Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline and my precious, evil mind.
Warnings: BDSM. This chapter is completely PWP--no redeeming plot value at all. I blame it on darling Pira of the magic pen, whose images just won't leave my head. If this isn't your cup of tea, you can skip this and pick up the story line with chapter eight (where plot returns once again).
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc (and yes, I know, it is getting entirely out of hand.) Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused and to miss inside jokes.
By Rune Dancer
Elladan was dragged into an alcove as soon as he exited the dining hall. "Where have you been?" His enraged brother glowered at him out of the dim light of the corridor, his eyes reflecting the reddish glow of a nearby lantern. "Orophin left FIVE MINUTES AGO! I sent a servant after Thranduil as soon as Orophin passed me, on the apparently stupid assumption that you would be right out. Where have you been? No, don't answer that, just come with me."
Elladan found himself being pulled down the corridor at almost a run. "Listen, Elrohir, there's something I have to tell you . . . "
"Tell me later. Thanks to you, we have almost no time to get you and Orophin in place. He's in the library--I had a servant tell him that Celeborn wanted to see him there--but you're going to have a job to do to make this convincing in the time you have. The potion should help."
"But, Elrohir, that's what I have to tell you. The potion didn't . . . " But they had arrived at the library door, and Elrohir shoved him through with a hissed order to make it look good. Then he was gone, and Elladan was faced with a panic stricken Orophin, who immediately fled to the other side of the room on catching sight of him. This was just going to be a great evening.
"Look, Orophin, I . . . "
"Why can't you leave me alone? You're going to get us both killed!"
Elladan felt distinctly put upon. None of this was his fault, yet here he was, having to sort out the mess that other people's lack of common sense had caused. It was completely unfair. He had managed affairs with three elf-maids at once and never had this kind of difficulty, yet his brother could not seem to have a relationship with just one person without causing all kinds of chaos. Elladan would have preferred nothing so much as simply turning around and exiting the library, leaving all this behind him. And he would have, too, except for the really alarming amount of blackmail material Elrohir had amassed on him through the years. Well, as long as he was here, he might as well go along with it. In a few minutes, it would all be over and he could go sort out the other catastrophe they had hanging over their heads.
"If you're worried about Glorfindel, you needn't be. He isn't even here."
"But he'll find out! What are you trying to do to me?" Orophin was regarding him with an odd expression, half hunger and half fear, backed up against the fireplace with nowhere to go. Elladan smiled suddenly, and took a few steps forward. Seduction was seduction, after all, despite the target, and he was a master at it. Not to mention the fact that this could be an interesting experiment. He'd been telling himself all through dinner that his attraction to Orophin that morning had just been a fluke. He had thought the Galadrim looked good that night, in a deep turquoise tunic that matched his eyes, but no wave of lust had overtaken him at the dinner table. But then, they hadn't actually been in contact, and Orophin had studiously avoided even looking at him the whole time. This was a chance to put his fears to rest once and for all, and to take care of his debt to Elrohir at the same time.
Advancing on the quaking Galadrim, Elladan smiled reassuringly. "I just want you to know that I feel terrible about how things turned out. It was really unfortunate, because I had begun to think there might be something between us."
"You had?" Orophin looked torn, and Elladan thought if he had another ten minutes or so, he could probably convince him with words alone. But Elrohir had said time was short. Deciding that actions were better than words anyway, he simply pushed Orophin against the unyielding rocks behind him, molding their bodies together as he pressed a kiss on the unmoving lips. It was soft and gentle at the start, but didn't stay that way for long. His hunger began to get the better of him as the elf in his arms gave a passionate groan and parted his lips, yet tried to move away at the same time. Elladan grabbed the Galadrim's wrists and forced them to the rocks on either side of his head, while deepening the kiss to help keep him in place. He really wished Thranduil would hurry up, as he found Orophin's struggles strangely erotic. Elladan was pressed so tightly against him that could not help but feel it when Orophin's body began to react, which meant that his own arousal was probably equally obvious. Elrohir, he thought in desperation, as Orophin gave up the struggle and began sucking on his tongue, what is taking you so long?
