The Scriptorium

The two elves and the human staggered through the oak-paneled doors into a round, windowed room. All three were disheveled, bearing swollen lips and raw, red marks on their throats. Dark elven braids were pulled loose. Golden red hair was mussed and tangled. The man’s tunic was torn at the shoulder. One of the tall, elegant elves was without his boots and his bare toes slapped on the cold marble.

“From here, one has a spectacular view,” said the shoeless elf as he beckoned towards the circular windows that were built around the room. “From early morning until late evening, our scribes have the light of the sun to write by.”

Faramir glanced outside and saw the tops of trees far below him. The view, he had to admit, was spectacular. Then he glanced at the elves, identically seductive. He smiled a lopsided smile that conveyed more than appreciation for trees.  “Is that all this room is used for?”

Desks lined the perimeter with shelves situated in the center. The desks held inkwells and quills. The shelves held books and rolls of parchment, freshly scraped and ready for use.

“No one ever comes up here at night,” Elladan said as he eyes swept over the desks. “It’s not very comfortable--or practical--for leisure reading.”

Elrohir curled his toes against the floor. The desks were just about level with a tall man’s waist. He eyed Faramir. The man’s waist was just about level with the top of the desks. “I’m sure the desks could be used for other things besides writing,” he kicked out a stool and settled down upon it, facing the desk. Lightly, he patted the top of the desk.

“I think I may have been here before,” Faramir joked as he inched toward the elf. “It was far beneath the stone walls of Minas Tirith, but I do recall a table.”

“Hard wood,” Elladan stroked the maple desk with his long fingers. “I wonder how they would serve for…writhing?”

Faramir rubbed his chin. “Hmm.. I don’t know,” he moved toward Elrohir slowly, as if judging the height of the desk. “Do you think it’s too slanted?”

Elrohir reached out and placed his hands on Faramir’s hips and gently turned Faramir around so that he faced the desk. “Let’s see.”

Bending over at the waist, Faramir leaned forward against the desk, allowing the angle to support his body as the elf’s hands caressed his back and down over his bottom. He felt the heat from Elrohir’s palms beneath his clothes and his cock responded to the touch. He felt his breeches being slid over his hips and shifted so that the soft material fell down around his ankles. Warm lips touched his backside, kissing and nibbling softly on the hard mounds of his flesh.  Faramir reached out and curled his fingers around the edge of the desk as hands pulled him open so that cool air intimately touched him. He bit his lip as a lips touched his puckered opening and kissed him there, deeply and seductively. A tongue slipped inside him, wriggling beyond the muscular barrier, sliding deeper and deeper and Faramir’s knuckles whitened on the desk.

“Greedy elfling,” Elladan leaned over Faramir and brushed the long locks away from the man’s neck. He kissed the back of Faramir’s  neck before biting down hard enough to make the warrior whimper and leave teeth marks. “Always saving the best for yourself.”

Elrohir chuckled, sending vibrations throughout Faramir’s body. He withdrew his tongue and glanced at his brother. “That’s not true at all,” he pouted as he moved his hand down and cradled Faramir’s balls in his hand.

Faramir grunted as his balls were palmed and squeezed. He felt as is his skin was on fire. His loins ached with a sudden need that, had any one asked him earlier, he’d have sworn impossible. The elves, true to their word, had taken him--literally--in every room of the library until he was exhausted and boneless and ready to curl into a warm bed. Yet, he responded to their touches and caresses in ways he’d never responded to any other. He managed to lift his head. “I seem to recall something slightly different in the archives…”

“And in the reference room,” added Elrohir as he bent forward once more and placed his tongue inside Faramir’s opening so that his last word was muffled.

This time, Faramir rose up on his toes and keened. His rigid cock rubbed against the desk’s edge. “I think,” he panted as Elrohir’s tongue roughly thrust in and out of his opening, “the slant is perfect.”

“I don’t know about that,” Elladan tilted his head to one side. “Move, Elrohir.” He tugged playfully at his brother’s hair. “We must recheck the slant.”

Reluctantly Elrohir disengaged and stared up at his brother with a mischievous grin. “I’m sure you are correct, brother.” He got up from the stool and stepped away as Elladan unbutton his breeches and revealed his stiffened penis.

Elladan moved behind Faramir, taking Elrohir’s place. Holding his cock in one hand, he placed his other on the small of the man’s back.  “Breathe in, beautiful one.”

