imagined the heat of his tongue dancing over sensitized nerve endings, read the tale of his brother's arousal in glazed, half hooded eyes, parted lips, stiff cock. Erestor settled back on his heels between spread legs, and the tremors grew more violent, soft moans flowed from between rose lips. Elladan clenched his jaw as each shiver was communicated through slender links, pulled at pained flesh that he knew Elrohir was no longer feeling so strongly. The black weights swung in small, erratic arcs that spoke of a hot, wet tongue delving into Elrohir's cleft, and Elladan's gaze fixed on those rather than on the fingers pressed into his brother's skin, holding and spreading. He tracked the movement of Erestor's tongue through the weights' movement, stared narrow eyed, envisioning the swirl of pink muscle around muscle, watched the direction of the arc change as Elrohir was penetrated. The discomfort had increased, rending harsh gasps from Elladan in counterpoint to Elrohir's rising cries of ecstasy. His interlocked fingers were white, cords stood out on his neck, and it was with a supreme effort of will that he maintained his shoulders-back posture. Elrohir was beyond caring for what pain he was causing, was beyond feeling anything but the delicious sensations of controlled wetness and metallic pressure. His movements grew more rhythmic and insistent when Erestor replaced his tongue with fingers, spilled warm oil over the invading digits as he worked them in and out of the tight passage. Elladan whimpered, earning a dark smile from Erestor. "You must understand, pen-rhoven," Erestor whispered into Elrohir's hair, "I cannot leave my dear one alone for much longer." Clearly Elrohir understood nothing, not even the words that had been spoken to him. The words had not been meant for him, however, and his understanding was not required. Elladan understood the words and corresponding action, the hand reaching for the box from which the linked clips had been taken, and though he did not see the object lifted from it he knew it well enough. Elrohir's eyes opened, his body stiffened at the feeling of something smooth and solid pressed between his taut globes, and Elladan closed his eyes in relief at the brief respite. "Be still, lirimaer." Erestor said, and amazingly, Elrohir was still. Elladan watched the tightening of his features through the heavy fringe of his lashes, watched his jaw come unhinged as the phallus shaped object was worked into his constricting heat. Erestor's lips were pressed to his cheek, one arm wrapped around his waist as he pushed it in, and again Elrohir was shaking, setting the black tear drops to dancing like leaves in the faintest of breezes. A soft mewl passed Elrohir's lips as he adjusted to the object's size, and Erestor waited, gave him a chance to relax around it. Elladan knew it was both longer and thicker than what they were accustomed to, knew it from his own experience of trembling anxiety that faded into purest bliss. Erestor nuzzled against his brother's face, whispered soft words of encouragement as he slipped it further in, waited, sheathed it fully. He knew when anxiety vanished into pleasure, if not from the shift in his brother's features then from the rhythmic, vicious bite of the weighted clips on his nipples, snarling through the steady ache in his pectorals. Erestor's free hand was now pressing on Elrohir's abdomen, easing the younger twin back on his heels, and Elladan moaned unrestrainedly at the increased pressure. It was impossible now to remain upright; the clips would snap off in a last, near blinding flash of pain if he remained kneeling straight backed. Elrohir sank down and backward, the ends of his hair sweeping across the smooth wood floor, and Elladan bowed forward, forehead nearly touching his brother's midriff. He felt Erestor's hand on his hair, but it was a distant sensation, barely recognized and utterly insignificant. Oiled fingers explored between his wide spread legs, coated the inner curve of his buttocks, stroked and pressed against his opening. He bit his lip against further cries, listened mutely to Elrohir's continued moans as he rose only to resettle against the floor. Erestor guided his hands to Elrohir's hips, and Elladan clutched them as if they were a life preserver, let his fingers sink thoughtlessly into flesh. Then Erestor was inside of him, pushing into his heat with a swiftness that Elladan loved. There was no longer any discernable rhythm to the tear drops' dance, no steady arc or circling motion by which to divine the movements of the participants. Elladan no longer paid them any heed. His eyes were closed, and even through the pain he felt the familiar rush of heat, the instant thrill of Erestor's skilled hand on his cock, of Erestor's thick cock buried in his body. A shrill cry escaped the barrier of his clenched teeth as Erestor splayed a hand across his chest, pulled him backward with abrupt, controlled ferocity. He heard the matched clack of clips snapping, heard Elrohir's answering cry at the sudden loss. The tear drops fell as their anchors gave way, and Elladan had only the briefest of moments to realize that it had been Elrohir who had been released by Erestor's action before the weights were brought up short. Instinctively he flinched backward. Erestor gasped, pulled him tight against him, and Elladan shuddered as his lover found his release. "Help Elrohir." He whispered into Elladan's ear, his voice barely quivering in the aftermath of taking his pleasure. Elladan barely managed a mumbled response as he dropped forward onto hands and knees, took Elrohir's length between his lips. The weights hit the floor with a dull thud that reverberated through the chain, and he moaned around his brother's rigid member. Then Erestor's hand was gripping him once more, stroking him to completion as he sucked and swallowed. Somehow Elrohir was remaining in position, hands curled behind his back, using only his thigh muscles to raise and lower himself on the object within him. Elladan was beyond noticing or caring. Everything had become too intense, had blended into one in way that he craved and lusted for, was afraid and desirous of. Pleasure and pain had become one, the cock in his mouth no different from the one that been sheathed within him. He hollowed his cheeks around the shaft, twirled his tongue around the head, slid and swallowed, and it seemed to him that he was engaged in some strange act of masturbation, that what he did to Elrohir was translated through the hand working his own turgid member. He cried out as his essence spurted over Erestor's fingers, swallowed thoughtlessly a moment later when he felt the first rain of thick, salty viscousness at the back of this throat.
