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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.

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Author's Note: Here we go – enjoy! :)

Chapter Twenty-eight

When Elrond awoke, it was to the pleasant sensation of his former pupil pressed close to him in sleep, a heavy forearm across his chest. There was silence except for the King's deep, steady breathing, and the water clocks. They'd left the torches burning on the walls, so there was light to see by, and Elrond amused himself by stroking his fingers lightly back and forth over Thranduil's forearm, waiting to see when he would wake.

As he waited, he took in the familiar surroundings and relaxed. Many things had been replaced over the centuries, but in its character, this suite of rooms remained exactly the same. He'd noticed a new door on the shelf which housed Oropher's original journals, and Thranduil had told him it was to protect them from the light, though there was little of it. He'd had replicas made, which were kept in the main library.

They'd also stood out on the balcony while waiting for their hot water, and that sight had been as impressive as the first time he'd seen it. At night there was no natural sunlight from above, but lights from the myriad other balconies reflected in a pool of natural water far below at the bottom of the cavern, casting dancing colours all around the rough hewn walls.

Turning his attention away from the room, Elrond gazed at Thranduil. There would be no interruptions now, and without looking at one of the clocks, Elrond felt as he always had when he'd visited here before. Time ceased to have any meaning. Perhaps they had slept the night through, or perhaps it was still early morning. It didn't matter. They were together. At last he placed a gentle kiss on Thranduil's hair and laid his head back to stare at the ceiling, content to wait.

He knew when Thranduil did wake. He didn't move, but there was a sense of having the King's attention as he continued with the lazy caress. “I dreamed that you were here so many times, as my teacher,” Thranduil murmured by the side of him, at last, and Elrond turned his head, claiming a brief kiss.

“What did I do with you then, in your dreams?” Elrond asked, letting his fingers roam further up Thranduil's arm to his shoulder. He kissed the path his fingers followed, then further, his lips lingering on Thranduil's neck as the King stretched to give him better access. “Tell me about them, mîr neth nín,” he whispered against the soft skin, then angled his face upwards to nip at the King's earlobe with his teeth.

Thranduil gasped, and his arms moved so that his hands could touch in return. Elrond caught his wrists easily and moved them away. “Now,” he chastised, “how do you expect to learn, celebmîr neth?” Turning his body towards the King, Elrond made a low deliberate sound in his throat, and dragged his hands down from Thranduil's shoulders to his chest. “Answer my question.”

Suddenly, Thranduil grabbed Elrond's waist to pull him close. “Mmm... what question?” he said, rebellious.

“Shall I restrain you again?” Elrond asked, and Thranduil's eyes suddenly darkened. “Yes, I see that I must if we are to get anywhere today.” Moving quickly, he reached for the same ties Thranduil had been in the night before that were still hanging from the bed posts. He secured Thranduil's wrists only, so that he was laid out on his back, then sat astride his hips to keep him still.

Leaning forward, Elrond put out his hands and curled his fingers around Thranduil's biceps, then swept his fingertips down past his underarms to his ribs, sitting up straight again. Thranduil's eyes closed, and he sighed with desire. Elrond could feel that desire becoming hot and hard, trapped between their bodies because of the way Elrond was settled on him.

“Yes,” Elrond remarked. “Now you are helpless. Now you will listen, and answer, and I will take everything you have to give.” Here he paused. “I will touch you how and where I want,” he said, and as he spoke, he slid the palm of one hand slowly up from the centre of Thranduil's stomach to his chest, between the muscles there. The King groaned and pulled on the bindings that held him to the bed. Elrond had to work hard to suppress a smile at that. Secretly, he thought he was getting better at tormenting Thranduil.

“I will kiss you where I want,” he said, when Thranduil had stopped trying to get free. And then he leaned over and flicked a tongue against the King's left nipple before suckling lightly there.

“Elrond!” he cried out, and Elrond left off the attention to Thranduil's nipple to deliver a stinging slap to the outside of his left thigh.

“I am sorry, Pengolodh!” he whimpered, and though he sounded lost, they were still only play acting. Thranduil was extremely good at it.

“What did you dream, mîr neth nín?” Elrond asked again, as a reminder. He waited for the answer with interest, his head tilted a little as Thranduil's face coloured in a becoming blush and he closed his eyes.

“I...” he began, and then licked his lips. “I used to dream that you called me to your desk...” He swallowed, and his cheeks were fairly burning now. “In your study.” Oh, this was a true confession! Thranduil had brought his younger self into the game. Elrond felt a sudden rush of power, and as before he was astonished at how much he enjoyed the feeling.

“Continue,” he ordered, nearly breathless, secretly thrilled when Thranduil did so, haltingly, his words quiet and almost ashamed. As he must have been back then, unable to understand the feelings coursing through his body. As before, this game felt right instead of wrong. They had endured in Middle-earth for thousands of years. The actual adolescent was long gone; now just a memory to them both, but oh! This was so very personal... even after this many years, and to Elrond it felt sublime and perfect.

