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
- 31
- 32
- 33
Author's Note: This is a long chapter, just a warning.

Chapter Thirty-one

Elrond was the first to wake, and instead of staying with Thranduil this time, he gently freed himself from the King's embrace and slipped through the suite of rooms to his possessions, which stood just inside the main door. He was still wearing the robe, and he tied the sash of it around his waist as he rang for a servant. He hadn't had the chance to unpack his things, but he knew what he wanted and it was easy to lay his hands on.

When there was a knock at the door, Elrond opened it. He gave hushed orders for a new bath of hot water, and food to be brought to the King's suite. He made certain that the servant knew not to knock or disturb them when he came back, and not to enter the bedchamber under any circumstances.

When he returned to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, Thranduil had moved to lie on his front, still sleeping. Elrond sat patiently on the side of the bed, and slowly opened the small jar of healing lotion. Perhaps, if he was gentle enough, Thranduil would not even stir.

In his dreams and in the past, Thranduil had been the recipient of his anger. Now, in the present, he would receive the best care and attention Elrond could give.

Because of the carrier lotion, it did not require rubbing into the skin, which was why he had selected it. Made with tansy and horsetail, it had a mildly pleasing aroma, and Elrond was able to daub the preparation over the pink marks very lightly while Thranduil slept. It sank into the skin almost immediately, where it might well burn but would at least heal, and when he was done, Elrond traced the marks with his fingertips, satisfied when he ascertained that the raised surface of them was already beginning to abate. They would not last longer than couple of days.

When Thranduil awoke, Elrond knew, just as he had before. The King gasped at his touch and clutched the pillow beneath his head.

“Is this a dream?” he asked quietly. Elrond was astonished by the question. He'd awoken to pain, and that was his first thought? What they had indulged in the night before wasn't any kind of experiment, since Thranduil had experienced pleasure as well. It had been prejudiced. Elrond bit his lip, thinking of that, and then used his short fingernails to scratch lightly over the surface of the welts. Enough to make Thranduil utter a pained cry.

“Is this what your dreams are made of?” Elrond wanted to know.

“Peredhil...” Thranduil said, with a trace of his usual dry humour, “you have no idea.”

The palm of his hand was flat now against the ridges of the punishment he had inflicted just hours ago. He didn't know what made him think of it, except that he suspected Thranduil wouldn't ask him to stop. That instead he would beg for it if he knew what was in Elrond's mind.

Quickly, Elrond delivered a stinging slap right on the top of those marks. Thranduil yelped, and then his breathing was thick and fast. “Ah... again!” he cried out, and Elrond obliged him, unable to hear the sharp sound of the slap without wincing in sympathy.

Hurriedly, he urged Thranduil to turn over onto his back, and the King hissed when his buttocks were against the sheets, pressed down by his own body weight. But he was aroused, and hard, and Elrond looked away from that to stare deeply into his eyes. “If you want more, you had better tell me,” he ordered.

Perhaps Thranduil could see the intent in him, because his eyes narrowed in desire, and he made a kind of desperate humming moan as he pressed his lips together. Elrond deliberately and harshly plucked at Thranduil's left nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Ah! Under the desk!” he cried. “Under the desk!”

Elrond stood up straight. “Stay,” he commanded, and gave Thranduil a forbidding momentary stare before opening the door and striding into the adjoining room to look where Thranduil had told him. He noted that the servants had been and gone during the intervening time, leaving everything as he had asked for it, and decided, on balance, to lock the main door.

From beneath the desk, he pulled out a largish chest. Unlocking it with a key that had been left in the front, he discovered mostly what he expected. There were the kind of toys Thranduil had used with him – restraints, mostly – and Elrond remembered how he had felt to be helpless as Thranduil and Nimbrethil had used him. Teased him until he forgot everything except for them. Elrond sighed as he moved them aside.

