Title: Lessons
Author: Khylaren
Contact: Khylaren@yahoo.com
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. No money is being made from this story; it is written purely for entertainment and pleasure.
Warnings: sexually explicit homoerotic (slash) content, light bondage
Cast: Erestor/OMC (Galathil)
Spoilers: None

Summary: A quiet night between Erestor and Galathil in Imladris. Lessons continue as Erestor learns what makes his lover burn.

Note: This was written for those who shamelessly begged, pleaded, and nagged for a bit more of Erestor and Galathil (you know who you are!). There’s not much plot here, so don’t go looking for any. 

Elvish:
Melethen = my love
Ernilen = my prince
Ernil vain = fair prince
Pen-velui = lovely one
Pen-vaelui = lustful one
Melon le = I love you
Melon le, bevae = I love you, too

< > < > < >

The elf knelt on the rug, the reddish orange glow from the fireplace casting shadows over his bare skin. His hands were bound behind him, thrusting his shoulders back at an exquisite angle that begged to be admired. A black, silken blindfold covered his eyes, leaving the lower half of his face exposed. His mouth was open, his breathing deep and even as he struggled to hold himself in perfect stillness. 

Erestor gazed at him with half-closed eyes; his expression could have been misconstrued as thoughtful, or even bored, if it was not for the heat in his dark eyes. His fingers drifted idly over the rim of his wineglass as he observed his lover, his Prince, waiting for some signal or movement in the carefully held tension in his lover’s frame. 

His eyes drifted over his lover’s body possessively, appreciatively, and hungrily; gliding over the sleek muscles, taut and gleaming in the firelight. Lower – the evidence of his Prince’s arousal, its occasional and uncontrollable twitches betraying his lover’s unspoken need. 

“Tell me your thoughts, Galathil,” Erestor demanded softly, watching the delicate and involuntary movements of his lover’s throat as he swallowed, his anxiousness apparent by the soft flicker of his tongue against his soft lips. 

“I-I…” His lover struggled to speak. “I do not know, my lord,” he whispered.

“Tell me what you are thinking. Right now.” Erestor sat up, his languid posture forgotten as he studied the elf before him. Lithe limbs trembled faintly before resuming their former stillness. 

“Hunger,” Galathil answered at last. “Desire. Need. I want you.”

Erestor nodded, smiling faintly. “How do you feel?”

Galathil licked his lips again, his voice trembling faintly as he answered, “Naked.”

“Hmm,” Erestor replied, chuckling softly. “You are naked, ernilen. What else?”

“I…I cannot…”

“What else?” Erestor’s soft voice sharpened. 

“Vulnerable,” Galathil whispered. “I feel vulnerable.”

Erestor smiled, rising gracefully from his chair. His black, velvet dressing robe slid slowly from his shoulders and he dropped it carelessly on the chair he had recently occupied. “Very good,” he crooned softly. “Very good. You are naked, and you are vulnerable.” 

He crossed the room in three, easy strides until he stood behind Galathil’s kneeling form.  “Tell me this, pen-velui,” he said softly, reaching up to pull the clips from his hair. “Do you like it?”  He ran his hands through the golden length of it, savoring the weight of it against his skin. Galathil shuddered lightly, a soft, needful moan escaping him. Erestor smiled, dropping gracefully to his knees behind the prince. He leaned forward, his own hair sliding forward with the movement and brushing against Galathil’s bound wrists. “Do you like it?” he whispered softly in his lover’s ear.

Galathil made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he answered.

Erestor’s lips pressed gently against the curve of Galathil’s ear. “Do you want me to take you this way?” he purred.  His question made his lover groan.

“Yes!”

His hands rested for a moment on Galathil’s shoulders, before sliding forward and down, his fingertips lightly brushing over his lover’s nipples. He lingered there for a moment, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch and another breathless moan escaped the Prince. Pressing his lips against the silky skin of Galathil’s shoulder, he moved one hand to his lover’s lips, while the other moved back to explore the warm cleft between his buttocks. 

“Where do you want it, ernilen,” he asked huskily. “Here?” His fingertips caressed his lover’s lips. “Or here?” A single finger circled Galathil’s entrance teasingly. 

Galathil moaned sweetly. “There, my lord. Please,” he added.

“As you wish, pen-vaelui,” Erestor replied, chuckling softly. 

He drizzled the warmed oil between Galathil’s buttocks, coating his own fingers as he did so. He poured a bit more into his palm and worked it into his hardened length, coating it generously with the slippery substance. He reached forward, his palm flattening against Galathil’s chest to support him as he pressed a single finger inside his lover’s body. 

Galathil rocked back against the intrusion, his breath leaving him in a low hiss of pleasure. He groaned softly as Erestor added a second finger, his body trembling with need. 

