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Knowledge Not In Any Book
Author: Kenaz
Beta: none
Email: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Elrond/Erestor
Warnings: PWP. This story has no plot, nor does it wish to have one.
Request: First time, forceful seduction, but not rape!
Written For: Darkladyd
�I am most flattered, Lindir, but I am afraid I must decline. I have work which will wait for no feast.�
There. That left no room for argument, was kind yet firm but allowed for no wheedling. It had not gone quite so smoothly a few days earlier when Melpomaen had asked to accompany him to the Midwinter feast. He had been caught unawares and it had required the utmost diplomacy to wriggle out of the invitation without hurting the scribe�s feelings. He had felt guilty relief when he later heard another elf had accepted Melpomaen�s invitation.
Once the bard departed-- rather downtrodden-- from the bright, sun-lit reading room, Erestor returned to his work. Lord Elrond sat at his own desk, eyeing him with open curiosity. The depth of his gaze was more than slightly discomfiting, and Erestor felt as if he were being appraised. Those keen grey eyes bored through his robes and heated the skin of his back. It was patently unnerving.
�Tell me, Erestor,� the Lord of Imladris began in his lilting tone, lips twitching wryly as he took in the instantaneous stiffening of Erestor�s shoulders, �I have watched you decline, with varying degrees of grace, two separate invitations to our Midwinter festivities. Melpomaen and Lindir are both well-favored, and most certainly genial. Is there perhaps another invitation you are waiting for, or do you intend to abstain from celebration altogether?�
Erestor blushed uncomfortably. �I will attend the festivities. I simply prefer to attend alone.� He inwardly winced. It sounded aloof and arrogant when he heard himself say it, and worse, he could have sworn Lord Elrond was stifling a grin as he apprehended Erestor's response.
�Why, in a time of revelry, do you prefer to remain aloof? The winter has been long and cold, and the return of the sun is a time to recall its absent heat by kindling warmth with others. Is it, perhaps, that you have no such experience in these matters?�
The hot and uncontrollable rush of blood to his cheeks rankled him. Was it possible for one�s superior to pose an impertinent question? If so, asking after his councilor�s bed habits was certainly it! At the very least it bordered on the inappropriate, Erestor sniffed. And it was most certainly irrelevant. True, of course, but irrelevant all the same!
Erestor was indeed untried. Not through lack of options; Imladris offered a veritable feast for the senses, and companionship to appeal to every taste, from the buxom Galadhrim handmaidens Celebrian had plucked from Lorien to the raven-tressed Noldor warriors, from lithe seamstresses to brawny blacksmiths, every variation of elf-kind was represented in the valley�s populace, even unto the intoxicating blend of Eldar and Edain that wrought the valley�s Peredhel lord and his sons.
But Erestor had, as of yet, refused to succumb to another�s charms. He believed in control. He had been instilled from his earliest days with lessons of exactitude and discipline, and a creature of habit, these inclinations were only more strongly sowed in him over time. While he watched others fall victim to base appetites and suffer the petty intrigues born of broken hearts and torrid affairs, Erestor remained safely, blithely, above the fray. His emotions had never been enslaved by one who could not requite them, and his pride remained unfettered by the need to prove himself worthy to an undecided suitor. Lust made fools of even the most venerable elves and he had no intention of playing the fool himself.
This was not to say he did not have urges, for he did. Oh, how he did! But he mastered them, and there was pride in that mastery, that knowledge that through reason and intellect, through the application of will and the practice of restraint, he could reign in those animalistic impulses and force his body to do his mind�s bidding rather than be in thrall to the mercurial humors of his groin.
Elrond, he saw, was still watching him with unvarnished interest, waiting, it seemed, for an admission from Erestor of his inexperience. The Peredhel crossed the room in measured steps, but to Erestor it seemed he approached with the stalking stride of a beast on the prowl. He came near, far closer than was necessary for a simple conversation.
�I assure you, my friend, many an elf has been initiated into the ways of loving during festival time. You need fear no ridicule.� Before Erestor could escape the gravitational pull of his liege�s charisma, a warm, long-fingered hand snaked up his sleeve and slithered beneath his hair to coil around the bare skin of his neck. �There are certainly many who would claim it an honor to introduce you to those sultry delights.�
Erestor�s throat tightened and he swallowed hard against the clench born of sudden fear. Elrond�s inflection, paired with that adamantine stare, left little doubt that he named himself among those who would be duly honored to relieve him of his chastity. Erestor felt a bit faint; he was truly out of his depth. It seemed impudent in the extreme to rebuff the advances of one�s lord, to say nothing on the deleterious effect it might have on one�s career advancement. If he refused, might the Lord of Imladris dismiss him from his service? Surely he could not be so cruel as that! Elrond�s reputation was built on kindness and wisdom, not manipulation and lechery! Instinct bade him flee immediately lest his much-vaunted control flee first.
