The Early Years: Parchment & Leather | By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2347 -:- 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. |
Title: The Early Years: Parchment and Leather
Author: Minuial Nuwing
Contact: minuial_nuwing@yahoo.com
Website: First Light – http://geocities.com/minuial_nuwing
Rating: NC-17
Type: FPS
Pairing: Elladan/Elrohir
Warning: Elrohir on steroids, with a side of attitude. EXPLICIT TWINCEST, graphically detailed, even for me – which should be warning enough to cover about anything.
Archive: First Light, AFF.net, LoM, OEAM, Cipher; Others: I would be honored-Just let me know, please!
Feedback: Makes me smile, and write faster…
Beta: Fimbrethiel, bless her. Any remaining errors are all mine.
Summary: Elrohir, Elladan, and a desk. In that order. A tale from the years before ‘Princes Three’, but it will stand alone as a PWP.
Note: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for simple emphasis. In plain text, stars indicate italics. One star (*blah*) for emphasis, two stars (**blah**) for mindspeak or thoughts.
Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs to the creator-god of Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on their faces when I am done playing!
The Early Years: Parchment and Leather
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The elder twin chuckled and rose from his chair, extending a hand to Legolas. “Come along, ernilen, ere you find yourself bent over the table. I fear ‘Roh has been somewhat cheated, and his forbearance is no doubt stretched to its limit.”
The elf-knight huffed, turning to his brother in mock umbrage. “As though I would be so crass as to do such a thing. Really, tôren. You wound me.”
Elladan grinned, one eyebrow lifting in amusement. “I believe history will bear me out, rohir nín.”
“Do tell it properly, ’Dan, ” Elrohir insisted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “’Twas your own fault, really, for teasing so.”
“And ‘twas a desk.”
--- Princes Three: Any Shelter, Chapter 8
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~Imladris 861 III~
Elrohir shifted uncomfortably in his chair, struggling to focus. Focus on his father’s words, the map spread before him, the discomfiting division of Arnor by Eärendur's sons - anything but his brother’s dancing eyes and knowing smirk.
“Bring the other documents, ‘Adan,” Elrond said absently, his eyes never leaving the parchment before him. “We may as well learn the full measure of their folly.”
“Aye, Ada,” Elladan replied, giving the elf-knight a mischievous grin from his place behind Elrond before moving to retrieve the requested letters. Disregarding the step stool that stood near the shelf, the elder twin stretched up fluidly, his back unnecessarily arched, then raised himself to the balls of his feet to reach the packet of documents.
Swallowing thickly, Elrohir found himself hypnotized by the gentle swing of his brother’s single ebony braid. Lapis lazuli beads glowed against the dark strands, and the plait’s end brushed suggestively over the swell of firm buttocks as Elladan tilted his head back, purportedly to see more clearly.
The elf-knight watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the shift and play of muscle under leather, as Elladan lowered himself slowly and turned to place the rolled parchments on the broad wooden desk. As a darkened grey gaze met his own, Elrohir shook his head slightly.
You play with fire this day, tôren.
One elegant eyebrow arching in amusement, Elladan stepped back a pace and lifted the hem of his tunic, splaying the fingers of one hand over the leather encased bulge that was revealed. A pink tongue appeared between slightly parted lips, and his palm slid smoothly over stretched lacings.
A taunting purr curled through Elrohir’s mind.
You would burn me, then? Tell me what you shall do, rohir nín, after this interminable conf...
Elrond’s voice cut through the fog of arousal, startling both tormentor and victim. “That will be enough, Elladan.”
“Pardon, Ada?” The elder twin dropped the edge of his tunic quickly, his voice a study in innocent confusion. “I do not understand.”
“I believe that you do, ionen,” the Lord of Imladris countered with surprising equanimity. “Something far more fascinating than my discourse on Arnor has captured ‘Rohir’s attention.” Turning a keen glance on his eldest son, he added, “And yours seems likewise diverted.”
