Chapter 13

The late afternoon sunlight that poured through the high, narrow openings in Glorfindel’s guest chamber found a worthy home. Meandering across the rumpled bed, it fell at last on shimmering yards of unbound golden hair that spilled over the dark green bed-coverings.

Glorfindel raised himself slightly, smiling down at his disheveled companion. Thranduil’s hair spread in glorious abandon over the pillows, its pale sunlit sheen a pleasing contrast to the Glorfindel’s own intensely golden tresses. The king’s creamy skin was marked with ovals of red and pale blue, his emerald eyes dark as the silken coverlet on which he lay.

"Lovely," Glorfindel murmured, brushing a soft kiss over swollen lips. "So very lovely." Raising a hand to Thranduil's face, he ran his fingers lightly over one angular cheekbone. "How do you wish it to be, my friend? I would have you, if you are willing."

Thranduil hesitated a moment, unease warring with desire. "Aye, Glorfindel, I am willing," he said at last. Rummaging in the drawer of the bed table, Glorfindel removed a small tub of creamy salve, flipping off the lid with a practiced hand. Thranduil arched one eyebrow, his lips twisting wryly. "Prepared for every contingency, are you?"

"Of course," Glorfindel retorted, amusement coloring his voice. Lowering his head to nuzzle his lover’s throat, he added, "That is the secret of my successful career."

"Which career would that be? Warrior or lover?" Thranduil teased breathlessly, arching up in invitation as the warm mouth left his neck, nipping and licking its way over his chest.

"Both," Glorfindel chuckled, before seizing one golden nipple ring in his teeth.

Thranduil hissed as the sharp tingles of sensation ran over his body, raising his hand reflexively to cradle the sunlit head that hovered over him. Giving the ring another tug, Glorfindel eyed his partner intently. "I had nearly forgotten these. Perhaps I should consider such an adornment for myself. It would seem they are more than merely attractive."

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed, loosing his grip on the golden hair as Glorfindel continued his descent. "I would be glad to accompany you to a piercing. And soothe you afterward."

"A promise worth much pain, melethron," Glorfindel purred, before engulfing his lover’s arousal in one quick movement.

Thranduil gasped harshly, pressing up into the slippery warmth, as gentle fingers worked the slick salve into his body. Glorfindel nearly forgot to breathe, so intent was he on preparing his lover. The tightness around his fingers seemed to speak directly to his groin, and he moaned reflexively around the shaft that filled his mouth, drawing an answering groan from Thranduil. "Please..."

Stilling his fingers, Glorfindel pulled himself back up, his sapphire-blue gaze darkened to near black as he studied the king’s face. Though a fine sheen of moisture covered the fair features, there seemed to be no echo of pain there. Curling his fingers purposefully, he brushed them over his lover’s most sensitive spot, causing Thranduil to growl.

The king reached for the tub of salve, scooping a generous amount onto his fingers. Holding Glorfindel’s darkened gaze with his own, he spread the slippery cream over his lover’s weeping erection. "Are you sure?" Glorfindel asked hoarsely, even as he moved atop, skin sliding intoxicatingly over skin.

"I am," Thranduil breathed, lifting his legs to encircle his partner’s waist. "Take me."

Positioning himself, Glorfindel began pushing slowly inside, watching the king’s face carefully. Thranduil remained silent, but was unable to hide the grimace that flickered across his face, and Glorfindel went still. Then, claiming Thranduil’s mouth in a distractingly fiery kiss, he pressed forward, burying himself in the silken heat in one slow movement. Fully sheathed, he remained motionless, murmuring soothingly as he nipped and licked at flushed ears, until the king moved impatiently against him. "Now?" Glorfindel whispered.

"Aye, now," Thranduil breathed, pressing up against his lover. "I am quite well."

"Good," Glorfindel purred, pulling back and thrusting cautiously forward again, a wave of relief washing over him as his lover gasped with pleasure rather than pain. Setting an gentle rhythm, he moved easily in the slick passage, shuddering as the tight muscle gripped him firmly with each thrust.

Eyes wide as he was immersed in the nearly-forgotten sensation, Thranduil rose to meet each movement, moaning involuntarily as he was stroked from within by the piercing length. "Glorfindel?" he hissed hoarsely, tightening his grip on his lover’s arms.

"Aye?" Glorfindel panted, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining the slow, easy thrusts.

"I will not break," Thranduil gasped. "Let go..harder...please."

Giving in with a groan, Glorfindel allowed his movements to escalate, drawing a pleasured sigh from his partner. "Like that...Elbereth...like that..." Thranduil moaned as his lover’s hand closed around his throbbing arousal, stroking in smooth rhythm with the pounding thrusts.