Now was not the time for those remembrances. He explored the contents further, and began to feel slightly uncertain. Some of these things, he knew well what they were. Whips, canes, flat wooden implements with holes bored through them. He shivered involuntarily when he remembered Thranduil using a whip on him that once. He'd seen Nimbrethil use them on her husband once or twice. Some of the... his mind gave up on finding a word. Some of the 'objects' were too suggestively shaped to be anything except for what they appeared to be. And some were things he couldn't begin to fathom a use for. He opened a small box, only to be confronted with a collection of long, sharp needles.

Elrond put the box back, and then picked up a particularly cruel looking silvery metal device, small, but with a serrated clamp that could be tightened. Suddenly realising what its purpose might be, Elrond dropped it back into the chest and it fell with a light-hearted tinkling sound while his own heart was like thunder in his ears. It was like a mobile torture chamber.

He sat down heavily at the chair behind the desk to consider what he was contemplating with Thranduil. His arms were stretched out on the desk in front of him, and his eyes strayed over to the shuttered bookshelf. “What should I do?” he asked the books quietly, but they gave him no reply. He'd thought about it before this, of course, but to be faced with the contents of the trunk had unnerved him deeply and made it all very much more real.

It wasn't just about Thranduil's pleasure, or how he came by it. It was about making him forget, or something similar. It was about making himself into Thranduil's... Elrond hesitated to think of himself that way. Master. The word was wrong. But Thranduil did need to be taken out of his own darkness for a while. Elrond just wasn't sure if his own brand of it would be enough. Not now he faced all of this.

Eventually, he locked the chest, putting it back in its place, and took only the key with its length of black velvet ribbon back into the bedchamber. Thranduil looked at him uncertainly. He hadn't moved a single fraction of an inch, though given his state of arousal, Elrond was quite sure the King had been amusing himself while he was out of the room. There were things that had to be discussed here. Elrond put the key down beside the bottle of oil and the pot of healing lotion as if it were part of the terms of a negotiation between them. He had to be sure.

He pulled a chair up by the side of the bed, and settled in it. Then he began to speak.

“You will instruct me, in detail, on the use of some of those... things,” Elrond said, holding his hand up before Thranduil could reply. “You will not allow me to harm you in any deep or abiding way. You will be responsible for telling me precisely what to expect from you in terms of your reactions, and what to be alert for. You will do all of this, because that is my first command, to be obeyed before any other. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Thranduil suddenly looked like he had woken up on his birthday. Elrond shook his head.

“Do not smirk like that,” Elrond added deliberately, because if he really was considering this, he certainly couldn't do it with Thranduil giving him that look every five minutes.

“Ahh...” Thranduil said, and then rolled onto his side, his erection rolling with him. For a moment Elrond couldn't look away from it. “I cannot help it,” Thranduil admitted. He covered his face with his hands to hide the offending look, then peeked out from behind them to speak. “If it helps, once you begin it probably won't last all that long.”

Elrond couldn't keep it in. He laughed.

“You are laughing at me now,” Thranduil accused from behind his hands, his voice slightly muffled. That just made it worse. All the tension drained out of him as he leaned forward on the chair, and he knew the King was laughing too.

“Absolutely,” Elrond managed, trying to suppress his mirth.

“Usually, my lovers do not look into my toy box and laugh,” Thranduil pointed out coolly. “Unless, of course, they have become hysterical with fear.” Elrond looked at him for a second, and Thranduil gave an apologetic shrug with one shoulder. “It happens,” he said. That set them both off again.

When the laughter was finally over, they looked at each other.

“I mean it, Thranduil,” Elrond said, more seriously. “I do not have the experience to know. I am about to do things to you that go against the greatest pursuit of my whole life.”

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

“I do not demand it from you,” Thranduil said with a slow and forgiving smile. “If you want to, just come back to bed, and we will think of something else. Perhaps some more of that role-playing, Pengolodh.” He turned onto his back and stretched out, arching his body up from the bed, deliberately making a show of it. Elrond tried not to let it affect him, and failed. “You were extremely good at it,” Thranduil said with his eyes half closed, just a glint of green beneath his eyelashes. Suddenly he shivered. “Ah! I thought I would die when you...” He didn't say exactly which part it was, but he sighed with remembered desire.

