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
- 1
- 2
- 3
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: Hi again, everyone.

Here is the next part of Esteliel’s story before I have to head off to work.

Note to CE if you are reading this: Thank you for all of your advice, but I decided to go with night jasmine in the end. I mention it only in passing, and besides, it’s an aphrodisiac *g*

This hasn’t been beta read. I hope you enjoy it. Comments welcome and appreciated. :)

To cel: Thank you very much for commenting! I’m glad you are enjoying it, and I hope you like the first chapter.

To Binky: Thank you so much for your encouragement! :) The title is an enigma? I think I like that… all will become clear in time… ;)

Chapter One

II 300

“Half-elf!” Elrond froze and looked around for the owner of that voice, but before he could think of any suitable way to warn it off, he found himself pressed back into a suspiciously convenient alcove as Oropher accosted him.

“Stop!” he demanded, and that was as far as he got before soft lips were on his, a kind of desirous sigh coming from them that made Elrond moan helplessly. He was pressed to the wall, his wrists imprisoned against the hard stone, and he moaned. Elrond resisted the urge to do so again as the lips left his to trail down over his jaw and then his neck. He didn’t open his eyes – if he did then he would be lost completely.

“Please, Oropher. Not here.” He protested but he could feel the elf’s arousal pressing into him, rubbing against him so that his body responded against his will, and he tried to hold back the moan those gentle undulations coaxed from him, but he couldn’t, and he registered the other’s intimate laugh of triumph with a slight smile of his own.

At last he opened his eyes, having lost anyway, and as always he wanted to fall to his knees in worship. Oropher stared at him for a moment with victory in his blue eyes – so beautiful – and Elrond began to kiss him back. It didn’t matter that Oropher didn’t respond for the moment. Elrond leaned forward as far as the grip on his hands would allow and kissed Oropher wherever he could reach. His lips, his cheek – Elrond even darted out with his tongue to lick at his ear. His blond hair hung around him like silk, but the tresses around his face actually curled, and it drove Elrond almost mad with desire. His hands were let loose, but now instead of fighting he used them to try and pull Oropher closer to him, feeling as if he were under some kind of spell.

“What have you done to me?” he asked breathlessly, just the touch of Oropher’s hands on his shoulders enough to make him tremble and electricity tingle in his fingers. His only answer was a kiss – a kiss that made him whimper and shake. Oropher’s taste on his lips, that clever tongue licking at him, tickling at the roof of his mouth so that he made a high-pitched helpless sound of lust.

“I haven’t done anything to you yet, half elf,” Oropher said at last, when the invasive kiss was over. “Turn around.” Elrond groaned and opened his eyes again – when had he closed them?

“You have bewitched me,” he accused softly, but he turned to face the wall nevertheless. He was older than Oropher by at least two centuries, but somehow it counted for nothing. The younger elf seemed to know all of his hidden secrets, knew how to touch and to tease him until all he wanted was give in and allow Oropher to disgrace him. Until it didn’t matter anymore as long as he had release.

Oropher didn’t respond to the inflammatory comment, but only reached around to take Elrond into his hand, his fingers dancing so lightly upon his clothes that Elrond gasped and pressed forward, anything to increase the pressure. He was rewarded when Oropher took hold of his shaft through his clothes in a sure grip, and he almost cried out before he realised that they might be heard.

“How did you get to be so good at this?” he settled for asking, with a soft moan of aching surrender, thrusting forward into his lover’s hand as if he had been ordered to do it, aware at the same time of how his movement made him rub himself against the elf behind him. Oropher laughed at him again, and Elrond thought he would die.

“I have had lots and lots of practice,” he whispered, so wickedly that Elrond couldn’t help imagining blond, beautiful Oropher with a room full of lovers. The image made him whimper. “Shall I practice on you?” he asked, suddenly thrusting against his body so that Elrond moaned again.

“No! You make me feel…” Again, Oropher laughed, and Elrond couldn’t hate it, however much he wanted to.

“How do I make you feel?” he asked, sounding curious although he didn’t let up with the caress of his hand or the suggestive movements of his lithe body.

“Mortal!” Elrond gasped as he gave in to the irresistable tugging of Oropher’s hand, ruining his clothes. There was a giggle behind him and Elrond groaned in dismay.

“You lose again, half-elf. And now you have to get changed.” Oropher pressed against him a little more urgently, and Elrond whimpered when he realised the elf had not yet found release. “I will see you in your room,” he predicted, with a quick but delicious kiss to the nape of Elrond’s neck, “in five minutes. Follow me.”

