The New Amoureux

An author’s note:

 

Rated NC17 for explicit male/male sex, and implied violence.

 

A few terms for those not familiar with my work:


drow
– are a race of dark elves. They
are the epitome of evil. Females
rule supreme, and males are there only to serve them in whatever capacity
they desire.
Amoureux
– is the term the female drow use for their male love slaves.
the
games – a tournament in which a large number of male drow fight, while
spectators watch (and sometimes participate by throwing thing from their
seats, such as knives or daggers).
The winner is the single drow left alive. That drow can then request permission to join one of the
female’s group of Amoureux.


 

While these are the same characters that I have used in another
series, posted on FanFiction.net, called The Dark Drow, Life After Death and
The Light And The Darkness, I will stress that there is absolutely no
correlation between these two stories.
They are completely separate!
Anyone interested in reading more of my work on FanFiction.net, the link
to the first story is http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1540384

 

I love to hear from my readers, so please feel free to
e-mail me directly at anon_101_6@hotmail.com
or post a review.

 

Special thanks to BelasVoice for beta reading this for me, her work is greatly appreciated! And also to Nancing-Elf for whom I originally wrote the story for - it was all his idea...

 

I hope you enjoy, and happy reading! Cheers, Anon.

 

The New Amoureux

 

A huge smile lit his face.
He was finally here. Gillot
shifted his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and winced slightly as it
brushed his bruised shoulder. He had
fought well, and bravely today at the games, defeating all of the other
drow. He was tired, and elated at the
same time. He was alive. And he was now an Amoureux. He would no longer have to worry about
fighting to stay alive.

 

A drow looked up and saw him. “Put your stuff over there,” he pointed carelessly to the empty
bed. Gillot noticed the place was
packed with male drow, moving here, there and everywhere like a bunch of busy
bees. Gillot ignored them, and the idle
chatter that seemed to buzz in the air, as began to unpack his things.

 

He always wanted to be an Amoureux. And now, he was in the most famous house of
lovers, the one most sought after by female drow, for the head Amoureux of this
house was not a drow at all, but an elf.
Gillot was almost finished unpacking when he felt the blade on his
throat. His heart raced, as he mentally
began to think of ways to escape. It
was only then that he noticed it was silent in the room, that there was no one
there except him, and whoever stood behind him. Gillot had been so caught up in the relief and joy tnallnally be
here, that he ceased paying attention to his surroundings.

 

A white handle flashed in the torch light, and the hard,
cold steel pressed more firmly against his skin, as he felt in contrast, the
very hot body push against his from behind.
The warm breath fanned out against his cheek, and he heard a voice
whisper in his ear. “I’m going to fuck
you now,” it told him, “and you will do nothing. Nothing at all.”

 

Gillot felt a large, pulsing penis push into his butt. His first reaction was to pull away. Males did not touch other males. It was unheard of in drow society. The only thing males did were pleasure
females, or oneself, if they were discrete, and took the risk the of getting
caught. For females made sure that male
drow had as little power as possible, and that included over their own
body. The knife cut into his throat as
he moved, and Gillot stopped.

 

“It would be a shame to kill you, after you just survived
the games,” the voice said. “But I will
tolerate no disobedience in my house.
You will do what I tell you to.”

 

Gillot started to tremble as he felt the erection against
him again. He was not sure if it was
from fear or from desire, for despite what was happening to him, Gillot was
strangely aroused from this encounter.
He cleared his throat. “Alright,
whatever you say,” he whispered.

 

He prided himself on being a fierce and cunning
warrior. The fact that he found himself
thrown on the bed was disconcerting enough, but to find a pair of balls pressed
right up again his chin caught him totally off guard. He just stared at them for a moment, and a second was all the
time the figure on top of him needed.

 

Legolas moved himself down to the drow’s hips, as he took a
minute to observe the figure beneath him.
The female drow had captured the elf many long years ago, and made him
one of their Amoureux, for he was no good to them as a fighter. His skills, although very impressive by
human standards, were inferior to drow.
He worked hard at his new trade, and soon, he found himself in charge of
a large group of males. He prided
himself on teaching his males how best to pleasure a female. In fact, they frequently practiced on each
other. Although this was not allowed,
the female drow turned a blind eye to his activities simply because the results
they produced were so pleasurable.

 

Legolas let his eyes travel over the length of the
drow. Today’s lesson was about submission. In order to be a good lover, one first must
learn how to give oneself completely to another. Legolas twirled his knife in his hand, absentmindedly as he
watched the muscles in Gillot’s body tighten.