"Oh, my apologies." Elladan broke the kiss when heard the king's mellow tenor behind him--he had needed air anyway--and glanced over his shoulder to see Thranduil standing in the doorway. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Ah, there it is." He picked up a heavy book from a nearby table and tucked it under his arm. "Please, continue . . . Elladan." And he was gone in a swirl of grey velvet and flashing onyx stones.
"Elladan?" The arms he had been holding against the stone were suddenly about him, and Elladan turned back to find a wide smile breaking over Orophin's face. He tried moving back a step, but that just seemed to arouse his companion more, and his grip tightened. "What an interesting development."
"Er, Orophin, you see . . . ," Elladan wasn't really sure how to begin to explain everything, but he needed to stall for a few minutes until Elrohir arrived as agreed and they could work something out. He had known Thranduil wouldn't be fooled by any ruse his brother could invent. With a combat maneuver Glorfindel had shown him long ago, he broke Orophin's hold and lunged for the door. Orophin almost immediately tripped him up and tried to follow him to the floor, but Elladan rolled away at the last second and sprang back to his feet. The only problem was that Orophin now lay between him and the door, and Elladan had no choice but to back up against what were, he saw with black irony, the same stones next to which he'd recently held the Galadrim captive.
Orophin apparently appreciated the humour, for he smiled even more widely as he slowly rose to his feet. Elladan looked past him, frantically hoping to see Elrohir, but his cursed brother remained strangely absent. Orophin, looking like nothing so much as a large cat on the prowl, slowly approached, licking his lips in obvious anticipation. "Now, where were we?"
Thranduil rejoined the Eldar in Celeborn's private study with a satisfied smile on his face. A large book was in his hand, and Elrond glanced at it, noting the title with amusement. "Ten thousand Flora of the Golden Wood? I didn't know horticulture was a passion of yours, Thranduil."
The king shrugged and helped himself to wine. It was an excellent vintage, Ithil's Tears he thought it was called, which suited its strange, light blue colour. But it could not compare to the one served with dinner. That had been truly exceptional. "Oh, I have many interests," he replied, arching a brow at Elrond. Now? The master of Imladris smiled, and rose to meet him, curling an arm familiarly about his waist.
"Then I propose a little midnight walk through the woods. We can see how many of your book's examples we can find." The words were innocent enough, but the tone was not, and Thranduil hid a smile behind his wine glass.
"Excellent notion," he commented between sips, and, strangely enough, it actually sounded like one. He had become involved in this little farce because someone needed to take Celeborn down a peg or two, and with Elrond's help the odds of success were overwhelmingly in his favour. What he hadn't expected, however, was to be quite so . . . engaged by the prospect. Well, this might prove to be a rather stimulating evening after all, he thought, admiring the way the rubies so cleverly worked into Elrond's velvet robes caught the light, just as his companion's laughing dark eyes were doing. Strange that he had never noticed before just how attractive Elrond was. Others had long praised his beauty, but Thranduil had never been able to see it, until now. Suddenly, the prospect of a midnight stroll sounded enticing for more than one reason, and he practically pulled Elrond out the door, leaving a stunned looking Celeborn behind them.
Elladan had been trained by Glorfindel himself, and thus was no novice when it came to self-defense. However, the Galadrim before him was centuries older than he, and had much more experience--much of it in actual combat fighting off orc incursions into the Golden Wood. Orophin was also heavier and taller than he and, Elladan had to admit, had every reason to be seriously annoyed. This was not good.
Cursing his brother under his breath, Elladan decided that his only chance was action, as Orophin did not look amenable to listening to a long explanation of how this was really all Elrohir's fault. Elladan waited until Orophin was almost on him, then struck out with a feint to the right, followed by a fast lunge, low and to the left. All he needed was to get around him; with just a few seconds he could cross the large room and escape into the corridor. Orophin could hardly attack him in the hallways of the royal talan, leaving Elladan free to find his miserable excuse for a brother and deal out some much needed justice.
