Title & Chapter Number: Good Relations 8/16
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 heard the lock slide home on Erestor's door with a resounding click. The sound made him shiver, as did the heat in the Noldo's eyes when he turned to look at him.
He did not understand it, this craving that filled him for Erestor's touch. The elf lord had done things to him and made him do things that he had never done before. He had never willingly submitted to another's will in such a manner. Yet as Erestor stripped his velvet robes from his shoulders and laid them across the back of a chair, Galathil could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else but here, in Erestor's rooms, awaiting the next lesson his tutor would impart.
He watched Erestor's graceful fingers as they undid the buttons at the cuffs of his tunic, and swallowed. He remembered the feel of those long, slender fingers inside of him, stroking him, until he was consumed by his need. Gradually, he became aware of Erestor's fixed regard, and lifted his head to meet the elf lord's dark and burning gaze.
"Disrobe, Prince," Erestor commanded softly.
Galathil's fingers fumbled over the ties of his clothing as he hastily complied. His arousal swelled and hardened beneath Erestor's watching eyes as his leggings were discarded, cast aside without a thought. He straightened, trembling slightly as those dark eyes continued to move over his body, appraising him with a thoroughness that was unnerving.
"Proud, stubborn princeling," Erestor murmured, moving closer to run his fingers over Galathil's bared flesh. The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the hardened peaks of Galathil's nipples, eliciting a soft gasp. His hands swept over his lean chest and downward, carefully avoiding the Prince's obvious arousal to explore the soft and sensitive flesh where his thigh met with his hip. "It would take weeks to train you properly, time I regretfully do not have." His fingertips traced the smooth curve of Galathil's buttocks, before pinching the soft flesh lightly. His fingers parted the yielding flesh, and brushed teasingly over the small puckered opening, slightly swollen from the morning's activities.
His breath caught when Erestor touched his opening, and his arousal throbbed in response. It took all his will not to press himself against the sleek body that stood mere inches away, not to grind his hips against Erestor's and seek his relief.
As if sensing Galathil's thoughts, Erestor drew back slightly, and resumed his exploration of the Prince's chest. He pinched one rosy colored nipple, watching the myriad of expressions cross Galathil's fair face.
"Oh yes," Erestor crooned, pinching the nipple again a little more forcefully. "I would teach you such things you cannot even begin to imagine, pen neth."
Galathil's breath came out in a slow hiss when Erestor's tongue soothed the sting from his nipple. His fists clenched tight as he struggled not to moan, to plead with the elf lord to stop toying with him and take him now.
"On your knees, by the fire, Prince." Erestor stepped away, gesturing to the soft rug.
He knelt, his backside resting against his heels, and looked up at Erestor expectantly.
Erestor smiled down at him, his hands reaching up to cradle his face. "Normally I would not introduce this next lesson so soon to a pupil as new and untried as you. But, as I have said, I do not have the time to draw this out." His fingers swept up the sides of Galathil's face to trace the graceful tips of the Prince's ears. A soft, trembling groan escaped his pupil, and his smile widened. "Your pride is a dangerous thing, Prince. It makes you weak, easily stirred to anger." His thumb and fingers rubbed the tips gently, sliding up and down the delicate points. The Prince whimpered, and the plaintive noise pleased him. "Pride in one's accomplishments and heritage is acceptable, Galathil," Erestor continued. "Refusing to acknowledge that others are your equal is another. You are no better than those you disdain, Prince." His fingers continued their ministrations, and he heard Galathil's breath quicken. "And that is the lesson I will teach you this day." Galathil's whimper of disappointment when Erestor's fingers left his ears was pleasing as well. He placed his fingers beneath the Prince's chin and lifted his face, holding his gaze with his own. "You will learn, pen neth."
Galathil felt the loss of Erestor's touch keenly. He blinked, unable to look away from that dark gaze. His whole body burned with need.
"I will leave you for the moment to think about my words. When I return, the lesson will begin. Are you ready?" Erestor asked softly, his thumb brushing over Galathil's lower lip.
He shook his head and took a deep, trembling breath. "No, my lord," he answered. "I will try, however, to please you."
Erestor smiled gently. "You please me very much, Galathil," he murmured.
An expression so fleeting that Galathil almost missed it crossed his face before Erestor turned away. He heard a drawer being opened, and the soft rustle of silk, before the elf lord turned back, his expression as unreadable as before.