Faramir would never accustom himself to being called beautiful. The word, rolling as it did of the elven tongue, send a thrill through him that made him smile. As he felt the tip of Elladan’s cock push against his opening, he remembered to inhale. There was a sharp lancing pain followed by a feeling of fullness and the warrior relaxed against the invasion. His inner muscles flexed as the elf withdrew.

“Again, beautiful,” Elladan placed both hands on Faramir’s hips and thrust hard and deep.

With barely time to catch his breath, Faramir felt Elladan’s quick, brutal thrust that brushed against the inner nub and sent stars bursting behind his closed eyes. He cried out with the pleasure of it.

“I believe, brother, the slant is perfect,” Elladan dropped his head back as he thrust in and out of Faramir’s welcoming body.

“I believe it is more our guest who is perfect,” Elrohir responded as he leaned over Faramir and kissed the sweaty neck just below the hair line.

“I believe you have hit upon the truth of the matter,” Elladan gritted his teeth and curbed his lust. He withdrew from the Gondorian warrior and settled comfortable on the bench and wriggled his face between Faramir’s cheeks.

“I love being discussed as though I am an object,” Faramir mock grumbled as he felt the elf’s tongue swirling slowly around his swollen opening.

“No beautiful,” Elrohir answered, still kissing and nibbling at Faramir’s neck. “You are like a parchment where we have carved the words of our hearts.”

Elladan swiped his tongue over the place where Faramir’s buttock met his thigh. “From the moment we saw you in Minas Tirith, beautiful Faramir, we loved you.”

Twisting his head, Faramir tried to see the elf kneeling behind him. “Loved me?” He heard the incredulous echo in his voice and winced at how thin it sounded in his own ear.

Elrohir’s laugh ruffled the hair at Faramir’s nape. “Oh, yes, beautiful one. How could you not know?”

Faramir answered in a bewildered tone. “I just assumed.”

“Assumed you were an object to us, an amusement.” Elladan sank his teeth into the tender flesh causing Faramir genuine pain.

“Perhaps so,” Faramir admitted. “I never thought that you, either of you, as beautiful as you are…It simply never entered my mind.”

“Put it from your mind now,” Elrohir moved to stand beside his brother. “Let us show you, once more, how we feel about you.”

Before Faramir knew it, he was being turned over on to his back. He lay on the desktop with his legs supported by Elladan’s shoulders. Elrohir bent down and touched his lips to Faramir’s as Elladan thrust in once more. Faramir groaned into the kiss as he was again penetrated. Elladan began to move quickly, thrusting in and out, striking Faramir’s nub with every stroke while his brother grasped Faramir’s heavy cock and stroked it in time to his thrust. Sweat trickled over Faramir’s body and his skin flushed and his cries grew louder and more frenzied. Within moments, he arched up into Elrohir’s hand, but the elf clamped his fingers hard around the heavy shaft and Faramir growled and thrashed as he was denied release even as he felt Elladan’s essence spurting deep inside his body.

Elladan’s panting was loud and harsh and he moved shakily away from Faramir, clutching the table edge for support. Switching places with Elrohir,  he leaned down and captured the man’s lips with his own as his brother hoisted Faramir’s legs up once more. The puckered opening was primed, stretched, and ready for him and he entered smoothly. His brother’s essence coated Faramir’s inner passage, adding extra slickness to the already willing body. He held tightly to the warrior’s thighs as he began a feverish thrusting of his hips. He felt Faramir’s passage tighten around him, massaging his cock as it convulsed against the second invasion. He stared down as Elladan clasped the purple cock in his fist and pumped, milking it roughly.

Faramir reached over his head and clutched the desktop until his fingers were white. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open as he panted and moaned with every thrust and stroke. Fire raged through him and his body thrummed with painful tension. He felt his climax building, felt, too, the aftershocks of the climax denied to him. His hips lifted from the desk as he tried pull Elrohir deeper into him. The hot, slick palm on his cock set up a delicious friction that left him shaking and straining.

“Now, beautiful,” Elladan whispered into Faramir’s ear. “Give us what we want.”

And Faramir did. With a sharp cry he thrust once more into Elladan’s palm and his seed splattered over the closed fist and dripped onto the matted hairs of his belly. His inner muscles tightened involuntarily and squeezed Elrohir and the elf let out a harsh gasp and thrust his hips forward as far as he could as his seed pulsed into Faramir.

They all collapsed on the desk, breathing shallowly. Their sweat-soaked limbs entwined as they held each other for a long moment. The twins took turns kissing Faramir’s lips, chin, eyes, cheeks, and lastly, his mouth.

At last, Elladan looked up. “I cannot wait to show you the bathing pools….”