It was an escape. Thranduil was offering him a way out, and it really was very tempting. Elrond thought about it, convinced that if Thranduil didn't behave soon, they were going to have to postpone this discussion until later.

After a moment or two, Thranduil opened his eyes and looked at Elrond. Apparently, something he saw made him give up the act, and he returned to lying on his side, his head resting on his hand.

“I am a healer, not a torturer,” Elrond said eventually with a heavy sigh, deeply troubled.

“I know, Elrond. Truly, it does not matter. Forget that you noticed it.”

Elrond ignored the King's words. He had something to say, and he avoided Thranduil's eyes. “When you woke up just now, I don't know why I did that to you. Except...” His words trailed off because he really did not know what he wanted to say.

“Except?” Thranduil prodded.

“Somehow, I knew you would want me to.” He looked up, half hoping Thranduil would say he was wrong.

Thranduil sighed. “That is the basis of it. I am asking you for a lot. Too much. Forget about those things and be with me. We can play more light-hearted games. Like the kind I played with you, remember?” He patted the bed. Elrond ignored that too.

“It's about what you need,” Elrond said, and while he'd had the thought many times, now it seemed to almost click in his mind. “Just as before, between us. I needed you.” Thranduil suddenly looked haunted, and Elrond called to mind their long ago argument.

“I would never have done that to you if we hadn't been at war. In the middle of a battle. Please believe me,” Thranduil said earnestly. “I had long ago made up my mind never to trouble you with my desires or feelings. You may remember that I didn't.” Elrond nodded.

“But you lost more than Ada that day. You lost a part of yourself, and I wanted to provide you with a place to be where none of that mattered. I wasn't even sure if it would work, but I had to try. I didn't know what else to do. I had no hold on you at all. You might have gone out there a few hours later and perished, and I couldn't allow that.”

“I know,” Elrond said, standing and leaning over the bed to give Thranduil a quick kiss of reassurance. Before he could get carried away, he broke it off and sat back again in the chair.

“A place to be. Where none of it matters,” Elrond mused thoughtfully. Yes, that is what he had found. Every restriction Thranduil had placed upon him had conversely given him more space. More time, when there was no time. A chance to heal. And that was exactly what Thranduil needed from him now.

“My terms stand,” he said at last, making the decision for better or worse, standing up from the chair to tie the key around his neck. Thranduil watched him, and they both understood what it meant. “You will teach me how to do this, how to...” Elrond paused, thinking. “How to remake you, so that you are mine.”

“I will, I promise.”

“I do not want to be your Master,” Elrond confided, “and, it would seem, I cannot be your teacher in this.”

Thranduil smiled. “Then be what you always were to me, Elrond... aníra-nín.”

So it was decided. Yet there were other needs to be taken care of before they began. They ate breakfast, and Elrond lounged in the robe, while he forbade Thranduil to wear even a single stitch of clothing. They talked of inconsequential things, and Elrond began to make plans – quite wicked plans – for what to do with the King next.

As he watched, it became clear to Elrond how much Thranduil appreciated having an audience. He secretly began to count how many times he saw Thranduil overact while doing something completely ordinary, like eating. This was a more refined and polished version of the adolescent who'd tried to catch his attention all those centuries ago, but in essence he was almost exactly the same.

Thranduil kept it up for at least ten or fifteen minutes, until he caught Elrond's look of tolerant amusement and realised he was not being observed, but was being observed performing. Then his self-assurance seemed to flag a little. Elrond silently noted it, and then led Thranduil into the bathroom.

Elrond hung the key on a hook by the door, untied the sash of the robe, and shrugged it from his shoulders so that it fell to the floor. They bathed together, but Elrond didn't touch Thranduil in any way, just paid attention to himself. He could sense Thranduil becoming slightly frustrated, and it pleased him somehow.