Elrond peered at the sunny garden beyond the open arches, then pushed back the mountain of parchment with a sigh. “’Twill soon be noon, and we have been at it since early morn. I think I shall have a stroll before the meal. Might I trouble you to put away those scrolls of which we have no further need?”
“Aye, of course, Ada,” Elladan answered, beginning to sort the scattered documents.
“We will continue here after the nooning,” Elrond said, his gaze flickering between his sons, the faintest hint of a smile softening his countenance. “See that you are not late.”
The door closed with a muted thud. Elrohir made no move to rise, but sat watching his brother roll each unneeded scroll before slipping it into a leather casing. Thus secured, the parchments were stowed away in the towering shelves.
Elladan had nearly completed his task when the weight of his twin’s gaze became unbearable. “’Twould be quicker, ‘Roh, with a bit of help,” he observed, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “I will bundle these last three if you will place them on the shelf.”
The elf-knight rose from his chair and moved to the shelves, obediently lifting the documents into their proper places.
One parchment was replaced, then another. The elder twin shifted uneasily, unnerved by the continued silence. He reached out cautiously with his thoughts, trying to discern whether or not his companion was truly angry, but found himself denied access to Elrohir’s mind.
Sliding the final scroll into its case, Elladan straightened to find his back pressed against a hard chest. Caught between his brother and the edge of the desk, he was trapped firmly, his arms pinned to his sides by Elrohir’s snug embrace.
“You should be ashamed, ‘Dan,” the elf-knight murmured, his breath swirling hotly across Elladan’s skin. “’Tis not nice to tease.”
“I was but playing,” the elder twin protested, shuddering as a rough, wet tongue skimmed the sensitive point of his ear.
“Playing?” Elrohir growled, nipping sharply at the tender tip. “It amuses you to tempt me, does it, tôren? With Ada sitting between us, watching me squirm?”
“I am sorry...ahhh...Eru!” Elladan’s apology ended abruptly, speech failing him as insistent hands slid under his tunic to twist and pull at his peaked nipples.
“Sorry?” the elf-knight snorted, rubbing his leather-clad erection firmly against his brother’s buttocks. Abandoning the abused ear, he moved down to suckle and bite a string of exuberantly colored bruises down Elladan’s pale throat. “You flaunt yourself shamelessly, while I can do naught but sit there, hard and aching, and you are sorry?”
Twisting the blue-sparked braid around one hand, the younger twin tugged sharply, forcing his brother’s head back. “I do not accept your apology, melethron,” Elrohir whispered, claiming his lover’s mouth in a punishing kiss.
Elladan moaned, his body responding instinctively to the tongue warring with his own, even as he struggled to escape his brother’s hold. Then, overcome by the fierce sensuality of the kiss, he relaxed back into his lover’s embrace, his hands moving of their own accord to grip Elrohir’s outer thighs, urging him closer.
The elf-knight chuckled as he wrenched his mouth away, the sound not altogether pleasant to Elladan’s heightened senses. Sliding one hand purposefully over the prominent bulge in his twin’s leggings, Elrohir cupped the swollen length, pressing and rubbing. “How prettily you surrender today, tôren,” he breathed, nimble fingers working to loosen the straining laces. “Mayhap ‘twas your intent all along, hmm?”
Shaken from his daze by the rush of cool air on his heated skin, Elladan grasped his brother’s wrist, disbelief coloring his voice. “Wait...’Roh! What are you doing? We cannot...not here. Not in the library at midday! Ada will return...”
“Ada was here when you started it, gwanunigen,” the elf-knight purred, jerking his hand loose to curl his fingers around the silky hard shaft that emerged temptingly from Elladan’s opened leggings. “And the nooning has not yet begun. We have more than enough time.”
Sweeping his thumb over the slippery crown, Elrohir groaned in approval when his brother’s hips pushed forward reflexively. “So very ready for me.”
Slipping both hands beneath the clinging leather, the younger twin eased Elladan’s breeches down slightly, his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin where thigh met groin before returning to trace the weeping column that nudged his arm insistently.
