Title & Chapter Number: Good Relations 5/16
Author(s): & - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. We are not making money off this story; it was written for the pure pleasure of it.
Warnings: Slight angst, graphic homoerotic (slash) content, incest.
Betas: Alex
Cast: Haldir/Glorfindel, Elladan/Elrohir, Legolas/Elrohir, Thranduil/Elladan
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: The sequel to "Peace Offerings". Glorfindel and Haldir escort the twins to Mirkwood at Galadriel's request in the hopes of forming a political union. Galathil enters his service to Erestor; after an intense and passionate night shared by the four lovers, Legolas is on the brink of having what he has always wanted; the four lovers share some passion in the morning before returning to the "real world".
Galathil left his father's study and returned to the dining room. Though he had agreed to what he was about to do, he could not help but feel slightly apprehensive about it. He had certainly had his share of lovers since reaching his majority, but he had never willingly given himself to another. He was fairly certain what serving Erestor would entail, and while he did not find the idea repugnant – Erestor was quite fair – he was not entirely too sure about the reality of actually yielding his body in such a manner.
Something about the Noldo made him suspect that he would be the one to do the yielding, not the other way around.
He hesitated at the door to the dining room and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever might lie ahead. He had given his father his word, and he meant to keep it.
Galathil pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He saw Lord Erestor, standing with his back to him, studying the elaborate tapestry that hung beside the fireplace. Silent footsteps took him to where the elf Lord stood and he stopped.
"Lord Erestor?"
The dark haired elf finally turned and looked at him. His eyes were so dark they appeared almost black and they were completely unreadable. Erestor's gaze raked him from head to toe, before the Noldo finally spoke.
"Come with me, if you please."
"Where are we going?" Galathil asked immediately.
Erestor gave him a look that made him wish he had not asked. "To my rooms. There are things we must speak of, and I do not wish to have our conversation overheard by the servants." He gave Galathil a knowing look. "Neither, I think, would you."
Galathil nodded, and followed the elf Lord out of the dining room.
Erestor's apartments were lush, as were most of the guest rooms in his father's home. Fine rugs and tapestries covered the walls and floors, and a large fireplace dominated the room. He took the seat in the finely carved chair that Erestor gestured to, and watched the elf Lord settle himself in the one across from him. Fine boned hands folded themselves neatly on Erestor's lap, and Galathil noted that his fingers were long and slender.
"Do you know why you are here, Prince?" Erestor asked.
"My father told me I was to have the choice of serving the Peredhil or serving you," Galathil replied, wondering why Erestor was asking him this. "I chose to serve you."
A dark eyebrow rose for a moment. "Why?"
Galathil shifted in his chair, suddenly unsure of how he should answer the question without offending Lord Erestor. "It seemed that Elrohir and Elladan were more interested in my brother than myself. I admit that I found it difficult to match wits with them."
The other eyebrow rose to match the first. "You believe you can match wits with me, pen neth?"
"You do not seem to be an elf who bandies words or wastes his time in such a fashion, Lord," Galathil replied. "Though I do not know you."
Erestor nodded and a faint smile curved his lips. "You certainly do not. Very well, do you know what it is I expect of you?"
Galathil shook his head. "Truthfully, I am uncertain what it is you would ask of me. I only know that I am to obey you as I would my father."
Leaning forward in his chair, Erestor clasped the armrests with his hands and held Galathil with his gaze. "Do you know what it is that your father wishes you to learn from me?"
Galathil nodded again, licking his lips nervously. "I am to learn patience, respect, and humility."
"The last will be your hardest, I think," Erestor mused. "For you are sorely lacking that quality, from what I have seen. You did not choose to serve me because your brother already held the attention and affections of Elladan and Elrohir. You did not choose to serve me because you could not banter with them, as they are used to." His dark eyes narrowed slightly and he pinned Galathil with his shrewd gaze. "You chose me because you could not bear the thought of yielding in any fashion to someone you thought beneath you." He sat back in his chair and folded his hands once more. "Am I right?" he asked softly.
