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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4698 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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-Meeting
- 2-Learning
- 3-Restraint
- 4-Coping
- 5-Guile
- 6-Awakening
- 7-Undoing
- 8-Musings
- 9-Sojourn
- 10-Reckoning
- 11-Illumination
- 12-Avowal
- 13-Beloved
- 14-Visitations
- 15-Tryst
- 16-Choice
- 17-Torn
- 18-Resolve
- 19-Voyage
- 20-Fate
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter VII: Undoing

Things changed between them after that. How could they not when the Elf’s seduction of the man had already begun in earnest? There was no denying it; no pretending it had been nothing more than a casual instance of one helping the other find release. Because there had been nothing casual about it and there had been more to it than aiding a comrade in need. Elladan had made that clear ten years ago; Imrahil had never forgotten his suggestive farewell.

A decade was far too long a time to wait for a mere whim to be fulfilled.

Not that the Elf made any obvious overtures the whole of the following day. If anything, he was propriety personified in everything he said and did. Not once did he allude to the incident of the night before. Nor did he so much as touch the prince with anything more than basic courtesy and friendship. If Imrahil had not been lucid enough to recall what had passed between them, he might have thought it a wild and improbable dream. Until he looked into his companion’s eyes.

The grey pools promised what neither words nor deeds offered.

It was late afternoon when Imrahil finally found the courage to speak of the incident to the Elf. Which he thought absurd of himself. How could a man of his bountiful years with a handful of grandchildren to his name, an entire princedom at his beck and call and a sizable force of warriors under his command be so afraid to broach any matter of import?

When the matter entailed asking an Elf what his intentions were towards the prince’s noble self, that was how.

He looked at Elladan warily. The Elvenlord had settled himself beneath a graceful beech, long legs stretched before him, eyes unseeing in the manner of one absorbed in some inner musing. Deciding it would be best to speak to him while he was still capable of coherent thought, Imrahil rose from his perch by the tent and approached the Elf.

“Elladan?” he tentatively said, sinking to his knees before the warrior.

The pewter eyes slowly regained their focus. The Elf regarded him somberly.

“What troubles you, Imrahil?” he gently asked

The prince drew a deep breath and said: “I would very much like to know what last night was about.” At the slight rise in the elegant eyebrows, he hastened to clarify his utterance. “You said you were waiting for my readiness,” he murmured. “How do you know that I ever will be? I have never dallied with a fellow male. Why do you think I would start now?”

A slow smile adorned the Elf-lord’s features, heightening his comeliness further. It was enough to cause Imrahil’s breath to quicken. That elicited a soft chuckle from Elladan.

“That is why among other things,” he said. “Besides, if what you say is true, last night would not have happened. The mere sight of me should not have bested you in any way.”

Imrahil flushed in full. He’d hoped Elladan had not perceived the source of his unraveling. A cool hand cupped his burning cheek and he was suddenly drawn closer.

“As I was bested by the sight of you,” Elladan whispered. The merest brush of the Elf’s lips over his was enough to set Imrahil’s skin simmering. Elladan smiled as he sensed the other’s immediate reaction. “You are far too beautiful for your own good, my prince. And very much worth a wait of ten years.”

Imrahil struggled to keep his composure. Elbereth! Even the Elf’s words were enough to set his heart racing.

“I think I shall take a walk,” he abruptly said and quickly rose to his feet.

“Aye,” Elladan agreed, his smiled now patently mischievous. “Methinks you need a distraction.”

He laughed softly as Imrahil rapidly strode away.

*******

The long walk sapped him of some of his excess energy but it did not in the least calm his restless spirit. As night neared once more, Imrahil found he could not still his fidgeting. It was the waiting that unnerved him most. He almost wished that Elladan would make a move – any move! – and be done with it. And at the same time, he feared just such an occurrence.

He could barely eat a bite that evening though he proved inordinately thirsty and consumed more wine than was his wont. He excused himself as soon as their meal was done to take his nightly dip in the spring. And found himself wishing for once that the water was of a much lower temperature.

Emerging, he quickly dried himself, the chill breeze raising goose bumps on his damp skin, and drew on a pair of night-breeches. He bent to pluck the accompanying shirt from atop the rock upon which he had laid his towel and clothes. A hand caught him by the wrist, stopping him. Startled, he glanced up into Elladan’s steady gaze.

“You will not need that tonight, my prince,” the Elf said with ominous mildness.