Galathil had no thought to protest when Erestor bound his wrists behind him using a length of silken rope. He did not question the reason for it, for he knew that Erestor's answer would be the same as before. "Because it pleases me, Prince. That is all you need to know." Gentle hands brushed his hair away from his face, tucking the blonde strands behind his ears.
"Wait here, just as you are," Erestor commanded quietly. He made as if to leave, and then paused. Galathil was looking up at him, painfully aroused, his fair skin beautifully flushed. His hand reached out and cradled the Prince's jaw as he bent his head, brushing his lips lightly over Galathil's.
The touch of Erestor's lips against his was all too brief, and he bit back the sigh that rose within him as the elf lord turned and left him.
~*~*~*~
Haldir's back impacted with the soft sand and his breath left him in a startled gasp. He glared up at Glorfindel, who looked quite pleased with himself.
"What are you doing?" he growled, trying to rise, only to find himself effectively pinned by Glorfindel as the Vanya nipped playfully at his ears.
"I am making love to you," Glorfindel purred, running his tongue teasingly over a pointed tip.
Haldir struggled weakly beneath Glorfindel's weight, succeeding in little more than bringing their arousals together in breathtaking contact. "Ai! Here?" he asked breathlessly.
"Here, there, anywhere, my delectable and highly desirable marchwarden," Glorfindel purred, burying his face in the curve of Haldir's neck. He felt Haldir's hips shift beneath him and he groaned softly. "I cannot seem to get enough of you."
"Someone could see us." Haldir's protests were half-hearted as Glorfindel's fingers delved beneath the waist of his leggings to grasp his arousal.
Glorfindel chuckled wickedly. "All the more fun, do you not think?" He raised his head and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "The thrill of getting caught?"
Haldir groaned. "You are mad, Vanya. We will cause a diplomatic incident. I will never be able to show my face in Lórien or Imladris again." He closed his eyes as Glorfindel's hand began to work his length in smooth and familiar strokes. "Ai! Glorfindel!"
"Haldir!" Glorfindel returned with a grin. "I want to see you," he purred. "I want to see you come for me, Haldir, right here, on the sands of this arena."
Haldir moaned, his hips rising in rhythm to meet Glorfindel's strokes upon his arousal. "What is this fascination you have with having your hand down my leggings?" he managed through clenched teeth.
Glorfindel silenced him effectively with a kiss, swallowing his soft moans until the need for air forced them apart. Haldir's breath came faster as his lover's hand brought him closer to completion.
"That is it, my love," Glorfindel whispered. "You are so beautiful when you are lost to me this way."
Haldir arched beneath him and cried out softly, and Glorfindel felt the warmth of his release cover his hand. He continued to stroke him, milking every last drop from his lover's quivering body until Haldir's hands batted at him weakly. He slid his hand carefully out of its warm and delightful place and brought it to his lips, licking the drops of Haldir's essence from his skin.
Haldir lay back against the sand, struggling to regain his composure. What was it about the Balrog slayer that made him lose all sense of propriety and decorum? He was the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, not some untried elfling who could not control himself! Yet that was exactly how he felt around Glorfindel. He was not certain the thought made him happy.
"What is it?" Glorfindel asked quietly, seeing Haldir frown.
He sat up, grimacing at the wet stain that had spread across the front of his leggings, and wrapped his arms around his knees.
"You are angry with me." Glorfindel looked surprised.
Haldir looked at him, flinching at the hurt look on his lover's face. "I am not angry, Glorfindel," he said finally, searching for the right words to explain the way he felt. "But I do not like what just happened."
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough," he replied stiffly.
"That is not what I meant," Haldir said, frowning. He sighed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I do not know how to say what I mean."
"I think I know what it is you mean," Glorfindel said, rising to his feet. His expression was closed, carefully controlled. He turned to leave when Haldir's hand on his wrist stopped him.
"Wait, Glorfindel," Haldir said, swallowing. "Please."
Glorfindel waited, hating to see the unhappiness Haldir's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to drop to the sand beside him, and pull him into his arms, to comfort him until that look was gone. His pride would not allow it, so he settled for waiting to see what Haldir would say.
