Chapter 2

“Well?” Legolas demanded, his eyes twinkling. “Why are we still dressed?”

Elladan chuckled against his lover’s neck, nipping the pale skin gently before pulling away with a grin. “Impatient, are we anor nín?” he teased. “What has happened to that much vaunted wood-elf restraint?”

“Indeed,” Elrohir purred, trailing his fingers fleetingly across Legolas’ stomach before hooking his thumbs under sodden black leather to tug at the prince's loosened leggings. “Anticipation sweetens everything, does it not, ‘Dan?”

“But I think you quite sweet enough, 'Roh,” Legolas retorted, pressing back mercilessly into Elrohir’s groin, a smile of pure triumph spreading across his face as an involuntary moan escaped the elf-knight.

Wrapping Elladan in an insistent embrace, Legolas pulled him close, wedging his own body firmly between the two strong forms. “And my well known restraint, el nín,” he breathed, nibbling sharply at his lover‘s lower lip, “was spent several moons ago.”

Elrohir dipped his head to lick wetly at Legolas’ ear, his teeth worrying the sensitive edge. His eyes fluttering, the prince relinquished his hold on Elladan’s lip to turn his head encouragingly.

Elladan gently extricated himself from the snug embrace and began tugging in earnest at Legolas' leggings, submerging himself completely to work the clinging leather free. Resurfacing with a victorious grin, he stripped off his own garment before moving toward his brother purposefully.

Elrohir sensed the movement behind and leaned comfortably against his twin’s chest, shuddering as nimble fingers made quick work of his leggings, reaching inside to stroke his hardening shaft firmly.

Take them off, tôren. I would see you.

With a final nip at one flushed ear, the elf-knight released Legolas and wriggled out of the offending leggings, which Elladan took immediately. One ebony eyebrow arched in question, Elrohir watched curiously as his brother tossed the dripping garments over a low-hanging branch, then hauled himself from the water to rummage in the pack that held their clean clothing.

Legolas stared avidly, a fiery ache lodging in his groin. Muscles flexed fluidly under pale skin as Elladan raised himself from the pool, the streaming length of his ebony hair clinging to his back, the ends dancing tauntingly at the swell of his buttocks. Groaning in frustration, the prince leaned back against Elrohir, watching in disbelief as Elladan stretched languidly, turning as if to flaunt every part of his body before slithering back into the water.

“You are cruel, el nín,” Legolas growled, reaching for Elladan, only to find himself held firmly against Elrohir’s hard chest, a tantalizing tongue moving over his ear once more.

Elladan successfully evaded the questing hands, a smug grin on his face as he opened the tin he had carried into the pool, dipping his fingers into the honey -thick oil soap before setting it carefully at the spring’s edge.

Rubbing his hands together, Elladan began to smooth the fragrant mixture across Legolas' chest, pausing to toy with both golden nipple rings before sliding his slippery hands under and over the prince's arms, then down his violently twitching stomach.

As the kneading hands reached his groin, Legolas drew a shaky breath, exhaling it in a hissing moan as his shaft was grasped in a slick, soapy hand. “’Dan...” he began warningly, his hoarse protest ending in a muffled shout as another hand moved to rub his sac gently.

“Aye, ’Las?” Elladan retorted teasingly, scooping up more soap before his slippery fingers plunged underwater, scooting enticingly over the prince’s bottom, then moving down the trembling legs.

Elladan rose from the water, then stood silent a moment, his midnight dark gaze fixed on Legolas’ face. Catching his lover's chin in one hand, Elladan claimed Legolas' mouth in a lingering kiss, his tongue making seductive promises as it thrust repeatedly into the inviting warmth. “Turn around,” he whispered, stepping back slightly, his hands already urging his lover to move.

Aroused as he was, Legolas still found himself rather annoyed by the seemingly preemptory command. Lifting one golden eyebrow, he resisted the gentle pressure on his shoulders. “Turn around?” he asked fretfully. “Just like that? Turn around?”

Grinning broadly at the chagrin on his lover’s face, Elladan dropped a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Aye, turn around,” he chuckled. “I need to wash your back, anor nín, and your hair. What else?”

Legolas flushed softly, casting a dark look at Elladan, but did as requested, the turn bringing him face to face with Elrohir. Shaking his head ruefully at the grin that twitched on the elf-knight’s lips, Legolas had to smile, also. “You are both hopeless,” he sighed, raising a hand to push back a strand of raven dark hair. “Hopeless, and dirty. Perhaps I should wash you, rohir nín, while I am being scrubbed?”