Unfortunately, Orophin was not fooled by his attempted ruse, and Elladan barely escaped being trapped a second time, hopping across the foot Orophin tried to hook about his ankle and spinning away, beginning to breath hard in rising panic. Orophin recovered almost immediately and came after him, arms spread and body crouched low, ready to shift to either side depending on his prey's movements. And that was what he felt like, Elladan thought wildly, some small animal being stalked by a master hunter. He threw himself to the side in a twisting, diving motion, hoping to catch the Galadrim off guard, but it didn't work. Orophin grabbed his arm as he passed, and wrestled him to the floor, his superior weight enabling him to counter every attempt Elladan made to break free.
Hunger and rage were at war on the face that loomed over him, but only for an instant. Then a calm mask slid into place and a small smile appeared on the handsome features. "Your family owes me," Orophin commented, almost casually as he settled himself astride Elladan's body. His thighs were tensed to prevent any escape attempts, while he gathered both Elladan's hands into one of his own and began searching around in his pocket for something. "I have had quite a week, thanks to you and that arrogant brother of yours, and I claim compensation. Care to speculate, pretty Peredhil, on what my price will be?"
Elladan had passed beyond panic at this point; when Orophin gave up his search and ripped his belt off to bind his captive's hands, he reached true terror. This just could not be happening to him. WHERE was Elrohir? Where was anyone? This was a public room, for Elbereth's sake--why was there no one looking for a late night book or scroll to read? And why was his treacherous body finding this whole scenario so terribly arousing? He briefly wondered if he'd drunk any of Deya's concoction by mistake, but was certain he had not. So what was wrong with him?
"I have heard tales of the prowess of Elladan of Imladris," Orophin murmured, winding the remaining material of the belt slowly about his hand and drawing Elladan towards him in the process. "I look forward to seeing if you deserve your reputation, cousin."
Celeborn watched Elrond and the king go with an odd feeling of loss. He should be relieved, he knew, for it was obvious that he was the last thing on either of their minds this night, so his fears of incipient revenge had obviously been unwarranted. Still, it was not relief he felt as he watched them leave, so obviously caught up in each other. Was this why they had wanted to be alone all afternoon--some new attraction he knew nothing about, instead of making plots and schemes? He supposed, now that he thought about it, that he had been a little vain to assume that two of the greatest living elves had nothing better to do than think of ways of torturing him.
He sat by the fire, drinking alone and feeling restless, nervous, and unsatisfied. He should just go to bed. Take a bath, get into more comfortable clothes than these stiff, formal robes, and perhaps read something . . . he picked up Thranduil's book, and idly flipped through it. He had commissioned it centuries ago, but had never actually read it. It looked to be as dry as he had always imagined, and he wondered what the king saw in it. Until, that is, a small paper fluttered out from between the pages and landed on the plush carpet at his feet. It was in Elrond's handwriting--Celeborn would recognize that elegant script anywhere--and after reading the few sentences on it, he began to turn slightly purple. Within a few seconds he was out of his rooms and rushing down the corridor, a murderous expression on his face. That they would dare . . . well, he thought grimly, beginning to track them through the woods he knew so well, we'll see about this.
Elladan had given up hope of rescue, and decided he would just have to deal with this himself. Orophin was bluffing. He would hardly take him unwilling--such was simply not done by the Eldar. Of course, Elladan acknowledged with a good deal of chagrin, his body seemed determined to enjoy this, making it difficult for him to claim genuine reluctance. It was that fact, more than anything else, which concerned him. He had wanted to know the truth about his reaction to the handsome Galadrim, and now that he did, he had no idea what to do about it. Well, he thought a second later when Orophin's lips touched his once more, perhaps he did have some notion . . .
The hunger he felt was matched in his captor's kiss, hot and bruising and violently satisfying. It was a completely new experience for someone who thought he had done it all. Elladan struggled against his bonds, not this time in an attempt to be free, but because he suddenly very much wanted to feel Orophin's tight muscles under his hands, wanted to find out what it took to pleasure the powerful creature on top of him. Perhaps his horizons could do with a bit of expanding, after all . . .
