Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 27/36
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: Um, sex.
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.
Elrohir's thoughts were a dazed whirl as he made his way through the corridors of the Last Homely House. Elladan had not had much time in which to prove that there was nothing he would deny his brother - they could not spend all their free days and evenings sequestered in one of their rooms - but he'd made a good start. The remainder of the day had been spent in keeping up the routines of the house, a task which demanded little more of them than that they be visible and mimic their father's usual orders. Neither of them truly believed that the house would fall into ruins if they failed to hear the castelan's report or the steward's, nor did they feel that disaster would result if the household and citizens of Imladris did not see at least one Peredhil going about his daily business. Even so, it would not be a good idea to give anyone the idea that the twins were running wild in their father's absence; both had learned that the appearance of respectability was often more important than its actuality.
Then there was the matter of Melpomaen. Elrohir had expected to see very little of the elf for the remainder of the weekend, but he had surprised him. He, too, had continued to follow his usual routines with no apparent change in disposition. Melpomaen was not known for his vivacity and gregariousness, but neither did he skulk through the shadows, stealthily making his way from his rooms to the office like a cat burglar. Elrohir had not previously realized how often and in how many places Melpomaen typically could be found, from the secondary dining hall to the library, from the front lawn to the baths, and thence to the open sitting room. He paid no more heed to Elrohir's distant presence than he normally would have, and that in itself was disturbing.
Elladan had said that Melpomaen had no intention of using what he knew, but Elrohir had his doubts. It seemed to him that the dark haired elf had gone to a great deal of trouble to gather his information, had made a point of letting them know that he possessed it. There was a catch somewhere, there had to be. It could be nothing more than a bluff to gain some yet unspoken objective, but even if that was all there was to it Elrohir could not feel completely comfortable. Melpomaen knew more than he should, and if his liberality of conscience or willingness to apply pressure should shift, he and Elladan would find themselves in more trouble than they could handle.
At the moment his thoughts were not on Melpomaen, however. Evening had come at last; he and Elladan had made their appearance at the dinner table and had done a more than passable job at playing host in their parent's absence. Their guests had consisted of some human traders come to Imladris with their caravans of wares, a few of the rangers, and a trio of elves traveling from `Lorien. The gathering in Lothlorien spared them the arduous task of piecing together diplomatic conversation with ambassadors and potentially prickly nobles, which suited Elrohir perfectly. It had not been difficult to get through the meal or the obligatory visit in the parlor, and he had been in relatively good spirits when he and his brother were at last free to return to Elladan's chambers.
Then things had shifted again, shifted dizzyingly suddenly, sickening sweetly because Elladan had promised him everything and had been intent on making good on that promise. --Make me yours,-- were the words he'd whispered in subtle demand, and he had been all softness and submissiveness, pliant in Elrohir's hands as ever he had been in Erestor's. There had been a silent keening in his eyes, a crystalline ache that Elrohir had wanted to ease, and not only for Elladan's sake. It was something that could not be soothed with equal softness, and in the haziness of his thought Elrohir had wanted to give him what he wanted, to feel that rush of exhilarating heat that he had known previously only in imagination, only in anticipation self denied.
Which was why he was now hurrying through the dark hallways, face flushed and hands shaking as he scrabbled in the pocket of his robe for the key to Erestor's door.
Elrohir ducked inside quickly and hurried to the wardrobe. The room was well lit by Ithil's light, and he had no difficulty in navigating the familiar, spartanly decorated chamber. The wardrobe was locked as well, but Elrohir had come prepared for such a possibility. Erestor was not the only one capable of playing games; Elrohir had helped himself to that small, silver key one afternoon about a month ago and had made a copy. If Erestor was aware of the temporary theft, he had never said anything about it, nor had he changed the lock.