He could only nod. He was no more able to deceive this elf Lord than he was his own father.
Erestor smiled. "Very well, Prince. I will teach you as your father was taught. Do you agree to be my pupil?"
Galathil licked his lips again. "I do."
"Then let us begin." He rose gracefully from his chair and gestured that Galathil do the same. "Go, stand there by the fire and wait."
Nervously, Galathil did as he was bid, watching as Erestor undid the clasps that held his robes and slid it from his shoulders. Galathil took the opportunity to study his tutor more closely, and could not help but admire what he saw. Erestor was slender, with a broad chest that tapered into a narrow waist. His long, raven hair gleamed in the firelight, moving like a curtain of ebony silk against his fair skin. Though Erestor was a scholar, his lean body still held the muscles of a warrior, and he moved with a dancer's grace. Finally, clad in a simple white under tunic and black leggings, Erestor turned around and moved to where Galathil waited.
"Legs a little further apart, if you please," Erestor commanded, his voice mild as honey. He nodded in approval when Galathil complied, and began to circle him slowly. Feeling like a horse being examined by a potential buyer, Galathil flushed, but resisted the urge to turn his head and follow Erestor's progress.
"You are very handsome, Prince," Erestor commented. "It would surprise me greatly to discover you were untried. Tell me, have you had many lovers?"
"A few, my Lord," Galathil admitted.
"Female only, or have you discovered the delights that male flesh can hold?" Erestor asked, running his fingers lightly over Galathil's spine.
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the line of questioning, though he quivered in response to the touch of Erestor's fingers. "Both, my Lord, though mostly female."
"Is that because you prefer female company? Or for some other reason?" Erestor asked, his fingers traveling upward to brush the length of Galathil's hair forward, exposing the back of his neck.
Galathil swallowed when Erestor's hand closed on the back of his neck, shocked at the suddenness of it, and the way his body responded. He shuddered, his mouth unaccountably dry as he struggled to answer the question. "No, my Lord. I find pleasure equally in both."
"Hmm," Erestor replied thoughtfully. He left his hand where it was, and turned Galathil so that he was facing him. "Though you are no stranger to passion with males, I suspect that you are untouched in certain regards. Am I right?" He tilted his head slightly and smiled at Galathil's stunned expression. "There is no shame in admitting that. You are young, and a Prince. It does not surprise me that in your experiences you never allowed one of your lovers to take you as you took them." His grip on Galathil's neck loosened and his fingers trailed over the bare skin caressingly.
It was unnerving for a simple caress to have such an affect on him. Never had his body reacted so strongly and so quickly to another's touch; it seemed the Noldo had magic in his fingertips. The hand left its place on his neck to slide across his cheek, cupping it gently.
"The lesson begins now, Prince," Erestor said quietly. "The first is a lesson in patience. Are you prepared?"
Galathil managed to nod.
The dark haired elf smiled and released him, taking his seat once more. Folding his hands, he looked expectantly up at Galathil. "Disrobe, please."
With fumbling fingers, he managed to find the clasps that held his tunic and undo them. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and excitement as he slid the tunic from his shoulders, baring his skin to Erestor's gaze. He did not look at the elf as he removed his boots and placed them carefully beside the chair he had recently vacated. He reached for the laces of his leggings and hesitated, glancing up at Erestor.
"You have a question, pen neth?" Erestor asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Why am I disrobing?"
"Because that is what I asked of you, and that is all you need to know," Erestor answered easily. "Whether you chose to concede to my request is entirely up to you. If you chose not to comply, then I will send you to your rooms and tell your father you have changed your mind. It is as simple as that." His honeyed voice never altered in its mildness; he could have been speaking about the weather, for all the emotion he displayed. "However, if you wish to continue in this lesson, then I suggest you finish disrobing, and cease your questioning. My answer will always be the same."