"Oh, Valar...oh...Glorfindel..." the king groaned, spilling over the caressing hand as tremors wracked his body. "Oh, Valar..." he repeated weakly, strengthening his hold as Glorfindel’s body tightened in the wake of his own completion.

Carefully withdrawing, Glorfindel dropped to the bed, pulling Thranduil into a warm embrace, holding the king snugly as their bodies slowly relaxed. "We have some time before dinner," Glorfindel said, absently stroking the tousled golden locks that lay draped across his chest.

"Aye, we do, indeed," Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss to his lover’s jaw, "and I would spend it resting with you."

***********************

Elrohir stretched languidly in the tub, sighing with relief as the steaming water eased his sore muscles. His first bout of training since the spider attack had been a rousing success, but his body was protesting violently following the extended exertion. This was, in fact, his second hot soak of the day, urged on him after dinner by a suspiciously cheerful Legolas, and prepared by a smirking Elladan. Something was definitely afoot.

Laying his head back comfortably, his unbound ebony hair floating around him like a silken web, Elrohir allowed his thoughts to wander freely. There was little point in pondering his lovers’ strange behavior. All would undoubtedly be revealed in time. ‘Just as Glorfindel’s afternoon activities were laid bare,’ he thought with a muffled snort.

Legolas had warned his lovers, of course, swearing them to secrecy before telling them of his inadvertent discovery in Thranduil’s study, as well as the resulting conversation with his father. Having some sense of Glorfindel’s history, the twins bore the news with surprising equanimity.

They had teased Legolas unmercifully with their insistence that he was now in the unusual, but enviable, position of being more experienced than his father, and was thus duty bound to share his expertise.

The prince, not at all amused, had declined.

Thranduil and Glorfindel had arrived together for dinner, their demeanor perfectly proper, but notable, nonetheless. What the Mirkwood elves made of their king’s sudden fondness for the Imladrian captain was open to supposition.

Elrond’s reaction was not. Raising an interrogative eyebrow as his friends entered the pavilion, the Peredhel lord’s keen eyes soon focused on the rapidly fading bites and bruises scattered over his captain’s neck, quickly finding their mates on Thranduil’s throat. Suppressing a snort with unusual difficulty, he had simply said, "Pleasant afternoon, Glorfindel?"

Elrohir chuckled quietly at the memory. Few could match Elrond’s ability to completely discomfit an elf with three words and an eyebrow. ‘Though ‘Dan may soon provide some competition...’

"Feeling better, rohir nín?" the subject of his latest musing asked with a grin, holding out a towel. "It is time to leave the bath, I believe."

Lifting himself easily, Elrohir stepped from the tub and reached for the towel. "Aye, much better," he answered, twisting the water from his hair before rubbing himself dry. "What are you up to, tôren?"

"Up to?" Elladan replied innocently, wrapping a dry towel around his twin snugly. "Why must I be ‘up to’ anything?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran his fingers carefully through the damp black tresses, removing the snarls before combing the silken length and beginning to braid.

"Well, ‘Dan, let me think," Elrohir retorted, both eyebrows rising in surprise at the continued coddling. "First, you fix this marvelous bath, when I have already soaked once today. Then, I hear quite a bit of muffled conversation and laughter emanating from the bedchamber while I bathe. And now, you are braiding my hair, an attention that is certainly appreciated, but unusual at this time of day."

"Come along, ‘Roh," Elladan said, ignoring the diatribe as he tied off a loose braid. "All finished in here."

"In here?" Elrohir parroted, allowing himself to be led from the bathing chamber. "Are you not finished with me, then?"

"Not nearly finished," Legolas broke in with a grin, gesturing toward the bed. "Sit down."

"Beg pardon?" Elrohir returned absently, his attention taken by the numerous lit candles that dotted the room, the turned back bed-coverings, and the enticing smell of incense rising from the fire-bowl.

"Sit. Down. On the bed," Elladan directed, as though talking to a particularly dense elfling. His eyes twinkling, he added, "’Tis not a difficult request."

Settling on the edge of the bed, Elrohir sat bemused as Legolas handed him a glass of miruvor, then pulled the heavy braid over his shoulder. Opening his mouth to question his lover, the elf-knight swallowed his inquiry as a stream of warmed oil ran across his back, and Elladan began to rub the stiff muscles.

"That feels so good, el nín," he groaned, dropping his head forward to rest against Legolas’ stomach.

"I am glad," Elladan murmured, moving his attentions to Elrohir’s upper arms. "Finish your drink, tôren, and put down the glass before you drop it."