His gaze fell on the shadowed rows of hanging implements; leather straps, light whips, flails. Mithril chains hung in neat coils from sturdy hooks, covered boxes nestled comfortably on the dark shelves. Elrohir hissed in a breath, uncertain as to what to borrow, as to how much he could carry back with him. Cursing the darkness, he leaned in further, lifting lids and attempting to see what lay within them, wishing that he'd had the presence of mind to bring a candle. It briefly occurred to him that it would have been easier to bring Elladan with him than to try to take back an assortment of Erestor's toys, but the idea did not really appeal.
His eyes lit upon a set of cuffs connected by a short chain, the steel bar ending in manacles. The keys were in the locks; and Elrohir grinned as he picked them up. He'd brought a large draw string sack with him, and he dropped the items in, pausing to collect a few more odds and ends. A few of the things he'd had in mind seemed to be missing; a last quick scan proved that they were definitely gone. Elrohir frowned with momentary suspicion as he lifted the sack, shut the wardrobe door and re locked it. Certainly he hadn't seen Erestor pack any of those things, and he couldn't imagine what Erestor would possibly want with them in Lothlorien. He shoved the thought aside, deciding that it was more than he really wanted to consider, at least for the nonce.
~*~*~*~
Elladan was not reclining on his bed when Elrohir returned. There was no braided rug in his room, nor even a clear mid point due to the location of his bed and trunk, but Elladan had made do with the next best thing. He knelt between bed and wardrobe, nude and with his hair pulled back. There was just enough room for Elrohir to circle him if he wished to, though on the bed side there wasn't quite enough room to do it comfortably. His hands were clasped behind his back, his cheeks wore a fetching blush, and his arousal was blatantly apparent. Elrohir blinked, swallowed hard as he made his way to the bed. In addition to his own arousal, he felt suddenly nervous.
"We need to re arrange your room." He said. He almost dumped the contents of the sack on the sheets, decided not to. Erestor never left his toys out in plain sight; they never knew what was to come next until the last moment. "We'll put the bed against the wall, move the trunk to the window."
Elladan said nothing, and Elrohir's stomach danced with unexpected butterflies. Was his silence indicative of acceptance or displeasure with his presumption? Should he demand an answer? What he had said had not been a question; maybe Elladan had not thought that it required an answer. Elrohir bit his lower lip as he reached for the cuffs, wondered if Elladan would apologize if he demanded some manner of reply. Taking a steadying breath he essayed the experiment, back still turned to Elladan's kneeling form.
"Speak when you're spoken to, Elladan."
"I'm sorry, Elrohir. We can rearrange the room in any way you like."
He sidestepped behind his brother, genuflected to guide Elladan's hands into the cuffs. Elladan turned his wrists with easy acceptance, did not stiffen or demonstrate any unease as Elrohir shortened the connecting chain. It occurred to Elrohir that the cuffs really were beside the point. Elladan would have kept his hands behind his back if he had told him to, would hold them there regardless of what else Elrohir chose to do. He licked his lips, ran his hands over the curve of his brother's arms from shoulders to trapped wrists, considered what to do next now that he could do anything at all.
It was not as easy as he had imagined, not as simple as merely taking what he wanted as he'd thought Erestor had done. He traced his fingers along backward arched shoulder blades, down the path of his brother's spine, felt the tremors of leashed excitement and expectation. It was in that unvoiced, submissive expectation that the difficulty lay, and suddenly the tableau made sense to Elrohir. It did not matter who knelt and who stood, who held the lash and who felt its bite. Elladan was his to do with as he wished in this way so long as he fulfilled those desires that, by the very rules of the game, could not be spoken. Elladan made his own demands, albeit silently; his nude form was a conundrum that Erestor had solved.
Elrohir kissed the side of his brother's neck, smiled against the hot flesh. Elladan did not want sweet love making in chains, a touch of bondage to give their relationship a further illicit thrill. Neither did Elrohir. His hands dropped to the cuffs, removed them and tossed them aside. This time the shiver he felt was more pronounced. Elrohir recognized the confusion in that involuntary motion in addition to arousal, and his smile broadened.
"Do you agree to this, Elladan?" He asked silkily, mouth close to his brother's ear.