Five minutes. Elrond felt the heat from behind him move away and he grimaced. It had taken less than that for Oropher to undo him. Would the elf never get tired? Elrond, it seemed, had been his sole preoccupation for weeks now. Resistance was laughable.

Still shaking slightly, Elrond turned to face the corridor and drew his robes around him to hide his dampened leggings as he dawdled slowly back down the corridor to his room. He shook his head in bewilderment. It wasn’t even lunchtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They lay in a tangled mess of warm limbs and exhaustion. Almost tired enough to seek reverie, Elrond toyed with a strand of Oropher’s ash blond hair. The sun had made its way across the sky while they spent the day teasing and playing with each other. As the hours had passed it had moved from shining on their hair, to their bodies, until now the rosy tones of early sunset shone on their naked feet. It was warm, and wicked, and wrong to have done it, Elrond knew that.

How ashamed he had been when he had been forced to explain – through the door – that he was feeling a little tired and that he wouldn’t be attending Gil-Galad that day. Elrond had taken a position as a counsellor some time ago, and now it seemed his dalliance with Oropher made him unreliable. It was an inexcusable lie, but neither did he know how to banish Oropher from his room. The elf would simply refuse, and Elrond couldn’t make him, because he didn’t want to make Oropher leave.

Now, after a full day spent slaking his lust with the blond elf, Elrond ached. He felt he had done a day’s labour, except that he was so languid and sated. He sighed happily in Oropher’s arms and kissed his throat softly.

Beneath him Oropher moaned lazily. “Again, half-elf? No, you can’t…” He flapped an imperious hand. “I am exhausted…” Elrond smirked, feeling a little evil, and although he truly had no intention of beginning anything else he rolled over to trap Oropher beneath him.

“But you don’t have to do anything, bainnon nín. All you have to do is lie there and let me,” he teased playfully. Oropher looked up at him, his blue eyes dark and intense but insrutable as he groaned – a sound that made Elrond want him just once more.

It was a tired kind of lust he felt, and he sheathed himself in Oropher’s body slowly, drawing out the pleasure with his eyes closed, no longer wanting the frenzied, desperate passion they had used up earlier. This, right now, was everything he could ever need. “What are you?” he asked with a groan, the words slipping out before he could stop them. But he wanted to ask the question. Oropher was still mysterious to him, even now, and it excited his orderly mind.

“Mmm…” Oropher moaned, stretching a little as if to tease him, “yours… And you are mine…” Elrond opened his eyes then, and he had never felt like so much of a slave as he did at that moment, buried deep inside Oropher’s body, giving pleasure to him, unable to stop it – any of it. “Half-elf,” Oropher finished, and Elrond closed his eyes again at the possessive look his lover graced him with.

“Why do you insist on calling me that? I made the choice long before you were even born.” Amazingly, it was true, even though most of the time Elrond felt considerably younger than his companion. It was something about Oropher’s attitude, he decided.

“Because I can see that it gets to you.” It was that perfect confidence combined with the charisma. So irresistible! Elrond moaned and rested his weight on Oropher who held him close, laughing quietly in victory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond awoke in the dark with a smile on his lips. Still half asleep, he stretched his body languidly in the bed he occupied, rubbing his cheek against the cushion that had slipped down to rest beside him.

“Oropher,” he murmured, his voice soft with sleep and dreams before coming fully to his senses. When he did the passage of unalterable time came back to him as well, and he sighed in grief at the weight of it, but was also grateful for the attendant peace and clarity. It had been many centuries since he was so befuddled by the nearness of another. Or was it? The events of the day came back to him then, and Elrond remembered his reaction to Legolas.

“I cannot,” he declared to no one in particular, actually going so far as to throw a hand over his forehead dramatically. In the dark of his room – alone – he felt suddenly achingly vulnerable. There was no one to guide him or to heal him. These were things he usually offered to others.

Sometimes, he could almost resent his life – but he chose not to. There was so much to be thankful for, so much beauty still left to enjoy that he couldn’t turn away from it. None of his kind could, and for a moment Elrond wondered what it might have been like had he chosen differently. Had Elros ever entertained the dark thoughts that now hovered on the edge of his mind, unable to quite touch him. Had they plagued him, until at times he wanted to end it?

Elrond relaxed, letting go of the weighty musings about his brother, lying back amongst the soft pillows in the warmth of his bed, watching the shadows play on the ceiling in the moonlight. His window was slightly ajar as always, and when he breathed in he could smell the night jasmine outside his window. Celebrían loved those blooms more than him, and he longed for her embrace now. For her warmth and her softness to surround him. If she was with him, these memories would have little hold over him. She wouldn’t make him forget, but in her arms he would find that now was important again. And when he took her, when she called out his name with the scent of jasmine on the air, he would know everything was right – that everything was as it should be – as it was always meant to be.

