JRR Tolkien - Sons of Elrond - prompt 43
*Title: Boundary
*Author: Minuial Nuwing
*Contact: minuial_nuwing@yahoo.com
*Update list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/first_light_reflected/
*Fandom: JRR Tolkien
*Characters: Elladan/Elrohir
*Type: FPS
*Warnings: twincest, references to consensual rough play
*Rating: R, for implications
*Prompt: 43 - My lord, you called me. I come.
*Word Count: 400
*Summary: Elrohir draws a line.
*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.
AN: A quad-drabble for ainisarie, who wanted twin slash. I am not quite sure I delivered, and I must say this is a bit off the usual road. At first, I thought maybe it was an early glimpse of those disturbingly dysfunctional twins who show up every now and again, but I have decided it is probably just Elrohir being, well, ‘Roh. You will have to decide for yourself. **grin** Hope you enjoy it, sweetie!
Boundary
“My lord, you called me. I come.”
Elrohir’s voice was pure sex, despite the demure dip of his head and the pristine whiteness of the thin night robe he had belted loosely around his waist. By the wicked gleam in his eyes, he was well aware of the fact, too.
‘Damn right you will,’ Elladan thought moodily. Elrohir’s ability to slip effortlessly into a character so at odds with his usual brash cheerfulness both intrigued and disturbed Elladan, whose role in their increasingly adventurous games was far more predictable. “Undress me,” Elladan ordered, rising to his feet.
Elrohir’s nimble fingers made quick work of the intricate clasps that closed his brother’s formal robes, and he pushed the fabric off Elladan’s shoulders before cocking his head questioningly.
“Let it fall.”
The heavily woven silk hit the floor with a soft hiss, forming a pool of midnight blue at their feet, and Elrohir trailed his fingers over Elladan’s chest and stomach to reach the lacings of the thin grey leggings that had been hidden beneath the robes.
“Teeth,” Elladan rasped. “Use your teeth.”
Elrohir dropped soundlessly to his knees and pressed his cheek to the tautly stretched cording before catching one end between his teeth and tugging purposefully. The top of his head brushed his twin’s stomach, causing it to twitch and quiver, and Elladan inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on Elrohir’s shoulders. “”Stop,” he commanded hoarsely. “Remove your robe.” The white robe melted away as if by magic, and Elladan swallowed convulsively. “You may continue.”
As his leggings opened bit by bit under Elrohir’s clever mouth, Elladan stared down at the silken fall of his brother’s hair, mesmerized as the sliding strands first revealed and then hid again the fading bites and bruises, the fine red tracings that were the nearly invisible remains of the last night spent playing at pain.
How far, he wondered, was too far?
He thought of the locked trunk, with its jumble of mithril and leather and smooth stone toys that had once seemed so threatening and were now commonplace. Then, unbidden, unwelcome, his mind conjured up images of a finely woven riding crop and the smooth expanse of his brother’s back, decorated with perfectly placed welts...
A sharp nip to tender skin brought Elladan suddenly back to the present.
“Don’t,” Elrohir said distinctly, “even think about it.”
*~*~*~*~*