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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.

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
Author's Note: Extra warning for this chapter and the next: Needle play.

Chapter Thirty-two

“Now,” Elrond said quietly when they were seated, ignoring the spectacular view of the cave in front of him in favour of looking at Thranduil. He was dressed in dark grey leggings and a long sleeved, high necked silver coloured tunic that covered the majority of his skin. Elrond felt slightly regretful, but reasoned he wouldn't be allowing Thranduil to wear that thing for long once they were alone again. Perhaps, Elrond thought, he would accidentally drop it from the balcony later when Thranduil was unable to stop him. “How went your work with Celeborn?”

“I was with him before he left,” Thranduil confirmed just as quietly, for their voices would carry out here if they spoke above a muted murmur. He still hadn't grown used to giving these intimate pieces of information, and he seemed to be struggling with the next sentence. “He said I was different.”

“Different, how?” Elrond questioned, curious at the look of discomfort Thranduil flashed his way. The King stared out at the cavern, his lips compressed into a straight line, and didn't say anything further.

“Thranduil...” Elrond warned, and the King sighed.

“Aníra-nín,” he responded, and it was the first time he'd used the old endearment as if it were an acknowledgement of authority. In one way, it seemed entirely new, yet Elrond couldn't help remembering those nights he'd been with Thranduil in his tent, completely dominated by him. “The word he used was,” Thranduil said, and dropped his head in a mixture of defeat and embarrassment, “animated.”

Elrond wanted to smile at that, but he managed to keep it in. Thranduil offered his submission freely, which meant he offered that little bit of humiliation too, whether Thranduil himself realised it or not. Laughing at him for it would not further their purpose here in any way. It did mean that something had changed in him though. Something that Celeborn had noticed, and that was surely hopeful.

“Good. Very good.” Elrond flickered his eyes back towards the study where the toys were. “For that, I believe you may choose what we play with first,” Elrond said, hoping he would not regret it, and Thranduil's eyes flared in desire as he looked up. But then he looked troubled again. The complex emotions just kept coming, and Elrond found himself content to watch as they flitted over his face.

It seemed the confession of Celeborn's description of him wasn't all Thranduil had to report. “I'm sorry,” he said suddenly, “but I couldn't stop him.” Thranduil actually sounded surprised, even as he said the words, as if he couldn't quite believe someone had got the better of him and had only just then realised it. Even if it was Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien, husband to Galadriel.

“Stop him? From what?” Elrond was intrigued.

“He – Celeborn – said he wants to visit. He escorts Galadriel to Lórien, then he will come directly here.” Thranduil bit his lower lip, clearly worried.

“What is wrong with that?”

Thranduil gave him a forthright look. “It seems... hasty. Usually, many months will pass between his visits here.”

Elrond sensed very clearly that Celeborn had it in mind to check upon Thranduil in some way, that he was concerned. Thranduil should sense it too, yet he sat there completely oblivious to it. Seeing that made Elrond's heart ache for him.

“And you are here,” said Thranduil quietly, resting his chin on his hand and looking out at the cavern again. He drew silly swirls on the table top with his fingertips.

“Thranduil,” Elrond said, then waited for the King to look at him. “By my reckoning I have you at my mercy for at least three weeks, if not longer. I promise we will have visited some of the places you wish to go by then.” He had expected his words to have some effect on Thranduil, for his eyes to darken perhaps, but the King just stared at him, his expression unreadable.

“We cannot play with him,” Thranduil said, suddenly not submissive or willing to be so. All at once he was the arrogant King again, lifting his chin in defiance. “I will not do it.” He looked at Elrond, and he understood that Thranduil was imagining some kind of collaboration between the three of them. For the briefest moment, Elrond had a similar vision, of himself and Celeborn, coaxing responses out of a restrained Thranduil until he begged them to stop. While the fantasy took his breath away, the idea of it becoming a reality shocked Elrond just as much. Celeborn was his friend.

“Absolutely not!” Elrond said, to put his mind at rest on that score. Then he softened his voice. “He is your elder. And mine... Don't you sense it when you are together?” he asked, wondering. “How does he make you feel?”

“I do not know,” Thranduil said with a nonchalant shrug. “He makes me feel like you do.” As if that was description enough. It wasn't.

“Oh? And how do I make you feel?” Elrond queried.

“As if...” Thranduil began, then looked away so that Elrond could not see his face. “I cannot think far enough ahead to deny you.”