He turned his head to stare out at the darkened room, and unbidden, his hand moved to his awakening flesh. While the dream hadn’t aroused him, his thoughts of Celebrían did, and he stroked himself slowly, imagining how it would be when she returned home. Their letters were wonderful, but nothing could compare to the perfection of having her in their bed.

Follow me, she had suggested when she left to visit Lothlórien, but he had known he wouldn’t. Here, as at Lindon, he had allowed the burden of responsibility to press him down and to limit his choices. It needn’t be so; hadn’t Erestor also encouraged him to spend some time away? And yet it was in his nature, as if he needed Imladris more than it needed him, as if staying behind implied importance. Besides, she wasn’t the first to use those words on him, and he still needed to disobey them… after all this time.

Casting his mind back to Oropher again, Elrond smiled slightly, and beneath the bedclothes his hand continued to move for a while before falling still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their relationship had been reckless and passionate for a while. And then, without a word being spoken, they had begun to drift. It didn’t hurt. Elrond had responsibilities – he smiled to recall them now, and in his smile was a trace of self-mocking. As for Oropher, perhaps at the time he hadn’t even noticed that they spent less time together. His charisma was not limited to the bedchamber, and he had many followers – those who would be friends as well as lovers, just for the opportunity to get close to him.

Sometimes, even for Elrond, it was difficult to see through the throng to Oropher himself, but whenever he did, it was only to find that his lover and friend hadn’t changed at all.

Over time, they drifted further and further apart. They moved in different circles, and Elrond, after his duties and the requisite amount of weapons training, spent his time studying in the libraries of Lindon, while Oropher… well – to be honest he didn’t really know what Oropher had been doing with his time. Oropher eventually took a wife, and Elrond attended the wedding, still even then mostly unaware of what it meant, as if time had dulled even that.

A son was born to them, Thranduil, and when he grew old enough, Elrond became his tutor as a favour. He taught Oropher’s son to read and write, and together they taught him to hold a wooden sword, but still Elrond never noticed that he was beginning to spend more time with the child, Thranduil, than Oropher.Thranduil grew up while they grew further apart, until at last the day came that Oropher confronted him with his idea of leaving Lindon. Then, finally, Elrond noticed that their time was over…

“Come with me, half-elf,” he urged, a fierce light of excitement in his eyes as he confided to his old friend the plans he had of establishing a Kingdom far away in the east. He didn’t ask – he simply expected, and Elrond raised an eyebrow at his confidence.

“For what? Why should I come with you? I have a place here.” Elrond felt the hurt of his careless words even as he saw the light in Oropher’s eyes falter. “I’m sorry,” he said at length, “I didn’t mean –” He stopped. He had been about to say that he hadn’t meant for Oropher to think he didn’t want to go. But then, that was what it came down to, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to go.

“When did it end?” Oropher asked, looking away as if he too had only just realised it was over. “When did we stop?”

Elrond frowned. “I don’t know. But we did.” He tried to think of the moment or the week, or even the year when it had changed, and he couldn’t recall it. “But you have a wife, and a son.”

“I thought you’d always be there!” Oropher announced in such a woebegone fashion that Elrond laughed a little. It was so strange. After all of this time, he finally felt the difference in their ages. He felt older than Oropher for the first time.

“I won’t even always be here,” he said wistfully, glancing around him at the walls as though they might crumble into dust and leave him standing alone. He remembered when the palace was new, and it had aged while he did not. Everything aged, everything died.

“So you will follow me?” Oropher demanded with a quick grin, breaking into his thoughts, making Elrond laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, I won’t. Go and live your life.” It was an ending of sorts, but it wasn’t the end. Elrond was well aware of that, and he endured Oropher’s dramatics with more than a little amusement. For all of his charisma and influence, Oropher was insecure. It made for balance, and Elrond found himself genuinely sorry too that it was over for them. Things would have changed with this knowledge, perhaps it would have kept their interest in each other burning for another century or so.

So it was that Oropher, his wife and his son left Lindon, taking a good proportion of the population with them to found a Kingdom. Elrond truly believed he would see Oropher again, but by the time he crossed Middle Earth himself, it was to participate in a war that took all of his attention. When it was over, and he finally met with Oropher again, almost a thousand years had passed…

In the present, Elrond smiled as he thought on that first meeting. It was true, even then, that hardly anything could drag him away from his home – save the war that was coming of course. The War of the Last Alliance. The battle… Now Elrond frowned. But that had come much later. First, after the first defeat of Sauron in Eriador, there had been a period of something like peace…

To be continued…

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please review and rate!
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The Teacher