Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Teacher	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Oropher/Elrond, Thranduil/Elrond, Legolas/Elrond, Elrond/Celebrían, Elrond/OFC
Warnings: Slash, het, graphic sex, bdsm, D/s, bondage, canonical character death
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the elves within or middle earth. They belong to Tolkien, and I am just borrowing them for a short while. I make no money from this.
Summary: A fanciful, smutty take on what Elrond’s story might have been through the ages.

Author’s Note:

To Binky: Thank you for your review. I’m really glad you enjoyed the chapter. :) And to be honest, sometimes I think if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be posting any more of this :/

Anyway… I hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter Eleven

III 140

After those threatening words, Elrond almost believed all of it was some obscene lie, and that Legolas was experienced. But then he strode before Elrond into the bedroom too quickly, letting go of his hand to do so. He appeared confident and assured, but he was nervous. With a faint sense of loss, Elrond decided he couldn’t remember how it felt to face the first time. But it must have been with Oropher.

Following more slowly, Elrond watched Legolas cross the room, only to stand straight facing away from him as he fiddled with his robes. More calmly and sedately, Elrond loosened the sash that tied around his own waist, and slowly but deliberately undid each button of his undertunic, watching Legolas all the while.

Sharp movements betrayed Legolas’ nervousness all too clearly, until, with a rustle of material his robes fell from his shoulders to puddle at his feet. Legolas kicked off the slippers he had been wearing without turning around as Elrond’s own hands stilled in utter adoration.

Legolas was naked now but for some loose white undertrousers that billowed around his legs, hiding the shape of them, drawing the gaze up his naked back to the muscled shoulders and arms. There were three colours. The white of the trousers, the healthy golden glow of his skin and the almost sunlight shade of his hair as it shone in the light from the window. In moonlight and shade it would be silver, now it was a friend to the sun, and Elrond took a sharp sudden breath, unaware he had been holding it.

The youth looked like Oropher, sounded like Thranduil, and acted out who he was – someone on the verge of discovering life. Passion aged more quickly than they did, and sometimes during the last days and weeks Elrond had found himself hungry for another taste, for the feel of the cool grass that he had forgotten. It didn’t feel the same against the soles of his feet anymore. He longed for the misspent hours that time had proved to be the most important of all. Shirking duties to lay abed with his lover and pretend the world didn’t exist.

All of these thoughts flashed through Elrond’s quickened mind like liquid silver, illuminating all of his life to this point. The pain and the pleasure equal to each other, balancing. “Eru,” he whispered reverently, because as always it was here. Like the flowers that were left for him, that he plucked from where Eru had grown them as leaflets or messengers of some greater love. If he touched Legolas, it would be Eru as well. It would be his skin and his lips and his body, just as much as it had been with Oropher and with Thranduil. As it was with Celebrían. What he felt wasn’t anything greater than lust, but in that moment of epiphany he thought that maybe lust was beautiful and enough in itself. It was.

In just a few short steps where he felt his heart beating and blood rushing to make his muscles work, Elrond was stood behind Legolas. If he was a servant here then why did he feel predatory? The youth stood too still, tense and almost quivering, but he had probably been trained against that.

Reaching up, Elrond threaded his fingers through the thin braids in Legolas’ hair, closing his eyes in a kind of praise as Legolas gasped but didn’t move away. As he brought his hands down through the length he twisted the hair into a thick rope that he draped over Legolas’ shoulder so it wouldn’t be trapped between them as he moved a step closer. Close enough to catch the faint musky scent that made him want to taste Legolas again. Close enough to feel the welcoming warmth of Legolas’ body heat passing through his clothes to his skin, the muscles of Legolas’ shoulders pressed against his own chest. If he didn’t feel so possessive at that moment, it might have been like comfort.

A slight trembling as he lowered his hands to rest them lightly on Legolas’ hips, and as if his sudden closeness to the maker wasn’t enough, he remembered more of Thranduil’s words.

Be tender with his fear, be kind to his uncertainty, be all those things I know you to be... for me...

He moved his head forward; over Legolas’ uncovered shoulder, resting his cheek against that of the Prince, breathing in his natural perfume, content for eternity, or maybe a moment.

Strange to think this was the same body that had made love to Oropher so many times, that had submitted to Thranduil’s will on so many occasions, that had lain with Celebrían and Nimbrethil and been happy with a female’s softness.

He let his arms move forwards now, embracing Legolas properly, his hands resting on the drawstring of the loose trousers as Legolas’ hands came to cover his.

“Are you sure?” Elrond asked quietly, his voice a low murmur. No softness here, only hard lines and strength – enough to match his, and the lust burnt brighter in his soul, waiting for his body to catch up.

There was no combination of words he hadn’t spoken during his time in Middle-earth, yet Elrond heard an echo in these. But then it had been a time for memories. He saw Elros for a moment before him, his mirror image in all but one thing.

“Are you sure?” he had asked then, hurt already though he didn’t know the full scale of his loss, and wouldn’t, until he lost Elros forever.

“I feel it, brother. I have to choose what I know is right.”

“As I must,” Elrond had said regretfully, his heart constricting at the sight of pain in his reflection’s eyes. But it was as Elros said, and he could no more ignore the choice his soul had made than he could cease to breathe. “You will leave me alone,” he prophesied despite that, wanting to accuse, and Elros had shaken his head.

“You will remember me. And you will endure.”

“Always, brother,” Elrond vowed.

“Don’t forget,” Elros had whispered, and it was as if his essence was already fading away. Incomprehensible. Mortal life was too short for his twin. “And don’t pity me,” Elros teased, reading his thoughts, “you choose longevity, and that is the most painful in the end.”