"Yes, Elrohir." Came the whispered reply. He rewarded Elladan with a gentle nip on his earlobe, the briefest moment of suction. Elrohir heard him catch his breath, felt the tension in his jaw as he willed himself not to turn more fully into the contact.
"You agree that you are mine?" He asked as he lapped at the curve of Elladan's ear. Elladan nodded, eyes clenched shut, and this time Elrohir drew back his hand and delivered a stinging, open handed slap to his brother's back side. "And to think that only the other day I imagined you were well trained."
"I'm sorry, Elrohir. Yes, Elrohir, I'm yours."
"Good." He noted the sweat standing on Elladan's brow appreciatively, laid his hand flat on his chest in order to feel the increasing rhythm of his heart. "You will always answer when you're spoken to, unless I am giving you a command. In which case you will immediately comply. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Elrohir." He closed his eyes, and Elrohir lightly brushed his cheek.
"Keep them open." He slipped his hand downward, took Elladan's cock in hand. His brother's eyes were open now, slightly glazed, lashes fluttering with the effort to keep them at least at half mast. Elrohir began to stroke him slowly, then increased his speed. Soft cries escaped his brother's parted lips; his thighs shook from the effort of remaining still in Elrohir's grip. He sensed when Elladan had reached the edge, that final point of balance before the downward rush of orgasm, and he slid his hand to the base of his cock, squeezed. Elladan whimpered.
"Not yet." He patted the inside of Elladan's thigh with the back of his hand, and Elladan immediately parted them further. Elrohir felt a rush of dizzying excitement at that simple motion, the compliance of this body that needed no words to direct its actions. --I am in control.-- He thought, grateful that Elladan could not see his wide eyed amazement, felt a peculiar sort of exhilarated unease. Elladan continued to wait, nearly panting, waiting for anything Elrohir would do next. Anything.
He removed the ribbon holding Elladan's hair, re-tied it higher. His brother's mahogany tresses still swung down to the small of his back, and Elrohir swiftly braided the tail, wound it into a knot and tucked it under the ribbon.
"This is the first and last time I'm going to forewarn you of my actions, or give you any explanation for them." Elrohir said, rising and stepping back toward the bed. He removed the leather strap from the sack, wound his hand through the loop in one end as stepped in front of Elladan. Elladan eyed the strap as if it were a venomous snake, returned his gaze to Elrohir. "Do you know why I'm doing this?"
"No, Elrohir." The words were nearly a whisper.
"Because I want you to understand what belonging to me entails, sweet one." He cupped his brother's chin in his hand, tilted his face upward. "I want you to understand that I do not need reasons for what I do, that you have given up the right to ask me for reasons." He caressed Elladan's cheek, smiled gently. "Humans beat their children to teach them lessons, Elladan. What lesson do you think I want you to learn?"
"That you can do what you want with me."
"And they say I am the smart one." He released Elladan's face, stepped behind him. "Extend your arms to your sides, as far as you're reasonably able."
The first strike was the most difficult. He had not chosen any of the other implements of chastisement because he'd known that to do so would have made the first strike impossible. Elrohir stared at the pristine skin of his brother's back, let the strap dance delicately over it evoking shivers and the faintest of whimpered, expectant cries. He had never thought that he would hurt his brother, certainly not intentionally. His mouth had gone dry, and he felt light headed, dazed. Elrohir took a deep breath, swung the strap in a hard, swift arc.
The flinch was easily perceptible, not a mere trembling of muscles, and Elrohir swallowed hard. There could be no let up, no pause. Elrohir understood that he could not play with this, could not allow it to be nothing more than a dirty little game. The second stroke was easier, carried by mental momentum if not the momentum of physics, and again there was that flinch, but there was also a rolling forward of shoulders rather than a cringing away.
He let the blows fall faster, harder, never minding artistic effect or any particular rhythm. Elrohir struggled to maintain his breathing, to retain that air of cool collectedness that Erestor never lost. Elladan made up for his control with gasps and small cries, strangled moans forced their way out from behind the clenched barrier of his teeth. Leather kissed the back of his neck, and he moaned, bowed his head. Elrohir saw the shaking of his shoulders, the tightness in arms and quivering back muscles, and he stepped forward to press his hand to the back of his brother's head, wound the strap around his hand several more times before concentrating his efforts on that smaller expanse of skin.