As he began to speak, Elrond leaned back, letting the length of his hair dangle over Thranduil's legs, reaching behind him with both his hands to drag the back of his fingertips over his lover's shins.

“When I stood beside your chair, you were displeased with my work, and I –” Thranduil stopped, put off for a moment by Elrond's touch and the sight of his body if the desirous gaze was any indication. He swallowed and shook his head as if to clear it. “I had tried hard with it. I was sorry. But you said that I must get it right, and you told me to...” At this he gave up describing the dream and groaned wretchedly, looking up at Elrond from under his eyelashes, as if for mercy.

“What did I tell you to do?” Elrond demanded, sitting straight again and rubbing his knuckles lightly over the King's flat stomach, just below his navel. Thranduil closed his eyes and actually shivered, while Elrond could feel him getting ever harder, needier. It was a truly fascinating reaction. Just when Elrond thought he would need to remind Thranduil again, he began to speak.

“You had a cane, and you made me... ahh...” His hips lifted a little, suddenly, so that Elrond needed to use his weight to keep the King still. He was sure Thranduil didn't do it consciously, and yet his stumbling confession and the reactions of his body were igniting a similar lust in Elrond too. He shifted himself to make room for his growing erection. “You had m-me bend over the desk...” His voice died away again, and a helpless sound of humiliation and arousal came from him.

“Ai!” he cried out, and his eyes flew open in earnest appeal. “I can't, Elrond,” he said, “I swear I am serious. I cannot tell you of this.”

“Oh, I know you are serious,” Elrond said, swirling his fingertips all over the front of Thranduil's body, taking in the shape of his muscles, the curve of his ribs. “But I will hear it, nevertheless. You are in no position to tease,” he added with a slight smile that made Thranduil groan in lust as he saw it. “Now tell me.”

Elrond considered those times and lowered his voice to what he hoped was a seductive level. “Would it help if I told you that I nearly did that very thing?” He watched the result of his words in his partner's eyes, and continued as if he wasn't aware of the effect even though it made him want Thranduil more than ever. “Many times, I wanted to. I thought it might focus your attention. You, Thranduil, tested my patience severely.”

“If you had, I don't think you would have liked my response,” Thranduil confessed.

“No, indeed,” Elrond said honestly, and couldn't help notice the disappointment in Thranduil's eyes. He smiled. “But I can enjoy it now, from this distance.” He lifted his weight slightly, moved further down so he was sat on Thranduil's upper thighs. He looked down and took Thranduil into his hand, so hard now, so excited. “And so do you,” he said, squeezing Thranduil's erection lightly in his palm. “Tell me the rest.”

“I would dream that you struck me with the cane,” Thranduil said, his account interrupted by moans and gasps as Elrond stroked him, up and down, over and over, rewarding him for each of his words. “It hurt, but I enjoyed it because it was you, my teacher. And I cried, but I loved you still, helplessly.” His body shivered. Though there was no misery now, the remembrance of it was evidently difficult for Thranduil. Elrond watched his face, glad he hadn't known of the force of Thranduil's feelings at the time.

“I did not know what it was. I didn't understand,” Thranduil continued. “I wanted you to hurt me, and I was so ashamed of that.” At those words, Elrond felt the same rush of power as he had earlier, and it surprised him in its intensity. He narrowed his eyes in desire as Thranduil finished his confession in a babble of words. “I wanted it, but I was also afraid that you would do it, and you would discover my secret.”

“Well, melethron neth nín, I know your secret now,” said Elrond. “I think it is long past time to enact it.” As he spoke, he watched Thranduil, and he let the King's erection go. Thranduil seemed to recover from his memories, then smiled at him, and Elrond understood why.

“Oh, I see!” Elrond said, and laughed ominously. “You think I can't do anything to you.”

“Well,” Thranduil deliberated, much too smug and arrogant for Elrond's liking. “After that I think you might have to beat it out of me, after all.” He was referring to the playthings, of course. Elrond was sure he took good care of them. Perhaps he had used them on other lovers he had taken, here in his own Kingdom. But Elrond had always been observant. What kind of a healer would he be, if he wasn't? So, he gently laid the length of his body down over Thranduil, undulating his hips a couple of times just because they were both so hard and it was irresistible.

“There will be no need for that,” Elrond advised him. Thranduil made a sound of amused disbelief at the threat. It was time, then. Elrond had been thinking about it ever since Thranduil had brought a cane into the story.

Quickly, he got up, leaving Thranduil bound and unsatisfied on the bed of satin. He looked so beautiful, Elrond didn't turn to walk away, but stepped back, little by little, as if he didn't want to lose the view. He grabbed a robe and pulled it around himself loosely, still maintaining the eye contact.

But, eventually he reached the door to the balcony and opened it, losing sight of Thranduil for just a moment or two. Just long enough to find it. As before, centuries ago, there was a small white iron table out here and a couple of chairs. There were also some climbing plants in jardinières, and it was to one of these he bent his attention, squatting down beside it so the robe pooled around his feet, freeing the length of birch cane from its soil and breaking it over his knee so that he had the right length to work with.