When he was done cleansing himself, Elrond stood and climbed the few steps out of the bath, then paused and wrung the excess water from his hair, twisting it into a long rope. He could feel Thranduil watching him as he did so, and he smiled secretly. As he dried himself off and rubbed methodically at the length of his hair with the towel to dry it, he was aware that Thranduil was still observing everything he did. It was almost like beating him at his own game.

“Do not keep me waiting, Thranduil,” he warned, “else I may be tempted to please myself in your absence.” He let his hand fall and stroked himself a few times. When he looked over to the bath, Thranduil looked so lustful, Elrond almost ruined it all with a laugh. It took a few moments for Thranduil to raise his eyes and find Elrond was watching him.

“I am doing it!” Thranduil said suddenly, disappearing under the water to rinse away the conditioning soap he had applied to his hair.

Elrond walked back to the bath with a clean dry towel and waited for him to emerge, which he did, water cascading down his upper body. Oh, but he really was beautiful! And he knew it, Elrond reminded himself sternly.

“If I were to make you wait...” Elrond suggested deliberately, passing him the towel, letting his heated gaze travel down the length of Thranduil's body. As he spoke, he imagined it: Thranduil tied to that bed, hard and aching, begging for release. He knew that Thranduil was imagining it as well, because he made a strange sound of desire and dismay, and he remained motionless, staring, as if held still by the look in Elrond's eyes alone.

Elrond felt his lips twitch in a momentary smile. “Quickly then!” he said, then walked to retrieve the key and left the bathroom. Behind him, there was a flurry of activity from Thranduil. This was too much fun, and Elrond found himself laughing quietly as he tidied their breakfast things.

Once, during that argument, Thranduil had told Elrond that words would never satisfy him. Elrond suspected that, actually, the right words would undo the King of Eryn Galen very easily indeed.

When Thranduil emerged from the bathroom, Elrond took him by the hand to lead him back into the bedchamber. He seemed to want to linger near the desk, but a demanding tug on his hand was all that was necessary.

Elrond wondered how long it would be before either of them emerged from these rooms, and privately conceded it might be some days before his lust was satisfied enough for that. Especially when Thranduil kept displaying himself the way he was doing now, Elrond noted.

He was on the bed, where Elrond had told him to go, laid on his back, one hand trailing down his chest, as if he might begin to touch himself. His arousal was obvious and rested against his inner thigh, seeming almost to grow as Elrond looked upon him. His hair, still damp and therefore slightly darker than usual, spread out around him so that it seemed as if he rested on pillows of pewter silk. Thranduil smiled at him, and his other hand patted the bed. That was beginning to become a habit, Elrond noted. Although to be fair, it probably worked very well for him with others.

Actually, it worked well enough on Elrond. He could feel it, and Thranduil could no doubt see it. Yet, as it turned out, it made his next words much easier to speak.

“Yes,” Elrond said, smiling as he walked over to the bed. “Very tempting indeed. Very inviting, celeb mîr neth nín.” Elrond nodded, and reached for the bottle of oil. “Now turn over so that I may use you again.

Thranduil's face fell a little, as if that was not the result he'd been hoping for, but he obeyed, and as Elrond sat on the side of the bed, he heard Thranduil mutter to himself as he moved against the sheets to get some relief for his erection.

“Everything you say...” he said, as if infuriated with his own body for its reaction. Elrond smirked despite himself. Though he suspected Thranduil's other lovers might find him demanding and would probably worship him like a God, they would struggle to draw such a response. To Elrond he was very easy indeed, made himself easy, and Elrond wondered if he knew it or if it was unconscious on his part.

“Is that a complaint?” he asked as he poured a few drops of the oil onto his fingers. “Because if so, things are about to get much worse for you.”

Thranduil only sighed, and then surrendered so easily that Elrond caught his breath. “Please don't make me wait, aníra-nín,” he begged, turning his head to one side so that Elrond could see the profile of his face.