His voice came as barely more than a taut whisper. �Forgive me, H�ren, but I must decline your gracious invitation as well.�
He turned on his heel and fled.
# # #
When the plans for Imladris had been drawn nigh on a millennium prior, Lord Elrond had seen fit to factor in the construction of a repository for the ancient and invaluable scrolls and documents he had collected over his long years. The resultant archive boasted countless treasures: maps of realms even the trees could no longer remember, first-hand accounts of the fall of Gondolin and the sacking of Doriath, and genealogies of the most distinguished houses of the Eldar reaching back nearly to the shores of Cuivi�nen. Housed underground, in cavernous rooms with low, vaulted ceilings carved deep into the bedrock, it remained cool and temperate in all weather.
Erestor had been awed by the vaults when he had first served as a page in Elrond�s great library, fetching the rarities housed here, and was awed tenfold now that, as a novice advisor, he had been given free reign to plumb the depths of knowledge contained herein. He had lingered in the dimly lit rooms because their absolute order appealed to him. Delighted him, in fact: He knew the cataloguing system, devised by the arcane mind of Elrond himself, as well as a youngling knows his sums and letters, and the pure logic of it pleased him. Each day�s work ended with the ritual replacement of books and scrolls and manuscripts onto shelves and into drawers and racks. No mote of dust dared linger on the rich walnut tables whose leather tops and inlaid veneers were polished to a warm glow, and when the last patron had been shooed away, the silence in the vaults was total.
Now Erestor loitered in the archives to avoid the lord of the valley himself, with his perspicacious eyes and wandering hands. Though the vaults lay but a winding flight of stairs beneath the reading room, he felt as winded when his feet hit the flagstones as if he had run the length of the valley. He steadied himself against one of the burnished tables to regain the composure he had so rapidly lost in the face of an imminent threat. His head dropped forward and he rode the tumult of his whole body rising and falling with the exertions of his harried breath.
Not yet becalmed by his sanctuary, he moved to a shelf of N�men�rean chronicles and further soothed himself by drawing his fingers over their spines, touching more roughly than he ought, and feeling bits of the ancient leather crumble to reddish powder under his fraught caress.
Never had he been so boldly propositioned before, and never had he fully understood just how easily one might be lost to rapture if one did not maintain constant vigilance. He had assumed that seduction was a subtle thing, an insinuating fog that crept in below one�s defenses until they were thoroughly compromised. He had believed that through caution and strategy, one might outwit less honorable emotions and drives. Now he saw it was no subtle thing at all; it was a mighty club wielded by a fearsome warrior! It did not steal in on stealthy feet, it boldly ambushed and bludgeoned one�s senses. He was a councilor, not a warrior. Subtleties he understood; all-out warfare was another matter, indeed.
And a matter he would not have opportunity to contemplate, for the unmistakable sound of footsteps descending from above meant that he was about to meet the threat head-on. He turned to watch the lengthening shadow in the curve of the stairwell that presaged Elrond�s entrance.
�Why do you flee from me, Erestor? You cannot believe I would do you harm.�
The young advisor straightened, mustering what remained of his sorely taxed dignity. �I know you would not harm me, but I have no interest in complicating my life by needlessly meddling with the troublesome entanglements of the heart.�
�It is not your heart I seek, Erestor.� He seemed almost to float across the floor, so effortless was his gait. Erestor instinctively retreated.
�There is more to life than dusty tomes and brittle manuscripts, and there is knowledge not found in any book. Those whose tales you so revere had to truly live in order to leave such histories behind.�
The spines of the ancient volumes dug into his back as he flattened himself against the stacks, no avenue of escape left to him. As if reading his defeat, Elrond grasped his wrists and swiftly pinned them against the shelves.
�The Valar have gifted us with bold hearts to give and receive passion, and beautiful bodies for sharing pleasure. Will you allow yourself to live, Erestor, or will you merely exist vicariously through the contents of these scrolls?�
�No, my Lord. Please� I cannot�� Oh, he was so close now, too close, the mannish heat of his Peredhel body kindling a fire beneath Erestor�s skin.
�What is it you fear, Erestor?� Elrond�s voice was velvet against his cheek, his breath hot and moist in the shell of his ear. It sent a frisson down his spine, the singular musky scent of him. He felt his heart thrumming against his ribs at a dizzying pace.