Haldir struggled. It was not easy for him to speak so openly, to hold his heart out for another in such a fashion. He took a deep breath and tugged Glorfindel down until the warrior sat on the sand beside him. He reached for Glorfindel's hand, linking their fingers together tightly. He silently contemplated their intertwined fingers as he searched for the right words to say, words that would not build an impenetrable wall of coldness between himself and his lover. Gentle fingers touched his face and he lifted his gaze.
"Tell me what it is, Haldir," Glorfindel whispered. "Say it badly, or say it not at all. I cannot bear to see you unhappy, especially if I am the cause."
Haldir managed a faint smile. "We are a sight, are we not? Two proud warriors, brought low by their fear of giving too much."
"I do not have that fear, meleth nín," Glorfindel said gently. "All that I am is yours. That you have accepted me, loved me, is a gift I treasure more than my life. I can be myself with you – not the Seneschal, not the Balrog Slayer, not the head of the House of the Golden Flower. With you, I am simply Glorfindel, the elf who loves you with every fiber of his being."
Haldir blinked, his eyes blurring suddenly with emotion. "I think then, you have given me the words I was searching for." He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on Glorfindel's. "I have always been Haldir, Marchwarden of the Golden Woods, the Captain of the Galadhrim, servant of the Lord and Lady. I do not know how to be simply Haldir, the elf who loves Glorfindel with his very heart and soul."
Glorfindel's other hand tenderly brushed away the single tear that had fallen from his eyes. "The question, meleth nín, is whether or not you want to be."
Haldir leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. "I lose myself with you. You make me forget everything – who I am – when I am with you. When I am with you, there is only you, and nothing else." Glorfindel's soft chuckle made him open his eyes.
"Do you not think it is the same with me?" Glorfindel asked, his eyes bright as he laughed softly. "Oh, Haldir, hûn nín." He shook his head, pulling Haldir into his lap and wrapping his arms around the archer. "I forget at times you are not as old as I." He pressed his lips against his lover's ear, contentment filling him. "You make me feel the same, meleth. With you, it is as if I am an elfling all over again, trying my best to please. When I am with you, there is nothing else in this world that matters." He turned Haldir slightly in his arms so that he could see his face. "Do not be afraid, meleth nín. You will always be Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, even when you are simply Haldir with me."
Relieved by his lover's words and confession, he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Glorfindel's. "Amin mela lle, Glorfindel. I am sorry."
Glorfindel returned his kiss gently, but with enough passion behind it to make Haldir gasp. "Amin mela lle, Haldir. Do not be sorry." A smile curved his generous mouth. "There is nothing to be sorry for."
A playful smile bloomed across Haldir's face. "Still, I feel I must make it up to you," he said with mock seriousness.
A dark golden eyebrow arched gracefully. "Oh?" Glorfindel asked innocently. "What ever did you have in mind?"
Haldir pressed his lips to Glorfindel's ear and told him exactly what it was he had in mind.
Glorfindel's wicked and delighted laughter filled the arena.
~*~*~*~
Galathil heard the door being opened and looked up from his knees, swallowing in apprehension and anticipation as Erestor stepped through the entrance. His anticipation wavered and his apprehension grew when he saw that the Noldo was not alone. Elladan and Elrohir entered the room behind him, followed by his Adar and Legolas. His face burned and he looked away, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. It was not enough that his father and brother were witness to his humiliation; that the Peredhil were there as well galled him more than he could bear.
Thranduil took in the sight of his son kneeling on the floor, naked and bound and shook his head. It appeared Galathil's lessons were going much like his own once did.
Elladan and Elrohir fought to hide the rapidly growing smirks on their faces and Elrohir glanced over his shoulder when he heard Legolas' quiet gasp of surprise.
Not knowing what was happening or what had transpired before they arrived, Legolas moved to help his elder brother and Thranduil grasped his arm and slowly shook his head. "Wait, Greenleaf, there is a reason for this," he said softly.
Erestor nodded, giving Legolas a faint smile. "Your brother has given his consent to be my pupil, Prince Legolas. I have not harmed him. When my instruction has been completed, he will be much improved." He moved to Galathil's kneeling form, sliding his hand over his bare shoulder to lightly grasp the back of his neck.
Galathil struggled not to tremble, his skin tingling where Erestor's hand touched him. His whole body was flushed with his humiliation, but he could not hide the obvious signs of his arousal. Even now, he could not hide how much he wanted the Noldo.
Erestor smiled, well aware of his pupil's distress. "I have brought the four of you here to ask for your assistance in a lesson."
