(A sequel to 'Adaptation')
“Yes, I do.”
Elrohir trembled slightly at the words of acceptance, and Elladan felt a bit of the tension leave his own body. He knew the acts they pondered to be new and frightening for Elrohir as well, knew that his brother’s bravado came not from experience but from yearning. If Elrohir had shared such with another, Elladan would have known, would have been told in the same awed whispers with which they had confided their first fumbling encounters with maids.
Elladan knew, but he could not resist a moment’s teasing, perhaps in payment for his own earlier discomfort. “Do you know your way, or shall we call for a guide, then?”
“Elladan!”
“Well, you have never...”
“Nay, I have not,” Elrohir admitted. “But I believe I have some idea where things fit, tôren,” he added defensively, a rare blush coloring his cheeks.
Elladan relented, pulling his brother’s head down so that their lips met in a fleeting kiss. “Then I am sure we will muddle through,” he said, affection and a flicker of something warmer softening the amusement that sparkled in his eyes.
Elrohir chuckled in response, the familiar banter easing his anxiety, even though the subject of the jest was new. “I love you,” he said, resting his forehead against Elladan’s for a moment. “Always.”
Elladan nodded, understanding that the pronouncement had less to do with the heat that was once again rising between them than with the shared lifetime that lay behind it. “I know. And I love you.”
Then Elrohir lowered his head to nuzzle Elladan’s neck, his teeth marking tender skin, and words no longer had a place in their communion.
Later, lying in a complacent haze amid the twisted linens, Elrohir let his mind wander back, savoring again each breathless kiss, each tentative caress turned sure under the encouraging moans and murmurs that had filled the bedchamber. He licked his lips, tasting again the curious mix of salt and sweet that had flooded his mouth, and he shivered violently as his own voice echoed in his head, hoarse and pleading.
I want to come inside you...
Roused by the trembling, Elladan stretched, his pleasantly sore body protesting the movement, and his cheeks burned at the memory of cautiously probing fingers and a rush of white-hot fire, of surprising pain and exquisite pleasure. Then he felt again the indescribable joy of a soul halved at last made whole and his eyes fluttered open to meet Elrohir’s concerned gaze.
“’Dan? Are you...did I...are you well?”
Elladan blinked, the ghost of Elrohir’s earlier retort rising unbidden.
But I believe I have some idea where things fit, tôren.
Knowing Elrohir would think him addled, Elladan tightened his hold, hiding his grin against his brother’s chest. “I believe, ‘Roh,” he said, laughter bubbling in every word, “that you have it right.”