Galathil nodded and bent his head, his fingers already working the lacings on his leggings. His mind whirled with a myriad of emotions: fear, excitement, nervousness, arousal, curiosity and anticipation. He wondered if his father had felt these same things, when faced with Erestor's unflappable calm. He wondered what he had gotten himself into.
The laces finally loosened enough that he was able to slide his leggings over his hips and down his legs. He stepped out of them and placed them carefully beside his tunic. Clad in only a soft loincloth, he stepped in front of the fire once more.
"That goes as well," Erestor said.
Galathil's fingers shook as he undid the ties that held the loincloth in place. He could feel those dark eyes on him, observing his every move, and it was unnerving and arousing at the same time. He took a deep breath and dropped the loincloth to the floor, utterly exposed.
Erestor's eyes roamed over his nude form appreciatively. "Very nice," he said, his eyes lingering on Galathil's length. "Very nice. This excites you, does it not?"
He nodded faintly. He certainly could not deny that his body found it exciting. The evidence of his arousal was painfully exposed for Erestor's eyes.
"Very nice," Erestor repeated sincerely. "You are quite lovely." His eyes flickered over Galathil's body once more before he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands beneath his chin. "Touch yourself, Prince."
Galathil blinked in surprise, certain he must have misunderstood. "I am sorry, Lord. What did you say?"
"Touch yourself. I want you to pleasure yourself for me," Erestor replied, his eyes finally evincing some emotion. They were dark with the unspoken promise of passion.
His face burned with humiliation, but there was something incredibly arousing about it as well. His fingers gripped his arousal with a familiar touch and he stroked himself tentatively, unable to give into the sensation with Erestor's eyes burning him from across the room.
An exasperated sigh came from the Noldo. "Is that how you pleasure yourself, pen neth?" he demanded. "It would take you hours to reach any satisfaction that way."
"I am sorry, Lord," Galathil answered shakily. "I am unused to performing for an audience."
Erestor shook his head. "Forget I am here. Close your eyes, pen neth."
Galathil did not think that anything he did would make him forget the dark beauty that watched him, but he dutifully closed his eyes. He heard the rustle of fabric and realized that Erestor had risen from his chair.
"Keep your eyes closed, Prince," Erestor's voice came from slightly further away. Sounds of something being opened caught his attention, and he held his breath as he heard Erestor approach him.
Something cool and liquid poured over his hand and over his length, and his breath caught at the sensation.
"Now," Erestor crooned softly. "Show me. Stroke that lovely length of yours. Let me see you lose yourself in your own touch."
Whatever substance Erestor had used made his hand slippery. His fingers slid over his own flesh with ease, and he worked his length in sure strokes. A low groan escaped him and his head fell back. Pleasure built within him with each stroke, and he found he no longer cared that Erestor watched. It was easy to pretend, while his eyes were closed, that he was alone, or better still, that another's hand worked him this way. His breathing quickened and he groaned again, his stomach tightening with his impending release.
"Stop."
Strong hands grabbed his and pulled them away from his throbbing arousal, and Galathil cried out in frustration. His body trembled with his need to finish. He realized Erestor's hands had not released his and he opened his eyes.
"Come with me," Erestor said quietly.
His legs were weak and he nearly stumbled as he followed Erestor to the bed. Gently, Erestor guided Galathil to lie down on his back. He pushed Galathil's thighs apart and lifted his knees, so that they were bent, splayed apart.
Galathil groaned softly when Erestor's fingers brushed the hair at the base of his arousal. His body ached to be touched, to complete what he had started earlier. The touches were maddening, they were far too light to bring him to completion, but they were firm enough to keep him fully aroused. Moisture leaked from the tip of his length, and Erestor carefully gathered it on his fingertips. He could not help but flinch when those fingertips pressed gently between his buttocks, circling the tiny opening there.
Erestor's expression was unreadable, utterly neutral as he slid a finger inside Galathil's body.
He could not help but wince at the invasion. The sensation was wholly new, and though uncomfortable, it was bearable. He let out a long breath and willed his body to relax. His partners had always seemed to enjoy it when he touched them that way. There was no reason he should not be able to do the same.