Tossing back the remaining cordial, Elrohir sat his glass down on the bed table, allowing his head to settle against the prince once more. Stroking the obsidian hair lightly, Legolas met Elladan’s eyes, grinning wickedly. "Are you comfortable, ‘Roh?" he asked, shifting closer to the bed.

"Aye, quite comfortable," Elrohir answered, his breath grazing his lover’s bare skin. Wrapping his arms loosely around the legging-clad hips, he pressed a kiss to Legolas’ navel. "Quite incredibly comfortable."

Chuckling, Elladan tugged gently at his brother’s shoulders. "Lie down, rohir nín," he ordered, forestalling any questions with a swift kiss. "On your back."

Stretching out obediently, Elrohir yelped in surprise as each leg was seized suddenly, then massaged with long soothing strokes, the warm, oily hands climbing slowly toward his groin. "It would be nice to know what this is all in aid of," he ventured, his voice as calm as possible under the circumstances.

"This is all about making you feel better," Legolas answered, deftly stripping the elf-knight of his towel and running oiled hands over his lover’s bared stomach.

"Aye, it is, indeed," Elladan agreed, ceasing the massage to trail gentle fingers up his brother’s inner thigh, then over the soft sac under Elrohir's stiffening shaft. Lowering himself beside his twin, Elladan bent to nuzzle an ear teasingly. "It is your daydream, after all."

Elrohir inhaled sharply, understanding dawning. Turning his darkened gaze on Legolas, he spoke accusingly. "You told him."

"Of course I did," Legolas replied, a decidedly self-satisfied smirk crawling across his face. "It would be rather difficult to manage without him, as you pointed out yourself, ‘Roh."

Elladan sighed heavily, glaring at his lovers in mock reproach. "It is quite disconcerting to be referred to as ‘him,' as though I were not present."

Elrohir chuckled, raising a hand to his twin’s face. "My apologies, tôren. It was not meant as a slight. I am merely surprised at our wood-elf, carrying tales, as it were."

"Your wood-elf did so with only the best intent, rohir nín," Legolas retorted silkily, stretching himself alongside his lover.

"The information was greatly appreciated," Elladan said, flashing a wicked grin at the prince, "and amply rewarded."

"I take it that I am the victim of a well-considered plot, then?" Elrohir asked, one ebony eyebrow arching sharply upward.

"Aye, you are," Legolas agreed cheerfully. "There is little for you to do but enjoy it."

"Enjoy it, and lower your eyebrow, ‘Roh," Elladan amended with a smirk. "It is not imposing enough to be worth the effort, when you are bare...and oily."

"Elladan," the elf-knight began warningly, grabbing a handful of obsidian-dark hair to pull his twin closer, their noses nearly touching.

"Aye, Elrohir?" his captive returned, breath ghosting over Elrohir’s skin as identical dark grey gazes met and locked.

A slow smile spreading across his face, Elrohir purred, "It would please me greatly, tôren, were the two of you bare and oily, also."

Brushing a light kiss over his brother’s lips, Elladan rose wordlessly and stripped off his leggings, unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as the cool air caressed his heated skin. Catching Legolas’ emerald gaze, he smiled slightly.

Take them off, anor nín.

In a while, ‘Dan. I want to watch.

Aye, and I would see you. Now. Take them off.

Are you giving me orders, Peredhel?

Are you objecting, wood-elf?

Legolas chuckled suddenly, a grin breaking through his solemn mask. "Nay, el nín, I am not objecting." Standing to slip out of his leggings, he added, "Not to this order, at any cost." Dropping back to the bed, he leaned down and captured Elrohir’s mouth in a languid kiss, his tongue exploring lazily. As he pulled away, he nipped his lover’s lower lip sharply. "Entertain me, hmm, rohir nín?" he murmured, lapping soothingly at the abused flesh. "Make me burn."

Elrohir watched silently as Legolas curled comfortably at the head of the bed - golden hair pooling on the pillows, ivory skin aglow in the candlelight - before turning his midnight-dark gaze to Elladan. Elrohir extended a hand, his own lips curling slightly in an echo of his twin’s expression.

Come here, tôren, and love me.

Legolas watched, nearly breathless with anticipation, as Elladan lowered himself beside his brother, one leg possessively anchoring Elrohir to the mattress. The prince sat enthralled as the identical forms slid together, pale limbs tangling with increasing fervor as mouths nipped and lapped mercilessly.