�Do you think it weak to lose control? You would be mistaken, pen neth. It takes strength to surrender. I know you possess it. Show me.�
Erestor�s entire body shook with the effort of remaining stock-still under this sensory assault. If naught else, he would simply refuse to aid or abet his ravisher. In any case, he feared to raise so much as a finger lest he find himself tearing at his tunic and breeches to be rid of their bind on his fevered flesh! He screwed his eyes shut, but his mouth fell open, slack, gulping in air like a creature drowning. When Elrond pulled the dark fall of his hair aside and leaned in even further, moved his lips over the bared skin of his neck, Erestor knew he was utterly vanquished.
�Please�� he whimpered, though he no longer knew what mercy he sought.
�I will give you what you want, my dark one. I will give you what you need.�
Skilled hands divested him of his outer robes, which slipped down his arms and pooled at his feet. Elrond pressed up tight against him, his fulsome arousal hot against his hip. As he slowly (oh, so viciously slowly!) unbuttoned Erestor�s tunic, Elrond wantonly rocked against him, purring his pleasure in Erestor�s ear. The cool air of the subterranean chambers kissed his newly bared chest and he shivered, felt his nipples draw up tight against the intrusive chill. Elrond�s fingers danced over those tight buds, circled them gently, rolled them under his palm, and a bolt of frenzied heat trilled through him, straight to his embarrassingly eager groin. When the Peredhel�s mouth latched on one of those hardened peaks and suckled him first gently, and then with increasing ardor, the last of Erestor�s resolve crumbled and he keened in tormented pleasure.
�Do not fight this, Erestor. Your body knows what it craves, even if your mind disdains it. Give your body free reign.�
And his body did know what it craved: more of Elrond�s touch, more of Elrond�s mouth, more of Elrond teaching him the one subject he had for all his years eschewed.
�I am afraid, H�ren� what will you do to me?�
Elrond laughed low in his throat. �I will touch you with my hands,� he crooned, and those hands quested downward to work at his breech-laces� ��I will work you with my mouth�� �slipped between the placket to grasp Erestor�s engorgement� ��then I will mount you, and you will know what it is to surrender fully, to be filled by another to bursting and ridden until your entire body shatters with delight.�
He punctuated his statement with a long, firm stroke, then swept his thumb across the flushed head of Erestor�s erection, conjuring its slickness. Erestor shuddered at the touch, his body now fully owned by its primal and unexplored urges, years of suppressed desire overwhelming him, flooding the very pores of his skin.
�Yes��
In short order, the grey stones were carpeted in a m�lange of discarded raiment. Erestor wanted to be horrified that he was bared so grandly before the one he served, and that his lord was similarly bared to him, both of them fully, gloriously aroused, but the wet heat of Elrond�s mouth chased petty concerns from his mind. It moved down his body, the teasing tongue, the sweet lips, and even the gentle warmth of breath stirring his anticipation to astounding heights. When that warm stream of air ghosted his ardent shaft, he groaned piteously. Elrond was on his knees before him, pupils wide with lust, mouth open and poised over Erestor�s arousal, and Erestor thought he had never seen a more intoxicating sight.
Elrond smiled a lazy, lascivious smile. �I am going to take you into my mouth now, Erestor. I am going to swallow you whole, and when you spend, it will be all the sweeter on my tongue for the knowledge that no other has yet tasted you.�
Scorched by words crooned in a voice decadent as silk and fur and rare winter fruits, he rose to adamantine hardness, the heavy sacs beneath drawing up taut. When that tormenting mouth closed around him and sucked him down to the root, he called upon the ethereal memory of his foregone restraint not to explode at once. The vibrations of Elrond�s hum as he nursed the throbbing length were almost cruel in their sensuality, and the tantalizing swipe of a tongue across the tensed globes below catapulted him into sheer, mindless pleasure. He wove his hands in satiny locks and his hips began to rock in that ageless rhythm of ecstatic possession. Ever the sage instructor, Elrond intuited his pupil�s readiness and released his restrictive clutch on Erestor�s hips, and once freed from the stilling grip, Erestor pumped frantically into the enthralling heat of that experienced mouth until he dizzily found himself tumbling into a freefall of inconceivable pleasure, a pulsing, shuddering, rapturous release.
So thoroughly drained and thunderstruck was he that he barely registered Elrond�s purpose when he was gently led to the nearest table. The Peredhel lord cupped Erestor�s face in his hands and anointed him with sweet kisses that soon flared to a molten communion of lips and tongues. Noble hands gentled him, soothed his apprehensions and reignited the hunger which had only moments ago been utterly sated. The flames of his desire seemed even stronger than before, as if waking the beast within so long denied only magnified its vital hunger. This time, he returned the kisses, the touches, the swing and grind of eager hips with unbridled voracity. When those same hands slowly bent him to the table, the cool leather surface a relief to his febrile skin, he complied without question.
