Taming the Twins

BY : Pippychick_TAFKAB
Category: +Third Age > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 3766
Disclaimer: We do not own Middle Earth, Lord of the Rings or any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tolkien. We make no money from this story.

Authors' Note: Who is this Erestor? Where does he come from? Why is he meddling with Thranduil and Legolas in Prince in Training? What are his credentials? This story was written to discover some of those answers. :-)


Chapter One

Erestor paused in his work and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. He had lost track of time again, and the world outside of the library window had gone dark. He let his gaze linger on the page. There were few now in Middle Earth who could attempt the kind of translation work he was doing. It was an ancient form of Quenya. Even the more developed version of the old language was no longer spoken.

The calfskin held accounts and journals dating back to the great journey. It was interesting work. He looked at the window again, then got up, somewhat impatient, and drew the curtains. He disliked seeing his reflection in the glass.

There were some hours left of the evening yet. He consulted the water clock. Usually, he worked well into the night. Not because of necessity, but for love. These trapped voices longed to be heard, and he, Erestor, could make them heard once more. He bent his head and continued the translation.

The book spoke of Elwë Singollo, later called Elu Thingol, and remembered the earlier days of his realm, but it had been written by a Noldo, and thus preserved both a rare perspective on the material and posed a particular problem of accessibility.

He turned the pages with care, using a delicate wooden pincer tool so the oils from his fingers would not further corrupt the crumbling calfskin. It must be recopied in its original form, as well, for translation inevitably brought loss or change of meaning.

He sighed, glancing about his library. So much must be done and redone, as the materials they used to make copies faded and crumbled or were attacked by beasts that chewed the very leather upon which the letters had been traced. He sighed, thinking with regret of the great libraries of Gondolin, lost forever in the burning of the city. He could remember walking there, among thousands of books forever lost now, whose shapes remained only as faint hints among the broken fragments that remained.

To Erestor the loss of books was as great as the loss of elves; they were much the same. The mind of an elf might be preserved long after his hröa had passed on to Mandos, if only the words he had once written might be preserved.

At last he decided he had done enough for one day, and put out the candles carefully one by one with a silver snuffer. When at last he was satisfied, he closed and locked his study door and went along to his bedchamber. His footfalls echoed in the empty corridors of Imladris, devoid of life in these watches of the night.

When he reached his room, there were lights already lit within. Erestor sighed and turned down his bed, then walked over to where Elladan knelt naked on his floor, his wide eyes following Erestor’s movements.

“Did you remain in your position?” he asked, his voice deep and quiet, but masterful nevertheless. He folded his arms and leaned against the bottom of the bedstead.

“Yes, Sir!” Elladan replied. Erestor smiled inwardly, though he didn’t allow it to show on his face beyond a minute twinkling of his eyes. He had been missing for several hours, which meant Elladan was a liar. He had allowed the younger elf to become used to his routine over weeks. And every evening, he lied like this.

Usually, Erestor dismissed him without granting him attention. Without telling him why. Now, at long last, he decided that Elladan’s repeated untruths must have deeper consequences, else neither of them would ever be satisfied. And Erestor had become used to Elladan in his room. He had begun to desire the younger elf’s body, and he did not intend to allow this ritual to become self-denial.

For months Elladan had pursued him, until he had ended up giving Elrond’s son little requests. Tiny instructions which Elladan had followed to the letter. Little by little changing the tone and nature of them until Elladan came willingly to his room and begged for his favour on his knees. Erestor had never granted him that.

And now this. Weeks of untruths, when he had fulfilled every other request tolerably well. To be out of sight should be no encouragement to bad behaviour.

“How long have you been coming here each day, Elladan?” he asked suddenly. “Do you never wonder why I send you away each night, unused and untested?”

“For the sake of my father,” he answered swiftly, glancing up to see if his words were well-received. “That he is Elrond, and you hesitate to displease him.”

Erestor raised a brow and did not answer. Elrond allowed his grown children to make their own choices, and Elladan knew it well. His silence stretched, and Elladan was yet young enough the tactic worked to unsettle him.

“For lack of desire,” Elladan tried again, and this time he did not look up. “That you do not wish to claim my body.”

Would the ellon call him bloodless to his very face? Another untruth; he knew that was not so. Erestor shifted, allowing his thighs to part, and slid his hand up his leg, disarranging his tunic to demonstrate Elladan’s error.

“For you are displeased with me,” Elladan whispered suddenly, and Erestor marked a single tremor in his hand before he stilled it on his thigh.

“Why?” The single word hung in the air, twisting and turning between them like a single leaf in the breeze as Elladan considered his answer.

At last, it seemed Elladan knew no other reason, and he looked down. “I was disobedient, Sir,” he murmured.

“Yes. And for that I should send you away again, without venturing further into this… infatuation of yours.” Erestor made it sound like a dirty thing, as if he would like to wash his hands, and he noted the blush on Elladan’s cheeks.

“Please, don’t,” he begged, his body swaying forward on his knees. He probably wasn’t even aware of it, Erestor thought.

“What else should I do when you have failed to obey a simple instruction to stay?” Erestor queried.

Elladan gave no answer. “You have failed to attend to me,” Erestor accused, as of a schoolmaster, and he saw the moment Elladan thought of it.

“Punish me!” he said suddenly, then appeared to understand what he asked, looking up in a kind of fear. “Erestor,” he whispered, pleading for something nameless. “Sir, please.”

“Stand up!” Erestor rapped out, straightening his own posture and moving forward until the younger elf either had to stand or else stare at his meticulously shiny boots.

Gracefully, Elladan rose to his feet, eyes downcast. His body trembled, barely perceptible. Erestor used a single finger to touch his shoulder, moving that forefinger down until it pressed over a nipple. Elladan gasped, but didn’t say anything. Erestor was aware of his arousal, his cock filling out at the simple, impersonal touch.

As if he thought little of it either way, Erestor captured the nipple between his finger and thumb and rolled it between them gently. Elladan moaned. When the little nub of flesh had pebbled and hardened under his touch, Erestor pinched it - not quite cruel - but enough to say that he had a good enough grip on it for what he did next.

“Come this way, Elrondion,” he said, his voice wicked and dark, pulling Elladan’s nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he backed away, forcing the younger elf to follow him to his bed. It wasn’t as if it was a place Elladan didn’t want to go, he thought grimly.

Sure enough, the young ellon followed swiftly, his breath coming rapidly in his chest, his eyes downcast.

“Lie down on your belly and spread your legs.” He gave the command coolly, with utter assurance he would be obeyed, and Elladan did not disappoint him, arranging himself as directed, an inviting display of pale flesh and dark hair upon the sheets.

Erestor left him lying and went to his desk, giving the idea of punishment time to sink in. He made a show of prowling through his things, though what he wanted lay near at hand. He could see one dark eye following him, gleaming through the swirling strands of Elladan’s hair. When at last he curled his hand about the wooden ruler, that eye closed and Elladan’s back moved very slightly as he swallowed.

This would be a test of his commitment, Erestor supposed-- and for both their sakes, it needed to be a sharp one. He moved his arm, a test swing, and the ruler cut the air with a vicious hiss.

Elladan swallowed again, but lay still.

Erestor struck, leaving a stripe on the inside of one creamy thigh. Elladan cried out, a sharp bleating protest that he promptly muffled in Erestor’s pillow. But he did not move away, leaving his legs parted to allow the next strike. Erestor gave it, and then another-- four stripes along each thigh, flaming red against perfect, creamy skin.

“Turn over,” he commanded, silky, and Elladan obeyed. His face was wet, though he did not sob; Erestor suspected he had never been struck before-- at least, not in love.

His cock was half-hard against his belly. Erestor considered it with interest; that was a sign that they might play very well together indeed.

He laid down eight more stripes, each touching the top of one he had made from behind, creating a precise design upon the interior of the elf's thighs. Elladan flinched at each one, gasping; tears leaked from his eyes and plastered his hair to his cheeks. Erestor did not relent.

When he had finished, he set the ruler aside.

“Now go to your place and stay there, precisely there, until I say you may leave.”

Erestor watched with some satisfaction as Elladan went quickly to obey him, again kneeling at the foot of the bed, hands behind his head.

Slowly, Erestor disrobed, folding his clothes neatly upon a chair beside his bed. He lay on the top of his sheets and let one hand roam over his naked skin, aware of Elladan watching him. Erestor did not smile, though he thought this was a lesson Elladan would not care to repeat tomorrow night.

“How did you know?” Elladan blurted, and his question was so unexpected Erestor was genuinely startled. “How did you know I disobeyed you?”

Now he did smile. In fact he was so amused that he did not even bother to correct Elladan for speaking out of turn.

“Elladan. I leave you here night after night. I am gone for hours. I gave you to know this.” He shook his head. “I know you disobeyed because I know you did not believe you would be found out. Your disobedience was entirely inevitable. Tomorrow, I may set a watch upon you.”

Elladan gasped. “No! Please! Do not let me be observed by some gossip of a servant. I will do as you command - I swear it!”

“I will give you one more chance to observe my instructions,” Erestor drawled, letting his hand fall to caress himself while Elladan watched. “And, if I believe you have been true to them, I may allow you a little pleasure.”

Erestor let his hand rise and fall, making a show of it, arching his body from the bed. “Be quiet and still now while I please myself. Then you will be dismissed until tomorrow.”

The younger elf was silent and did not move while Erestor finished himself off with an indulgent moan, before falling back down onto the softness of his own bed. It was not as satisfying as what he would have tomorrow night. Erestor looked forward to it.

“Now you may dress yourself and go,” Erestor said carelessly, watching from the corner of his eye as Elladan put on his clothing, his cock so hard it must be almost painful, and all but ran from the room.

To be continued...


Authors' Note: Thank you for reading – we hope you like it! Comments will be responded to here:

Hröa: Body

Elrondion: Son of Elrond

Ellon: male elf

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