All his reason left him, however, when Erestor leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. He shuddered, opening his mouth hungrily for more. A soft whimper of disappointment escaped him when Erestor withdrew.
"Now look at me, pen neth," Erestor whispered huskily.
Shaking, Galathil obeyed, locking his gaze on Erestor's face. It was a struggle not to close his eyes when Erestor's fingers lightly pinched his nipples, teasing them until they were aching. His hand traveled lower, brushing across the flatness of Galathil's stomach until they rested on his length. With agonizing slowness, Erestor stroked the length of slick flesh between his fingers, bringing Galathil's pleasure towards its peak once more. Just as before, though, his release was denied. Erestor's hand stilled its movements, and a growl of denial fell from Galathil's lips.
Erestor moved away with a soft chuckle, his fingers undoing the ties of his tunic. He cast it aside and returned to the bed, smiling down at Galathil.
It was a struggle not to let his frustration show openly on his face. His hands wadded the bedclothes tightly as he looked up at Erestor, taking in his bared skin with hungry eyes. He no longer cared what the elf Lord wanted with him, only that he finish what he had started.
Erestor looked at him with half-closed eyes. "Turn over," he murmured. "On your stomach, Prince."
Galathil rolled over, gasping as his arousal pressed against the soft mattress. He buried his hands beneath the pillow and clutched it to his chin, wondering what Erestor would do next to torment him.
He felt the elf Lord settle on the bed and shivered when he felt his hands stroke his back, sliding down to brush lightly over the curve of his buttocks. The mattress dipped slightly as Erestor moved forward, kneeling between Galathil's legs. Something warm and wet touched his back, like liquid velvet it stroked his spine, and Galathil shuddered in response. Erestor licked a path down the curve of his spine, sending gooseflesh rippling over his skin. He lingered for a moment at the top of Galathil's buttocks, lightly nipping the fuller flesh and sending another shiver through him. The exploration continued then, down the line that separated his cheeks, sliding teasingly between them. Galathil moaned quietly, his arousal throbbing in sympathy when Erestor parted the full flesh, revealing his opening to his gaze. The warm, wet touch of Erestor's tongue against his opening made him jump, and he heard the Noldo's quiet chuckle. The tongue left him, then, and continued a path downward to explore the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
His skin tingled wherever Erestor touched him, and while his need had abated to a tolerable level, his desire had not retreated in the slightest. Each touch and caress seemed to stoke the embers, building the foundation of the fire that would consume him, if given enough fuel.
When Erestor rolled him over onto his back once more, Galathil felt almost boneless. His limbs felt heavy, full of languor, too weak to resist anything that Erestor might do. He did not care that he had been reduced to such a state. His skin was flushed, glistening with a light perspiration. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he could feel every inch of his body as it pressed against the bedding. He felt he had reached a point where all Erestor would have to do was kiss him, and he would explode.
Smiling at his flushed form, Erestor rose from the bed and undid his leggings. He slid them over his slender hips and kicked them aside, revealing the smooth column of hard flesh to Galathil's hungry gaze.
Erestor motioned Galathil to get up, while he sat on the edge of the bed. He then pointed to the spot of carpet between his feet. "On your knees, Prince."
He was trembling again, swallowing nervously as he struggled to force his limbs to comply, kneeling before Erestor. His gaze fell to the impressive length of flush jutting proudly from Erestor's groin, and he licked his lips. A hand closed gently over the back of his neck, guiding him forward, until his lips grazed the smooth head of Erestor's length.
"Pleasure me," Erestor crooned softly. "Use that lovely mouth of yours, Prince."
Galathil opened his mouth and he closed his eyes, taking Erestor's length between his lips. It was a struggle not to gag at first, for he had not done this in a long time, but soon he found his rhythm. He sucked the hard column of flesh, drawing back and running his tongue over the weeping slit, before taking it deeply again. A soft moan came from above him, and Galathil felt a responding throb his loins.