Without replying, Elrond began to prepare him straight away. His finger slid in easily this time, but Thranduil was clean inside. Instantly, he imagined Thranduil using his own fingers to do it, in the bath they had just shared, no doubt in the few private moments granted him when Elrond had left. It made him groan low in his throat with lust. He felt Thranduil tighten around his finger, and Elrond leaned over his still form, so that Thranduil would feel his body heat, and the weight of the key that dangled from Elrond's neck, caressing the space between Thranduil's shoulder blades.

“I want to be inside you as often as possible while we are here together,” Elrond said intimately, enjoying every word as he moved his finger in and out. Thranduil moaned and began to meet that movement. “Every morning when we wake up,” he said, intending to paint a picture that he was sure Thranduil would love. “Every night before we go to sleep.” He paused, adding another finger to his caress while Thranduil moaned again, moving against the sheets now as much as with his fingers. “While you are dreaming...”

Suddenly, Thranduil gasped, and Elrond let his weight fall down on the King's body, to keep him still and accepting in case he was thinking of moving away. He didn't pause the movement of his fingers. “Elrond!” Thranduil cried out. “Don't!” Beneath him, Thranduil's muscles tightened, not just around his fingers, but beneath him as if he was preparing to struggle.

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” he asked deliberately, knowing exactly what was in Thranduil's mind. “If I steal from you in your sleep?”

“Ai, Valar!” Thranduil groaned. “Please! Do not tease like that! I am truly sorry for it, I swear!” He really was not acting, and so Elrond stilled in concern, embracing Thranduil with his free arm and placing a gentle, loving kiss to the patch of soft skin just behind his ear.

“Shh...” he whispered, soothing. “It is all right. I forgave you a long time ago, meleth nín.”

Thranduil's breath was quick and shallow, yet he began to relax again, and so Elrond resumed the massage with his fingers. “Good,” he praised, feeling Thranduil respond. “That's it. Relax for me.” Thranduil moaned again at his words, but his body obeyed Elrond's touch as if he truly were the master of it.

“You were frustrated?” Elrond asked then, continuing his line of questioning, with a slight smile that Thranduil could not see.

“Elrond,” Thranduil said deeply, as laconically as possible considering the situation he was currently in. “Over a hundred years you were visiting me, and not once did you... ever...” He gave up, sighed and stretched a little. “What do you think?”

Elrond said nothing, but moved away so that he could add a little more oil to his fingers, stroking himself while Thranduil waited on the bed, head resting on his arms, watching.

When he moved behind Thranduil, the King spread his legs further, and Elrond eased inside with a satisfied groan. He didn't bother with the same consideration as he had the night before, and his weight pressed slightly against the marks on the King's buttocks. Thranduil made a sound of pleasure tinged with pain, and Elrond thought that they might be one and the same to him.

Thranduil reached backwards with one of his hands, and Elrond grasped it, pressing it into the bed as he lowered his weight and began to move slowly.

“Perhaps I should blindfold you,” Elrond said as he thrust inside Thranduil again, “and tie you to this bed for a while, completely at my mercy.” He moved back as Thranduil moaned quietly beneath him. “Until all you know...” Again he plunged deep and slow. “...is how often I come to use you.” Thranduil was gasping and moving with him, his body felt exquisite, and Elrond could not even speak for a moment, his concentration failing him as Thranduil urged and invited him to continue with every muscle, every movement, every sound he made.

“Until all you know is how many times I find release inside you,” Elrond said at last, punctuating his words with his slow movements until Thranduil was utterly lost in it. “And your body would invite me and welcome me every time,” Elrond said, and deliberately made his next thrust more sudden. “Wouldn't it?”

“Yes!” Thranduil cried out, and his hand was holding onto Elrond's so tightly. “Please...” Elrond felt absurdly powerful, and somewhat vindicated. Yes, words did very well for Thranduil.

“Oh, maelui mîr nín,” he said, and waited while Thranduil responded with a low moan of pleasure. “Listen to yourself,” he said, giving Thranduil another. “Begging for it now.” Another. “Before I've even really begun with you.” Again.