They were strange words, and Elrond did not understand them. If there was one thing he could say with certainty, it was that Thranduil had never even attempted to deny him. Elrond himself had done that for the both of them. Thranduil drew in a deep breath. “Sometimes, it seems as though you have always been on the path laid out before me, and it has taken so long to get here, where you are.”

“It is as if you are the whole world, and at my very best I only exist within you.” He sighed and shook his head. “I love you, Elrondlas, but it is not love this feeling. It is...” He stopped speaking, then his next words were frustrated, as if he had tired of trying to put it into words. “I can't explain this! It is too difficult!”

“Anything else?” Elrond asked, filing the entirety of that odd confidence away for further thought.

“He makes me feel small,” Thranduil said.

“How so?”

“Aníra-nín!” Thranduil whipped his head around, and he smirked. “You know how tall he is.”

Elrond laughed, but then the King frowned again. “I am serious in this. I will not toy with him. He is so sincere it would break my heart.”

“You love him,” Elrond observed.

“Very much.” There was a real and genuine warmth in Thranduil's tone then, and Elrond smiled.

“Then you must keep him.”

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

When at last the servants had discharged their duties and left, they sat at either side of the desk, the door to the outside locked once more.

“We are alone again, aníra-nín,” Thranduil said seductively, leaning back in his chair. Elrond considered this new burst of attitude to be his own fault. He had said it would be Thranduil's choice, and he was certain the King had already decided. There were a few things to get through first, however.

Jerking his head back, Elrond said: “Take that off.”

Thranduil smiled, but he got to his feet and undid the buttons near the neck of the silver tunic. “You really hate it?” he asked, teasing, proving he had worn such a covering on purpose.

“I prefer you,” Elrond said pointedly, then folded his arms and simply waited as Thranduil made a show of removing it. Yet he was still obedient in the end, and Elrond forgot to be annoyed when the King was naked from the waist up.

Thranduil took his place as Elrond pulled out the chest to open it. First, there were all the restraints. Blindfolds. Elrond put all of those to one side with a decisive “Yes,” to Thranduil. Then came the whips, canes and crops. Paddles, something that looked like a bunch of twigs. Elrond imagined how it would scratch, and shivered. Thranduil said yes to all of them, and that gave Elrond pause, but he put them to the same side as the ropes and bindings.

From here onwards, it was bound to become more uncomfortable. Elrond took out the objects one by one, sorting them automatically according to Thranduil's wishes. When he came to the wicked silver clamps he had to admit what they were, since there were two of them.

“Yes,” said Thranduil quietly, then put his hand over them before Elrond could put them with the accepted items. He pulled them over to his side of the desk. Elrond nodded once in understanding.

A few more items passed over the desk, including the box full of needles. But there was another, larger box. Again, Thranduil placed his hand over it. “Yes,” he almost whispered, some kind of pleading in his gaze. Elrond nodded again.

When at last they had determined which objects in the trunk were to be played with, Elrond sat back and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn't quite have the heart to look at all of those things, even though he knew that over the coming days and weeks, he would learn about them all, provided he had the courage.

“Elrond?” Thranduil's voice, suddenly uncertain and quiet, made Elrond sit up straight. He looked at the objects Thranduil had in front of him.

“Explain them to me,” he said, “as I outlined earlier. Begin with these silver...” Elrond reached across the desk to pick one up and held it in the palm of his hand, “attachments.”

Thanduil leaned forward, and took the strange piece of jewellery from Elrond's hand, fingers brushing against his palm. But he was not being seductive now. Instead, Thranduil's green eyes were warm with love. “Even if you never do these things for me again, I will never forget what you give to me now, aníra-nín,” he said.

Elrond felt like he must melt, and he licked his lips, trying to think of an answer that would do Thranduil's heartfelt words justice. Before he could speak, however, the moment was over, and Thranduil sat back again with the silver oddity held between his fingers.

“I can do better than tell you. I will demonstrate,” he said, without a trace of embarrassment, and he held it to his left nipple, looking down at his own body. “There is a screw at the front,” he explained, carefully placing his fingers as he tightened it so that Elrond could see. When he let it go, it stayed in position, clinging to his nipple.

“There is a ring on it too,” Thranduil said, pushing his forefinger against it to nudge it forward as Elrond sat forward to look. “Things can be attached to it via the ring. Weights, little chains. There are some that you've put over there.” He gestured. Then he pulled it off and laid it on the desk.