~*~*~*~ There was no actual reason to carry Elladan to bed, but Erestor did so anyway after attending to Elrohir and removing Elladan's clips. He ignored the furious glare cast him by the younger twin, shrugged it aside as an annoyance. Elrohir was upset because he had pushed the envelope, asked more of him than that he remain still, keep his mouth shut, and hold his wrists out for the cuffs. He was even more upset by his own compliance. None of that was Erestor's concern. Perhaps he had thought that after the week they had spent together that he would be relegated to spectator status. It didn't matter. It was ground they had covered ad nauseum, and Elrohir would get over it - or he wouldn't. He gently kissed Elladan's reddened peaks, licked the wounded flesh. The older twin purred at this treatment, smiled at him sleepy eyed, sweet and soft between crisp sheets and under the light quilt that had replaced the counterpane. Elrohir reclined next to him, head propped on his hand gazing down at them. Erestor caught a look of tenderness in his eyes in spite of the previous glare, caught it and returned a smile instead of an archly raised eyebrow. Elrohir's lips tightened for a moment, then relaxed into something that might have been a pale reflection of that smile. "Better, kitten?" He asked, and Elrohir rolled his eyes at the term of endearment. Elladan snickered. "Yes, much." He rubbed his shoulders back against the pillows, arched forward toward Erestor. Erestor laughed and reached for the oil on the bed side table. "You don't need this, you know." He poured the liquid into his palm anyway, began rubbing it into Elladan's chest muscles. The older twin sighed happily and shrugged. "It's a good excuse, though." Elrohir smirked. "What about me?" "What about you?" Elladan responded. "On your end those clips were barely attached. I'm entitled." Erestor ignored their good natured bickering as he massaged Elladan's muscles. Outwardly nothing was amiss, if anything matters were running more smoothly than usual. Elrohir was neither piercing him with ice dagger glares no huddling in a defensive ball. Elladan was relaxed and talkative, favoring them with spontaneous smiles of the warm and lazy variety that went straight to Erestor's heart. Something was amiss, though, even if Elladan and Elrohir were unaware of it. He had done more and worse to them in the past, to Elladan in particular, but he had never before acted out of anger. There had never been jealousy before, never that sudden blaze of cold fire that had arisen when Elladan had looked away from him, had turned naturally and without thought toward his brother. Until this night he would have sworn that was something Elladan would never do, that his training had taken too quickly and too well to ever allow such a glaring error. He had meant to make love to Elladan slowly and gently, with or without Elrohir's participation. It was supposed to have been his welcoming gift, and he had had that in mind when he'd chosen the white silk shirt with the rows of tiny buttons. That had ended in jealous anger, shocking in its unfounded suddenness. Nothing was happening that he had not foreseen, not intended. Nothing was happening that could justify those emotions, and certainly there was no way he could justify his actions to himself in that light. It was not what was done that was wrong, but the spirit in which it had been done. That Elladan and Elrohir did not know this did not make it right. And what lesson was it that he'd intended to teach? -Watch, Elladan.-He'd said, but what was Elladan supposed to have understood? Erestor didn't know. That he could be subjugated was something Elladan already knew and welcomed. That in spite of his thoughts and misgivings, Elrohir would also bow to Erestor's wishes was similarly known. It would be impossible to teach Elladan disgust for his brother, certainly impossible in this context, and that was not what Erestor wanted. Not to react in a fit of pique, to hurt Elladan and shame Elrohir for no better reason than to demonstrate that he could, to make the heavy handed point that Elladan was his Elladan. Yet that was the only possible lesson he could find in this. "Well?" He glanced up at the peremptory tone, realized that Elladan had been speaking to him. He smiled vaguely, registered the mixed look of hurt, curiosity, nervousness, and hope. "Do you love me, Erestor?" "You know I do." When had the conversation taken such a serious turn? Elrohir lay nestled against Elladan, his eyes lambent in the candle light. Knowing. Erestor did not know when, but he had an idea as to how the conversation had turned. There was nothing he could do about it. "Would you let me have you, then? I trust you…" The question remained between them for a long moment, moveless as Erestor's hands on Elladan's chest. He could dodge the question if he wanted to, shunt it aside quickly and easily so that it would never be asked again. Elladan's words were an echo, though, a series of echoes that rang forward from a day in the garden gazebo when Elrohir had said to him, -you know… he trusts you, trusts you implicitly. That will have to be enough. For now- And more recently, -Do you ever let your lovers have you? What if he asked you?- It was Elrohir's question, Elrohir's snare, but it was Elladan's hope. He could deny it, and in different ways prove himself a liar to both of them. "I can deny you nothing, melethron." He whispered, bowed his head to kiss Elladan's lips. He tasted sweet darkness and heard his lovers words: -When he's done breaking your heart, I will be here.-
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