"That is it, my lovely," Erestor groaned, his hand gently guiding Galathil's movements as he took his length deeper. His eyes had narrowed into slits, and his breathing had become harsh and irregular. "Swallow, Prince."
He felt the sudden tightening of Noldo's body and swallowed reflexively, his mouth flooded with the warm essence of Erestor's release. He slowed, working the length of flesh between his lips, milking every drop from him until Erestor gently pushed him away.
A soft and breathless chuckle escaped the elf Lord and he glanced up, licking the last of Erestor's essence from his lips.
"Very good, pen neth. I am pleased." His hand cupped the back of Galathil's neck gently and he drew him forward, leaning down to bestow a kiss. Warm, silken lips touched his briefly, and Galathil groaned, wanting nothing more than to devour Erestor's mouth with his own.
Erestor drew back, his dark eyes glittering. "Patience has its own rewards, Prince." He drew his thumb slowly over Galathil's lips. "Like tonight, for instance. I wanted nothing more than to take your lovely body, to fill you, and to feel your heat surround me." He smiled briefly, sliding his thumb between Galathil's lips. "I can be patient, however."
A pleading whimper escaped him as Erestor's thumb lightly brushed his tongue.
"The question remains, Prince. Can you?" He withdrew his thumb abruptly and rose, reaching for his sleeping robes.
Galathil sat back on his heels, utterly dumbfounded as he watched Erestor dress. His arousal wept freely, throbbing insistently against his stomach.
"You cannot mean to leave me this way," he managed roughly, rising to his feet.
Erestor arched an eyebrow at him. "I do, Prince. I most certainly do. Furthermore, I expect you to go to sleep without taking your pleasure, by your own hand or another's." He smiled wickedly and motioned to the bed. "Now, it is time for bed. I am quite tired."
"But…you…I cannot believe…" Galathil struggled to speak. He was painfully aroused and angry as well. "I am not staying here with you," he said finally, his face flushed with anger.
"By your own word and your father's command, pen neth, you will do as I request. Therefore I `request' that you stay the night, so that I may continue your instruction in the morning. Your Princely duties have, for the moment, been regulated to another, so that you can devote your full attention to me." Erestor finished buttoning his sleeping robe and eyed Galathil sternly. "You are far too used to having your own way with things, and getting whatever it is you want. Well, Prince, that is not to be the case this evening. I will abide nothing less than your absolute obedience and trust in this matter."
Galathil shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to will his arousal away. "You are being cruel," he whispered. Gentle fingers gripped his chin and he opened his eyes to meet Erestor's dark gaze.
"No, pen neth," Erestor said with a quiet chuckle. "If I was truly being cruel, I would sleep without the robe."
~*~*~*~
Elladan awoke the following morning curled against Thranduil. He looked at the King, so beautiful in sleep, and glanced down at the rings that pierced his nipples. A wicked smile crossed his lips and he reached for one with his mouth, gently suckling it and fondling the ring against his tongue.
Thranduil moaned quietly in his sleep and shifted against Elladan. Eyes clouded with reverie began to clear as he awoke, and he smiled at the wanton sensations that began to course through his body. "Good morning, melethron," he whispered huskily.
"Good morning, my Lord," Elladan replied sultrily. "Was I yielding and obedient enough for you last night?" he cooed.
Thranduil chuckled and caressed his hair. "Yes, you were an apt pupil, bain nín."
"Have I earned a reward?" Elladan purred, his tongue darting out and teasing the taut nipple that lay beneath his mouth.
Thranduil hissed and arched slightly, craving more of the sinful attention that Elladan bestowed upon him. "I suppose you have, pen rhovan," he answered, his voice growing thick with lust.
Elladan straddled his new lover and pinned his wrists above his head. "Excellent," he growled. "For I claim you as my reward."
Thranduil bit back a laugh, knowing that his superior size and strength could easily free himself from this position. However, Elladan had been more than compliant, and learned his lesson well; what harm could a little indulgence do? "Do you now?" he purred. "Well then, I am the lucky one indeed, your reward is my pleasure."
