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The Teacher	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14768 -:- 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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Chapter Twenty-nine

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

Although it truly was little more than a tap, there was no clothing in the way, and so Elrond was quite certain it must hurt. Thranduil inhaled sharply, and then almost seemed to whine as a faint pink stripe appeared on his buttocks. As he let his gaze take in the entire scene, he noted how the King's pale skin and silver hair stood out in stark contrast against the dark wood of the desk as he clutched Elrond's arm close to his chest. Looking down again, the pink had darkened to rose, though the skin was not broken. Elrond looked away, and began to think that actually, this might end up being torture for him too.

“One,” Thranduil said at last, through gritted teeth. That must mean he was ready for the next, and before his hesitation could get the better of him, Elrond let the cane fall again, this time in a different place, and his healer's mind couldn't help observing, fascinated as the mark bloomed, listening to the sound of pain that Thranduil could not keep from him. Though his resolve did not falter, surely the sooner this was over, the better he would feel. The better they would both feel.

“Two!” Elrond paused for a long minute so that Thranduil could catch his breath. His broad muscular shoulders were heaving as he breathed, too fast and too shallow. When it slowed, Elrond let him have another. Thranduil's grip on his arm was so tight it hurt. The game they played had led to this, but that was over, at least for now.

He seemed to be waiting longer for Thranduil to count the third stroke, but he did it. The fourth and the fifth passed in the same fashion. A hiss of indrawn breath and an eloquent sound of delayed agony. The dark pink marks on Thranduil's skin remained, and Elrond was already mentally going through the medicinal supplies he had brought with him on the journey here. He palmed the length of the cane and reached out to touch with his long fingers, just to feel... Thranduil jumped, having expected the cane to strike him again, but he said nothing as Elrond examined him. The welts stood slightly proud of the skin, as if begging for the touch of his fingers to continue, but Elrond was satisfied they would not last too long.

The final one, then, and there was very little clear space for it to go. Silently apologising, Elrond let it land close to the first mark he had made. Thranduil cried out brokenly against his arm, and Elrond knew there were tears. He could feel the heat and dampness of them against his forearm. He put the cane down on the desk and stroked Thranduil's beautiful silver hair gently as he recovered, remaining bent over the desk for a minute or two.

Elrond could feel the frown that drew his eyebrows together while he rubbed Thranduil's back as soothingly as he could and spoke meaningless words of comfort and praise. The physical pain was next to nothing, especially to one such as Thranduil. If he had a mind to, he could bear much worse in silence. Elrond had seen him do it before. No, it was the significance of this that touched him so deeply, and Elrond knew that. “Stand up, Thranduil,” he said at last, his voice deep with something... Not regret, but understanding, yes there was that.

When he did, his eyelashes were still damp with tears as he kept his head low and his eyes down. Without a word, Elrond picked up the cane again, and presented it expectantly. Thranduil lowered his lips and kissed it, before looking into Elrond's eyes.

“Elrond,” he said, uncomfortable, and it was as if he wanted to apologise for something. For a moment, Elrond could not think what it was, and then he knew. Putting the cane back down, he brushed the back of his hand over Thranduil's stomach, then lower, keeping the eye contact.

While the punishment had cooled his ardour somewhat, Thranduil was still mostly erect. When Elrond curled his fingers around it, Thranduil swayed forward, his hands trembling on Elrond's shoulders, and within seconds was as hard as before. There was the strangest look in his eyes, as if he'd been spellbound, but then Thranduil had dreamed of this surrender for centuries. Elrond worked his hand for a minute or two, listening to the sound of his palm as it moved over Thranduil's skin.

“Will you come?” Elrond asked, as if merely curious.

“Do you want me to?” Thranduil asked quickly, almost pleading, his breathing keeping the same rhythm as Elrond set with his hand.

“Not yet,” Elrond replied, and Thranduil groaned in utter dismay. Elrond captured that sound with his lips, curling his other hand around the back of the King's neck to keep him still. But he needn't have feared that he would lose Thranduil's submission. It was so freely and willingly given it took his breath away and made his desire burn anew.

Actually this was only the first step of a journey that would involve many. Elrond knew there would be more, much more to come, but they would take it together. In these moments he was not sure that he even trusted himself to the same extent Thranduil did, and the responsibility of it was immense. Yet Elrond was accustomed to responsibility, and so he did not quail. Releasing Thranduil from his grip, Elrond took half a step back and then nodded his head down.

Thranduil sank to his knees. If he had ever secretly dreamed of this over the long years, perhaps in the depth of the longest winter nights, when Celebrían was away and he dwelt in Imladris alone, then it did not compare to the reality when Thranduil looked up at him that way, hands curling around back of his legs.

“Do you require instruction?” Elrond queried, and Thranduil's eyes darkened. Without a word, he licked Elrond's reawakened erection with the flat of his tongue. Elrond closed his eyes, and wondered faintly if he had the strength to remain standing for this.