"Elladan! I'm so sorry I'm late, but I had to . . . "
Elrohir broke off as twin sets of angry eyes met his. "Do you mind, brother?" Elladan inquired haughtily. "We are rather busy here."
"But . . . but, don't you want . . . I mean, I said I'd rescue you . . . "
Orophin laughed, a rich rolling baritone, and Elladan felt like joining him. "When I need your help, LITTLE brother," he commented languidly, "I'll be sure to let you know. Make yourself useful and lock the door behind you, would you?" He turned back to Orophin, who was regarding him with wary amusement. "Now, I think you expressed some doubts about my reputation, cousin?"
Celeborn crept closer to the little glade, having spent a good deal of time and effort tracking the two wily Elda through the silent forest. They had certainly seemed to know where they were going, for despite his familiarity with the paths about Caras Galadhon, they had moved so swiftly that it had been a task to follow them. When he came to the tree line ringing the small open area, he only barely managed to avoid an outraged yelp. So, it had all been true. Erestor had been running some type of . . . school of perversion, under his very nose. His stunned gaze took in the various implements littering the field in awed disbelief; apparently Elrond's advisor did not believe in half measures. Well, he would put a stop to this first thing on the morrow, and have words both with his son-in-law and with Lord Erestor when that presumptuous elf returned. This might be normative in Imladris, but this was HIS realm and he certainly didn't intend to allow . . .
Celeborn's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the two Elda in the glade, who did not seem at all outraged by the equipment on display. Thranduil, in fact, was slowly spinning the great wheel as if it held some type of fascination for him, and eyeing Elrond speculatively. The master of Imladris merely laughed, his grey eyes sparkling in the starlight, which also sparked little flashes off the jewels worn by him and the king. Everything was tinted faintly blue under the night's veil, giving the whole scene a mystical, almost fey quality. Elrond said something, but his voice was pitched too low for Celeborn to catch the words, so he circled carefully around to a position closer to their stance near the far side of the glade.
"Haven't you ever had a fantasy?" Elrond was playing with some manacles that hung from a nearby tree limb, pushing them away and then catching them deftly on their return.
Thranduil shrugged, his eyes following the play of muscles in Elrond's back with what looked like extreme interest. "Oh, yes, but he'd never agree to it. You know Celeborn. All talk, but when it comes to action . . . "
"I still think we should have made the offer." Elrond looked pensive. 'As they say, nothing ventured . . . "
"I am telling you, he isn't that adventurous." Thranduil moved from his wheel to come behind Elrond, pulling the Elda into a tight embrace. "You and I, now, may rival him in age, but not in world-weariness. Unless I greatly mistake matters, you have not forgotten how to feel. And I can assure you that I have not."
Elrond smiled and relaxed back against Thranduil. "So, you're saying we should forget the fair Celeborn, and leave him to his wine and books and chill, lonesome bed?"
"Absolutely." Thranduil started to nuzzle Elrond's neck and the Elda did not seem to mind. Celeborn was furious, with the number of his provocations rising by the minute. It was bad enough that a haven of perversion had been erected within his borders, for instructing some of his people in who knew what twisted concepts, but now he was being dismissed as a doddering old fool who was not worthy of notice. Was that why Elrond had not bothered to come after him? Had he truly not considered Celeborn worthy of the effort? This was too much to be borne.
"So this is where you ran off to. Rather a strange place to seek out flora," Celeborn commented, emerging from the woods and masking his anger with a bantering tone. "Quite an interesting area. Strange, that I don't recall giving permission for it to be constructed." He halted by the wheel that had so fascinated Thranduil and ran a finger down its smooth surface. It must have been newly made, but care had apparently been taken to insure that no splinters marred its even, satiny surface.
"Ask him," Elrond said, ignoring his comment as he moved to stand on Celeborn's right. Thranduil came up along his left side. Being trapped between them was to be caught in a cross current of powerful energy, and it left Celeborn slightly giddy.
