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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Oropher/Elrond, Thranduil/Elrond, Legolas/Elrond, Elrond/Celebrían, Elrond/OFC
Warnings: Slash, het, graphic sex, bdsm, D/s, bondage, canonical character death
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the elves within or middle earth. They belong to Tolkien, and I am just borrowing them for a short while. I make no money from this.
Summary: A fanciful, smutty take on what Elrond’s story might have been through the ages.

Author’s Note: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers. Sorry for the delay in posting, but life has been a little fast lately.

To Binky: As always, thank you so much for your praise and encouragement. I’m so glad you are enjoying the story.

To Anon1: Again, sorry for the delay posting. I hope two chapters at once make up for it a little.

To Anon2: Thank you for your praise, I am glad you are enjoying it. However, I do intend to write many more sex scenes, and I wrote the summary to reflect that. Please don’t take this seriously. I intend to get Elrond off with as many people as feasibly possible, and whatever character development exists will exist purely to facilitate that. I’m sorry.

And so… onward! :)

Chapter Eight

II 3434

Dawn was a hair’s breadth away once more when Elrond realised there were less of the enemy to fight. For most of the past few long tiring hours opponents had been steady and fast. When he could spare the time to glance around him, he saw Thranduil nearby, his blade a flash of silver in the midst of blackness that brought to mind Oropher’s ill-fated early attack.

But then, the stream of opponents slowed enough that Elrond had time to look around him properly. It wasn’t over. The enemy was as a single unit retreating back towards the gates, some already pouring inside in the same way as they had spilled out. They were leaving the plain; elves and men followed, pressing home the aggressive attack, and true to form, a sacrifice of but a few hundred was left to face their fury and battle-lust, while the gate to the dark lord’s home slowly shut.

“Victory!” The shout went up around him – but this was not the end of it. All knew that. Rather said, it was the first clash that was over. Still, there was no doubt that the servants of the enemy had retreated, whether in defeat or planned execution Elrond couldn’t be sure.

“Victory, aníra-nín!” A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and Elrond turned from his thoughtful contemplation of the retreat to face the one who addressed him.

It could almost have been Oropher. Elrond stared for just a single moment, taking in the silver and green of the King’s armour, his silver hair. A laugh half of joy and half of love spilled from his lips as he felt himself pulled into a hard embrace, and he opened his arms willingly, forgetting everything.

“Meleth nín,” he sighed in love and tenderness, a voice in the back of his head nagging at him, but he squashed it back down deliberately. It didn’t have anything useful for him, he was sure. While now he had his lover safe in his arms on the field of victory.

“Elrond,” a soft voice whispered near his ear, and Elrond shook his head a little in annoyance, because it wasn’t Oropher’s voice. He tried to hold tighter to the illusion, his hands holding tighter to the body in his arms at the same time until he was pushed back and away, only to find himself staring at Thranduil.

The new King waited a moment, long enough for Elrond to close his eyes as the crushing weight of the loss came back to him, and then held him close again, softer this time, hands stroking down over his back, and even though Elrond could barely feel it beneath his armour, he shivered.

“Remember your place, Elrond,” Thranduil whispered then. Elrond swallowed, content to let Thranduil hold him as a comrade because it meant he could close his eyes and not see for a moment.

“And what is that?” he asked in the same quiet whisper, more roughly than he had intended. Thranduil laughed softly before speaking aloud.

“My pleasure.” Elrond shivered again at the dark promise of those words, which might have sounded innocent if someone else heard them. A thank you to a comrade perhaps, but that isn’t what they were. In those words Elrond heard the intention and he pulled away from the safety of Thranduil’s arms, taking a shaky step back and away from him.

To save himself the humiliation of seeing his fate in Thranduil’s eyes, he gazed around the battlefield. It was hard to see this as any kind of victory. They were near the west of the plain, and the field of combat was littered with bodies. Friend and foe alike were already sinking into the muddy waters beneath, lost forever. Here and there someone walked, calling out the name of a loved one or a companion in hope and dread. It sounded lonely, and Elrond wondered for a moment if his friends had survived this day. His heart felt sick with grief and fear, and he stumbled, only to find himself leaning on Thranduil’s arm.