A lithe finger rounded the curve of his backside and moved lightly over his entrance. His whole body flinched, instinctively fretful of invasion, but Elrond�s other hand stroked and petted, his low, melodic voice singing of untold pleasures into his ear, and he relaxed into the touch at last. And then it was gone; Erestor looked back in chagrin and saw Elrond at the cupboard where mending supplies were kept, returning with a pot of the wool fat used to condition fragile bindings. Erestor blushed when he realized the other uses to which the unguent might be put.
�To ease the way,� Elrond whispered, and his slickened finger returned to its path, circling gently, and then pressing slowly, steadily inward. Again, Erestor tensed-- the familiar animal smell of wool fat belied an unfamiliar and intrusive sensation�and again Elrond soothed with his knowing touch. With patience and thoroughness, Elrond readied him, stoking the low flames of his tentative desire until he was bucking against the fingers that speared him.
�See how wanton you have become? Do you really wish to deny yourself? Is discipline truly superior to the feeling of my fingers inside you, to the feeling of my mouth on you, to the bliss of release?�
�Nay,� Erestor moaned, thrusting back on those wicked fingers. �Teach me the rest, H�ren. I am your willing pupil!�
Fingers were replaced with the broad, blunt head of the Peredhel�s majestic engorgement, and Erestor could not fathom that he could tolerate the length and breadth of such a formidable piece, but as Elrond pushed further, Erestor�s body opened to receive every inch of it, and the feeling of being filled was utterly indescribable. The lean warrior�s body molded against his, sinewy arms laying over his own, stretching them long across the table with fingers laced together. First slowly, and then with increasing velocity, Elrond moved within him, above him, and he arched his back, cat-like in his libertine delight, feeling his own hardened staff and heavy bollocks swaying between his spread legs. He pumped his hips like a thing possessed, desperate for friction but finding only air.
When Elrond slightly changed the angle of his hips and thrust hard inside him, Erestor cried out at the sudden burst of light behind his eyes and the explosion of sensation deep inside him. He would have done anything in that moment to feel that shock of pleasure return, but it came to him unbidden as Elrond plunged forth again and again and again, shattering him anew with every thrust.
"Touch yourself�forget not that to bring others pleasure, you must know how to inspire it within yourself."
With a shamelessness new and altogether foreign to him, Erestor reached between his legs and took himself in hand, marveling at the sensations he was now wringing from his own flesh, discovering the rhythm and pressure that nigh on caused his knees to buckle under him. It was frightening but empowering�and oh so delicious!�to heed the insistent demands of his desire.
Under this added stimulus, Erestor�s cries reached a beleaguered peak. The steady rhythm, the heat and slip, called to something hungry and feral inside him, spoke to some part of his essence that could never be controlled by thought and reason, the white-hot flare in his core that knew only the need for pleasure and satisfaction.
�Come for me, Erestor. Give yourself to pleasure. Now, Erestor� come for me.�
And Erestor did, with blinding force, casting ropy streams of his seed across the flagstones in rhythm to his throaty wails, his entire body shaking as if it would fly into a thousand pieces. He could hear Elrond singing his own pleasure and felt the hot flood of his lord�s completion filling him before the sweet weight of Elrond�s spent body pressed him into the table.
�Oh, Erestor� You are a beautiful lover.� The whispered words in his ear made him smile bashfully. �You do a grave disservice by holding yourself aloof.�
Elrond finished his lesson with kisses and encouragements, but Erestor was too enervated to do anything but laze in indolent bliss, moving only long enough to pull over a chair and collapse back on to the table. In time, Elrond gathered his clothing and dressed, laying Erestor�s tunic and breeches at his feet.
�H�ren� I rue my foolish ignorance. No elf should torture himself with so-called discipline if it means forswearing such delights. I believe now our bodies were indeed made for pleasure. Indeed, I see now they require it!�
Elrond smiled and smoothed his hand over Erestor�s sweat-tangled hair. �Put yours to good use, then.�
He paused on his journey to the stairs and turned to regard the boneless elf that slumped in a sated stupor against the defiled table.
�It may interest you to know that when last I looked, Lindir was alone in the garden, looking quite bereft�Perhaps you might reconsider his invitation?�
Erestor grinned as Elrond�s figure disappeared up the scrolling staircase. He mustered his energy and quickly dressed, hoping Lindir would be there still when he emerged from the archives; emerged, he mused, a much wiser elf.
The End
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H�ren = My Lord
Pen neth = Young one
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