"He'll just say no," Thranduil replied, trailing a hand over the worked satin covering Celeborn's arm. "Positively no sense of adventure."
Celeborn repressed his steadily mounting outrage with extreme difficulty. He wished Thranduil would take his hand away. It was not a particularly familiar gesture, but was irritating nonetheless, spreading what felt like little paths of flame along his arm. Elbereth, and the elf wasn't even touching his bare skin! Celeborn closed his eyes and decided that, maybe, they were right. He really wasn't up to this. He had tried letting someone else take control recently and it had been a disaster. He preferred being in charge, yet he had made no preparations for tonight. Better to leave while he still could.
"I think you underestimate him," Elrond was saying, a smile of dubious origin playing about his mouth as his hand trailed up Celeborn's thigh to his groin. "He just takes a while to warm up."
A dark flush, whether of passion or anger Celeborn himself could not have said, spread across his face, looking vaguely blue in the twilight of the Lorien night. "Did you drug me?," he demanded abruptly, as his blood pounded through his veins and his arousal grew, despite all attempts to contain it.
Elrond laughed, his eyes dark and smouldering. "No, my dear Celeborn, I would not stoop so low. Unlike you, I do not need . . . extra help . . . with my seductions."
"You know, Elrond, his eyes do look a bit glazed," Thranduil commented, peering deeply into Celeborn's face. His proximity caused Celeborn's blood pressure to edge up another few notches. "Why just look. His pupils are positively enormous. One might almost think he was excited about something."
"Oh, he isn't really excited yet," Elrond whispered as, lazily possessive, he lifted Celeborn's wrist, noting the pulse rate with a little smile as he guided the hand slowly towards a manacle affixed to the wheel. Celeborn could have resisted, he had time, but somehow it was impossible to move. He felt like a puppet being manipulated by a master, or, more likely, by his body's own needs. "But," Elrond added, his voice suddenly rough, "I do assure you that he will be."
Elladan decided that the library was going to be his favourite room in Lorien from then on. He had really underestimated the potential of such areas, he thought, as he slid so deeply into Orophin that his stomach touched his back. Oh, he is good, Elladan thought, his hand straying beneath his lover to find him hard and needful, sliding against the velvety softness of the carpet hungrily. Taking him in hand, he squeezed gently, going on the instinctive assumption that Orophin would like to have done for him what his muscles were doing for Elladan, and by his reaction, it was the right move. Elladan was strangely pleased that he could bring such pleasure to another male, and not, he hoped, let his inexperience in such matters show.
He had been nervous at first, when Orophin had suddenly stood to rip off his tunic and leggings, then dropped to his knees to scrabble about obsessively in the pockets of his discarded clothes. Elladan had not immediately understood what it meant when he gave a triumphant cry and held up a small bottle, but when he began to drizzle its contents over his hand, he had figured it out. "If I had left this in the talan, I think I would kill myself," Orophin commented with feeling, and Elladan began to slowly back away. Maybe he had been a bit precipitate. It might be better to take things slow . . .
"Oh no, you don't." Orophin stopped his retreat by placing a shining knee on the hem of his robe, grinning at him wickedly as he tugged one handed at Elladan's tunic. "Get undressed and turn over, on your knees," he instructed, dipping his fingers again in the oil.
"I beg your pardon?" Elladan seriously wondered if the Galadrim had lost his mind. If anyone was going to do any taking around here, it would be him. "You're already undressed. It seems more logical for YOU to roll over."
"I'm not interested in logic," Orophin replied, at last succeeding in removing Elladan's too tight tunic. "I'm interested in you, on your knees, now." Somehow, using only his legs, the Galadrim managed to flip Elladan over, then began tugging down his leggings with his free hand.
"Now wait just a minute," Elladan began, before a well-slicked hand quested between his bared thighs, rubbing oil onto his skin, caressing his penis with practised ease and causing him to surge against him for an instant. "I, er, . . . ," Elladan suddenly found that he had forgotten whatever it was he intended to say.