“Let us return, aníra-nín,” Thranduil said softly, in earshot of one of his own warriors, but Elrond saw the elf was too embroiled in his own problems to worry what his King called a comrade. “We shall tally our losses, and tonight the meeting will be held again.”

Just the thought of that saddened and weary coming together was enough to make Elrond want to sleep his long life away, yet he allowed Thranduil to walk back with him. He walked alone, and as they neared the camps Elrond heard himself shouting orders, pulling his scattered company together and handing out responsibilties for taking care of the wounded and fallen.

Thranduil must have left him then, because when he turned as he gave the last series of orders, the King was no longer by his side. He looked further into the distance, and saw Thranduil doing the same as he was, consulting with the healers in his camp and sending out those less weary to make a rough head count.

He stalked to his tent, only to find others inside it, and Elrond halted for a moment in surprise and bewilderment. One stood and looked around at his fellows uncertainly. “The Prince of the Greenwood elves,” he began, flustered. “He had your things moved. He said you had asked for it to be done.” A blush began to spread over the other elf’s cheeks, obviously he was embarrassed lest he had misunderstood. Elrond shook his head sharply.

“Sorry, yes, of course. I had forgotten.” Those whom he had startled settled down again in relief, and Elrond let the tent flap go, looking around him at his own camp. Everyone was organised and quietly going about the business of regrouping and rest. Feeling out of place among his own people, Elrond slowly walked over to Thranduil’s camp, feeling more weary than ever.

At last he entered the tent he had been in earlier, noting how his belongings had been placed carefully near the door. Thranduil himself wasn’t here, and Elrond unbuckled his sword belt and took off his stained armour before washing at the bowl. The clothes underneath were not so dirty, and he relaxed thankfully onto the bed, falling into an exhausted reverie almost straight away.

When he woke for a moment, a little later, he tensed when he felt warm arms around him. The body against his back felt warm too, and Elrond realised he must have been laid with Thranduil for quite some time. In reponse to his slight movement, the arms tightened around him, and he heard Thranduil wake when the King drew in a deep breath that wasn’t quite a yawn.

“Go back to sleep, green leaf,” he said in amusement. “The meeting will be held at dawn as before. We have a few hours yet.”

“But the watch! I need to return to oversee –”

“I have seen to it,” Thranduil said, his voice menacingly soft, just a touch of impatience in it. Before that, Elrond fell still and quiet, and he only sighed in surrender when he felt the hands that held him smooth over his naked skin as if explore him. For the first time it occurred to him that he was naked, and he imagined Thranduil stealing his clothes away while he slept. The image made him moan.

Lips hovered over his neck, and Thranduil whispered to him as he swept a hand down the curve of Elrond’s buttocks, cupping him for a moment before drawing that leg up with his hand demandingly, so that Elrond was in position for him.

“Don’t fight me.” Elrond felt heavy and useless as Thranduil touched him, and his words sent a sharp thrill of desire through his body that made Elrond whimper.

“No…”

Thranduil laughed. He truly wasn’t Oropher. Oropher would have giggled. This was far from anything so carefree. “No, I will not fight you, Master,” Thranduil prompted expectantly, his lips tracing over Elrond’s neck as his fingers rubbed over that hidden entrance again and again, still slightly sore from earlier.

“No!”

“Do you need to be forced to obey me?”

“No…”

“That word grows boring. I forbid you to speak it. Say something else, aníra-nín.” As Thranduil spoke his hand retreated to reach for something and when it returned, his fingers were slick and slippery over that sensitive area. Elrond gasped. “Do you want to be forced?”

Elrond fought the instinctive urge to say no again, and his mind searched for something else. He trembled on the edge of yes for a moment before the finger that teased suddenly penetrated him and he cried out the first word on his lips. “Please!”

“Did I not tell you how to address me?” Thranduil asked softly while his finger began to move in and out of Elrond’s body, slowly, teasing, making sure that Elrond felt every sensation.

“Please, M-Master,” Elrond said, shuddering at speaking the word. Thranduil sighed behind him.

“Should I tie you up again, little leaf? Do you need me to bring the cane to bed with me? I could mark your pretty skin with it until you remember whom you belong to. Is that what you need?”