Thranduil moved to kneel in front of his son and turned his reddened face up so that their gazes met. "Always the stubborn one, Galathil. Why must you make this so hard on yourself? Why must you always seek the more difficult path, Iôn?"
Galathil swallowed, tears of shame blurring his vision as he struggled to answer his father's gently spoken question.
Thranduil caressed his son's cheek and placed a soft kiss upon his forehead. "You will learn, Galathil, as surely as I once did myself."
Erestor cleared his throat quietly. "With your permission, My Lord, Prince Legolas, I would like Elladan and Elrohir to lend their assistance with this lesson."
Galathil trembled anew at Erestor's words and bowed his head, staring at his knees.
Thranduil turned his gaze to Erestor and smiled gently. "It would be too difficult for Galathil for me to be present. I give my consent, but I must not stay." He then turned his gaze to Legolas. "Whether or not you stay, Greenleaf, is up to you."
Galathil stilled, holding his breath in anticipation of his brother's answer. He did not know what would be worse, having Legolas witness his ultimate humiliation at the hands of the Peredhil, or leaving him alone with them.
Legolas swallowed and glanced from Erestor to his father, then to his brother, before looking at his father again. Something told him Galathil would need him through the lesson he was about to learn. He answered quietly, "I will stay, Adar, in case he needs me."
Thranduil smiled gently then turned back to Galathil. "This is the hardest lesson to learn, Iôn, but it will be the one that serves you best in life. I will be in my chamber should you wish to see me after it is done." He rose from the floor and paused to give Legolas a kiss upon the forehead and whispered words of encouragement before leaving the room.
Erestor eyed Legolas shrewdly for a moment and then nodded, as if he had come to a decision. "You are here to observe, Prince Legolas. You are not to interfere in any way, is that understood?"
Legolas nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.
Erestor nodded again in approval, and turned his dark gaze to the twins. "You know what it is that I need from you both?" he asked quietly.
Elladan smiled wolfishly and nodded. "Aye, Erestor. We do." Elrohir nodded in unison with his brother.
Elrohir cleared his throat and questioned, "Where shall we start, Erestor? Who shall go first?"
Erestor smiled faintly, his hand tightening on the back of Galathil's neck. "The Prince." He looked down at Galathil, running his fingers beneath his chin to lift his gaze. "On your feet, Galathil," he commanded quietly.
Galathil rose to his feet unsteadily, and felt the silken rope that bound his hands fall away. He brought his hands forward, rubbing his wrists. He looked up at Erestor, and the Noldo gave him a faint nod. "Disrobe them both, Prince. Start with Elrohir."
Swallowing, Galathil moved from Erestor's side, his eyes on his feet as he moved to where the younger of the twins waited expectantly.
"Look at him, Prince," Erestor ordered, his voice soft.
Galathil lifted his eyes slowly and met Elrohir's gaze.
Elrohir looked at Galathil kindly. While the Prince had been arrogant, and bordering on rude, he still felt a bit of empathy for him. Neither he nor Elladan had ever been on the receiving end of one of these lessons, but they had both been on the receiving end of many other types of lessons in humility.
"Go on, Galathil," he said softly, "I will not bite."
His fingers shook slightly as he tugged at the laces that held Elrohir's tunic, fumbling over the simple task. When he finally got them loose, he parted the fabric, and slid it from the Peredhil's shoulders. His hands shook even worse as he tried to work the lacings on Elrohir's leggings. He could see the faint outline of Elrohir's arousal pressed against the fabric, and it only made his task that more difficult.
Erestor cleared his throat, and Galathil turned from his task to look at his tutor.
"Boots first, Prince," Erestor said mildly.
Elrohir's gaze drifted to Elladan as the Prince knelt before him to remove his boots. Elladan smiled wickedly and Elrohir knew the Prince's task would be far more daunting where his twin was concerned.
Galathil pulled the soft leather boots from Elrohir's feet and set them carefully aside. He did not rise from his kneeling position. It was easier for him to finish his task with Elrohir's leggings from his knees, since his legs felt particularly shaky at the moment.
Elladan bent forward so that he could whisper in Galathil's ear. "You look particularly lovely on your knees, my Prince."