His palm now slick, Elrohir began to stroke his lover’s arousal rhythmically, pausing often to roll and knead the tight sac below. His mouth teased one flushed ear, licking and sucking in time with his pumping fist. Pressing even more tightly against his twin, the elf-knight rocked his hips, his own erection throbbing beneath snug leggings. “Can you feel how hard I am, tôren? How I want you?”
Elladan gasped, his head falling back against his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, gods...I am going to come,” he moaned, his breathing rapid and shallow. “Going to...”
“Aye, you are,” Elrohir growled, slowing his hand, drawing out both pleasure and pain. “And when you come, melethron, when you spill over my hand, do you know what I shall do?”
The elder twin whimpered wordlessly, the dark, rich tone of his lover’s voice flowing around him like melted chocolate.
“Answer me, ‘Dan,” the elf-knight insisted more forcefully, his hand stilling. “Do you know what I shall do?”
“Nay,” Elladan rasped, prepared to say anything, do anything, if only the caressing hand would return.
“When you find your pleasure, tôren,” Elrohir breathed, tugging the snug black leather down below his lover’s clenching buttocks. “I shall spread your seed over my shaft. And then,” he whispered hoarsely, his fist resuming its steady pumping, “then I shall take you, el nín. I shall bury myself in your body so hard and so deep that you will taste me when I spill.”
It was too much. As the elf-knight finished speaking, Elladan’s body tightened forcibly, and he released in shimmering waves over his brother’s waiting hand.
Granting his dazed lover but a moment, Elrohir pushed him gently but insistently down over the desk, jerking impatiently at his own lacings. His eyes fluttering closed, he quickly smeared the still-warm fluid over his aching length, a moan escaping at the slippery feel of his own hand.
Despite his urgency, Elrohir would not risk truly injuring his twin, so with seed-slick fingers he pressed past the tiny entrance, forcing the tight muscle to stretch and relax.
Elladan hissed at the rare intrusion, twisting away instinctively. “Easy, melethen,” the elf-knight crooned, catching his lover’s hips in a firm grip. “Do not fight me.”
The elder twin went still as Elrohir’s slick length nudged his body, willing himself to breathe deeply and slowly as his body was breached. Expecting a single thrust followed by the slow building warmth of their fusing, Elladan howled in pain-tinged pleasure as his lover began immediately to move in deep, hard strokes, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back into the hot, slick passage.
“Ai...yes...” Elrohir groaned, his fingers digging into his brother’s hips as the elder twin pushed up onto his elbows, rocking into the forceful thrusts. “So good...gods, yes...”
Torn between the brutal pleasure of being owned so thoroughly and a yearning for the completeness that came only with the fusing of their soul, Elladan sobbed with relief as the familiar silvery shimmer began at last, slowly surrounding their joined bodies. “Please, rohir nín,” he panted, “I need...I need...”
With a final powerful thrust the elf-knight was buried deep in his lover’s body, molding himself to Elladan’s sweat-damp back. “I need, too,” he murmured, pressing kisses to the tender skin at the back of his brother’s neck as he surrendered to the comforting warmth of their soul’s fusing. “Melin chen.”
“Melin chen,” the elder twin whispered, and then the boundaries crumbled and their spirit was whole. Swept up in the shared pleasure, their tightly wound bodies rocked together, twinned moans and gasps ending in a blended howl as warm cream spilled in and over at the same instant.
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Elrond stopped abruptly, his face giving away nothing as a keening wail rose from beyond the library door. After a long moment, he turned to his companion. “I believe that a stroll in the garden might aid our digestion, Counselor.”
Meeting the unreadable twilight gaze, Erestor forced back the laughter that bubbled threateningly in his chest. “It might, indeed, híren,” he replied, taking his friend’s arm as they walked out into the brilliant sunshine.
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Elvish Translations:
Ada – Papa, Dad
tôren – my brother
rohir nín – my knight
melethron – lover (male)
gwanunigen – my twin
el nín – my star
melethen – my love
Melin chen – I love you
híren – my lord
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