Conception Day Gifts | By : JayofLasgalen Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1694 -:- 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. |
He made no attempt to move though, and returned
the embrace with a sigh of pleasure, content for the moment as they simply held
one another. At length he drew
reluctantly away, giving Legolas a light kiss, and picked up the discarded
towel. “When did you get here?” he
asked, as he wrapped the towel around himself and wrung water from his
hair. “I feared you would not make it in
time.”
Legolas smiled. “The
day before yesterday. I asked your
father not to say anything when you saw him – I wanted to surprise you.”
“You certainly did. A
most pleasant surprise, I might add.” He
kissed Legolas again, lingeringly. “It
is wonderful to see you again – I missed you,” he murmured. As they emerged from the bathing room, he saw
with further surprise that a table had been placed before the fire, set with
plates and glasses, heated platters, and a decanter holding a deep red
wine. pan>pan>“Did you do all this?” he asked.
“I did indeed. I
asked Erestor if we could have our meal here – I thought you may not want to go
down to the main hall tonight.” Legolas
looked rather smug.
Elrohir smiled appreciatively. “You thought right.” He dried off, and dressed in a loose black
robe with threads of silver embroidery.
Sitting at the table, he began to investigate the various platters, and
sniffed at the decanter.
“Dorwinion?” He glanced at Legolas,
one eyebrow raised in surprise.
“Dorwinion,” Legolas agreed.
“My father’s conception day gift to you both. It is a special occasion, after all.”
Elrohir’s face fell.
“We should share it with Elladan, then,” he pointed out a little
reluctantly. Although the three of them
often ate together when Legolas visited Imladris, tonight he did not want to
share Legolas with anyone, not after their long separation.
Legolas laughed. “As
fond as I am of your brother, I would rather spend the evening with just the
two of us. There is another bottle for
Elladan in my pack.” He poured two deep
goblets, and raised his own to Elrohir.
“To us,” he said simply. “Ten
years is a long time. I missed you,
too.” They drank, and began to talk of
all they had done in that time, renewing their friendship as much as their
bond. An hour passed swiftly, before
they recalled the specially-prepared meal, fortunately still warm on the heated
platters.
They ate, savouring the delicacy and variety of dishes. Elrohir, after two weeks of trail rations,
was particularly hungry. He and Elladan
tended to take it in turns to cook their evening meal when on ol, ol, and both
did it well, but game had been scarce, and the hunting slim. Also, they never took wine with them, relying
on water alone, and the Dorwinion was a very welcome treat. “Your father gave you two bottles? He must be
mellowing,” Elrohir commented. “I thought he did not altogether approve of
our relationship?”
Legolas shrugged. “It
is true he would be happier if my heart had been given to your sister,” he
admitted. “He would be planning the
wedding even now! But he likes you well
enough, you know that.” He sighed. “He regrets that I will never have elflings –
he would have made a wonderful daeradar.”
He glanced down at his plate. “It
is my only regret, too.”
Elrohir took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know,” he said tenderly. “It is easier for me; Elladan and Arwen will
both eventually have children, so my parents will have their grandelflings; and
I can share in them, as you can. It
must be hard for Thranduil.”
His hand was suddenly gripped tightly between both of
Legolas’s. “I would not change
anything,” he said vehemently. “You know
that. You know how I love you, Elrohir. Let me show you again.”
Elrohir nodded, his throat dry. This
was what he had missed. Legolas’s
passion, as much as his companionship.
Quickly, they stacked the plates and dishes onto trays, placing them
outside the door for collection. “We
will not be disturbed now,” Elrohir
murmured, as he shut the door firmly.
“What was it you wanted to show me?”
“This.” Legolas
pushed him down onto the bed, kneeling over him and pushing the robe
aside. “My conception day gift to you.”
He kissed Elrohir, gently at first, then with increasing passion. Elrohir stopped him briefly, unfastening the
laces of his breeches and the clasp on his tunic and Legolas stilled
momenta as as his tunic was pulled off.
