Princes Three: Darkness Unforeseen

Chapter 7

Distracted by the heady scent of sandalwood, his attention

focused on the tantalizing slide of his own rough-woven sleep pants

over the velvet-soft towel that draped his lover’s backside,

Legolas was not immediately aware of Elladan’s discomfort. Only

when an involuntary hiss escaped the elder twin did he realize that

the body beneath him had tensed against the mattress. “’Dan?” he

said, his fingers stilling as a concerned frown furrowed his brow.

“Have I hurt you?”

“My neck is a bit tender,” Elladan admitted reluctantly,

steeling himself for another outburst as determined hands twisted

his hair, lifting the silken strands to fully bare the nape of his

neck. Though Elladan could not see the site, the burning ache

warned him of what must be visible there.

Legolas leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as the cause of his

lover’s pain became clear. Ugly red gouges were scattered over the

revealed skin, some faint, some quite deep and surrounded by the

dusky hue of fading bruises, but all of a pattern that left no

doubt as to their cause. The sight of the still-vivid imprints of

Elrohir’s teeth called up cruel images, and Legolas closed his

eyes, unsure if the visions were the elder twin’s memories or his

own imaginings. Drawing a deep breath, he forced back an

instinctive rush of anger.

Elladan had no need of more ranting and rage.

Instead, Legolas brushed the softest of kisses over the abused

skin before returning his attention to his lover’s oil-slick back,

sliding his palms firmly down Elladan’s spine, his thumbs slipping

beneath the towel to stroke lower still. A restless shifting

rewarded his efforts, and the prince settled his weight back

further on Elladan’s thighs, exposing more pale skin and hard

muscle to his exploring fingers.

The musky smell of rising desire mixed with the scent of

sandalwood and the brisk fragrance that clung to Elladan’s skin and

hair, sending a stab of anticipation directly to Legolas’ groin,

and he closed his eyes, resisting the urge to press his burgeoning

arousal against his lover. ‘This pleasure will have no price,’

he reminded himself, moving from his position astride Elladan’s

body.

Elladan raised his head as the weight lifted from his hips,

turning a darkened gaze on the prince. “You have finished, then?”

Legolas nodded. “With your back, I have. The tension has

eased, has it not?”

“In my shoulders, aye,” Elladan replied, a trace of humor

glimmering in his eyes. “Though it seems to have settled

elsewhere.”

“Shall I help you with that, as well?” Legolas asked, his tone

light, though he searched his lover’s face intently. “I am at your

service, el nín.”

“Aye,” Elladan whispered, and a curiously uncomfortable silence

fell over the chamber, broken at last by Legolas' wry chuckle.

“We have loved for centuries, ‘Dan, in all manner of place and

mood, yet here we sit like two newly met.”

Elladan rolled to his side, his eyes fixed on the open arches

and filtered sunlight beyond. “There has never been such a place

or mood as this, ‘Las.”

Legolas stretched out beside his lover, meeting the midnight-dark gaze soberly, all traces of mirth gone from his face. “It

would somehow be easier were we newly met, hmm?” he asked

quietly, raising one hand to push back a wayward ebony braid. “May

I hold you?”

Elladan nodded without speaking, pressing his face into the

curve of Legolas' neck as he was drawn into a snug embrace. The

softest of kisses touched his temple, and he shifted closer,

sighing with pleasure as gentle fingers began to move through his

hair, stroking from root to end in a near hypnotic motion.

The soft bulk of the towel between them was maddening, and

Legolas pulled it away cautiously, relieved when Elladan relaxed

against him, though the thin barrier of his own sleep pants

promised to be more frustrating still.

Nearly as frustrating as the enigma before him.

Though Elladan’s heart pounded as fiercely as his own, though

the elder twin nearly purred when stroking fingers brushed

sensitive ears, though a familiar hardness nudged his thigh,

Elladan made no overture, offered neither caress nor comment. Even

the lips against his neck were still. Legolas rubbed his cheek

absently against dark hair, struggling to reconcile the

aggressively dominant Elladan of memory with the responsive yet

utterly passive creature in his arms. To his surprise, Elladan’s

breath hitched at the unthinking touch and a rush of emotion that

seemed equally sorrow and relief echoed deep in the prince’s soul.

With it came a sudden understanding that brought tears to

Legolas’ eyes. Though there may have indeed been pleasure in the

rutting that had left Elladan so battered, it was pleasure forced

on him, dragged from him, and while the act may have been

consensual, it had left him starved for the simplest of

affectionate gestures, for the smallest hint of warmth.

I love you, ‘Dan.

The unexpected declaration rang in Elladan’s thoughts and he

lifted his head to meet mithril-rimmed emerald eyes.

“I love you,” Legolas repeated aloud, pressing a lingering kiss

to his lover’s lips.

Then he set about proving it.

The prince called upon every skill he had mastered in a

millennium of sexual exploits, but there were no teeth, no bruises,

none of the sultry taunting that so often colored their bed-play.

His touches were instead gentle, soothing, and he tempered them to

his lover’s response, conscious of every shift of Elladan’s body,

every unsuccessfully suppressed moan. Legolas paused in his

downward path when Elladan stiffened, then went on tentatively,

mapping the trembling muscles of Elladan’s stomach with an agile

tongue, forcing back a shout of triumph as uncertain hands tangled

in his hair, urging him lower. Elladan’s hips lifted reflexively

and Legolas accepted the unspoken invitation, taking his lover’s

straining shaft into his mouth in one quick movement.

Elladan groaned aloud, his back arching as he pushed further

into the obliging warmth, encouraged by Legolas' hands beneath him.

The mouth that devoured him was skilled, yet direct, moving with a

steady rhythm that drew him inexorably toward completion, but at

his own pace, neither hurrying nor delaying his release. There was

no implicit demand for surrender or subtle attempt at control -

only the comfortable giving and receiving of pleasure between

longtime lovers. Between equals.

He spilled with a quiet, shuddering moan, then lay boneless as

Legolas nuzzled and laved him, basking in the tenderness and

affection that he had so missed over the past weeks.

The prince stopped his attentions only when Elladan’s softening

length began to twitch, as though threatening new life. Sliding

up, he caught Elladan’s mouth in a languid kiss.

A sudden wave of melancholy washed over the elder twin, brought

on by the very warmth that so succored him. ‘This is how it

once was with ‘Roh.’

Legolas lifted his head and met the clouded grey gaze. “This is

how it will be with ‘Roh,” he said firmly, ignoring

Elladan’s surprise. “You have but lost your way, ‘Dan. You will

find one another again.”

“I love you,” Elladan said quietly, tucking a strand of pale

gold behind Legolas' ear. A shiver ran over the lithe form as his

fingers brushed the tip, and Elladan drew his hand down to toy with

the stretched laces of his lover’s sleep pants. There was a long

moment of silence, then Legolas opened his mouth to speak, only to

be silenced by a shake of the elder twin’s head. Elladan stared for

a moment into eyes emerald dark with simmering desire, then lifted

his head to press a gentle kiss to Legolas' lips.

Between equals.

The thought swirled again in Elladan’s mind, but with it this

time came the words that had so long eluded him. “Love me, ‘Las.”

Legolas was silent for what seemed eternity, his eyes searching

the elder twin’s face. “I do,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I know,” Elladan replied, his gaze never wavering. “Have me.

Please.”

The final plea, the glimpse of uncertainty, was more than

Legolas could bear. Slipping off his sleep pants, he pressed an

achingly tender kiss to his lover’s mouth, then moved down to rest

between Elladan’s open thighs. Here, too, bruises and bites

decorated the translucent skin, and the prince ran gentle fingers

over the fading marks before reaching for the oil.

The sensual smell of sandalwood filled the chamber again, and

Elladan drew a deep breath, willing himself to relax. He tensed at

the first touch, but was soon lulled by the soothing murmur of

Legolas’ voice and the gentleness of the hands that prepared him.

Then the vaguely uncomfortable pressure bloomed into a myriad of

lights and colors, and with a desperate groan he was pushing down

on the invading fingers.

Legolas slid up to lie atop his lover, settling easily into the

cradle of Elladan’s lifted hips. “Are you sure, ‘Dan?” he asked

soberly, brushing his mouth over kiss-swollen lips.

The rise of one ebony eyebrow reassured him more than any words.

“Are you?” Elladan retorted, arching up to rub their weeping

arousals together.

“I am,” the prince answered, eyes fixed on Elladan’s face as he

pushed slowly into his lover's body. Fully sheathed, Legolas

lowered himself, resting his forehead against Elladan's. “Love

you,” he whispered, then rose to his elbows and began moving in

slow, rocking thrusts.

Elladan gasped, his senses reeling under the many-layered

assault. His lover’s shaft stroked him inside, making colors never

seen dance before his open eyes. His own painfully hard arousal

was caught firmly between their bodies, kneaded and rolled again

and again by their rippling stomachs. The prince’s mouth wandered

from ear to ear, lapping and sucking at the tender tips. It was

nearly too much to bear and Elladan closed his eyes, letting the

sensations flow over him.

Legolas stared, mesmerized by the softly

flushed cheeks, the sweep of dark lashes, the play of expression

across the beloved face. Suddenly Elladan’s eyes flew open, wide

and bottomless, an emotion akin to panic shimmering in their

depths. For a brief moment Legolas paused, fearful that he had

somehow hurt his lover, then an increasingly insistent throbbing

against his stomach made the cause of Elladan’s restlessness clear.

This was the final hurdle. The ultimate surrender.

Slipping a hand between their bodies, Legolas wrapped his

lover’s swelling shaft in a firm grip, answering Elladan’s

distressed whimper with a rain of kisses. "'Tis alright,” he

soothed, his hand moving steadily on the slick column. “Let go,

‘Dan. Just let go. I will catch you.”

Elladan went rigid, spilling with a howl that Legolas quickly

muffled with a kiss. Legolas held on tightly, swallowing

his own groan of completion even as he coddled Elladan through what

seemed an almost cathartic climax.

When Elladan’s shuddering had faded to the occasional tremor,

Legolas eased from his lover’s body and pulled him into a snug

embrace. Neither spoke for a long while, each lost in his own

thoughts, until at last Elladan raised his head to press a

lingering kiss to the prince’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said

quietly.

Legolas looked down into clear grey eyes, a smile playing on his

lips. “For what, el nín?”

“For catching me.”

***********************

Elrond cast a last worried glance at his younger son. Tears

shimmered in clouded twilight eyes, but even more distressing was

Elrohir’s sudden pallor. “Are you sure you wish to stay?” Elrond

asked, reaching out to touch one too-pale cheek. “I can call for a

healer...”

“Aye, Ada, I am sure,” Elrohir said woodenly, moving to stand

beside his mother’s bed. “I will sit here with Nana.”

“Something has upset you, ‘Rohir,” his father prodded gently.

“Do you not wish to return to your chambers and...”

“Nay!”

The outburst was hoarse, a hint of hysteria clearly present.

Visibly collecting himself, Elrohir added more quietly, “I will

stay.”

“I will be as quick as I can,” Elrond promised as he turned

toward the hall. “You need but shout and there will be help

aplenty.”

Elrohir did not respond, waiting until his father left the

chamber to sink to the floor beside Celebrían’s cot. Reaching out

to touch her now warm hand, he let his tears fall at last, sobbing

out jumbled pleas for forgiveness among the flood of hurt and fear.

"I have ruined everything," he whispered hopelessly, burying his

face in the silken coverlet. "Forgive me, Nana. Forgive me, ‘Dan.

Please forgive me.”

The first gentle caress went nearly unnoticed, though it soothed

Elrohir’s anguish as nothing else, bringing with it an echo of

cocoa and rabbits and love unquestioned. The second stole his

breath, left him trembling with wary hope, and he lifted his head

slowly to find himself looking into warm grey eyes.

“Nana...”

*~*~*~*~*

el nín – my star