He flushed crimson at Elladan's words, biting back the response that rose to his lips. It was difficult to remember why he was willing to do this, why it was so important. He kept his eyes downcast as he slid Elrohir's leggings over his slender hips and down his legs. He could feel the warmth emanating from the Peredhil's body, and smell his own unique and faintly musky scent. He felt Elrohir's fingers slide gently over his jaw and he raised his head.
"Look at him, Prince. Do not let your pride veil the truth from your eyes," Erestor commanded quietly. "He is beautiful, is he not?"
Galathil heard Erestor move closer, and felt the now familiar and comforting touch of his tutor's hand on the back of his neck.
"Look at his skin. It looks soft and smooth, perfect and unblemished." Erestor's lips brushed the tip of Galathil's ear as he continued. "See the beauty of his face, Prince. His eyes, his lips."
It was difficult to think with Erestor's warm breath caressing his ear, but he looked as he had been commanded to look. He saw Elrohir the way Erestor saw him, and realized his tutor was right: he was beautiful. From the shimmering cloud of sable hair that crowned his head, to the gleaming pewter eyes that regarded him with a mixture of compassion and hunger. From the full, ripe lips, their shape and softness made for sinful and wicked deeds, to the lithe and well formed limbs. Even his arousal was beautiful; a smooth column of hardened flesh that seemed to grow even larger as he gazed upon it.
"Taste him," Erestor crooned softly. "Smell his scent." His lips pressed softly against Galathil's ear. "Make him cry out in pleasure."
Galathil leaned forward, his hands sliding up Elrohir's well-muscled calves to grip his thighs as he pressed his cheek against his arousal, taking in his soft and musky scent. His mouth seemed to open of its own accord, and his tongue flicked out to taste the warmth of Elrohir's skin.
Spice, sweetness, salt.
He rolled the flavor over his tongue, tasting it, savoring it like he would a fine wine. Accepting the difference and the similarities between Elrohir and Erestor's flavor. He did not find it lacking. He drew the hard length of flesh between his lips, curious to see how strong the flavor would become if he filled his mouth with it. He did not feel Erestor pull away.
Lean thighs trembled slightly beneath his hands as he worked Elrohir's length with his lips and tongue, the taste of the Peredhil filling his mouth. A soft, sweet groan rumbled from Elrohir's chest, startling him enough that he stopped, looking up at the half-elf.
Elrohir's eyes were closed, his luscious mouth half-open as he gasped for air, his skin beautifully flushed with arousal.
Galathil did not think he had ever seen anything more beautiful at that moment.
Erestor's hand gripped the back of his neck once more, guiding him to kneel in front of Elladan before leaving him.
"Wait," Elrohir whispered, and Erestor released Galathil's neck. Elrohir guided the Prince to stand in front of him and he said softly, "Hannon lle, mellonamin. That was lovely." He placed his hand on the back of Galathil's neck and drew him in to a soft kiss, his other hand gently caressing the Prince's hip. The plaintive moan that escaped Galathil caused a soft answering moan of his own, then he released him after the briefest of tastes. He heard Legolas' soft moan drift over his shoulder and he turned to smile at his young lover.
Galathil's head was reeling, never in his life had he felt lips so soft or a kiss so sweet. He nearly succumbed to the urge to throw himself into Elrohir's arms and plunge his hands into that mass of sable hair. Then, he felt his tutor's hand on the back of his neck once again and returned to the present. He turned and knelt in front of Elladan, as he was guided, and Erestor's hand left his neck.
Galathil felt bereft without that comforting touch, and trembled at Elladan's feet. Taking a deep breath, he reached for Elladan's leg, lifting it so he could slide the soft, leather boot from his foot. He repeated the process with the other boot, and placed them aside where they would not be in the way. Galathil then rose to his feet, and reached for the ties of Elladan's tunic.
"Erestor," Elladan's voice rumbled softly, causing Galathil to glance up from his work to his tutor.
Erestor nodded, a small smile curving his lips. "Go ahead, Elladan. That is why you are here."
Galathil nearly panicked when Elladan pushed his hands away, gripping the wrists tightly and pulling them behind his back. The long line of his body was pressed against Elladan's, his back arching almost painfully as he struggled not to lose his balance. Elladan's tunic had fallen open completely, baring the smooth skin of his chest, and it rubbed with delicious friction against Galathil's bare skin. Elladan's eyes closed halfway as he regarded his captive, and they glittered hungrily beneath dark lashes.