When he felt himself sliding into Thranduil's warm mouth, rubbing heavily along his tongue, Elrond dared to look down. He felt the suction as he saw Thranduil's cheeks hollow, making his cheekbones stand out. His eyes were closed as he dedicated himself to the task, and what a dedication! Elrond couldn't help moaning as he watched. It felt so perfect. Thranduil was sucking, curling his tongue around in some impossible fashion so that all Elrond could feel was lust as he let his hands drop to Thranduil's silken hair, grabbing handfuls of it.

“Yes, that is right... please me, celebmîr neth nín,” Elrond demanded, though he thought his voice might not have remained as stern as he wished. Thranduil's hands had crept up from the back of his legs to his buttocks to hold him close and still as he worked. It was like a vision of old, and he remembered when Oropher had once told him: “I have had lots and lots of practice...”

Thranduil had his lips sealed around Elrond, and he was sucking, moving back and forth, taking in a slow long breath through his nose, and then Elrond felt Thranduil take him deeper. His erection hit the back of Thranduil's throat, and further, enclosing him but not stopping the movement forward. It felt so fantastic, Elrond couldn't think of anything except getting more, and he was vaguely aware he was pulling on Thranduil's hair in desperate need, but he couldn't help it, wouldn't, mustn't stop. Something about that was as a warning to him.

“Halt!” he cried out, breathless, and he had to pull Thranduil away from him hard. Elrond panted as his erection slid free of the King's lips, which were puffy and red now. Thranduil remained on his knees, and he looked up then, raising one hand to wipe his lips. He seemed very pleased with himself, and his smile was almost a smirk as Elrond brought himself back under control. With some difficulty, being as his erection was only an inch or two away from that amazing mouth.

“Let us return to the bed,” he managed eventually, letting go of the grip he had on Thranduil's hair, “so that I may use you as I wish, aníra-nín.” He used the affectation deliberately, and saw the effect it had on Thranduil with some satisfaction. He nodded, and Elrond saw the exact moment he realised being taken in such way would hurt because of the punishment. Yet he rose to his feet and obeyed without protest.

Elrond followed slowly, taking the opportunity to study the marks again to ensure there was no further bruising. Content with what he saw, he ran his fingers over the edges of the thin dark blue silk robe he wore, and thought after all he might leave it on. When they were near the bed, Elrond went to the drawer for the same oil he had used the night before.

When he turned with the bottle in his hand, he nearly dropped it. Thranduil had laid himself down on the bed, on his front, his head rested on his arms and was turned to watch Elrond. His legs were parted, knees slightly bent as an invitation. No doubt he did it deliberately. He knew how tempting he looked. Elrond shook his head and frowned.

“No,” he said, and Thranduil's lips turned down in displeasure. “Stand up,” Elrond ordered as he seated himself on the edge of the bed, the bottle of oil in his hand. Thranduil did what he asked as Elrond poured a little of the oil into his right hand, then placed the bottle on the set of drawers.

He guided Thranduil to stand facing him, and then rubbed his hands together to spread the oil before taking hold of the King's neglected erection and sliding his fingers over the length of it. Thranduil sighed and rested his hands on Elrond's shoulders.

The King leaned into his touch as he moved his hand slowly, paying attention to every solid inch as Thranduil began to betray his desire with little hitches of breath and gasps. Thranduil's erection slid easily over his palm, and with the addition of the oil, this time it sounded almost wet.

“Will you come?” Elrond asked, repeating his question from before.

“Do you want me to?” Thranduil echoed, his voice much quieter than usual, as if he was fearing another refusal.

“When I use you this time, it will hurt. I want to discover if the pain evokes a physical response in you.” Thranduil gasped at that, to be discussed like some kind of experiment. But then, it fitted so perfectly with the game they had been playing before. Besides which, Elrond did find himself particularly curious about that very thing. He looked up. “Yes, I want you to.” He squeezed and pulled lightly, quickly, watching Thranduil's eyelashes flutter. “Whenever you are ready.”

Thranduil's reaction was almost immediate, but then he had been delayed this release for a while now. Elrond bent his head quickly and caught as much of the King's issue as he could with his mouth, knowing that Thranduil was watching everything he did.

Was it pleasant, or not? Was it salty? Not quite. But it was warm and it was from Thranduil, the proof and manifestation of his pleasure, just as the welts were evidence of his pain, and Elrond found himself swallowing it all, relishing it even. He ran his tongue over his teeth to taste it again, licking up every stray drop from his hand and from the King's softened cock, while above him Thranduil moaned at the sight.

When he was done, Elrond sat back, but he was not satisfied. Not at all. “Now you may arrange yourself for me, aníra-bronadui nín,” he said, and Thranduil lowered his head.

“Yes, Pengolodh,” he replied.