Without waiting for an answer, Legolas dipped his fingers into the soap tin, spreading the pale green mixture over his hands. “I shall smell like Imladris, as well,” he grinned, breathing the scent in deeply as he began slathering Elrohir’s body, his fingers firmly mapping the hard muscles.

The elf-knight hissed as the wandering hands slid around his back, soaping and kneading, forcing his body forward, and causing his aching erection to rub tantalizingly against the prince’s groin. A moment later, a hoarse oath burst from his mouth as slippery fingers stroked up and down his crease, then breached his body without warning.

“Language, ‘Roh...language,” Legolas chided teasingly, his emerald-dark eyes sparkling. “Raise your legs. I cannot stoop to wash them with ‘Dan’s hands in my hair.”

“Nearly done, ‘Las,” Elladan offered absently, his attention focused on untangling the soapy golden mane before him.

“Aye, then it will be your turn, el nín,” Legolas chuckled, firmly rubbing his soapy hands over Elrohir’s legs as they were lifted obediently. “Wet your hair, ‘Roh.”

“In charge now, are you, wood-elf?” Elrohir asked with mock affront, before sinking beneath the water to emerge a moment later with his back turned.

“It would seem so,” Legolas retorted cheekily as he ran his fingers slowly over his lover’s scalp, drawing a moan of appreciation, before gently pulling the soap through the silken ebony strands.

“Hold a minute, ‘Las, and rinse your hair,” Elladan broke in, stepping back to allow the prince to submerge, the now-clean golden tresses gleaming like sunlight in the clear water.

“Come over here, tôren, and I will help you scrub,” Elrohir offered with a grin as his hair was once again seized. “I seem to be unable to move.”

Elladan moved to stand in front of his brother, drawing a deep breath as strong hands moved over his shoulders, spreading the silky liquid higher and higher, until slick fingers were sweeping repeatedly over the tips of his ears. Forcing his eyes open against the pleasurable tingle, Elladan met a midnight- dark gaze.

You are wicked, rohir nín.

Perhaps. But I have scarce begun.

Reluctantly releasing his twin‘s ears, Elrohir asked, “May I move now, 'Las?”

“Aye, you can move now, “ Legolas said with a final swipe of his fingers through the slippery black locks. “Rinse your hair, 'Roh. And wet yours, ‘Dan.”

The prince bit back a grin as both twins plunged beneath the surface obediently, Elladan reappearing with his back turned expectantly. Lathering his hands once more, Legolas worked the sweet-smelling soap into his lover’s hair, then across his back, fingers digging pleasantly into the tight muscles.

“Valar, that feels good,” Elladan sighed, rolling his head from side to side before resting his forehead on Elrohir’s shoulder.

“I think you are melting him again, ‘Las,” Elrohir chuckled as he reached again for the soap tin. “Stand up, ‘Dan, so I can wash you before you flow away.”

Elladan stifled a groan as his brother began sliding soapy hands over his chest and arms, knowing fingers swirling around his peaked nipples and tugging gently on the piercing ring. The groan became a hiss as the hands traveled lower, causing his stomach to ripple and twitch as a thumb pressed teasingly into his navel. Whimpering in protest, he felt the teasing hands slide over his hips and down his legs, kneading the muscles deftly, but leaving his aching groin untouched. Slowly the wicked fingers traveled back up his legs, lingering behind his knees, and then on the sensitive skin inside his thighs...

Suddenly the hands were gone, and Elladan’s eyes flew open, a growl of warning sounding in his chest. “Rinse your hair, 'Dan,” Legolas said quietly, a smile playing on his lips as he urged his lover down into the water.

Moving away slightly, Legolas cast a smoldering gaze at Elrohir, and the elf -knight’s eyes widened as a thought brushed his mind.

Go ahead, melethron. I want to watch.

Elladan raised himself from the water to find his brother but a hand’s breadth away, lathering his hands again with a decidedly evil grin on his face.

I have not quite finished, hmm?

Elladan had little time to ponder the cryptic remark before his mouth was caught in a fierce kiss, the strength and insistence of his brother’s demand for dominance surprising and then overpowering him.

Even as his mouth was explored by a forceful tongue, Elladan felt a slick hand wrap suddenly around his throbbing length, the firm strokes forcing a moan from his throat. “Elbereth, ‘Roh,” he breathed as the voracious mouth made its way down his neck, nipping and sucking at the wet skin. “Please...”

“Please what, tôren?” Elrohir teased gently, rocking his hips forward against his brother. “Do you want me?”

