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
- 12
- 13
- 14
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 Lee: Thank you for commenting – I’m really glad that you are enjoying this story! :)

To Binky: Thank you so much for all of your comments on all of my stories. I’m really glad you are enjoying this one, and I promise that even if I’m only writing it for two or three people, I won’t give up tormenting Elrond.

And of course, he still has to remember the rest of the war… that’s not going to be easy for him, I fear.

Chapter Twelve

III 140

“Obedience,” Legolas murmured against Elrond’s lips, the vibration seeming to fill the small amount of space between their bodies. “I think I like that from you.” As he spoke his fingertips danced lightly in meaningless patterns over Elrond’s waist and buttocks. Amid wishing the Prince would be bolder with his hands, Elrond smiled ruefully.

“Yes, so does your father.” How easy had it been to get him here really? Thranduil only had to ask in a letter.

“Why did you leave? I barely remember you, but I do remember you. You were not unhappy.”

“No, but I was expected to stay,” Elrond replied, as if that was reason enough. Of course it wasn’t. He mirrored Legolas’ touches, smiling at the gasps and shivers Legolas gave to him in return. When he was certain Legolas wanted the same thing he did – then he became bolder.

“Are you afraid?” Elrond asked as his hands roved skin stretched taut over muscle.

“No,” came the reply. “Are you?”

Despite himself, Elrond smiled, but then those light quick fingers were stroking up the back of his leg, hovering over his skin, travelling inwards over his thighs. It made Elrond want to open his legs wider and let Legolas touch him more… further. He turned onto his front again as Legolas giggled at him. It had been one of Thranduil’s tricks, and Elrond suddenly didn’t think the question about fear was ludicrous after all.

I want you to offer your body for his touch and his admiration. You know how to display yourself, do you not?

Elrond did as the letter and the fingertips commanded. No further instructions were necessary.

“Obedient,” Legolas speculated, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on the small of his back – another of Thranduil’s tricks that made Elrond melt into the bed in acceptance.

He must be losing his mind, to be brought so close to incoherence by only a couple of touches, yet he couldn’t stop himself acting like a tamed and domesticated pet, moaning slightly as those featherlight touches continued. His hips drove against the bed as Legolas stroked the secret patch of skin behind his sac, making him moan against his will, making him almost writhe as he wished for just a little more pressure. His legs were spread wide now, and he knew Legolas had moved to a sitting position to torment him.

Suddenly the fingertips moved upwards and just brushed over his entrance as the strong hand of the young archer held his cheeks apart. Elrond could feel every wrinkle of his skin there, as if Legolas’ fingers granted him knowledge of his own body. Amid his powerlessness, Elrond felt a sudden surge of envy. Legolas was seeing him as he could never see himself. As Thranduil and Oropher and Nimbrethil had seen him. It made him insecure, and he was not used to it. Not anymore.

“Elrond?” Legolas’ voice, scared and unsure, and suddenly Elrond felt like a fraud for his insecurity, and he turned his head to find the Prince’s worried gaze on him, his fingers stilled for the moment, but laying warm and intimate against his hidden entrance.

“It is all right, Legolas,” Elrond said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected he sounded rather lost himself.

“Were you thinking of someone else?” Legolas asked, removing his fingers so that Elrond sighed and buried his head in the pillows again.

“No,” he lied, unsure why he was lying as he turned his head again. Legolas was sitting naked beside him, fumbling with a small bottle of oil that smelled strangely familiar. Of course, it was Thranduil’s favourite, and Elrond smiled in remembrance now as he watched Legolas spill the oil over his fingers. Too much – some of it fell in heavy drops to the coverlet on the bed, soaking into the fine cotton instantly, spreading outwards. He reached out to steady the youth’s uncertain hand. “That is enough,” he said simply, earning himself a strangely innocent smile from Legolas.

“Truly?” asked Legolas. Elrond nodded, and before long the fingers were stroking at him again, slippery this time and hot, rubbing at him insistently as he relaxed deliberately into the softness of the bedspread and the pillows, giving himself up to be used again.

His mind slipped as Legolas’ touch continued and he moaned quietly. He saw the world as it was, as did his kin, as the mortals never could see it. The wars which were really all one war, lasting through the ages as well as he did. All part of the same thing. The long centuries were too much for him to think about all at once, and he saw these moments of intimacy as islands in the sea of his life. Islands of intense pleasure and where love existed in the calmer places. Long days and neverending nights, the smallest of moments, teasing and loving. All of them existing in him with lines drawn between them as if they were all part of the same thing. He was with Legolas now, but he as easily be with Oropher or Thranduil, Nimbrethil or Celebrían.

He could as easily change the gears in his mind so that he saw other worlds within his life. As easily he could see his long existence as merely periods of loss and grief, or as of moments when he felt most alive, the cool air in his lungs and the certainty of an army behind him, looking down at the field of battle. He could sense moments too of blood and mindless fighting, an interconnected web of them, as though he was merely a playing piece on a game board. He wrenched himself away from those more disturbing impressions and concentrated on the feel of warm hands against his skin.

It was the touch that made it so, that made it a part of something bigger, Elrond decided, distantly aware that Legolas had foregone the inevitable to lingeringly massage his back with those same oil-slick hands. It was the sensation of being so close to another, so intimate. Legolas could stop at this and still these moments would be a part of him. The actual business of lust was not the important part, just the closeness. As he drifted he knew he became aware of more of these moments.