Elladan bent his head, his lips barely brushing the underside of Galathil's jaw before his tongue flickered out to tease the sensitive skin. He pulled the Prince's body tighter against him, and Galathil felt the press of Elladan's arousal against his leg as his lips explored his neck, moving their way across his chin. His tongue flicked out again, warm and wet, tracing the curve of Galathil's lower lip, before capturing it between his teeth.
He moaned softly and was silenced when Elladan covered his mouth with his own. The tenderness of his kiss was in surprising contrast to the strength that held him captive, gripping his wrists and pressing him almost painfully against Elladan's body. He opened his mouth under the gentle but insistent pressure of Elladan's lips, and shuddered when he felt the warm, sweet taste of his tongue brushing against his own. Had his hands been free he would have tangled them in his soft hair, would have crushed his mouth against the softness of Elladan's and taken his fill of it greedily. As it was, he could do nothing but surrender to the assault on his senses. His head was spinning by the time Elladan released him, and he was gasping for breath.
With shaking hands, he resumed his task of disrobing Elladan, his face burning from humiliation and need.
"I would have from you what you gave my brother, Prince," Elladan purred, pushing Galathil to his knees before him.
He struggled silently – torn between lust and shame. They had conquered his strength of will so easily, he realized. He wanted nothing more that to take the lovely length of flesh before him into his mouth and make Elladan groan in ecstasy. Where was his pride? Why was he kneeling before Elladan, when it should be the other way around?
As he gazed up at the half-elf, he began to wonder if he might have been wrong about the Peredhil all along.
Galathil pushed the thought aside. He was doing this to please Erestor, nothing more. Still he could not help the small groan of pleasure that escaped him when Elladan's flavor filled his mouth. His hands rose of their own accord to grip the Peredhil's buttocks as he worked him with his mouth and tongue, tasting him, swallowing his length as deeply as he was able. It took longer than it had with Elrohir, but Galathil was finally rewarded with a deep, rumbling groan for his efforts.
Legolas watched this all with half-glazed eyes, his own body responding against his will as he watched his brother take Elladan's length into his mouth. He saw Elrohir smile at him and managed to smile weakly in return. He was grateful it was Galathil and not himself that was under scrutiny, for he did not think he would fair any better under the watchful eyes of Erestor. The elf lord himself was lounging comfortably in a large chair, his long legs splayed wide as he watched the proceedings with interest. He made no move to interfere when Elladan pulled Galathil to his feet and pushed him towards the bed.
He did not understand his brother's reluctance when it came to the twins. They were both equally beautiful, though he was pulled towards Elrohir's gentler nature more so than to Elladan's more forceful one. They were both kind and generous with their friendship, and passionate by nature. Legolas could not help but blush when he recalled just how passionate Elrohir's nature could be.
Elrohir slid onto the bed beside Galathil and pulled him into his arms, rolling the Prince's body so that his back was against his chest. His lips fastened on the tip of Galathil's ear and drew it in, sucking on it and making the Sinda squirm against him. He inclined his head and reached out to Legolas, holding his hand out in silent invitation, beckoning his young lover to join him.
Legolas rose from his chair, discarding his tunic and boots, and slid onto the bed behind Elrohir, snuggling up against his lover and bringing his lips to Elrohir's ear, mimicking Elrohir's actions on his brother's own ear.
Elrohir arched and moaned softly, his lips not leaving Galathil's ear, his hands still hungrily roaming the elder Prince's chest.
Elladan moved between Galathil's legs and lay against him, his mouth fastening on the peak of one nipple.
Galathil felt Elrohir's arousal slide teasingly between his cheeks and groaned softly. Elladan's mouth moved to his other nipple and teased it mercilessly with his tongue. Another groan escaped him when Elladan slid his arousal against his own. Their smooth skin seemed to burn against his, their lips and caresses igniting the fire within him until he was groaning softly, continuously, heedless of the soft entreating words that fell from his lips.
Erestor watched Galathil's lithe body undulate between Elladan and Elrohir, saw the caresses of Legolas' long fingers upon Elrohir's arms and shoulders, heard the moans and pleading whispers that Galathil gave as Elladan moved lower on his body. Galathil was losing the battle within him with each touch, each swipe of the tongue over a sensitive area. Bit by bit, he was becoming completely and beautifully undone. His needful cry when Elladan took his length and ran his tongue over it was most pleasing.