Winding his hands in the elf-knight’s sodden hair, Elladan rested his forehead on his twin’s, gazing into Elrohir's passion darkened eyes.

Always, rohir nín.

Legolas watched breathlessly as the mirror images melded, arms and legs intertwined to pull their bodies together, mouths feeding hungrily on one another. He found himself mesmerized, as always, by what he felt certain to be the most erotic sight known to Elvendom. His twins, together.

As they had been seldom since the raiders left Mirkwood, the prince realized with a start, watching the twins scramble from the water to lie on the grassy bank. With little chance for intimacy, and no reliable privacy in the wild, there had been precious few fusings in the half-year just passed. Their hunger was well explained.

Lifting himself out of the water, Legolas stretched out in the soft grass near his completely oblivious lovers, watching transfixed as they writhed together, their movements perfectly attuned as Elrohir moved to lick and suckle his brother’s hardened flesh, his fingers - slick with his own fluids - gently stretching and opening Elladan.

The idea that he should be jealous or discomfitted by the twin-bond was now incomprehensible to the prince, and he wondered vaguely how such nonsense had ever concerned him. Instead, he felt an amazement that bordered on awe, tempered by no small amount of smug pride, that these exquisite beings - nay, this exquisite being - was his, to watch and touch as no other ever had.

Drawing his wandering attention back to the sight at hand, Legolas swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry as the twins rolled fluidly, and Elladan slithered down the elf-knight’s body, pausing to nibble and tug at pebbled nipples, then trace the corded stomach lightly with his tongue before lowering his head to lavishly wet his brother’s engorged member.

The prince took a shuddery breath, reaching instinctively to grasp his own aching shaft, and found his wrist caught suddenly in an iron grip. Looking up in surprise, he met Elladan’s coal black gaze.

Not yet. We would have you join with us.

Shivering slightly as he remembered the chaotic sensations of his last experience with their fusing, Legolas nodded and was immediately drawn into the tangle of pale limbs, Elrohir claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as Elladan’s insistent tongue lapped teasingly at his entrance, then pushed through suddenly, earning a sharp hiss from the prince.

A moment later, the hiss became a moan as slick fingers breached him, curling expertly to stroke him from within. Legolas pressed down on the retreating fingers, growling his displeasure as they left his body.

Licking and nipping a trail of red ovals up the Legolas' body, Elladan caught his mouth in a lingering kiss, then pulled back, arching one ebony eyebrow in unspoken question.

In answer, Legolas leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over each swollen mouth, then moved away slightly. Elladan rolled to his knees and elbows, arching into the air in graceful invitation as Elrohir moved above, entering him in one sure thrust which sent twinned groans into the trees. The silvery sheen began to spread almost immediately, curling around the joined forms until both shimmered luminously, and the prince thought surely the light must be visible in the raider’s camp.

I do not believe so, anor nín. The sun is still quite bright.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas moved toward the extended hands and slipped beneath Elladan, allowing the gentle warmth of the glow to settle over him, soothing his spirit with the comforting sense of completeness - of belonging - that emanated from his joined lovers.

The prince was confused when urged to his back, but understanding dawned quickly, and he lifted his legs, spreading them wide as Elladan pushed steadily forward, burying himself completely.

At once Legolas was caught up in the swirling sensations that had so overwhelmed him before. A maelstrom of pleasure bordering on pain rushed over him, and he felt the fierce ache pool in his groin as Elladan began to move carefully between his lovers, whimpering at the feeling of being both filled and sheathed, the sensations magnified twofold by the fusing.

Just when Legolas thought he must end it, or go mad, a hand wrapped firmly around his weeping length, stroking in perfect time to the increasingly forceful thrusts, and a voice echoed in his mind.

Let go, 'Las. Scream for me.

It was too much, and scream he did, letting go a keening wail as he spilled copiously, the iridescent fluid splashing hotly over Elladan’s stomach, as well. A single thrust later, a blended howl rang out as the twins released together, collapsing heavily on the exhausted prince.

Their movements perfectly synchronized, the twins dropped to either side of Legolas and snuggled tight against him, their legs comfortably tangled. “We need another bath,“ they chuckled drowsily, in stereo. “Later.“

The prince smiled and pressed a soft kiss to each forehead, his eyelids trying to close. “Aye,” he agreed with a sigh, giving in to the warm pull of sleep. “Later.”

*~*~*~*~*

anor nín - my sun
el nín - my star
tôren - my brother
rohir nín - my knight
melethron - lover