Again, Elrond hovered on the very edge of the forbidden word, struggling a little, although they both knew that if he was truly fighting, then he would no longer be lying on the bed. Even Thranduil couldn’t keep him prisoner against his will. He was not weak. “I…” he said, trembling like the leaf Thranduil compared him to, remembering earlier and how it had felt to be bound and hurt – remembering the peace it had granted him for a short time.

“Only I would prefer you to behave without that,” Thranduil said quietly. “Truly we only have a matter of hours, and I long for release and sleep.” A plaintive lonely note crept into those words and Elrond shivered. “Will you make me hurt you, little leaf, or will you offer me comfort and warmth while we lie alone here in the dark?”

Without speaking a word, Elrond pressed back against the intrusive finger, arching himself against the strong shoulder behind him so that Thranduil kissed his neck again. A muffled groan greeted his actions as Thranduil licked at his throat like a predator, and Elrond quivered in tension, wishing that Thranduil would touch him. He lowered his own hand to his arousal, knowing that the King watched him, and it made his skin burn in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

At last Thranduil moved a little, and Elrond felt the hard, hot length that had been pressed against the small of his back. He gasped in surprise as Thranduil’s finger ceased tormenting him to prepare himself.

In no time at all, Thranduil was poised to claim him, that hardness slippery now with the same substance Thranduil had used on his finger. “Ask me for it, little leaf,” Thranduil murmured against his throat, his other arm wrapped around Elrond’s waist and the palm of his hand on Elrond’s stomach.

“Please, Master, take me,” he begged, his hand moving slowly and torturously over his needy length. One more kiss to his throat and Thranduil pushed forward suddenly, more savage than Elrond was expecting after the slow preparation and the soft words. He cried out into the stillness of the night, and Thranduil chuckled warmly.

“That’s right, aníra-nín,” he teased. “Let them hear what I do to you in here. Make them wish they were in my place.”

Immediately Elrond bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood as Thranduil set a hard, steady pace. They were so close Elrond could feel the muscles in Thranduil’s stomach tense and release as he moved, and it made him think of a big cat, grace and supple strength in every movement.

“Are you trying to be quiet now?” Thranduil asked, changing the angle slightly so that Elrond’s world bloomed into sudden shocking colour and he let loose a strange needy groan. Thranduil moaned too, raising his voice high enough to be heard. “Oh, you feel so hot and tight!” Elrond shuddered at the thought they would be heard, even through the pleasure, and as if Thranduil knew of his earlier thoughts, he bit into Elrond’s neck with his teeth as though he were a lion and Elrond was his prey.

When he was released, Elrond whimpered. “Moan for me, green leaf, or I will do it for you.”

Now he knew it wasn’t an idle threat, and Elrond let himself make the noises he was so desperate to keep in, knowing that if anyone cared to listen they would hear every thrust that Thranduil gave to him.

“And beg,” Thranduil growled, hooking his arm under Elrond’s leg to raise it higher, stretching him so that he gained just a little more depth.

“Oh, please!” Elrond cried out in response to the harsh demand. “Please, Master!” All thought of who might be listening left his head and he begged and pleaded, moaned and whimpered, his hand picking up the pace as Thranduil did, stroking himself to a climax as he felt the King reach completion inside him, the wet warmth such a change from the hard way Thranduil had taken him that it almost made him weep.

When it was over, Thranduil’s arms closed around him again as if to keep him close and safe. They were still joined, but Thranduil didn’t seem to want to leave his body and Elrond eventually relaxed, only the occasional shudder making him moan now as he felt the softened flesh inside him.

“Sleep now, my pet. You have done well.”

Elrond sighed heavily, not wanting to obey but feeling his thoughts slip away even so, as though his mind had come to accept Thranduil as his master before his conscious thoughts did. As he drifted, secure in Thranduil’s arms, he smiled when he heard the final words. Not a threat, or even a promise. Not advice nor demand. “Thank you,” Thranduil whispered, his own voice heavy and muffled with approaching reverie.

“My pleasure,” Elrond replied before he knew no more, relishing the heat and weight of Thranduil’s body against his back.

To be continued…

Translations:

aníra-nín – my desire
Meleth nín – my love

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Comments/constructive criticism welcome. Please review! :)
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The Teacher