Imrahil caught his breath at the implicit meaning behind Elladan’s words. Tremors snaking through his limbs, he could only stare in shock at the other. But when the Elf began to shed his clothing for his own bath, he managed to collect enough of his wits to get him to the tent on his own two feet.

Once within its confines, he sank down onto his pallet, trembling almost violently. Trying to steady his riotous nerves, he drew up his knees, rested his elbows on them and buried his face in his hands. All his years as prince and warrior and lover availed him nothing in the face of this imminent initiation at the hands of the Elf who had captivated him without even trying all of ten years ago.

Imrahil shuddered. He could no longer deny it to himself. Elladan had entranced him from the start. Even when he had returned to Aerin’s arms after their farewells in Rohan, a part of him had never known the peace and certitude of self he’d known in all his years of marriage. He’d striven to conceal his confusion from his wife, fearful particularly when she fell ill that were she to discover his rowdy feelings, her demise would be hastened by disillusionment or, worse, a sense of betrayal.

But now she was no more and he was free. There was no longer any reason to hide the truth.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he started. He lifted his head. At once, a gentle but compelling hand cupped his face and he was forced to look up. He gasped as his mouth was caught in an openly covetous kiss, more searing than the caress the Elf had bestowed on him in the drill yard of Meduseld. The hand on his shoulder snaked around him and he was pulled back against the Elf’s chest while the hand that had cupped his face now moved down to touch and stroke and explore his torso.

And all the while, his mouth was plundered with a rapacity that left him bereft of almost all sentience. Trapped in Elladan’s powerful embrace, he could do nothing but yield to the Elf’s demands.

He was gasping harshly by the time his mouth was released. But he was given little time to recover from its pillaging before Elladan moved to suckle the side and crook of his neck. Meanwhile, the roaming hand tugged his breech-laces loose and snuck in to fondle him to a full and raging arousal. Whatever coherence remained to him was effectively shattered in that instant.

Panting helplessly by now, Imrahil could only grip one hard thigh behind him, his other hand clutching convulsively at the arm that held him fast. He would not last long if the Elf continued with his devastating attentions.

His mind was in turmoil. All his life, he had been suitor, pursuer and initiator. He had controlled and dominated as he had been taught by his father and all the men of his family. In battle, he would sooner choose death over ignominious surrender and captivity. In politics, he was no one’s puppet. He was of the ruling family of the great fief of Belfalas and bent his knee to no man save the King of Gondor. He had no experience in total submission; of being at another’s mercy.

But in this instance, he was at Elladan’s mercy. And to his consternation, his body sought the experience, overruling his mind’s objections.

Shaking like a leaf in a storm, he gave in and did as Elladan desired. With a gasping groan, he spilled himself into the Elf’s demanding hand. Spent, he fell back against the warrior somewhat limply even as he struggled to retrieve his widely scattered wits.

Elladan nuzzled his neck and shoulder, blessing the sun-kissed flesh with shiver-inducing nips and kisses. “Much too beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with undeniable lust. He laid the now pliant man down on his pallet. It was only then that it registered on Imrahil that the Elf was completely unclothed.

He stared up at the Elvenlord, apprehension limning his grey-tinged aquamarine eyes. He had marched to Mordor and felt little more than anxiety for his men despite knowing their cause was ultimately hopeless and the end sure to be painful and bitter. But this approaching invasion of his own body elicited a burgeoning fear that stemmed from the realization that he risked the wholeness of his very spirit once he embarked on this adventure. He was being asked to do the previously unthinkable. To surrender ere the battle was engaged.

His breath caught when Elladan leaned down and administered a kiss of such gentleness as he had not thought possible in a man. Responding instinctively, he reached up and slipped his hand behind the Elf’s nape, pulling him closer for a deeper kiss. Elladan obliged and, without foregoing his gentleness, engaged the prince in a heated duel of mouth and tongue and lips.

When they drew apart, he studied Imrahil’s flushed features and swollen lips and knew the man quite ready for him. Ripe for his picking indeed.

Elladan pulled the prince’s loosened breeches down his lean form and cast them aside, eyes sparkling when Imrahil raised his hips to ease their passage. He smoothly straddled Imrahil and, with a beckoning smile, proceeded to show him the incomparable delights of an Elf’s pleasuring.

