Elladan’s fingers curled into the pillow, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on a single bead of sweat that rolled over passion-flushed skin. Entranced, he watched the gleaming droplet race down his brother’s neck, then trickle across Elrohir’s smoothly muscled chest to hang for a moment from a peaked nipple. The droplet shimmered in the dim light, trembling with the slow rise and fall of Elrohir’s body, then slid around the mithril piercing ring to drip almost reluctantly onto the sharp planes below.
Elladan followed its progress, his focus narrowed to the fierce ache coiling in his own belly and the bead of sweat that now meandered slowly across the ridges and valleys of Elrohir’s stomach, disappearing at last into the crease where groin met thigh. Forcing his eyes upward, Elladan found himself pinned by a midnight-dark gaze, heavy-lidded with pleasure but lit by a teasing glint, and a taunting voice sounded in his thoughts
Lose something, tôren?
Elrohir arched his back, the powerful muscles of his thighs rippling as he lifted himself, then fell swiftly, the altered angle drawing pleasured groans from both tormentor and victim. Elladan bucked beneath his brother’s weight, a snort of triumph escaping as Elrohir’s head fell back and a strangled whimper broke the rhythm of his harsh breathing.
Unclenching his stiff fingers from their hold on the pillow, Elladan reached out to grab Elrohir’s hips, but quickly found his wrists caught in a firm grip. His eyes narrowing, Elladan tugged half-heartedly against the restraining hands. “You do know that I hate you?” he rasped, twisting restlessly underneath his lover’s body.
A gentle smirk curled the corners of Elrohir’s mouth and he released Elladan’s wrists to press his own palms against his brother’s trembling hands, weaving their fingers together tightly.
“I do.”
