The man’s stare was blatantly appraising, anticipation gleaming in his muddy brown eyes as they roamed sharply chiseled features and leather covered muscles with equal fascination.
Elrohir sighed audibly, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. Elves were an uncommon sight at this squalid inn on the edge of the wild, though, in truth, he and Elladan had found themselves in the public room several times over the past few centuries. It seemed that each generation of mortals had to offend anew, instead of learning from the missteps of the past.
“We thank you for the information,” Elladan said with deceptive mildness, though the muscle in one cheek twitched ominously, “but as for your terms, we reject them utterly. We will manage without a guide, as we have often done.”
“No cause ta speak fer ‘im,” the man retorted unwisely, openly leering at Elrohir. “'E looks friendly enough...”
Before Elrohir could open his mouth to speak, his twin had interrupted the alcohol-fueled rambling.
“And if you so much as touch him,” Elladan said, his voice remaining politely conversational, “I will cut your heart out and feed it to the dogs. My brother is not for sale.”
The man’s face blanched, but he blustered on. “An’ yerself?”
Elladan’s lips quirked into a semblance of a smile for the first time since entering the tavern. “You cannot afford me, mortal.”
Draining his glass and rising to his feet, the elder twin indicated the door with an imperious toss of his head. “Come on, ‘Roh.”
Elrohir, bristling slightly at Elladan’s tone, followed his brother out of the inn without looking back, though he was alert for sounds of any trouble behind. He let out a sigh of relief as they gained the stable and mounted without ambush. Though Elrohir felt certain that he and Elladan were a match for any number of the ragtag group in the tavern, he had no wish to defend his honor in a barroom brawl if it could be avoided. “We were lucky to get out of there without incident, tôren,” he chided gently. “The man meant no real harm, and I do have a tongue of my own, you know.”
Elladan did not answer, instead nudging his horse into a slow trot as they headed out of the small village.
They rode in silence, and Elrohir could feel the roil and tumble of Elladan’s emotions, a thick slurry of anger and worry and building arousal that made his own stomach tighten in nervous expectation. They had been riding for less than an hour when Elladan veered off the trail and into a thick copse of trees, Elrohir’s mount following automatically. Sliding to the ground, Elladan untacked his horse and sent the animal off with a few quiet words.
Elrohir dismounted and slowly unburdened his own mount, watching Elladan warily. “’Dan?”
The name had scarce left his lips before Elrohir found himself pressed firmly against one of the massive tree trunks, his mouth claimed in a near-brutal kiss as insistent hands tugged purposefully at his clothing and the dark growl of Elladan’s thoughts invaded his head.
Mine. You are mine, tôr dithen. Always and only mine.
Elrohir shivered as Elladan’s mouth moved down his neck, and he shrugged obediently out of his shirt before pushing aside his brother’s fumbling fingers to make quick work of first Elladan’s lacings, and then his own. He turned and braced himself against the tree, his thoughts reaching out soothingly.
Yours, ‘Dan. Always yours.
The rough scratch of bark against his cheek was nothing compared to the fierce burn of the first forceful thrust. Elrohir cursed aloud, the oaths dissolving into a wail as Elladan’s teeth sank into the nape of his neck and a second thrust caused him to see stars, then he was lost in the pain-edged pleasure and the warmth of their soul’s fusing.
“I am sorry,” Elladan said much later, his fingers gingerly rubbing the abused skin at the base of Elrohir’s skull.
“No, you are not,” Elrohir drawled lazily, his head pillowed on Elladan’s chest. “Not really.” He pressed his lips to the skin beneath his cheek. “It is alright, anyway.”
“I am sorry I hurt you.”
Elrohir nodded without speaking. There was a moment’s silence, then he chuckled suddenly. “But really, tôren...cut his heart out and feed it to the dogs? Is that not a bit extreme?”
Elladan snorted. “He deserved worse. He looked at you as though you were hung meat.”
“At you, as well, ‘Dan. And I am able to defend myself, you know. Even if I cannot match your acerbic wit, I do have a tongue of my own that works quite adequately.”
Elladan grinned impishly, his fingers moving to stroke the tip of Elrohir’s ear. “So you keep saying, tôren. Care to prove it?”