Elladan lowered his mouth to Thranduil and pressed a possessive, bruising kiss to the King's lips, and Thranduil was surprised by its intensity.
As they broke from their kiss, Thranduil chided gently, "Falling back into old habits are we?"
Elladan smiled seductively and whispered against his lips, "Just this once, my Lord." He batted his eyelids and nuzzled Thranduil's mouth. "Saes?"
Thranduil smiled and captured Elladan's lower lip, gently tugging it as he pulled away. "Alright, but just this once…"
Elladan claimed his mouth again, delving into its deepest recesses before pulling back. He licked his lips as he hovered over Thranduil's face. "Mmm…" he crooned, "You are indeed hotter than the fires of the east, melethron, and as sweet as honey. I can hardly wait to find out what the rest of you tastes like."
"Then waste no more time, pen rhovan," the King growled in reply.
Elladan fell upon him like he were starving, consuming the King and savoring his flesh. After concentrating upon each nipple, fondling and tugging upon the rings that pierced them, he worked his way down the Sinda's powerful, undulating body, his hands trailing down Thranduil's strong arms and chest.
He came to rest between his new lover's sculpted thighs and gazed upon his arousal. He nuzzled it, breathing in his scent, nudging the soft pouch that lay beneath his length. He slowly moved further back, his questing tongue finding the King's entrance and tentatively tasting it.
Thranduil smiled and growled in appreciation as Elladan nudged against his backside. It was not something he normally allowed from anyone he did not totally trust; but something told him that this was the right thing to do, that Elladan needed it lest his spirit be broken.
Elladan took the King's feral growl of approval as a sign that he should continue onward, and he encircled his entrance before sliding his tongue inside.
A plaintive, "Ah!" escaped the King's lips as he arched his back, feeling Elladan's fingers dig into his thighs. "You are wicked, son of Elrond," he groaned, "an elf after my own heart."
Elladan withdrew and smiled up at the King. "Half-elf, my Lord. But I accept the compliment just the same. `Tis easy to perform such deeds upon so inspiring a subject." He lapped at the King's rigid length. "I would have you spent and undone beneath me, my Lord. I have the feeling you are never more beautiful than when lost in passion."
Thranduil smiled and sighed. "You would have me enslaved by you, if I allowed it. But that is something that you will never have, no matter how wicked you may be, bain nín." He shifted against his lover, "Now, no more talk. Finish what you have started, pen rhovan."
Elladan smiled wickedly and answered, "Yes, my Lord." He grasped his lover's arousal in his hand, sliding from tip to base, milking the essence that was beginnings of his lover's release. He thoroughly coated his hand and fingers with it, then placed them at the King's entrance, sliding two inside his powerful body with effortless skill.
Thranduil moaned in pleasure, his perfect lips parted as he arched in response. Elladan smiled and dipped his mouth to the Sinda's weeping arousal, tormenting him sweetly as he felt the King's length slide between his lips. After cursory preparation, he removed his fingers and entered his lover, gasping in delight at the luxurious heat that enveloped him. He looked down at Thranduil's face and smiled. He was right; the King was more beautiful in that moment than he had been since their arrival. His lover's eyes fluttered closed as an erotic moan escaped his sensual lips, he arched his back and tilted his head up, exposing his beautiful neck to Elladan's hungry mouth.
As Elladan entered his lover, he nipped and bit at the King's neck, reveling in the deep moans and feral growls that issued from him. His heart jumped as the King cried out when he found his mark, and he brushed against it unerringly, sending fire racing through both their bodies. He rounded his back and pressed into Thranduil's hands, feeling the King's fingers dig into his lean back as he buried himself to the root repeatedly.
He stroked his lover's arousal until they both found release, crying out as they each achieved climax.
He collapsed upon the King's chest, panting for air, heedless of the warm, viscous fluid that spread between them, and purred in contentment as Thranduil stroked his hair.
"Well done, pen rhovan," the King crooned. "Well done indeed."