"Up," Orophin commanded, nudging him, and Elladan followed orders, almost disbelieving that this was happening. More oil was rubbed between his cheeks before a finger was inserted, spreading him open and causing him to cry out from a combination of surprise and pleasure. A night for new experiences indeed . . .
"You're tight," Orophin breathed in wonder, "so very tight . . . ," he slid in another finger and scissored them lightly, causing the elf under him to have to repress a squeal. "Elladan," the voice in his ear sounded vaguely concerned, but Elladan couldn't concentrate on it, "You are sure you've done this before?"
"I think . . . I would know," Elladan replied breathlessly, thinking that his father's teachings on how to answer without actually saying anything were good for more than just diplomatic negotiations. Orophin seemed satisfied, becoming ambitious and adding yet another finger within only a minute or so. Surely, that couldn't be necessary, Elladan thought. How big was he anyway? He had his answer a second later, when an impossibly huge, hot length nudged his inner thigh. All right. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after . . . "By the Valar!," Elladan could barely believe it when, somehow, Orophin pierced him with one long, powerful thrust.
He almost blacked out from the combination of pain--more than he'd expected--and pleasure, when Orophin nudged something within him that sent stars spiraling behind his eyelids. The Galadrim gave him no time to try to decide which was greater before beginning deep, forceful thrusts and, after a few minutes, Elladan found the pain lessening while the pleasure grew in intensity. By the time Orophin finished and collapsed hard enough against him to send both of them sprawling to the floor, Elladan had decided that maybe this new hobby offered possibilities after all. After a few, dazed moments, he began feeling around on the carpet, hoping the little bottle had survived. He finally found it caught between two wrinkles in the velvet pile beneath him.
Clutching a handful of Orophin's hair, he rolled over on top of him, his warm breath tickling the Galadrim's ear as he commented, "Your turn."
Celeborn could not believe he'd been trapped so easily or in such a humiliating manner. Nude, he hung suspended from that evil wheel of Erestor's, as Elrond and Thranduil circled him, thoughtful expressions on their faces. Celeborn's mind was working overtime, but he could think of no way out of his current predicament. He was too proud to scream for help and be seen in such a manner by his guards, but it little mattered as this glade was too far away from the city to make rescue very likely in any case. The worse part was that he had come here on his own, although he fully realised now that he had been led by cunning, strategy, and manipulation.
What he couldn't understand was his body's reaction. Elrond had said that he had used no artificial means on him, and Celeborn could see no reason why he would lie, but it seemed impossible. He was even more affected than he had been by his lovely wife's potion, and he had wondered for a heart-stopping minute if that was what Elrond and Galadriel had discussed at Imladris--perhaps the recipe for that torment in a bottle had been passed over? But no, then the ring Elrond had almost immediately fitted him with would not be needed. Besides, the potion had not caused arousal, just made it impossible for it to fade or be relieved until the effects wore off. This burning, aching need that consumed him was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but every fiber of his being called out for surcease. He wished Elrond and the king would just get on with it.
"He seems a bit impatient," Thranduil said compassionately, allowing a finger to trail ever so gently around one of Celeborn's nipples. It felt like a path of fire followed his touch, so highly sensitized had Celeborn become. "We should do something to help him." Thranduil's idea of help unfortunately involved spinning him upside down and chuckling in apparent glee at the picture Celeborn made, helpless and spread out on the wheel.
"Oh, I agree," Elrond replied, sounding slightly breathless as he approached. Celeborn found it impossible any longer to see the faces of his tormentors, as his eyes were roughly on a line with their shins and his hair had fallen all over his face. He could certainly feel them, however, as two very different but equally talented sets of hands began doing strange things to him. Thranduil--and the tingle that followed his touch made it unmistakably that of the king--began at one manacled ankle and slid slowly over his calf, lingered on the delicate skin behind his knee long enough to tantalize, before sliding on to his inner thigh, which he kneaded roughly.
Elrond was more direct, immediately moving to fondle his testicles, caressing their velvety softness all too briefly before something that felt like leather was attached to them. Celeborn had no idea what this new sensation was, but he somehow didn't think it boded well for him. A second later and he knew it did not, as heavy weights pulled his balls away from his body, where they had drawn tight from arousal, stretching them mercilessly. "I like to start with the lighter weights," Elrond whispered in his ear, "and then move on." Celeborn could not repress a slight whimper. "Be silent!" Before he could promise to try to do so, a gag was slipped between his lips, the ball attached to it stopping any attempted sound. Celeborn couldn't understand why this was all so arousing. He didn't like this--had never liked the rougher play--but his body apparently did, as attested by the throbbing ache in his groin. The amount of blood that had rushed to his head caused a roaring in his ears but did not lessen his arousal at all, he noticed in irritation.
Thranduil had grown bored with his game and moved on to a new one. Celeborn had been too distracted by what Elrond was doing to notice until a light finger slid between his cheeks, stroking his opening gently. As Celeborn comforted himself with the thought that Thranduil could hardly do anything to him in his current position, something large was pressed between his thighs. He should have known, he thought in blind fury, as he tried to move away from it. That perverse, depraved, wicked elf would just have to have a dildo with him, and by the feel of it, the biggest in Arda! This was getting out of hand. He bucked as much as he was able, but his movements were slow and uncoordinated, although whether that was due to the extreme state of his arousal or to his restraints, he could not have said. In any case, his attempts were effectively useless, other than bringing a malicious smile to Thranduil's lips. However, the king did pause momentarily, hopefully to locate some lubricant.
Elrond, meanwhile, had moved on, bringing his twisted imagination into play in the form of a little rubber suction cup that he was lovingly applying all over Celeborn's skin. Wherever it rested, a mark resembling a love bite appeared. Celeborn was more concerned with the king's actions, and shifted enough hair out of his eyes that he could see the large jar he carried on his return. Unfortunately, he could also see the huge item dangling from his other hand, and began to squirm about in genuine terror. No. Absolutely not. There was no way that thing was . . .
"Celeborn seems a little agitated, Elrond," Thranduil said, his tone silky as he squatted down to get a better look at him. The movement of his robes against his body allowed Celeborn to see that he wasn't the only elf with an distinct arousal in the glade that evening. Thranduil gently removed the gag, and Celeborn gasped for air for a moment before the king's lips covered his in a searing kiss. It was a little strange, to be kissed upside down, but Thranduil managed it handily. "Did you want to say something?," he inquired when he finally broke away, just as Celeborn faced asphyxiation. "Or shall I just go on with what I was doing?" Celeborn was momentarily speechless, mostly from lack of air but also from the sight of the monster toy in Thranduil's hand. "Elrond, I think Celeborn wishes to say something," Thranduil offered, and Elrond squatted before his father-in-law, pushing more silver hair out of Celeborn's eyes as he did so. Beside him on the grass he placed a tool kit with a number of finely made needles in it, ranging in size from quite small to huge. Celeborn's eyes grew big at the sight and he gasped again. Thranduil looked pleased at the sound, a feral and sensuous smile spreading over his face. Elrond, however, scowled and reached for the gag.
"No!" Celeborn found his voice at last. "Release me."
"An order?" Thranduil looked, if possible, even more amused. "My dearest Lord Celeborn, you are in no position to issue commands, or hadn't you noticed?" He ran a finger along the length of the dildo sticking out of the grass beside him, and Celeborn gulped audibly. He hated both of them, he really did.
"It's too soon," Elrond told Thranduil, his gaze roving hungrily over the unmarked areas of his father-in-law's creamy skin. "Give me another fifteen minutes, and then we'll see."
"Wait!" Celeborn stopped him as he reached once more for the hated gag. "What would you have me say?"
Elrond regarded him contemptuously. "Oh, I don't know, Celeborn. What did you want to hear from me? I seem to remember something about wanting to hear me beg . . . although, I admit that my memory may be faulty. I was not exactly myself at the time, having been tortured for three days and then bewitched." His grey eyes snapped fire. "You know, Thranduil, I really think I need another fifteen minutes . . . at the very least."