“When you use these on me, you should tighten them well beyond what I just did,” Thranduil said, and Elrond looked up then. “I will gasp, and I may even make other sounds. You should tighten them until my body tenses up and I move into your touch when you play with them.”

“I see,” Elrond said, swallowing.

“There are other things to be aware of,” Thranduil said. “When it is over, and you remove them, the pain will return, and may even be worse. I may be bruised. If you wish to punish me once you have removed them, the gentlest tap there will suffice.” Elrond watched as Thranduil leaned back and demonstrated this too, tapping his fingers against his nipple very gently. “It will feel as harsh to me as if you had taken up the whip,” he said seriously, and Elrond nodded.

There was silence between them for a while.

“Now, the box,” Elrond said, before he could change his mind and say that this had all been a terrible mistake. His heart was heavy, but he would at least try to do this.

Thranduil opened the box to show its contents, and Elrond was not entirely surprised to see another collection of perhaps thirty to forty needles. These were much longer, however, perhaps four or five inches.

“These...” Thranduil said, and then went silent, looking into the box, suddenly pensive. Elrond thought it was possible he didn't realise he'd stopped speaking.

“Explain,” he ordered, and heard that his own voice was husky, having already watched one demonstration.

“It –” Thranduil began, then corrected himself. “They – are for piercing the skin.” He made no move to do anything, and he didn't speak either.

Before Elrond could remind him again, he suddenly looked up. “These are not really about pain. It is hard to describe. I could show you. Demonstrate on you.”

Elrond looked helplessly at Thranduil. This was not part of their agreement, and yet he knew he was going to do it. “Give me your arm.” Slowly, Elrond slid his left arm over the desk, wrist down.

Thranduil grasped his wrist, as if to keep his arm still, and with his other hand, he picked one of the needles from the box. Now Elrond saw the needles had one sharp end, slightly curved, not quite a hook. The other end was hammered flat. Thranduil placed the sharp point on Elrond's forearm, pressed, but didn't break the skin. He paused, looked up, some kind of mischief in his eyes as the atmosphere between them subtly changed.

“You might find this easier if you don't watch,” he said. Elrond lifted his eyes and gazed back steadily.

“I have to watch, Thranduil,” he said with a sigh, but in truth his blood was burning with something he had long missed, even though before they had never played games as dark as these.

“So you do, lass nín,” he said with a smile, as if he hadn't thought of it, but he had. For a long moment they looked at each other, and Elrond was the first to look away, dropping his gaze back down to his arm.

He watched as Thranduil increased the pressure, saw the needle slide under his skin, and then Thranduil lifted it a little, so that the point came out again maybe half an inch along. Little spots of blood appeared. The pain was negligible, really. A mere scratch. Yet, Elrond looked at the box – so many of them. Yes, he believed he knew what this was about.

When the needle was in place, Thranduil pulled on it slightly, twisted it, and Elrond drew in a breath through his teeth. At last then he looked up, only to find Thranduil was staring at him.

“Watch,” he said, and Elrond looked down again as Thranduil pressed a finger lightly on the flat end of the needle, then almost seem to strum it. The needle vibrated, and the sensation under his skin was so strange, as if his blood fizzed. And then Thranduil was doing it again. Elrond tried to pull his arm away, but the King held onto his wrist tightly. Again, and Elrond gasped.

“I understand! Stop!” He let Thranduil remove the needle, and drew his arm back. A box full of them. Elrond couldn't help looking at the King's upper body, envisaging where he might place them, every single one.

“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” He reached out across the desk to take Thranduil's hands in his.

“Yes.” He looked like he wanted to say something more. Elrond waited. “When you do these things, I may become lost. Do you remember how sometimes you would become lost, Elrondlas?” he asked tenderly.

“Yes, I do.” Elrond did remember. Usually it would be after Thranduil had punished him with his hand. For all of the humiliation, he remembered feeling safe at those times in Thranduil's arms. If all of this was what was required to take Thranduil there, then he would try his best to do it.

“Then do not worry. Care for me, hold me, and I will come back to you.”

“Very well.” The time for reassurance had passed. “I will restrain you. Pick whichever ones you prefer,” Elrond ordered.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! More to come soon. Please leave a comment.

Translations:

lass nín – my leaf

aníra-nín – my desire
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The Teacher