Imrahil groaned as the Elf’s lips caressed his torso, gasped as each already peaked nipple was drawn into moist warmth to be sucked and nipped until they ached deliciously. He bit his lip to stifle his moans when Elladan stroked his thighs while he continued downwards, dipping his tongue teasingly into the man’s navel before peppering his flat belly with a spate of searing laps and kisses.

But when the Elf’s lips came perilously close to his rigid shaft he could not help a shuddery whimper. And when Elladan all unexpectedly drew his tongue up its length, Imrahil yelped in shock. He raised himself up on his elbows to stare at the warrior. Elladan’s response was to meet and ensnare his eyes and keep them riveted on him as he closed his lips around the hard column and drew upon it with long, slow strokes.

A rasping moan escaped Imrahil then. As the Elf’s caresses intensified, his arms gave way and he fell back. And when Elladan suddenly released him, leaving him on the brink of fulfillment, then took him deeply once more, he dug his fingers so hardily into his pallet that it seemed he would rip right through it. Valar! Where had the Elf learned to do that?

It was not something performed by most women of gentle birth even for their husbands. It was not something expected of them. Whores on the other hand knew all the tricks of their disreputable trade and plied them accordingly. But no harlot lingered in such ministrations lest a bedding be prolonged and cost her another patron’s servicing and payment for said servicing. Thus, this unhurried, exploratory attention to his need was as astonishing as it was enrapturing.

Feeling he would expire from the drawn out pleasure of it, Imrahil cried out imploringly. “Elladan, please! I cannot take this! Have mercy for Eru’s sake!”

He almost wept in relief when the Elf-lord ceased his suckling to lightly stroke his throbbing member with his fingers. “You may have reason to rue your plea,” Elladan murmured, a thrilling threat in his voice.

He moved up and drew the trembling man into his arms, melding their tall frames snugly together. Shorn of the Elf’s edacious pleasuring, Imrahil felt the tumult within him subside to a more bearable level. Elbereth only knew what completion would have done to his poor heart, he thought.

He felt the Elf press his lips to his brow. It made him feel like a youngster. And then it occurred to him that, to Elladan, he was. For all that he was of an age that would be called venerable amongst mortals, in the eyes of an Elf he was little more than a stripling. And a very green one if he considered Elladan’s thousands of years of existence. He sighed at the profundity of feelings that thought wrought.

Imrahil smiled slightly against Elladan’s neck when the Elf reached down and lifted his leg to drape it over his thigh. He paid no mind when Elladan’s hand slithered caressingly along his hip until it reached his firm bottom. But an instant later, he jerked his head up when one long finger gently but firmly breached him. Stiffening in shock, he stared a moment at Elladan before attempting to wriggle out of the latter’s arms. But the Elf held him fast.

“Wait! What are you—?” the man gasped.

He was silenced by a demanding kiss. And the finger withdrew only to become two. Then three. Duly alarmed, unused to such methods of acquainting an untried ellon, or male Elf, with the sensation of penetration, Imrahil tried to push away. And came up against the sheer, unyielding strength of the Elf-lord. On the verge of panicking, he wrenched his mouth away to demand that the Elf cease his play. And then it happened.

A slight stroke of those intruding fingers and toe-curling pleasure raged through his very nerves. He hissed at the unexpected feeling. Sensation steadily waxed with every caress within him until he had ceased to resist the Elf and clutched tremblingly at him instead, moaning when Elladan dipped his head to press kisses to his throat.

He drew in a shuddery breath when Elladan at last released him and let him lie back. The Elf-lord gazed down at him, eyes nearly black with desire.

“I am sorry I did not warn you,” he murmured. “But I doubt you would have let me prepare you properly had you known what I was going to do.”

“Oh Eru,” Imrahil whispered. “It has come to that.”

A small smile graced the Elf’s handsome face. “Aye, it has come to that,” he softly said. “I have waited ten years for this moment, Imrahil. And I suspect, so have you.”

The prince closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He could still feel the lingering sensation of the Elf’s fingers within him. He could not imagine in the least how he could possibly accommodate anything longer and decidedly larger.

But you can, my fair adanedhel. You were made for it.

He opened his eyes in surprise. He had previously believed that the extent of the Elf’s powers lay in projecting his thoughts. He had not expected that Elladan could read other’s thoughts as well. It made him feel all the more vulnerable.

“I do not invade other’s minds intentionally,” Elladan quietly told him. “But your fear makes yours easily accessible to me.” He ran his knuckles gently along Imrahil’s sculpted cheek. “Trust me, Imrahil. Your pleasure is as important to me as my own.”