Thranduil laughed. "I quite agree with you, Elrond, but I find myself in a bit of a quandary. I seem to have become rather . . . excited by all this. More than I had expected, actually, and although I would dearly love to watch you play some more, I do have a somewhat pressing need of my own to satisfy."
Elrond looked thoughtful, but Celeborn could tell he was tempted. "I will hardly be in the mood for much in another few minutes, Elrond," he added, hoping to swing the balance in his favour. Of course, that was a lie. In his current state, he couldn't imagine ever not being aroused again, but fortunately, Elrond didn't seem to notice the deception.
"You'll have to submit," Elrond told him, "and promise that this ridiculous one-upmanship ends here. Too much more of this and none of us will be in a fit state to rule anything. Besides, I promised your wife that, if she would take over for me in Imladris for a time, I would end this. I meant what I said. One way or the other, this ends tonight."
"Agreed." At that point, Celeborn would have acceded to almost anything. Apparently realising this, Elrond frowned at him. "Your word, Celeborn."
"All right, you have it! Now let me go!"
"Should we trust him?" Celeborn could barely believe that Elrond was asking this of Thranduil, whose word everyone in Arda knew better than to believe. However, the king came to his rescue in this case. "Oh, I think so. And if not, well," Thranduil smiled evilly, "I can always be persuaded to return for a second round."
"Fine. Then I will release you," Elrond informed Celeborn, snapping his little tool case shut with a look of regret on his face, "just as soon as you beg me." Celeborn quivered with outrage, but his position hardly allowed him another course of action. Elrond just squatted there, one eyebrow arched expectantly, as he waited for his father-in-law to accept the inevitable. "Or," he commented, after a few moments of tense silence, "I could do to you what you did to me, and leave you here, alone and unfulfilled, for some of your Galadrim to find in the morning."
The image this conjured up was enough to make Celeborn force himself to say the words. Anything was worth it that ended this torture and avoided a scenario like that. Elves had long memories--he would never live it down. "All right!" He gritted his teeth, but after a moment, continued. "Elrond, Thranduil, I beg you to release me."
"I don't think that sounded very sincere," Elrond said thoughtfully, but it must have satisfied Thranduil, who moved immediately to loosening the restraints.
"It was good enough," the king growled, as Celeborn, finally released from his fetters, collapsed bonelessly onto the cool grass. He was allowed no reprieve, however, as Thranduil's hands were immediately on him, spreading him and applying lubricant in rather excessive amounts.
"I was not aware that an order of precedent had been established," Elrond noted, amusement running through his tone as Celeborn's attempts to comment dissolved into incoherent moans.
Thranduil ignored him, too busy hiking up his robes and falling on top of Celeborn to reply. Celeborn suddenly found himself sandwiched between the two of them as Elrond moved under him, apparently deciding to show pity at last and remove that infernal ring. He then slowly drew Celeborn's neglected flesh into his warm mouth, and slid a practised tongue about him. At that moment, Celeborn forgave him everything. If he just kept doing that, for a year or two . . . He was so engrossed in the throes of his own passion that it barely registered when Thranduil slid fully into him, although he did pause to wonder why the king bothered with his toy. He seemed more than up to the task all on his own.
Celeborn pulled Elrond up for a lengthy kiss when he was satisfied, his tongue gliding against the roof of the Peredhil's mouth as he reached down to caress his impressive erection. Thranduil distracted him momentarily, biting down on the spot where Celeborn's neck and shoulder met and thrusting harder as he angled his strokes to hit his prostate. Realising that the king intended to take his time, Celeborn resorted to a new, more pleasant type of quid pro quo to relieve his son-in-law. Elrond, as always, tasted sweet--of spices and some, indefinable sunny flavour that reminded him of miruvor--as his mouth engulfed him. Elrond grasped his shoulders, sliding along Celeborn's sweat slicked skin as he came, just as Thranduil thrust massively against him from behind in his finish. After a moment, they collapsed into a sated pile, the glade still echoing with their cries. Celeborn thought, when his mind cleared enough to allow him to do so, that, all things considered, he could get used to late night strolls like this one.
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