“Elrond, I am –” Legolas paused while Elrond came back to the present, breathing in the scent of the Prince’s skin and growing pleasantly used to it. “I am apprehensive,” he admitted at last, sounding vulnerable and defensive all at the same time. Elrond almost smiled, but then he drew back a little. The gravity of what Thranduil trusted him with was staggering. He tried to imagine the twins grown and curious, tried to imagine himself entrusting their education in this to someone else, in this way, and he couldn’t do it.

You taught me to read and to write, to defend myself and to question. You taught me about beauty and about surrender when you came willingly to serve me. I have trusted you with my life and my happiness, with my wife and my future. Now I trust you with the most valuable thing I possess, with my child.

“Do you know what it involves?” Elrond asked, letting Legolas go just as the youth turned to face him, his hands still on the drawstring as if to tease him.

“I know that you are overdressed,” he stated simply, and Elrond laughed. Legolas smiled at him in shared amusement and again he was strongly reminded of Oropher.

It was all out of his control as he stepped forward again and cradled Legolas’ face in his hands. He looked deep into the Prince’s eyes in a kind of hunger, then he closed his eyes to taste. He crushed the youth’s lips against his, seeking the taste of someone long lost, even the echo of him. This time, Legolas was uncharacteristically passive, and Elrond drew back, feeling cheated because Oropher had never been that way.

“You look for someone else in the kiss,” Legolas said softly, raising a hand to brush imaginary tears from Elrond’s cheek with his fingertips. Elrond caught his hand and kissed it.

“Do you object?” he asked. He looked at Legolas from under his lashes, and the Prince didn’t seem moved or disappointed by his admission. He had that same faraway look of serenity that Elrond had noticed in him before. He shrugged elegantly.

“I am your pupil, so teach me. Should I object?”

Elrond sighed and let Legolas go again. “Yes, you should.” Their lips were close again. Legolas had moved closer to peer into his eyes, and he could feel the tickle of the kiss before it truly began.

“Then I shall try to object,” he whispered, and Elrond felt the words more than he heard them, “but it may take practice.”

He was unconsciously seductive, Elrond was sure of it, and he groaned a little as the kiss began anew, aware that his body was awakening again at last. With that came other considerations and he pulled back, pushing Legolas away from him a little at the same time. He looked around him. These may be the Prince’s rooms but it was his house and he was well aware that the bathroom was on the other side of the room.

There was something he needed to take care of. “Please, excuse me.” He glanced towards the bed and then at Legolas. “Make yourself comfortable. I will be back in a moment. I am a little overdressed, as you say.”

Behind the door in the small bathroom, Elrond removed his clothes with more care than Legolas had done, taking the time to fold them neatly and lay them down upon a chair. He winced when he peeled the underbreeches away from his sticky skin and cleaned himself quickly.

He imagined what would be waiting for him when he stepped back into the room and he stilled as he replayed more of Thranduil’s letter.

Submit to him, show him how to make you moan and beg. Let him use you as I have used you… as you have used me.

Such a low accusation! Elrond shook his head a little. He had left after that. He had left Thranduil at peace. But then, he remembered also how the King had pleaded with him to stay, to be the third in their strange world for even longer, perhaps forever. It hadn’t been enough.

“Are you sure?” Thranduil had asked him, unfathomable pain in his eyes because Elrond was leaving just when he could make the choice. When he had become an equal in their games instead of a mere participant.

If you be willing, teach him about love. Would you still refuse me? Would you withhold your blessing from me even now? Do not say it is so…

“I always loved you,” Elrond whispered in regret, to himself, to his memories, to his Master. “Always,” to his brother, to his lover, to the world. Everyone he had tried to keep, he had lost. Those he gave up remained. Only Celebrían seemed to side step whatever curse plagued his lovers.

When he stepped back into the room, Legolas was not in the bed. Instead he still wore the loose trousers, again with his back to Elrond, looking out of the window, his form framed by the sunlight. The sun shone through the cotton of the trousers, outlining his long legs, casting suggestive shadows.

Without making a sound, Elrond crossed to the bed and lie down upon it, completely naked now, resting on his front while he spread his legs a little. His arousal had returned at the glimpse of Legolas and his breath caught in his throat as he shifted to get comfortable, his hardness rubbing against the sheets.

There was a sharply indrawn breath that meant Legolas had seen him, and then the strangest words, the innocence in Legolas’ tone and the innuendo seemed unlikely partners. “Father said you would be mine.”

Be mine. I care not for your dealings with others. I only want what is for me. You will never be with anyone the way you were with me. I treasure it, and I miss you. Obey me now from afar while I dream of you. Offer yourself to my son at my command and prove that you did – that you do – love me.

“I offer myself to you, Prince Legolas,” Elrond said softly, praying the blush that stained his cheeks would not be seen. “I trust you will confide my obedience to your father.”

“Oh, of course. He asked me for that very thing.” A single finger trailed up his spine and Elrond jumped a little. He hadn’t realised Legolas had moved close to him, lost as he was in his thoughts. “But after I have enjoyed you.”

“Afterwards,” Elrond agreed as he heard the rustle of material and the cotton trousers fell to the floor in an untidy heap along with Legolas’ other clothes.

“Will you look for someone else in my touch?” Legolas asked as he stretched his naked body out alongside Elrond’s, his nearness bringing clarity and awareness to new levels. Elrond turned onto his side and looked into the youth’s eyes. He smiled.

“Why should I look when I have you here?” It was simple flattery yet Legolas giggled and kissed him, proving himself unlike either Oropher or Thranduil, and Elrond resolved to know him before the day and the night was over. Eru demanded it, and they had little enough time together before eternity came to intrude.

To be continued…

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it.
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The Teacher