Though he had become accustomed to the glow of his twins’ fusing, and the eerie unity of movement and voice afterward, Legolas still found himself as amazed by the eroticism of their bed-play as when he first witnessed it. The mirror images, moving in fluid concert, never failed to arouse him. Biting back a groan, he drew a shuddering breath as Elladan took Elrohir’s mithril nipple ring in his teeth, tugging gently before licking the sensitive peak soothingly. The elf-knight whimpered with pleasure, his fingers stroking and kneading his lover’s shoulders as the dark head moved to the unpierced nipple.

Elladan’s unbound hair fell forward, obscuring the prince’s view, as he slowly descended Elrohir’s body, a trail of reddened blotches in his wake. Fighting the urge to reach out and push back the offending tresses, Legolas was surprised nearly to speech when the elf-knight gathered the dark curtain and pushed it aside, as though for the prince’s benefit. Surprise turned to amazement as Elladan raised his head, pinning Legolas with a glittering glance before returning his attention to the writhing body beneath him. His own erection throbbing insistently, Legolas’ stomach tightened in sympathy when Elrohir howled as his aching shaft was licked teasingly, each stroke ending with a slurping swipe at the weeping tip.

"Sweet Eru, ‘Dan..." Elrohir gasped, clutching reflexively at the arm holding his hips immobile, "stop...please...enough..."

Raising himself slightly, Elladan slid up his lover’s body to press a smoky-sweet kiss to Elrohir's swollen lips. "Enough?"

"Aye, it is enough," Elrohir breathed, arching off the bed to grind his hips against his brother, causing twinned gasps as their engorged lengths rubbed together enticingly. "Take me."

Reaching blindly for the oil, Elladan encountered instead Legolas’ hand, which seized his wrist to stop the groping. Looking up in surprise, he smiled his thanks as a stream of warm oil hit his palm. Slicking his own straining length, he pressed oiled fingers into his lover's body, preparing him quickly.

Reaching out expectantly, Elrohir chuckled when Legolas stared at him blankly for a moment before pouring a generous puddle of oil into the waiting hand. "I nearly forgot, so involved was I in the entertainment," the prince said, smiling ruefully.

Elrohir closed his eyes briefly, a low growl escaping as he carefully drizzled oil over his own arousal. "Come closer, anor nín," he breathed. "I cannot reach you."

Moving to lie beside the elf-knight, Legolas found himself caught in a fierce kiss, his mouth explored aggressively as strong hands wandered over his body, slick fingers spreading his buttocks,stretching and oiling him. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pulled away slightly. Though he was no longer fearful of touching his twins while they were joined, even Elladan and Elrohir were unsure how contact would effect the fusing as it happened, and no one had yet gathered the courage to ask Elrond.

Pressing back against Elladan invitingly, Elrohir turned his head to meet his twin's passion-darkened gaze, impatience burning in his own eyes.

Now, el nín.

Aye, now.

Legolas remained stretched alongside his lovers, waiting with no small amount of apprehension. His own erection twitched almost painfully as he watched them, and he shuddered in anticipation as Elladan gently forced Elrohir’s top leg forward, then buried himself with one slow thrust.

As the silvery shimmer began to envelop the joined forms, the prince drew a deep breath, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to calm his racing pulse. Opening them a moment later, Legolas found himself staring into two pair of obsidian eyes as one voice echoed in his thoughts.

Has your mind changed, anor nín? ‘Tis alright.

"Nay, it has not," Legolas replied, moving into the reaching arms. Surrounded by the soft glow, Legolas sighed as a now- familiar warmth washed over his body, settling comfortingly in his soul. Pressing a lingering kiss to each swollen mouth, he turned and curled into Elrohir’s embrace rubbing temptingly against the elf-knight’s weeping length. "Have me, rohir nín."

A blended groan sounded, causing Legolas to shiver slightly as he pressed back, sheathing his lover in one steady movement, drawing a strangled cry from both of the twins. Gasping as waves of nearly unbearable sensation washed over him, Legolas found himself cradled snugly against Elrohir, a gentle hand stroking his hair soothingly, even as the body behind him trembled.

‘Tis alright ‘Las.

Please...too much...

Shhhh...’tis alright. Let me...

Legolas whimpered as four arms encircled him, anchoring him against the small, rocking thrusts that stroked him from within. He was barely aware of the harsh breathing and mingled moans behind, so focused was he on the fierce ache growing in his own groin. When one hand left his hip, sliding down to wrap firmly around his throbbing erection, he nearly sobbed with relief, spilling over the caressing hand with a keening cry. The added sensation pushed his lovers over the edge, twinned howls echoing in the near silence of the forest night.

Long moments later they separated reluctantly. Legolas slipped back between his lovers, smiling slightly as he was wrapped in arms and legs from each side, stereo sighs lulling him to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

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