Galathil whimpered softly when Elladan's mouth left his length to travel lower. Strong hands gripped his thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. He no longer cared. Hands were everywhere, mouths everywhere, he was no longer sure who touched him where. He was vaguely aware that Legolas had joined them upon the bed, and he reached out blindly for him, feeling his younger brother's strong hand capture his own. His pride was gone. All that mattered was the soft, wet swipe of tongue against his skin, and the sweet touch of Elrohir's mouth on his neck. His body jerked involuntarily when Elladan's tongue touched his opening, circling the ring of flesh teasingly.
"Saes." The word fell pleadingly from his lips.
"What is it you need, Galathil?" Elrohir whispered, running his tongue over the curve of Galathil's ear. He shifted his hips slightly, the tip of his arousal bumping against Elladan's tongue as it slid between the Prince's cheeks. He bit back the groan and met his brother's wickedly gleaming eyes with a grin. He felt the quick, flicker of his brother's tongue against his length before he drew away, and he heard Elladan's quiet chuckle.
"Do you want him?" Elrohir asked, reaching around Galathil's chest to pinch his nipples lightly.
Galathil arched against Elladan's tongue, whimpering softly when it pushed its way into his body.
"Do you want him to take you?" Elrohir asked. "Do you want to feel him inside you, filling your body with his heat?"
Legolas' body trembled with his own need and he pressed closer against Elrohir, feeling the Peredhil's buttocks grind against his arousal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erestor rise from the chair, and he watched, curious and a little confused as the elf lord began to disrobe. A sharp, keening cry brought his attention back to the bed. Elladan had exchanged his tongue for a finger and was slowly thrusting it in and out of his brother's body. Legolas felt his own body break out in a light sweat and he moaned into Elrohir's ear.
"All you have to do is tell him and he will ease your need, Galathil," Elrohir whispered wickedly, one hand sliding down the Prince's flat stomach to encircle his length. "He will give you pleasure, if you simply ask for it."
Galathil's hips rose and fell with the slow rhythm of Elladan's finger as it moved inside him. Elrohir's hand did not ease his need, but only increased it. He was breathless, trembling, his limbs aching from the strain of being held for so long on the edge of release. It was too much to endure.
"Saes, Elladan." He felt no shame in the pleading he heard in his voice. "Aníron lle. Sí, saes, take me now."
There was no mockery or laughter in Elladan's face as he smiled at Galathil. His eyes burned bright with hunger, but his kiss was gentle, tender even, before he withdrew completely from Galathil's body.
Strong yet gentle hands rolled him onto his stomach, and he felt Legolas release his hand, and then he felt Elladan and Elrohir move away. He heard the jar of salve being opened before the mattress dipped slightly as Elladan positioned himself behind him. He felt hands lifting his hips until he was kneeling, on his hands and knees. Elladan's fingers, slippery from the salve, entered him once more and he rocked back against them, groaning softly. He was still tender, and the hands were careful in their preparation. He felt the tip of Elladan's length press against his opening and closed his eyes.
Though it was Elladan and Elrohir who had roused him to such a state, they were not who he truly wanted. He wished it were Erestor, not Elladan, who was preparing to take him. With his eyes closed, it was easy to pretend it was the dark-eyed beauty that was going to claim his body.
He could not help the soft whimper that escaped him when the tip of Elladan's length breached him. He held his breath; his body trembled as the length of hard flesh slowly entered him, impaling him, until he felt impossibly stretched. Only when Elladan was completely sheathed in his body did he let out the breath he had been holding in one long, trembling sigh.
Hands stroked his back tenderly, before wrapping around his waist and pulling him up so that he was resting against Elladan's chest. Long, slender fingers encircled his member, stroking it slowly, until he relaxed, his body accepting the intrusion completely.
"Lesson well learned, Galathil," Erestor's velvet voice caressed his ear.
Galathil's eyes flew open and he turned his head.
Erestor smiled gently at him, stroking his hair away from his face even as his hips moved against the Prince, burying his length deeper into his body. He continued to work Galathil's length in his fist in slow, pumping movements.
"I thought-I…" Galathil could not manage to form a coherent sentence. Erestor's eyes glinted with amusement and unconcealed passion.
"Be quiet, Prince," Erestor whispered.
Galathil managed a small smile. "Yes, my Lord."
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