Elrohir took the opportunity to run his hands lightly over Legolas’s
chest, but Legolas shook his head. “Not
yet,” he murmured. He slid his breeches
down, and kicked them off into a corner.
They were now both unencumbered by clothing, and Elrohir found Legolas’s
merest touch enticing, as his hand slid across Elrohir’s cheek, along his neck
and round to cup the back of his head.
Elrohir shuddered as his lover’s fingers brushed against the
tip of his ear. “More,” he
whispered. He felt Legolas’s other hand
drifting downward, across his chest, circling both nipples, down across his
stomach, to his hip, then lower still to his legs. Legolas caressed the sensitive spot at the
back of his knee, then drew his hand higher, along the skin of his inner thigh,
using gentle, butterfly-light touches that inflamed Elrohir.
Elrohir gave a low moan, but when he tried again to return
the caresses, Legolas gently moved his hand away once more. “No touching.
This is my gift, remember,” he whispered. Moving his head, Legolas began to use his
considerable skill, his mouth, his lips, tongue and teeth, biting, nipping,
sucking, licking and kissing every inch of exposed flesh. His hands, too roamed everywhere, ranging
from gentle caresses and feathery touches to a sharp pinching that was
exquisite torture.
Initially, Elrohir found it frustng tng that he was not
permitted to participate more actively, but before long he was helpless to do
more than moan and gasp beneath the relentless onslaught. There was only one part of him that was not
limp with passion and longing – his arousal was almost painfully hard, and was
the one part Legolas had omitted from his loving exploration.
Finally, their mouths joined again, and this time Legolas
heeded his lover’s desperate pleading.
His hand gripped Elrohir’s
arousal at last, his thumb brushing again the tip, and he began to stroke
firmly. It took only seconds. With a harsh cry, stifled by Legolas’s hard
mouth, Elrohir came, a convulsive shudder shaking his body from head to
toe. He grasped Legolas to him tightly,
returning the kiss passionately until at lae fee fell back against the bed,
utterly spent.
Legolas moved to lay beside him, propped on one elbow,
watching him with immense satisfaction.
“Thank you,” the blond prince murmured.
Surprised, Elrohir turned his head. “Why are you thanking me?” he asked, when he had regained enough breath to speak. “I think it should be the other way
around. That was – amazing.”
“Because I love to do that to you,” Legolas explained
simply. “I love knowing that no one else
has that effect on you, and never will now.”
“No. No one else now,”
Elrohir agreed softly. “Only you.” He thought fleetingly, with gratitude, of the
only other lover he had ever known. A
visiting scholar from Mithlond had taken his virginity – not in the least
against his will, to be sure. Ardamin
had been both very skilled and very gentle, and had taught Elrohir that
something he had always feared would be sordid and rather painful could be a thing
of beauty and passion. He smiled suddenly, as an evil thought struck
him. “You said something about this
being a conception day gift? Does that
mean you intend to give my brother the same gift again?”
There was a snort beside him. “No. Absolutely not.” Legolas continued to gaze at Elrohir, rather
reflectively. “It is odd,” he mused.
“You have the same faces, the same bodies. I have seen Elladan naked often enough when
we have swum or bathed together – yet I have never felt the slightest flicker
of desire for him. You, on the other hand …” He shrugged. “It is odd that you are so similar, yet so
different.” He turned, laying now with
his back to Elrohir, pressing close.
As Elrohir held Legolas against himself, his hands traced
lazy circles on his chest, brushing gently over the soft skin. Pushing the golden hair aside, he placed a
trail of kisses down the back of his neck and along his shoulder as Legolas
gave a soft sigh. He realised belatedly
that although he himself had found release, Leg was was still hard. One hand moved down to caress the thick
shaft, and Legolas’s breath quavered slightly.
Between kisses, and running his tongue across the sensitive spot below
his lover’s ear – a place he recalled had always given Legolas intense pleasure
– he whispered tender words. “What, my
love, would you have me do? You brought
me to such ecstasy – how shall I please you?
Tell me what you desire.”