The effect was sickly gratifying. He knotted his hand in Elladan's hair, felt the aversion/attraction in the shifting pressure and pull on his fingers. Here where his hair normally covered him Elladan's skin was soft and creamy; it reddened swiftly under the strap. Elrohir bit his lip, captured between arousal and dismay. The only sounds were Elladan's shuddering whimpers and hissed gasps for breath, the crack of leather against skin, sharper now that the skin it danced upon was sheeted in sweat.
At last he released Elladan's hair, returned his efforts to the area between shoulders and waist. His cock was straining almost painfully against his leggings, sweat stood on his own brow as he watched welts rising from the strap's ministrations. --Don't make him, cry, Elrohir.-- He thought distantly as he watched the strap rise and fall. --Don't you dare, because you know that if you do it'll be all over, you won't be able to go on if you make cry, so don't do it.--
The thought cut through his increasing excitement, forced him back into the moment as participant rather than as observer of his own actions. The first strike had been difficult, but now it was easy, almost too easy. Too easy to keep on going, to feel the rush of blood in his veins, listen to the discordant music he and Elladan were creating together, continue until he had something that would make him cry as well as Elladan once the heat of ecstasy faded. He listened instead to the sound of Elladan's labored breathing, the tone of his cries. He heard when his brother's half stifled moans shifted, when his breathing began to develop an odd hitch. A few more strikes, then, and he let the strap fall to the floor.
"Elladan." He stepped back in front of his brother, lifted his face once more. His cheeks were wet with tears, and Elrohir felt a moment of shock at the sight. He had made him cry after all, though silently, had created those wet trails that streaked downward over the high planes of cheeks, down to the line of his jaw. The words --Are you alright, Elladan-- danced on the tip of his tongue, as did an apology. He choked them down, forced himself to show nothing more than a pleased smile. Erestor had made a point of showing him that Elladan would let him know if anything was too much, too intense. Judging by his unabated arousal, that point had not been reached.
"Lower your arms." Elladan did so, and Elrohir brushed his cheeks gently with the back of his hand, wiped the tears carefully away. He ran a fingertip over the full lips, pressed at the seam until Elladan opened for him, took his finger in and sucked on it. Suddenly Elrohir knew what he wanted next, yes, heat and wetness, Elladan kneeling to take his cock as sweetly as he had for Erestor. With his free hand he tugged the laces of his leggings free, tapped Elladan's shoulder.
Again Elladan understood without needing to be told, and Elrohir felt his brother's hands touch his hips, slide the fabric down. For a moment his cock danced against Elladan's cheek smearing the tanned skin with clear liquid evidence of his own desire. Salt essence replaced salt tears; Elladan's luminous eyes were fixed on his own, and Elrohir took a deep breath as he guided his cock into his brother's mouth, batted his hands away.
He locked his fingers together around the back of Elladan's head, rocked forward into that incredible heat and wet suction, slid inward until his cock was touching the back of his brother's throat. Elladan had knelt for him before, but never like this, never passively obedient, accepting whatsoever he desired with such intoxicating submission. Once more his hands were behind his back, and he allowed himself to be held, made no murmur of protest as Elrohir's hands slid, thumbs now resting at either side of his jaw, gentle yet firm, using him with selfish abandon paradoxically mixed with exquisite care.
Elrohir had wanted to take him, to push him down on hands and knees and ride out his passion within him, but the seduction of those lips was more than he could bear. Elladan was motionless save for lips and tongue, and then even that became only wet friction, warmth and suction, as Elrohir moved without thought of erotic technique. He thought of nothing save for the release, of the delicious image his brother had become.