~*~*~*~
Elrohir woke to the sensual caress of his new lover. Legolas was curled against him like a cat, his soft, warm tongue teasing his ear and his long archer's fingers drawing idle patterns across his chest and stomach.
"Mmm… good morning, my Prince," Elrohir crooned.
Legolas smiled against his ear and whispered, "A good morning indeed, mir nín. There is yet one lesson I must have before your task is complete…"
Elrohir chuckled softly and inquired, "And what would that be, bain nín?"
Legolas slowly began working his way down Elrohir's body, his mouth trailing from the Peredhil's ear to his neck, to his chest. He concentrated on each nipple until Elrohir was practically writhing beneath him before snaking lower, probing his navel with his tongue and brushing his lips through the hair that grew above his lover's arousal.
Elrohir arched his back and moaned softly, his legs falling apart to give Legolas easier access to his most sensitive and intimate areas. Legolas took his lover's arousal in his hand and drew his tongue up the underside with long slow strokes. He smiled as he heard Elrohir's breathless whispers of approval and worked his way lower; suckling the soft pouch of skin beneath as Elrohir groaned and undulated. He continued further back, flicking his tongue against Elrohir's entrance as he heard his rasping pleas.
"Yes, oh, yes…" Elrohir croaked, "By the Valar, you are a fast learner…"
This time it was Legolas who chuckled as he murmured, "I had a good teacher…"
Legolas took his time, bringing Elrohir to the brink and letting him fall back, only to drive him onward again.
Elrohir reached down and brought Legolas' head up, looking down at him and smiling seductively. "Take me, melethron. Go on, you have earned it."
Legolas blinked and opened his mouth to question if he should, but the insistent pounding rhythm emanating from his loins silenced him. He nodded and reached for the vial set on the floor the previous night. He coated himself thoroughly, as he had watched Elrohir do, his hands sliding through the warm oil causing him to shudder with desire.
"There is no need to go slowly, mellon," Elrohir whispered.
Legolas nodded in understanding and grasped Elrohir's thighs sheathing himself in one smooth thrust. He threw his head back and gasped, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling, his body overcome by the sensations that flooded it: Elrohir's deep moan, his own rasping breathing, tight, delicious, warmth enveloping him, enfolding him. It was something he had been utterly unprepared for, something he could not have imagined if he had tried.
"Oh Gods…" he managed to whisper. "Oh, Elrohir…"
Elrohir took deep breaths and nodded, the familiar comfort of being filled causing a bright heat to flood his body. "Move, Legolas, please…" he called out softly.
Legolas began to move, fighting to focus on Elrohir's voice rather than become utterly lost to the most intense and intimate sensations he had ever known. He followed his tutor's directions, and found his mark. He cried out in unison with Elrohir as his lover's body tightened around him, his own keening cry seeming to come from the very depths of his body. Again and again, he aimed for it as he began to tremble with his impending release. He took Elrohir's arousal in his hand without being asked, remembering what Elrohir had done for him the night before. He stroked it in time with his motion and as Elrohir found his release, he cried out again, his own climax causing him to quake with its intensity. He slowly slipped from Elrohir's body, unable to move, unable to do anything but breathe.
Elrohir sat up and looked at Legolas who sat back on his heels before him. The Prince's head hung down, his face concealed behind the veil of his flaxen hair. He reached out and tilted his chin up, and gazed into eyes that were shining with tears.
"Legolas," he whispered softly, "are you all right, mellonamin?"
Legolas nodded and reached out for him, burying his face in Elrohir's hair. "Thank you, Elrohir," he whispered into his ear. "I will never forget this, not as long as I live."
Elrohir enfolded him in his arms and stroked his hair. "It was a rare privilege and an honor to be your first, my Lord."
Legolas shook his head and whispered into Elrohir's ear, "Please do not call me that, not after what we just did."
Elrohir laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "I am sorry, Legolas. What if I call you meleth instead?"
Legolas laughed softly and sniffled. "Yes, I would like that."
The two young lovers held one another into the late hours of the morning.
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