Legolas did not respond immediately, and Elrohir maintained
his gentle caresses. “Hmm? Tell me.
What would give you greatest pleasure now?”
There was a soft laugh.
“If you still can – if I have not exhausted you – I would like you to
make love to me. Like this. I love to feel you so close. Of course, if you are too tired …” his voice fell away suggestively.
“I am not that
tired!” Elrohir retorted firmly. “Wait here a moment.” He rose from the bed, and rummaged in his
pack, still where he had dropped it by the door. From the healing kit he extracted a small
jar, nearly full with a pale-coloured cream. Unscrewing the top, he took a
little on his fingers, and began to gently massage Legolas’s shoulders and
back, moving fractionally lower with each broad sweep of his hands. As his fingers kneaded, he felt Legolas relax
completely against him, and smiled. His
love had always found this intensely arousing.
One hand now went lower still, a slick finger probing at the hidden
entrance. The massage had worked its
usual magic, and his finger slid easily inside.
He maintained the soothing massage, interspersing his touch with kisses,
and slid another finger inside. Legolas
gave a low murmur of protest at the slow pace Elrohir was setting, but he
ignored it. He intended to do this at a
leisurely rate, to prolong the pleasure for both of them. After so long apart, there was no hurry – and
they had all night. Elrohir knew, too,
that after the devastating climax Legolas had bestowed on him, he would need to
time to recover. Legolas’s teasing
comment about having exhausted him was not far off the mark.
At last he relented and carefully withdrew his fingers,
moving a little closer. Slicking his
shaft with a little more of the herb-scented cream,pushpushed inside very, very
slowly. He had to stop after a moment,
taking a deep breath to maintain control over the exquisite sensations racing
through him. Legolas wrecked that
control. “By the Valar, Elrohir, do not
torture me so!” he moaned, and pushed
back firmly, forcing Elrohir deeply into him.
Their gasps were perfectly synchronised, and Legolas twisted his head
round to kiss him again.
Elrohir managed to maintain the slow, languid pace,
thrusting gently in an easy rocking motion he knew he could maintain for some
time. Wave upon wave of sensual pleasure
began to build up in slow ripples, rising ever higher, and Elrohir began to
stroke Legolas’s arousal again. He
tightened the arm still wrapped around his lover, pulling him even closer,
feeling his breathing quicken. They were
both close to the edge now, and suddenly Legolas arched backwards, his head
against Elrohir’s shoulder, moaning incoherently.spanspan>With a final deep thrust, they came together,
as the waves of passion crested and broke.
Elrohir leaned forward to lap again at the hollow just below Legolas’s
ear and blew gently, smiling as his entire body trembled and jerked again.
Still shuddering with the aftershocks, still joined, they
lay together, sated, as breathing and
heart-rates slowly returned to normal.
At last, with a soft sigh, Elrohir moved, withdrawing gently. Legolas turned, stillhin hin the circle of
his arms, and with a final loving kiss they drifted into dreams
o-o-o
Legolas awoke the next morning as the early sun shone in on
him. The foul weather of the previous
weeks had finally cleared, and the air at last had the soft warmth of
spring. He thought back to the previous
night with satisfaction – he and Elrohir had more than made up for the long
separation they had endured. He turned
to gaze again on Elrohir. At some point
in the night they had moved apart, and Elrohir now lay on his front, his eyes
still glazed and vacant in sleep. One
foot hung over the side of the bed, and Legolas was tempted to brush his finger
across the bare sole, knowing it to be a ticklish spot. He resisted, instead moving silently from the
bed to draw a bath, washing away the stickiness that still coated his stomach
and thighs, removing all evidence of the
night’s activities.
When he returned, Elrohir was still asleep. This time, Legolas gave in to the temptation
and stroked the bare foot lightly, smiling as it twitched. Then he frowned. Elrohir’s right shoulder was marked with
dark, widespread bruises and grazing. He
sat at his side, gently running his fingers over the ugly marks in
concern. Elrohir stirred beneath his
touch, and turned his head to smile at Legolas.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Good morning,”
Legolas reed.
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