Elrond paused to collect an additional drizzle from the bottle, then turned around, seeing that Thranduil had taken up the same position as earlier. At least he could make sure the penetration itself would not be painful, and he sprawled on the bed between the King's parted legs, scrunching his hand several times to ensure his fingers were covered with the oil before stroking up into the crease of his buttocks from below, gliding over his entrance with sure fingers, pressing, rubbing.

The King was still so relaxed from his orgasm, it was not long before Elrond's fingers were inside him, and the more he touched Thranduil, the more he imagined how it was going to feel to finally be there again. But he took his time, and made sure the oil was spread deep, even when Thranduil began to plead to be taken.

“Hush!” said Elrond sharply, because the desire those daring whispers produced in him was almost enough to make him forgo the consideration altogether. Thranduil did fall quiet, but the silence was not destined to last for long.

When he was finished, Elrond carefully placed his right hand on the bed near Thranduil's shoulder, so that he could rest his weight on that arm, and used the other to hold himself steady as he pushed inside with a growl of long-denied pleasure. Thranduil's body fitted around him perfectly; hot, tight, slippery with the oil he had used.

He'd taken up a position that would keep his weight from pressing against the welts, and yet when he began to move in and out, slowly, his pelvis was touching the King there. The strangest sounds were coming from Thranduil then. Elrond realised the angle he'd adopted was not straight, but aimed slightly downards, and knew every thrust was stimulating Thranduil's prostrate. It must feel as sharp-edged as the pain to him, Elrond thought, but he did not alter it.

“Ai! Elrond, please!” Thranduil called out, breathless, though he didn't try to stop what was happening to him. Elrond suddenly wanted to take him hard, imagined it, pounding into his body while he begged like that. Yes... The compulsion made his movements faster, more selfish, and he stopped for a heartbeat.

“Do you need to be silenced?” he asked, and Thranduil didn't reply in words. The sound he made was one of helpless arousal and Elrond leaned over his body to cover Thranduil's mouth with his other hand. Now at last he began to thrust again, the moment of deepest connection causing Thranduil pain so that his body clenched as if unwilling to let Elrond move again. All the while his cries and moans were muffled by Elrond's hand, and it was so exhilarating to have such power over him that Elrond was taken completely by surprise. His last few movements were almost violent as he felt the spasms drawn from him, and he was sure the sounds he made then were more like growls.

When he came back to himself from the orgasm, he pulled away gently and then lay on his back beside Thranduil. The King turned onto his side – carefully, Elrond noted – and then curled his long limbs somehow to rest his face against Elrond's chest.

“Did I hurt you?” Elrond asked.

“Yes,” Thranduil said simply, and then held him close. Elrond remembered his curiosity then, and Thranduil was folded in the middle so that he didn't press against Elrond's thigh. He slipped his hand down between their bodies, and felt that the King was actually hard again.

“If I had hurt you even more, would this still have happened?” he asked with interest, brushing the pad of his thumb back and forth over the end of Thranduil's erection.

There was no embarrassment in Thranduil now, but he sighed when Elrond's hand squeezed him. “Yes,” he admitted. “Because it is you. I cannot help it,” he breathed deeply, then sighed again, “and I do not want to.”

Elrond didn't ask any more questions, but manipulated Thranduil as they stared at each other. He reached around with his other hand and fingered the marks the cane had left. At that Thranduil moaned and he came quite suddenly in Elrond's grip, not much drawn from him with this second climax, but it hardly seemed worthwhile noting.

When he was done he still shivered occasionally as Elrond continued to brush his fingers over the welts, idly wondering if he could actually tease Thranduil into hardness again. Instead, he fell asleep in Elrond's arms, moaning softly under his breath. He felt such a surge of protective love for Thranduil then. Had he made this inevitable when he had been Thranduil's teacher? Had his own behaviour created this proclivity? Something he'd carried for the rest of his life? He remembered all of the innocent punishments he'd subjected Thranduil to, the little humiliations that were not cruelly meant, but only set to make his student pay attention.

Elrond wasn't sure if a positive answer to that question troubled him, but he slept too, the warmth of Thranduil's body pressed against him, his hair draped over Elrond's encircling arm. They slept on until late in the morning, and while he slept those hours away, Elrond dreamed.

He did not dream of himself in Lindon, as he might have expected. Instead, he dreamed of something that occurred much later, when he had been here in this very bedroom with Thranduil, King of the Greenwood. This place, where they slept now at peace, was where they had argued. It was to end in a parting and a resentment that would last many centuries.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Well, another one done. I hope you enjoyed it, and hope you will comment.

Yes, that argument will be next. I know I've been dangling it near you throughout the story. All be revealed.

Translations:

celebmîr neth nín – my young silver treasure

aníra-nín – my desire

aníra-bronadui nín – my enduring desire

Pengolodh – teacher
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The Teacher