“Elrond...” The sound of his name, spoken like that, made him stop for at least a minute, breathing heavily onto Thranduil's hair. Elrond felt his own body shiver, then tighten, but he remained in control. Just.

At last, when he was sure he would not spill too soon, he began the slow penetration again, speaking to Thranduil once more. “And when you are sore and hurting,” he said. “When my every movement inside you causes you pain.” Elrond took him so deep then, until every inch of himself was embraced by Thranduil's body. “Still you would like it.” He moved forward, even then, and the King's body jolted forward. Thranduil moaned and turned his head from one side to the other, helpless. “When I hurt you like that, you would beg me for more.”

“Yes...” Thranduil hissed. To reward him, Elrond used his free hand to squeeze one of the King's buttocks, his fingers digging in where the punishment was, and Thranduil breathed in suddenly. Elrond couldn't tell himself which noises Thranduil made were pain or pleasure any more.

“Very good, Thranduil,” he praised as he began to move again, changing the tone of his voice to the teacher. “When these fade, I will give you new ones. They will be a constant reminder to you. And, of course, when I use you, it will always hurt like this.” Thranduil's body squeezed around him, but he wasn't quite there. Not yet.

“I want you on your knees,” he commanded, and Thranduil obeyed, with Elrond still inside him, though he seemed rather unsteady and his muscles trembled as he did it. Elrond freed his hand from Thranduil's grip and took hold of his hips, pulling him back to meet his own thrusts.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “I know you want to.”

With an aching gasp of helpless arousal, Thranduil did just that, moving his hand in time with the hard deep strokes that Elrond was giving him. His bicep was working and his shoulder, and Elrond watched, listening to his moans, adding some of his own to them.

Then, rather evilly, he drew in a deep breath, never pausing in his plundering of Thranduil's body.

“So good, Thranduil,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I will tell your Ada I have been very pleased with your progress today,” he said, and at that he felt Thranduil's release at last. He tried to stay focused on the rhythm, but it was impossible. It felt too good! Elrond followed Thranduil almost immediately, until they ended in an undignified heap of muscle on the bed, both of them spent.

Eventually, he managed to move his weight, giving Thranduil a little room, possibly to breathe, because he inhaled deeply when Elrond pulled out of him. The King didn't stir though, just stayed resting on his front as if he couldn't move.

“If you do that,” Thranduil said, his voice so deep it was almost a rumble. “When you do that,” he corrected, “ah, tying me to the bed and using me for your pleasure for days, or however long you want,” he said with a desirous sigh. “Can I make a request?” he asked, shifting slightly, and he sounded a little bit uncomfortable. “Do you think we could have some clean sheets first?”

Elrond tilted his head and looked at him, at the way he was laid, and then laughed. Thranduil buried his face in the pillows.

“You are laughing at me again,” he said, his voice muffled once more. “That is twice in one day. You do realise I have killed my enemies for less?”

When his laughter abated to a helpless chuckle, Elrond nestled close and turned Thranduil's head so they were facing each other. “Le melin, Thranduil,” he said, tenderly, again, just as he had the night before. The King smiled at him in pleasure, not borne of lust but of love. “Anuir.”

“Anuir,” Thranduil repeated, and he cradled Elrond's face with his hand, seeming spellbound. They kissed, yet despite their promises, time continued to move on.

Eventually, they had to deal with other things, and so they dressed and sat on the balcony while the servants cleaned the bathroom (and changed the sheets), and Elrond thought that until they had the rooms to themselves again, and could go through the chest together, it was a good time to ask Thranduil about his homework, so to speak. With Celeborn.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I should say, after seeing these two dance around each other for so long, I'm finding it deeply satisfying to write these little scenes. Comments will be treasured, as always. If you leave me a word or two, I will reply here: www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/

Translations:

Peredhil – Half-elf

Pengolodh – Teacher

Ada – Father

aníra-nín – my desire

celeb mîr neth nín – my young silver treasure

meleth nín – my love

maelui mîr nín – my lustful treasure

Le melin – I love you

Anuir – Forever (literally: to eternity)
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The Teacher