When Glorfindel embraced him on the battlefield after a particularly stunning victory – that wasn’t a part of this – but the accidental brush of Glorfindel’s hand against his when they played chess. That was, had been. It was the tingling sense of awareness of another, and Elrond found himself wanting to touch Legolas in kind. He turned his head on the pillows to find the Prince regarding him thoughtfully. Legolas blushed, and grinned a little.

“I just wanted to –” he began uncertainly and then shook his head. “I am not afraid.”

“Touch,” Elrond said simply, and gracefully turned his body so that he lay on his back looking up into Legolas’ eyes, reaching out with his hands to trace the shape of the defined muscles of Legolas’ chest and stomach.

He half sat up on the bed as he pulled Legolas closer to him for a kiss, his arms naturally closing around the tapered waist, not slender enough to be female, and Elrond found himself glad of it. They were matched for height, and he breathed in the scent of Legolas happily when he broke the kiss for air. But he hadn’t counted on the participation of his partner and he made a sound of surprise when Legolas’ lips chased his, hungry for more as they tumbled down together onto the bed’s softness.

He laughed as Legolas weight pressed him down, seeking his lips still as he turned his head away and thoughtlessly offered an ear for the young archer to torment. His arousal was returning quickly after the relaxed massage and he moaned again as their legs tangled together, his hardness rubbing against one strong naked thigh as Legolas licked his ear.

Deliberately, he moved his leg slightly, meaning to tease, knowing just where Legolas was resting on him, and was rewarded by such a moan of yearning and lust close to his ear that it made him shiver too.

The bed was big enough, and Elrond rolled them over, reversing their positions so that he could look down on Legolas’ fair face that reminded him so much of love, appreciating the way his own dark hair hung down, dominating the blond of the Prince purely with colour.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a brief moment, and the faraway look Legolas wore changed to one of startled awareness as Elrond rolled his hips, making their lengths slide against each other – so hot. But Legolas was no inviting female, and he saw the playful challenge in his blue eyes. Oh! So like Oropher that for a moment Elrond couldn’t be sure he was not lost in some dream of old.

The sudden surge of resistance and power from Legolas took him while he was stunned, and yet again it was Legolas who rested atop him, laughing as he deliberately held Elrond’s arms down to the bed, prepared for a fight.

Now it was hair shining with all the glory of sunlight that hung down, making Elrond feel imprisoned by benevolent sunshine. “Make up your mind,” the laughing form atop him said deeply, “obedience or war. I think I like you either way.”

“Oropher,” Elrond murmured, completely lost now, pulling at the hands that held his wrists in his desire to touch the smiling face and leaning up to kiss, whimpering when the lips were just out of his reach.

This time his lover was prepared for resistance, and all Elrond could manage was to arch upward against the body that rested on him as though begging. There was a warm chuckle that he was sure he recognised, and he closed his eyes to hide.

“Call me what you will, Elrond. It doesn’t change the fact that you are mine.” The words were spoken in jest, yet his mistake was pointed out in them and Elrond shivered in contrition.

“Master!” he gasped out, the word that was meant to be whispered by way of apology turning to a plea as a leg slid between his, rubbing against him hard and demanding. He spread his legs wider as his lover rested between them, feeling the hard shaft sliding between the cleft of his buttocks and moaning. The form atop him swore and thrusted once, almost violently and out of control, but not directed properly, only managing to slide past his entrance as though inexperienced.

“Wrong again,” the voice said, a little rougher than before, “but at least you are obedient now. I would have hated to report fighting in Imladris to my father.”

“Legolas!” Elrond managed as he at last opened his eyes, the same inexperienced thrusting motion coming again, making him want to angle his body properly to accommodate it. He had never seen the Prince like this. His eyes were stormy and full of desire as he moaned and tossed his head back.

“I am sorry,” Elrond breathed as the crude motions calmed a little, and he found his hands free, immediately reaching out to stroke soothingly down the broad muscular back, pulling Legolas close to him so that their nipples touched together, making both of them jump a little in awareness.

The sharp thrusts between his buttocks stopped, although Legolas was still just as aroused, and in the short space of quiet, he breathed a secret.

“I am not angry or hurt. Do not be sorry.”

“Hush,” Elrond said, feeling badly despite the reassurance, and noting the way Legolas trembled in his embrace, not from fear but from sheer, almost frustrated desire.

“You loved them both,” Legolas whispered, tucking his face into Elrond’s neck and then doing something wicked with his tongue that made the Lord moan and writhe under the Prince again. “And I think that you will love me too.”

A sudden image of Celebrían came to him, and he felt cold. “I…” he said weakly as Legolas pulled away from him, staring down at him with such perfect confidence. And he was Oropher and Thranduil combined. “I will,” Elrond said weakly, meaning to make it a question but the look of Legolas turned it into a pronouncement.

A look of uncertainty flitted across the Prince’s features, so unlike either Oropher or Thranduil now, quickly followed by something that was almost anguish. “But first, you must instruct me, and quickly.” There was no doubt what Legolas referred to, but he spoke again anyway, and Elrond moaned at his words. “I want to be inside you.”

To be continued…

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. If you like this story, please review. I promise I don’t bite, and it will make me write more quickly. :)
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Teacher