With a purposeful eye, he examined it. It was thick, which was good. The end of the cane had softened over time and exposure to the air. The length of it was pliant instead of brittle due to the constant underground temperature so it would not cause injury if he was careful. It was perfect for his purposes. He stood up and then tested it against his hand, once to measure its strength. The second time on purpose, knowing that Thranduil would surely hear the sharp sounds from his place on the bed. Then he went back inside and shut the door, turning around to regard his former pupil.

Thranduil was stunning. His wrists hung limply in their binding, but the rest of his body was turned towards Elrond, his eyes so dark and his erection was standing proud of his body. The image was so delicious, Elrond almost dropped the entire act. He managed to keep an even gait as he walked slowly back the bed, and he realised that to Thranduil, this was akin to seeing a long-held fantasy come true.

The robe he had put on was loose and open to the front of him, now that he wasn't holding it shut, and his body was just as much on display. He held the cane with his right hand, resting the end of it in his left palm. As he neared the bed, Thranduil made an odd sound of desire and fear. It was as if all the attitude had drained out of him.

With an encouraging smile, Elrond tucked the cane under his arm and released Thranduil from the restraints. “Now,” he said patiently, “come on over to the desk, Thranduil. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

Solicitously, he held out his arm, and Thranduil appeared to need it to lean on as he got up and allowed Elrond to lead him slowly into the study and up to the desk. He was trembling so much, Elrond wondered if he had actually gone too far, but trusted Thranduil to tell him if that was the case.

It was still the same desk as so long ago, when Elrond had first read Oropher's diaries. While with one hand he led Thranduil to stand at one side of it, he reached out to touch the dark wood of the desk with the other, remembering.

“Pengolodh?” said Thranduil faintly, breaking into his thoughts, letting go of his hand to lean against the desk, as if he needed its strength. Elrond looked into his eyes and considered. He could make something up for this, some slight infraction of the rules he had insisted upon back then, or he could do something Thranduil did not expect... He smiled, and Thranduil's bottom lip quivered. It was so captivating to see him this way, Elrond almost lost his place.

“Do you remember,” he began, “when I asked you to write me an essay, in Quenya, about Manwë?”

Thranduil visibly fell against the desk, his face pale, because with those words, he understood the new element to their game. “Yes, Pengolodh,” he said at last, his voice deep.

“And yet when I came to check your work, I found that you had filled the parchment I gave you with endless doodles. Some of which were variations of my own name, repeated over and over.” He picked up a piece of paper from the desk, and held it as if reading. “Elrond Eärendilion,” he quoted, as if mystified. “Again and again the same thing. And then your own name, too, repeated next to mine. Thranduil Oropherion.”

“I'm so sorry,” Thranduil said softly, with regret, and for a moment he was the same as he'd been then. Afraid, nervous, knowing he had been discovered. As then, Elrond settled into repeating the conversation, although it would have a different ending this time.

“Do you know what this is, Thranduil?” he asked with a heavy, disappointed sigh.

Looking down miserably, Thranduil played with a strand of his own hair. “No, Pengolodh,” he said.

Elrond shook his head. “It is a waste of good parchment!” he said, loudly, and Thranduil jumped. “If you must scribble, then use the journal I gifted you with on your birthday. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Thranduil said, a look of pleading in his eyes as they stared at each other, and so at last they came to it. The part where they would continue this to its natural conclusion. Elrond pulled the cane from under his arm, let Thranduil see it.

“Over the desk,” he commanded, with a nod of his head. Thranduil complied with a desperate aching sob of disbelief mixed with desire. Elrond frowned. He didn't want to go too far with this. But then, the solution was easy.

“Tell me. What do you think behaviour like this warrants, Thranduil?” he asked.

“Three, Pengolodh,” he replied instantly.

And then, because he knew Thranduil rather well after all, Elrond said: “I agree. Three is more than sufficient. So your three and my three makes six.” Thranduil gasped. “Count them.”

Elrond took a deep breath, though he knew these would be mere taps he bestowed, but before he could deliver the first stroke, Thranduil grabbed his free arm and held it. “Please,” he said, and Elrond was glad Thranduil could not see him, because he suspected all of his love and care showed in his face. He did not pull his arm away, but let Thranduil hold him.

“Count,” he said, then let the cane fall onto Thranduil's bare skin.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Okay, I know that is like the most evil cliffhanger in the world, ever. But this is a long scene. It's not even half over, and before I started detailing Elrond's feelings about being a healer delivering corporal punishment, I figured it was time for a break. I hope you enjoyed it so far, and I hope you will comment. I will reply to you here: www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/

By the way, to those of you who are following this story: I always update AFF first.

Translations:

Pengolodh – teacher

celebmîr neth – young silver treasure

melethron neth nín – my young lover

mîr neth nín – my young treasure
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The Teacher