 

The elf was making him nervous with that blade. Gillot knew that he was a superior warrior,
that although the elf was lithe and lean, he was no match for his own brute
strength. Gillot moved his arms, only
to find that they were bound to the bed, by a thin silk scarf. Damn.
The elf must have done that when he was distracted by his balls.

 

Legolas smiled. “You
will not break those bonds,” he told the drow.
They both knew that he could in a moment if he wanted to. That was not the point of this
exercise. Gillot wanted to be an
Amoureux, so the elf would teach him exactly what that meant. Gillot started to quiver as Legolas moved
his knife lower, and lower. But somehow
he knew that the elf would not hurt him.
Indeed, it was as much anticipation of what he would do next that made
him shiver.

 

Legolas used the blade at his waist to cut into the fabric
of the drow’s breeches, narrowly missing an important part of Gillot’s
anatomy. He heard Gillot’s sharp
in-take of breath, but it only served to increase the enjoyment of this
game. In several smooth fluid
movements, he sliced Gillot’s shirt to rags.
Legolas dropped the knife carelessly to the floor. It landed with a soft thud. Next, he moved to Gillot’s ankles, and
removed the ruined cloth, as he ran his hands up the legs of his captive. He lingered on the drow’s hips, and saw
Gillot’s eyes widen. Then he did the
same to the tunic. His hands traveled
to Gillot’s throat, and for a moment he watched, as the blood fell freely from
the small cut he had made on the drow’s neck.
Legolas smiled, as he watched the red liquid stain the white of the
pillow. Blood was such a pretty
colour. Legolas lowered his mouth, and
began to drink the dark fluid.

 

Gillot started to breathe faster. He could not believe this elf was being so bold. He could not believe how incredibly turned
on he was by this treatment. Vaguely he
wondered when Legolas was going to bring in the female. Gillot had his share of members of the
opposite sex, but none that were high ranking in the city.

 

Gillot felt Legolas’ hands on his chest, tracing the outline
of his muscled body. When his master’s
fingers found his nipple and squeezed it hard, Gillot bit down on his lower
lip, to stifle a groan. Legolas moved
back, to sit between Gillot’s legs, as he ran his hands down and across the
rippled plane of his abdomen, to the downy curls between his legs, and lower
still, to cup his scrotum. Briefly,
fleetingly, like a soft breeze that caresses your cheek. Gillot’s penis started to become aroused,
not fully, as if he was unsure what his reaction to all of this should be. Gillot watched, fascinated, as Legolas took
one of his own fingers in his mouth, and began to suck.

 

He did not know why his mouth went dry at the sight. He knew he should not be enjoying this. That it was forbidden. Maybe he would enjoy it more, if he knew
what the elf had planned, but this was totally new for him.

 

Legolas removed his finger, and moved it between Gillot’s
legs. It was a shock, when that cold,
wet finger traced the opening of his body.
Gillot moved away, in surprise and fear, as he clenched his butt cheeks
tightly together, refusing the elf what he sought. “No, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Gillot cried desperately.

 

“You are mine, I w I will not be denied,” Legolas spat at
him, as he lunged forward, his mouth finding his nipple, and biting down hard.

 

Gillot cried out, his face contorted in pain, but soon it
eased, as Legolas started to lick the tortured nipple. Like a cat drinking milk, his pink tongue
darted in and out of his mouth, lapping at his skin. Gillot’s features took on a new look, and suddenly he no longer
cared what the elf did to As As if
sensing his acceptance, Legolas moved his hand to Gillot’s r thr thigh, and
spread his legs, the soft fabric of his tunic, brushed against his testicles. Gillot’s mouth parted slightly, as he
gasped for a breath. Legolas found his
original target, and with sure, deft strokes, he played with Gillot’s opening. He coueel eel Gillot growing harder and
harder against his arm, as he continued to touch him, without entering his
body.

 

Legolas moved his head lower, licking his way downward, as
he felt Gillot surrender to his touch.
The drow’sclescles moved, not away from him, but arching only slightly
into him, eager for more. Gillot made a
soft moaning sound, as Legolas lowered his mouth between his legs, and started
to lick his balls. Not, fast and
furious like he had done with his nipple, but slow and languid, taking his time
to make sure not a single spot was missed.
As he licked, his other hand moved to Gillot’s penis, his fingertips
light as a feather, gently caressing, teasing him.