Imrahil regarded him intently then nodded and strove to relax. “Should I turn over?” he forced himself to ask. The memory of Legolas and Elrohir’s coupling remained a potent memory.

Elladan smiled and shook his head. “I prefer to see your face as I fill you,” he said.

Color flooded the prince’s face at the provocative reply. But he did not object and only waited for the Elf’s guidance. He watched in fascination as Elladan used their mingled seed to salve his ready shaft. And he did not balk when his legs were lifted and urged around the warrior’s waist. Only when he felt an unaccustomed hardness press against him did he betray some trepidation, his eyes closing against the certain shock of his piercing.

Elladan took him with one sure thrust. A strangled cry issued then from the prince. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his frantically beating heart and ignore the discomfort within him. At length, he opened his eyes and met the waiting gaze of his lover.

Imrahil bit his lip then, like the soldier that he was, nodded his readiness. Elladan waited no more but began to move, using long, deep thrusts to stroke the man from within anew. Imrahil moaned as the sensations unfurled once more, waxing steadily with every incursion into his body. Soon, the sensations spiraled into unparalleled bliss and soft, incoherent sounds spilled from his lips.

When Elladan closed his hand around his taut shaft and began to stroke it, he gasped at the almost unendurable pleasure. His gasps evolved into helpless sobs as his entire being was reduced to a mass of maddeningly delectable sensations. He reached out and gripped the Elf’s thighs desperately, trying to retain some control of himself.

Again he sensed the Elf-lord in his mind. Let go, Imrahil nîn. Let me see your pleasure.

Control was wrenched from him. Sentience was shattered. And rapture exploded with fearsome ferocity in his groin, searing tendrils of it racing through his body even unto the very reaches of his limbs. He cried out hoarsely as it overwhelmed him. He who had never so much as made more noise than a stifled gasp or smothered groan in all his years of bed-play now gave vocal vent to his feelings for the second time in as many nights.

Unthinkingly, he clenched his muscles around Elladan’s pulsing shaft, the compelling urge to lengthen the pleasure taking precedence over everything else. It was all that was needed to undo Elladan as well.

Imrahil stared with half-lidded eyes at his lover. Watched with dazed fascination as the Elf-lord lost himself to his pleasure. Saw how the powerful shoulders and arms trembled and the Elf’s white skin stained with the crimson of his release. He realized then how much it pleased him to witness Elladan’s surrender to his joy. He caught the Elf to him as the latter collapsed onto his chest in the wake of his completion.

It was many moments before they found the wherewithal to breathe deeply once more. Several seconds before they thought to untangle their sated bodies. Imrahil sank into Elladan’s embrace as he awaited the slowing of his racing heart.

Only when he felt quite himself again did he lift his head to gaze at the Elf. “Is it always thus when two Elves couple?” he queried softly, his voice tinged with some awe.

Elladan considered the question. “Not always but more oft than not, aye, it is thus,” he said. At Imrahil’s wondering look, he added: “When the mind is as engaged as the body, the love-act can be very intense.” He ran his finger along the man’s lips. “You are very receptive to my thoughts. Mayhap you are similarly blessed.”

Imrahil thought back to the almost excruciating pleasure of their joining. “I am not certain if I should be pleased or not,” he ruefully admitted.

Elladan chuckled softly, comprehending the reason for his ambivalence. “Surely you are not daunted by this,” he teased. “I assure you, it gets even better with practice.”

“Better?” Imrahil almost choked. He groaned and fell back into Elladan’s arms. “I shall surely pass away if it gets any better!”

The Elf-lord’s controlled mirth gave way to outright laughter. “But at least you will do so with a smile and a wide one at that,” he chortled.

Imrahil snorted and turned a jaundiced eye on him. But Elladan swiftly wiped away his umbrage with a salacious, heart-stopping kiss. Imrahil stared at him when the caress ended.

“Surely you do not intend to – to—” he sputtered.

Elladan grinned rakishly and pressed Imrahil down upon his pallet once more. “Elves can go on forever,” he informed the stunned prince.

“But I am no Elf!” Imrahil protested. “Only the descendant of one.”

“Then let us find out how much elven-blood you bear!” Elladan wickedly said and silenced further protests with more of his peerless ministrations.

**************************

Glossary:

adanedhel - man-elf

Imrahil nîn - my Imrahil

To be continued...
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate