Taming the Twins

BY : Pippychick_TAFKAB
Category: +Third Age > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 3379
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.

Chapter Eight

That pleasant thought occupied much of Erestor’s day, and though he made certain not to allow his excitement to show in either word or deed, it nevertheless burned quietly inside his heart as he pursued his routines and ensured the meticulous accuracy of his work by careful double-checking.

He made himself take his evening meal in the refectory, engaging in his customary banter with his friends.

“You seem quite lively for an elf who no longer sleeps!” Glorfindel smirked at him.

“It is not I who has no chance to rest,” Erestor said lazily. “Rather, the sons of Elrond should look to their beds with longing, for I keep them very satisfactorily occupied in my service.”

“Them?” Glorfindel’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, the both of them, though they think I am unaware of it.” He raised a brow at Glorfindel. “I prefer to keep it that way, for now.”

Glorfindel smiled and stood up, then gave an overly accentuated bow. “I bow to the master,” he said, his eyes twinkling, his lips quirking upwards as if he could barely keep from laughing.

Keeping his cool, Erestor merely smiled. “My door is always open to you, Glorfindel,” he said carefully, staring until Glorfindel stood up straight again.

“Ha-ha,” said Glorfindel, but his expression had changed to something altogether more serious as he sat down. Erestor was not insulted, but amused. One day, perhaps. And maybe he would even let Glorfindel go on baiting him at every opportunity afterwards. For now, all of his attention was reserved.

“I know what the twins are like,” Glorfindel said then. “They will twine you around their fingers.”

“They may try, and they will find themselves in trouble the like of which they never dreamed.” Erestor chuckled. “I do not bend easily, as you should well know, old friend.”

“You are tough as a tree root.” Glorfindel gave him a wink. “I trust you will share your best stories. In strictest confidence, of course.”

Erestor only smiled at him, mysterious, and finished his wine. “One awaits in my rooms,” he said, and gestured for another glass.

“You are patient… or vicious. I am not sure which!”

“Both, my friend,” he chuckled, and took his time over wine and fruit before returning to his rooms and finding a twin awaiting him there on his bed, prepared and presenting himself as instructed.

One look assured him it was Elrohir who waited, and while Erestor was glad to see him, he found himself wondering wistfully about Elladan. He had not seen Elladan since the morning after he’d given all of himself over. Was it possible Elladan had decided it was too much for him? Erestor did not like the thought, for it would mean he had misjudged, and that never happened.

But then, perhaps after all the twins had decided the marks were too difficult and personal to attempt to replicate this time. He had made them with that thought in mind.

Elrohir was trembling, Erestor noted, and it seemed to be more than stiff muscles and strain. His lashes lay against his cheeks and his teeth were sunk in his lip; his cock was stiffening merely from his awareness of Erestor’s regard.

He longed to be as his brother, Erestor realised: surrendered and open. But perhaps he did not know how. Thus the need for pain, the deception, the fight… the need for Erestor.

He understood suddenly, with infallible instinct, that the decision to approach him had come from this one, this one who already suffered in secrecy, perhaps so deeply even his brother was unaware of its extent. What did he suffer, though? The loss of his mother? The pain of the immortal, the sorrow of watching elvenkind fade? Or merely the boredom of being the son of one of the great, the inability to define himself apart from Elrond? Perhaps all of these things and more.

Erestor slowly disrobed himself, feeling the thrill of adrenaline and arousal surge through him as he climbed onto the bed behind Elrohir, the reward of his calling. He let his fingers trail over Elrohir’s back, giving him a sense of false laziness, false security. Elrohir was well-stretched and oiled; he was ready.

Erestor sheathed himself with a fierce thrust, without warning. Elrohir cried out, frantic, at the sudden possession, and Erestor caught him as he flailed, dragging him upright. He sank his teeth again at the bruise he had already made. Elrohir squealed, clutching at the arms that held him fast.

Soon enough Elrohir’s body relaxed for him, and yet the elf in his arms didn’t seem to surrender.

“Please!” Elrohir gasped, struggling a little, though not enough to fight free. “I need more! You know this!”

Their conversation of the previous night had clearly been on his mind. Erestor smiled grimly. “Oh, I know you do,” he whispered raggedly as he continued to work towards his own release, wasting no time on it. “This is what I am prepared to give you at present, and you will take it and be grateful.”

So saying he bit playfully at the bruise again, and Elrohir stopped struggling so suddenly it was as if his strings had been cut. “Thank you, Master,” he breathed, clearly concentrating on the sensations Erestor was providing him with. But it wasn’t enough, not to take him deep, and Erestor knew that.

Now that he no longer had to hold Elrohir still, he gripped the other elf’s nipples and twisted them cruelly with his thumbs and forefingers, feeling the body he claimed suddenly clench in response to the pain.

Erestor rolled his fingers as Elrohir let go of a quiet cry that was seemingly endless. If he closed his eyes, it sounded like great pleasure, and to Elrohir it probably felt that way too. His skin was heated, and when the long drawn out moan ended his breathing was arrhythmic and halting.

“This is a very small pain,” Erestor purred in his ear. “I wonder how much of it will break you? You desire pain. But perhaps it is not all you need.” He slid his arm around Elrohir’s torso and bore them both down to the bed, trapping both his arms beneath his weight.

Elrohir struggled, and Erestor stilled the motion of his hips, provoking a cry of frustration. “I will restrain you, or I will pleasure you. You will not have both at once,” Erestor murmured in his ear. “You must choose to submit if you crave fulfilment.”

Elrohir stilled himself, save for the swift expansion of his chest, and Erestor rewarded him with a thrust and a new pinch to the nipple, which made him arch, so Erestor stopped again. Elrohir made a noise of despair, his nails digging at the bedding. “Please!”

“Struggle is not merely a physical act,” Erestor whispered, remaining still. “You strive even now to bend me to your will with your pleading.”

Elrohir buried his face in the sheets, whimpering-- and yet he struggled, but Erestor perceived this struggle was inside himself, a struggle to remain still and silent.

It was not the submission he craved, but perhaps it was all Elrohir could give him now.

Erestor rewarded him, thrusting anew, manipulating him nearer to his climax with judicious pinches and nips, slowing or stilling any time Elrohir lost the battle with himself and pushed back into the thrusts.

At length, Erestor perceived some kind of surrender from Elrohir, and praised him, finding release quickly before turning the younger elf onto his back. For a while Erestor teased him with maddening light caresses, testing his resolve to be unresponsive. It was a test Elrohir passed.

Elrohir remained still, staring up at the ceiling as Erestor touched him, as if that part of his body did not belong to him anymore.

Very good. Erestor stilled his hand, and rested his palm flat over Elrohir’s hard cock. “You will not come,” he said, decisive. Elrohir turned his head to the side in defeat, but he did not try to move his body. His cock twitched under Erestor’s hand.

“Master,” Elrohir acknowledged, his eyes slightly unfocused. Yes, this was where he needed to stay for a while. If he was granted pleasure, unlike Elladan he would forget his submission and become demanding. Erestor pondered the differences between the twins as he fetched a cloth to clean them both with. Their similarities were merely skin deep. Scratch the surface and they were unique individuals.

At last, Erestor settled on his side, pulling Elrohir into his arms so that the young ellon’s back was against his chest. They slept. At times Erestor woke up to play with Elrohir’s body, making him hard but not satisfying him, letting his arousal recede again. Until the next few moments of wakefulness.

Before morning came, Elrohir was still submissive and it was easy for Erestor to arrange him on the bed, on his back, knees pressed up towards his chest. Erestor got his body ready efficiently, but the fucking would last much longer. He made himself remember that as he sheathed his hardness in Elrohir’s tight heat, hissing through his teeth as he stared into the younger elf’s dazed eyes.

They had exchanged no words. Erestor kept his movements slow and constant, but deep, watching all the while. Elrohir licked his lip and turned his head a little, prompting Erestor to look down, whereupon he smiled. Elrohir was hard, precome wet on his belly. Erestor kept on, using one hand to turn Elrohir’s face towards him.

Elrohir began to moan as his gaze cleared. “Touch me,” he pleaded, desperate. Erestor shook his head slowly.

“No. I think you can come without that,” he said, and dipped his head to kiss Elrohir’s lips briefly. Erestor kept with the same angle deliberately as Elrohir moaned. “You will come like this, without being touched in any other way. Your body will squeeze me at climax just as if you were an elleth.”

Elrohir’s features twisted into a strange mixture of pleasure and resentment as Erestor used his body weight to give a little more force to his thrusting.

“Ahh…” Elrohir cried out. “Don’t! Please, Master!” He begged but did not struggle, though he understood Erestor’s intent now, and it did not please him. His moans only grew in volume and desperation as the fucking continued to its inevitable conclusion. Elrohir could not win this game. Erestor was striking his prostate on each movement, making his body jerk in spasms of pleasure.

“Tell me when, Elrondion,” Erestor ordered, his voice level, a contrast to the writhing sweating body beneath him.

After a minute or two, Elrohir gasped. “Now! Ai, Valar… now!” And at those words he bucked up, necessitating Erestor to stop and hold him down while he climaxed, his issue staining his stomach a silvery-white. His passage clutched tight around Erestor, and only when it eased did he begin moving again. Elrohir moaned tiredly, but Erestor did not mean to last much longer now, and he came with a possessive groan, leaning forward to get deeper.

“There is no shame in pleasing me,” Erestor noted, seeing Elrohir’s flushed cheeks and dazed expression. “You accept me as your Master. It is natural.” At last, he pulled away, and then rolled Elrohir over onto his side easily.

“I am no elleth,” he said quietly, as if to convince himself. Erestor chuckled.

“You are not. If you were, you would not be in my bed, I assure you.”

Elrohir blinked at him sleepily, too tired to argue.

“Sleep, Elrondion. Live to fight another day,” Erestor advised him gently. After a moment’s pause, he pulled Elrohir to rest against him. Elrohir seemed too exhausted to offer resistance, or even to help, and he quickly succumbed-- to his body’s weariness as much as to Erestor’s guidance.

Erestor lay awake for a time, drifting in pleasant lassitude, petting Elrohir’s hair. He was very nearly asleep when he heard a stir from the door and watched through slitted eyes as a crack of faint starlight appeared and widened there.

Elladan’s silhouette appeared against the corridor for a split second and then the door closed. Stealthy, whispering footsteps crossed the room, and then, with all the grace and delicacy of a falling leaf drifting to rest on a bed of moss, Elladan slipped into the bed behind Erestor and curled up against him.

Erestor lay very still, keeping his breathing measured and even, but he smiled. Then he closed his eyes and sleep came for him swiftly. Tomorrow would be a good day.

 

To be continued...

 

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, we hope you are enjoying it! :)



You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story