 

He knew he was winning, and Legolas was satisfied. But it was one thing for Gillot to let him
touch him, it was yet another to yield to him enough to climax. “Let go, Gillot,” Legolas told him. “Give in to me.” Legolas licked his way up his shaft, which was standing erect and
proud. His tongue touched the tip, and
was pleased to find a salty bead of moisture there.

 

The elf’s long, blonde hair, draped across the new
Amoureux’s stomach, it’s silky softness teasing his skin. Gillot felt one of Legolas’ hands on the
base of his shaft, the other, reached to cup his testicles. That is when he felt himself being buried in
a warm, wet environment. He groaned
loudly, and arched into Legolas’ mouth.

 

The elf’s teeth dragged along his skin, as he took him as
far into his mouth as he could. He
could not fit entirely inside, so he massaged the rest of his penis with his
hand. Slowly, Legolas sucked, as he
pulled his mouth back, hallowing out his cheeks. He reached the tip, and gently nipped it with his pearly whites. He circled it with his tongue, again, and
again, until he drew it deep into his mouth once more.

 

The elf was torturing him, Gillot decided, for there was no
other sensation that he had ever felt thas sas so sweet, and at the same time
so painful. He wanted it to stop. He wanted more. He wanted it to last forever.
He did not know what he wanted, so he let instinct take over, he
surrendered himself to the awareness in his body and thrust into the elf. Again and again, the elf moved up and down
his shaft, his hands squeezing, teasing, tormenting him. He could take it no more.

 

Legolas took him deep in his throat and sucked hard. Then he drank. Ah, there was nothing better than the salty taste of another
male. It was better than the finest wine,
the sweetest juice, the purest water.
Only when the drow lay back, emptied and satisfied, did Legolas pull
back and stand beside him.

 

Gillot lay with his eyes closed, and a smile upon his
face. His body was bruised from the
fighting that morning, but at the same time it held a glow that could only come
from intense delight of the body.
Legolas undressed, his fingers trembling slightly. This drow was magnificently built, a fine
specimen. He was really going to enjoy
this.

 

Gillot was so relaxed, he did nothing as the elf rolled him
over, and pulled his butt up in the air, his legs curling under him. He just lay there, content to do
nothing. Until he felt a sharp pain,
unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Gillot let out a piercing yell, before a hand clamped over his
mouth.

 

“Be quiet!” Legolas
demanded. “Do you want every female in
the place to discover what we are doing?”
He did not trust the drow to be silent, so he kept his hand there as he
thrust inside him again. Oh, but he was
so tight, like a virgin. Actually, he
probably was in some sense of the word.

 

The pain receded leaving only pleasure in its wake. The elf’s hand was pressing against his
mouth and nose and Gillot was having trouble breathing. He feared he was going to pass out, so he
bit into the soft, tender, flesh that held him captive.

 

‘Ah, so the drow has spirit in him after all,’
Legolas thought, as he felt the pain in his hand. But it only served to increase the desire, as he pushed harder
into his conquest. It was only when he
felt the new Amoureux start to fall over, that he removed his hand. After all, the elf had proven that he was in
control of this situation and he did not want Gillot to lose consciousness.

 

Gillot gasped for air, and steadied himself. He felt Legolas pulled back, and slapped him
in the ass, before he plunged into him
again. Gillot felt himself grow hard
again. He did not think that he could
so soon, but it was all too good.

 

Legolas sensed the change in him, and continued to hit him
again and again. Thf hef heard Gillot’s
muffled cries, as he buried his face in a pillow, but he did not care at all
about the drow’s satctioction. This was
not about Gillot’s pleasure at all.
First it had been to make him surrender. Now it was all about Legolas taking what was owed to him, as head
Amoureux.

 

He reached with both hands around the drow’s ribs, and dug
in his fingernails leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Legolas could feel his own impending
release. He was so close. The drow was so tight. He thrust one more time, violently against
the drow, his face contorted and his mouth opened. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back in wild abandonment, his
long blonde hair falling like a curtain behind him. Legolas spilt into him.

 

As Legolas withdrew, Gillot straightened his legs flush onto
the bed. Legolas notice the wet spot
and was pleased. At least the drow
would not put up a fuss when he took him again, for there would be another
time. Legolas looked up to his face,
and saw Gillot was already asleep. He
ran his fingers along his head, through his hair, much like one would pet a
dog, for that was all he really was to Legolas. He smiled, as he released the scarf from his hands. The drow would make a good Amoureux.