He felt the imminence of his release, and pulled back from Elladan with no idea of what was motivating his actions, no thought, no intellectualization or consideration. There was only pleasure and desire, want and need, the wish to feel and to see. He cupped his brother's chin in his hand, stroked his own cock one last time, hissed in nearly painful ecstasy as his essence jetted over Elladan's features. Elladan blinked, darted his tongue out to lap at the warm liquid coating his lower lip even as he restrained his first instinctive flinch.
"You are beautiful, Elladan." He whispered raggedly, and it was true. Elladan stared up at him, wide eyed, body trembling. Elrohir's seed slipped slickly on his forehead and cheeks, glossed his lips. He blinked several times, almost forgot himself enough to touch his face, and Elrohir laughed softly, reached to smooth viscous wetness from a heavily laden eyelash.
"Stay where you are, sweet one." He said softly as finished removing his leggings, stepped behind him and knelt. Elladan had not sobbed while he was being beaten, but his breathing nearly became sobbing as Elrohir reached around him, took his cock in hand.
"Your turn now, lovely. I want you to come for me."
Elrohir stroked him as if he were stroking himself, moving him swiftly and expertly toward much desired release. His free arm was locked around his brother's waist, his lips pressed to Elladan's wet cheek. Elrohir could taste his own seed, flicked his tongue against its wet smoothness. Elladan was shaking against him, moaning hoarsely as he neared his climax, and when Elrohir let go of him to skate his fingers through the salt essence on Elladan's face and then pressed a finger into his cleft he nearly screamed.
He penetrated him swiftly but carefully, found his sweet spot and stroked it mercilessly. Adding a second finger, he rocked Elladan backwards until he was nearly sitting in his lap, impaled upon the intruding digit - and then he ceased all movement.
"Move, Elladan. Finish it." He said softly as he lapped at Elladan's cheek, and with a strangled cry Elladan began to buck between Elrohir's hands. Elrohir's desire, already aroused once more, leapt against his brother's exposed buttocks. He gritted his teeth, waited a few more moments. Elladan writhed and twisted on him, moans becoming whimpers verging on pleading sobs, and finally Elrohir removed his fingers, replaced them with something more urgent.
It did not take long for Elladan to finish. Heat and pressure, thickness sliding within only partially prepared tight darkness was enough to drive him over the edge with only a few more strokes of his cock, a few more strokes against his hidden nub of desire. Elrohir clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream of ecstasy, and then he was nothing more than a limp, gasping weight skewered on his lap. Elrohir had to support him as he, too, finished, holding him firmly about the waist to lift and lower him even as he flexed muscles in buttocks and thighs to maintain his insistent rhythm At last they sprawled together on the floor, both flushed and gasping for breath.
He was still barely connecting when he helped Elladan rise to his feet, turned him to sit on the bed. He shoved the sack of mostly unused toys unceremoniously off the bed, ran a hand affectionately through his brother's hair. Elladan offered him a dazed smile, and he chuckled quietly in response. He almost asked if it had been alright, if Elladan had liked it. Again he withheld the words, settled for something more in keeping with what he was trying to do.
"Are you alright?" He tried not to evince tremendous worry, but he was concerned. He himself had rarely been alright after a session with Erestor. It occurred to him that he had also always answered that question affirmatively.
"I'm fine, Elrohir."
"Are you sure?" He caught himself biting his lip, and offered Elladan a small smile. "I want to know if anything is wrong."
"I'll let you know, Elrohir. Don't worry so much."
He nodded, gave his brother a quick hug. He should have known that Elladan would read him, that to some extent the front he put up would never be as completely successful as Erestor's had been. Elrohir found that he liked that, that it made him more comfortable.
While he had been off raiding Erestor's wardrobe, Elladan had brought a basin of water and towels. As he began to clean Elladan's face something else clicked into place for Elrohir. He had never understood the tenderness that existed between the advisor and his brother, never understood how that could have been real. As he gently wiped Elladan's cheeks with the damp cloth he understood it perfectly well. He paused, kissed Elladan's soft lips.
"I love you, Elladan."
Elladan smiled, all wide, innocent eyes that had become clear windows to his heart. "I love you, too, Elrohir."
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