Erestor scissored his fingers within their tight prison, gently and carefully stretching his lover’s body. As Galathil’s body relaxed, he added a third finger, working them slowly in and out, deeper each time, until his fingertips brushed his mark.

A shuddering cry fell from Galathil’s lips, his body going taut with need. 

“Hmm,” Erestor purred, pressing his fingers deeper once more, searching for his mark and finding it with unerring accuracy. He paused for a moment, his fingers still buried deep inside his lover’s body, and reached for the oil again. He poured a generous amount over his remaining fingers before setting it aside. 

“How much can you take, melethen?” Erestor crooned softly, beginning to work his fingers once more inside their tight prison. “Can you take another?”

Galathil’s mouth was open, gasping for air as he shuddered helplessly. “Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

“Perhaps with a little help,” Erestor murmured, sliding his hand down until he grasped Galathil’s length in his fist. Slowly, he worked the length of flesh in his hand, even as he worked another finger into the tightness of his lover’s body. With all four fingers buried in Galathil’s velvet heat, he continued to stroke his lover’s length, pressing his fingers deeper a little more each time. 

A fine sweat glistened on Galathil’s bare flesh. His head fell back as he moaned shamelessly, thrusting his hips forward and back. Erestor did not think he had ever seen anything so beautifully wanton. His arousal throbbed almost painfully as he watched Galathil arch and flex, thrusting his length into Erestor’s hand and back against his fingers, taking them deeper. The sight of it almost undid him. 

Galathil’s breathing grew ragged, his groans taking a desperate edge as Erestor worked him. The lithe body tightened, the hard flesh beneath his fingers giving a warning pulse, before Galathil’s keening cry of release filled his ears. The heat around his fingers pulsed, and his lover shuddered in his arms, gasping as Erestor withdrew from his body. 

Erestor’s hand was slippery from Galathil’s seed as he pressed it against his lover’s chest once more. He placed the tip of his arousal against Galathil’s opening and slid into his well-prepared body in one, fluid thrust. He groaned, burying his face in his lover’s hair and inhaling his sweet scent. 

“Melon le, Galathil,” Erestor breathed softly.

“Melon le, bevae,” Galathil replied, leaning back against him. 

His thrusts were slow, angling for his mark as he drove his length deeper into Galathil’s heat. The Prince gave a low groan as Erestor’s hand drifted lower and grasped his re-awakened arousal. Galathil’s lithe body swayed slightly with the force of Erestor’s thrusts, and his groans grew more frequent as Erestor found his mark. 

Tight, velvet heat encased him, stroking him towards fulfillment as he thrust. He moaned softly, quickening his pace, drawing nearer to his peak each time he buried his length in Galathil’s body. His lover’s moans grew louder as his body tightened almost painfully, and he felt Galathil quiver in his arms. Warmth spilled over his hand as the Prince cried out his release, his head falling back against Erestor’s shoulder. 

With a low cry, Erestor thrust deeply one last time, burying himself to the root as he spilled his essence into Galathil’s willing heat. 

They stayed that way for several moments, locked together in the act of passion, until finally, Erestor withdrew his softening length. Placing a gentle kiss against Galathil’s temple, he reached down and untied the Prince’s wrists, rubbing the red-marked skin tenderly. 

Galathil smiled, pulling his hands away from Erestor’s grasp to remove his blindfold. Blue eyes blinked at him, coming slowly into focus. 

“You are well?” Erestor asked concernedly, reaching up to caress Galathil’s cheek. 

The Prince nodded. “Yes, melethen.” A faint blush graced his fair skin. “That was wonderful,” he whispered.

Erestor smiled, pressing a kiss against Galathil’s mouth, lingering on the softness of his lips. “It was at that,” he agreed finally, smiling down at his lover. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”  He rose to his feet, offering a hand to Galathil and helping the Prince rise as well. 

“Shall we have a bath before we retire?” Galathil asked playfully, glancing down at his body with a smirk. “I am rather sticky.”

Chuckling softly, Erestor nodded. “Yes, ernil vain. You most certainly are. As am I.”  He reached for his robes and paused when Galathil touched his arm.  He turned, looking at the Prince with a lifted eyebrow. “Yes?”

Galathil bit his lip and smiled sheepishly. “It is nothing,” he said, reaching for his own robes and pulling them about his body. 

Erestor folded his arms and looked at Galathil. “It is something. You can tell me, whatever it is, melethen. You should know this by know.”

Nodding, the Prince finished tying his robes closed and looked up at Erestor. “It is simply that I would like to…that is if you would permit me…”  His cheeks colored faintly once more. “I would like to have you that way,” he finished quickly, gesturing to the carpet where he had so recently knelt.

Both of Erestor’s eyebrows rose as he considered his lover’s request. A slow smile graced his lips as he nodded. “I think I would enjoy that, ernilen,” he whispered huskily, his eyes darkening once more in passion. “Very much, indeed.”

~Finis