Princes Three: Darkness Unforeseen

Chapter 10

The bedchamber, too, showed ample evidence of a thoughtful

presence. A small fire danced in the grate, providing both a hint

of warmth and a soft glow. Several candles burned on the bed

table, their light sparkling on the faceted surface of the oil vial

that sat nearby. The bed’s coverlet was turned back invitingly,

the deep blue of the sheets gleaming in the flickering light.

“Someone even remembered the color of the linens,” Elrohir

blurted out, his cheeks flushing nearly before the words had left

his mouth. “If the room was indeed meant to recall our majority

celebration,” he added hastily, casting a wary glance at Elladan.

“I think there is no doubt that it was intended to do just

that,” the elder twin replied, meeting Elrohir’s eyes briefly

before looking away.

“It was a thoughtful gesture,” Elrohir said quickly, trying to

fend off the tension and distance that once again seemed to be

growing between them. “Come sit, and I will comb your hair, if you

like.”

Elladan moved willingly enough to the bed, then stood still, his

fingers worrying the edge of the towel that wrapped his waist. “It

is damp,” he offered at last, looking uneasily at his brother.

A genuine smile touched Elrohir’s face. “That would be because

you have but recently left the bath,” he pointed out. His voice

softening, he said, “We long ago left fraternal modesty behind,

‘Dan. Take off the towel and sit down, ere your hair dries in its

tangles.”

Elladan reluctantly obliged, letting the towel fall before

sitting down hurriedly. Elrohir dropped his own towel and crawled

across the bed to kneel behind Elladan, running widespread fingers

through the damp length of his brother’s hair before beginning to

comb out the snarls carefully. The ritual calmed them both, easing the suffocating sense of

expectation that had fallen when they entered the bedchamber. The

rhythmic strokes lulled Elladan nearly into a stupor, and he sighed

regretfully when Elrohir pronounced the task complete, turning his

own back and holding out the comb expectantly. The elf-knight’s hair was soon free of tangles, as well, and

Elladan laid the comb aside, smoothing the silken strands with the

palm of his hand. Elrohir’s familiar scent filled his senses and,

without thinking, Elladan leaned forward and brushed his lips

against his brother’s neck.

Elrohir turned abruptly at the unexpected touch and Elladan

stuttered out an apology, only to be silenced by a kiss, tender and

chaste. “Are you sorry?” Elrohir asked softly, still so

close that his breath warmed Elladan’s skin.

“Nay,” the elder twin answered, staring as though mesmerized at

Elrohir’s mouth. “But I want to be. I should be.” Forcing

his eyes up to meet his brother’s questioning gaze, Elladan

whispered, “There is much still to be said, tôren.”

“Aye,” Elrohir agreed, raising one hand to cup Elladan’s cheek.

“There is. And it will be better said in the morning.”

Neither could later remember whose courage closed the scant

space that separated them, nor whose weight bore them down onto the

smooth sheets as tentative kisses and caresses became more

insistent, more demanding. Doubt and uncertainty faded as the

pull of their bond, long dormant, sprang to life. Tongues dueled

teasingly at first, but soon the struggle for dominance began in

earnest, bodies twisting, teeth nipping, muscles straining in

pursuit of a victory that seemed unattainable.

The deadlock was finally broken when Elladan managed to drag

himself atop, pinning Elrohir to the mattress with a grunt of

satisfaction. Breathing heavily, he seized his brother’s forearms

in an iron grip, forcing them down against the now rumpled sheets

before catching Elrohir’s mouth in a brutal kiss. A moment later Elladan's expression of triumph faded abruptly,

replaced by a look of horrified remorse. “Forgive me,” he

whispered hoarsely, his grip loosening as he started to move away.

“Valar, rohir nín, I am sorry. Forgive me...”

“No...please...” Elrohir gasped, wrapping Elladan’s legs with

his own, “do not let go.”

Stunned, Elladan glanced at Elrohir’s clenched hands then at his

own fingers, now curled loosely around his brother's wrists.

There was a pause that seemed endless before he found

his voice. “‘Roh,” he began. “I will not...”

“And I will not ask it of you,” Elrohir broke in. ”There has

been blood and pain enough of late. Just hold on, tôren.”

Slipping one hand from beneath the slack fingers, he reached up to

touch Elladan’s face, his voice now gently teasing. “Would you have

me beg, then?”

A gleam that had long been missing appeared in Elladan’s eyes.

“Would you beg?” he purred, pushing Elrohir’s arm back to

the mattress and guiding his brother’s unresisting hands to the

headboard.

Elrohir’s fingers curled around the wooden bars, his arms

flexing suddenly, testing the strength of his captor’s hold. When

Elladan’s grip tightened, a rakish grin lit Elrohir's face.

“I might be persuaded to a plea or two, aye,” he replied, rolling

his hips tauntingly. “With proper handling.”

Elladan laughed aloud and lowered his head to press a kiss to

his brother’s swollen mouth. “I have missed this so,” he murmured.

“I have missed you so. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Elrohir whispered, lifting his head to nip at

Elladan’s lower lip. “Get on with it.”

“Impatient?” Elladan asked with a grin, lowering himself

flush against Elrohir’s arching body. “Already?”

The elf-knight’s answer was lost in a plundering kiss, his words

stolen by the agile tongue that twisted and traced and sparred with

his own, sending a stab of heat to his groin with every thrust.

When Elladan’s mouth slid away, nipping and licking a path toward

one ear, Elrohir shuddered in anticipation, turning his head

obligingly. Elladan bit down gently on the sensitive tip, his lips curling

in a triumphant smirk as a soft moan escaped his victim. Sucking

lazily at the abused ear brought forth another moan, slightly

louder. “Such a beautiful sound,” Elladan murmured, lifting his

head to meet Elrohir’s darkened eyes. “But not yet a plea.”

“Nay, definitely not,” Elrohir retorted cheekily, though his

voice was sluggish with pleasure. “You must do better than that,

‘Dan.”

Elladan smiled, but did not answer, instead bending to press his

teeth against his brother’s throat, scoring tender flesh, before

suckling a vivid bluish-purple bruise on the pale skin. Leaving

his mark with a last soothing lick, Elladan laid a trail of wet

kisses from throat to abdomen, stopping for a moment to toy with

Elrohir’s nipple ring, then nibbled playfully at his

flinching stomach, stabbing at his navel with an insistent tongue.

Elrohir forced back a whimper when Elladan’s teeth closed on his

neck, and he tightened his hold on the headboard as he felt the

blood pool beneath his skin. The warm mouth vanished for a second

and then returned, wandering over his chest and stomach as though

at random, tugging idly at the mithril ring that pierced his nipple

before descending to his navel.

A yelp that Elrohir could not contain rang out at the first

plunge of Elladan’s tongue, and the elder twin chuckled, allowing

himself a few more sharp jabs before pulling away to look up

Elrohir’s body. The elf-knight’s knuckles were whitened as he

gripped the wooden spindles, his chest heaved with suppressed

cries, but his jaw was still set defiantly. “Not yet ready to beg,

melethron?” Elladan taunted hoarsely, his own eyes dark with

wanting.

“Nay,” Elrohir croaked, biting back a groan as his legs were

spread wide and the wicked mouth returned, sliding quickly downward

to lap briefly at the base of his straining shaft before moving to

nibble at the soft skin of his inner thighs.

“Now?” Elladan rasped. Elrohir shook his head frantically, but

his denial ended in a wordless howl when Elladan’s tongue trailed

gently across the tender sac beneath his arousal.

A litany of pleas and curses fell from Elrohir’s lips, both game

and pride forgotten in his need. His legs tightened reflexively

around Elladan’s shoulders and the elder twin wriggled free, one

hand fumbling blindly for the oil vial as he moved up to press a

desperate kiss to Elrohir’s mouth.

The elf-knight released the headboard and caught Elladan’s arm,

breaking away from the forceful kiss. “No oil,” he gasped. “I want

to feel it all.”

A shadow of concern flickered in Elladan’s eyes. “It has been

too long. You do not have to...”

Elrohir cut him off firmly. “This is not about guilt, nor

penance, el nín. I would have it as it has always been.”

Elladan searched his brother’s face intently and nodded, then

slid quickly back down, plunging his tongue into Elrohir’s body

without further warning. A wail echoed off the thick walls and

strong hands fisted his hair, tugging insistently. Elladan caught

Elrohir’s wrists. “I will not risk harming you,” he said

flatly, though his unsteady voice betrayed his own yearning. “Now

release me.”

Elrohir reluctantly removed his fingers from his brother’s hair,

grasping at Elladan’s hands instead. The elder twin returned the

grip, his own fingers tightening as the scent and taste and sounds

he had so long been denied threatened to shatter his precarious

control.

For Elrohir, the seconds slowed to a crawl, his attention

focused on the wet slap and thrust of Elladan’s tongue. After what seemed hours, the tortuous pleasure ended abruptly

and he groaned in protest, then shuddered with

anticipation when Elladan’s body settled over his own, the

comforting weight pressing him into the mattress as his legs

wrapped reflexively around his brother’s waist.

Their bodies molded one to the other as though their rift had

never been, yet Elladan paused uncertainly, want and dread warring

in his eyes. What if...

Then we will face it, tôren. Together.

The answer to the unspoken question flitted through Elladan’s

mind, and Elrohir raised his head to press a tender kiss to his

brother’s mouth. “We will face it together,” he repeated aloud.

“Now love me.”

Always.

Elrohir smiled as the familiar assurance brushed his thoughts,

then his eyelids fluttered against the pain-tinged pleasure as

Elladan pushed forward slowly, not pausing until he was buried deep

inside his brother’s body. Panting raggedly, Elladan pressed his

face into Elrohir’s neck, torn between the excruciating pleasure

and his rapidly mounting fear. Then gentle hands were tangling in

his hair, stroking his back, as the elf-knight’s breath tickled his

ear.

“Relax, ‘Dan,” Elrohir whispered, his fingers slipping under the

damp ebony tresses to rub the nape of Elladan’s neck soothingly.

“Let me in.”

His tension easing under the spell of Elrohir’s touch and

nonsensical murmuring, Elladan slowly became aware of a tingling

warmth that he had thought lost forever and raised his head to find

the faint silvery shimmer spreading over their joined bodies.

Tears streaked down his cheeks to drip unnoticed onto Elrohir’s

face, blending freely with the elf-knight’s own, which fell from

darkened eyes that now sparkled with the light of their soul’s

fusing. Hurt and guilt and anger swirled together, then

disappeared, lost in a swell of forgiveness at once triumphant and

tinged with grief.

The fierce urgency of their joining receded and they lay

unmoving for long moments, savoring the wholeness that had so

recently seemed out of reach, bodies and minds tangled comfortably

together. When at last they began to move, the aching pleasure too

acute to ignore, the end came swiftly, twinned cries shattering the

chamber’s quiet as both bodies arched in unison and then collapsed

limply, still cuddled tightly in a vain attempt to stave off the

separation and, with it, the sundering of their soul.

Elladan stretched up to snuff the candles, elation giving way to

exhaustion as his thoughts and movements once again became his own.

“Have I hurt you?” he mumbled, opening his arms as Elrohir

snuggled back, fitting himself to the curve of his brother’s body.

The elf-knight did not immediately reply, pondering the

question’s many possible answers before settling on the one that

had served him well over the millennia. “No,” Elrohir said, his

eyes closing as he clasped Elladan’s hand firmly between his own.

“No, you have not.”

*~*~*~*~*