Title: Wild Justice 21/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline and my precious, evil mind.
Feedback: Please!
Warnings: This is probably overkill, as I personally think this chapter is fairly mild and rather sweet. I know from past experience, however, that some others won't agree. So here is fair warning. This fic is rated for adults only. It is slash, meaning homoerotica people. It has added BDSM warnings plastered all over it. I won't read, much less reply to, any flames from anyone who ignores the warnings and gets squicked. For those of you who don't like this sort of thing, go read the last chapter again--it's safe. Then skip to 22.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused. This chapter is for Angilou.
* * *
The tea he was drinking was so hot it scalded his tongue. That was all right. That was how he liked it.
Camthalion was accustomed to using pain as a distraction. Even before he met Erestor and learned that it could heighten pleasure, he had loved it for its numbing qualities. His group stood out among the Silvan elves of Lorien, and the people's love for their sovereign lady had never applied equally to her servants. Being different, being alone, being suspect, could get very tiresome over the centuries.
But the mild sizzle on his tongue was totally incapable of distracting him from the dark vision who was slowly driving him insane. Cam had spent most of the day's ride trying not to look at Erestor, but his eyes refused to take the order seriously and constantly sought him out. Of course, Erestor had noticed. He was too aware of everything going on around him to do otherwise. His gaze met Cam's now across the breadth of the camp, even thought he had barely glanced at him, had just begun to admire the way his eyes became glittering black slits in the firelight, how his beautiful, soft hair made a dark halo around his perfect features . . .
Cam tore his eyes away. This was useless. Erestor cared nothing for him. Ironic, how pleased he'd been to find out that he was only comforting the young Peredhil, and had no real feelings for him. How incredibly stupid, when it had been made more than obvious the past few days that the elfling's angst was more important to Erestor than Cam's life.
He drank the rest of the tea, but it had cooled too much to provide any real pain. He knew he should sleep; they were attacking at dawn, and everyone had to be ready, but he felt that he would choke to death if he tried to lay down. Sleep would probably not come anyway, and if it did, it would only carry the dreams--vivid, agonizingly erotic dreams--that had tormented him every night since they met.
** He gives me a long, savage kiss, his tongue cruelly invading me, depriving me of breath, of thought, of everything except him. I feel his teeth biting brutally into my parted lips. His hands viciously grip my shoulders while his arousal rubs against mine.**
But daylight brought the harsh truth that they were only dreams; it was never Cam that Erestor turned to, but always someone else. Those dancing, elegant hands were sketching abstract patterns in the air as he tried to impart to the insipid child beside him some wisdom the elfling would never be able to understand. Nor would he need to; his father being who he was, Imladris' prince would have everything he wanted in life laid out before him like a feast, and he just had to pick and choose his favourite courses. The fact that Cam apparently owed him his life only made his jealousy that much more bitter--what had he saved him for, more centuries alone?
** Then he bit his way up my thighs, leaving marks against the pale skin, and I whimpered and writhed beneath him, urging him on. Those beautiful red lips closed about my arousal, and he sucked hard, occasionally abrading it painfully with his teeth, while pulling and massaging my sac cruelly.**
The stupid elfling didn't even want Erestor, was sitting there not even looking at him. All that splendor and brilliance concentrated on him, and the dense, blind creature could not even appreciate it. While Cam would have gladly begged for the scraps from that feast; a word, a glance, anything with affection in it, he would have prized and cherished. But there was nothing in Erestor's gaze the few times their eyes met but calculation. He supposed it was better than pity.
** He twisted his fist in my hair, pulling it painfully. When he suddenly let go, I staggered and he backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling to the floor. With an evil smile on his beautiful face, he walked forward, kicking my legs apart. His arm rose and fell, the crop falling across my cheeks and thighs, which were soon raw and red from the lash.**
Cam could not stand seeing Erestor's face anymore, so cold and distant and so little like the way he imagined him in his dreams. He could not hear their conversation, but obviously he was pleading with the elfling for something, something Elrohir was refusing to give him. Erestor's eyes held an expression of concern as he spoke that Cam knew he would never see directed at him. He hated Elrohir, for throwing away as worthless that which he craved so badly. In that moment he also hated himself, for the love and desire and burning, aching need he could not deny. But he could not quite, despite desperate attempts, manage to hate Erestor. But neither could he endure laying there, dreaming of him, desperate for his touch, only to wake gasping and hard and alone yet again. There were other ways of passing the night.
* * *
Erestor could feel the weight of those eyes, burning with blue intensity from across the width of the camp. He almost dropped his cup, his hands were trembling so much, and he didn't know why. His bowels were twisting into knots of fire, as if they were melting from within. He knew he should go talk to Camthalion, but his utter failure with Elrohir was giving him pause. He was no longer certain of anything, much less his abilities to manage events into a nice, neat solution.
This was ridiculous, he told himself, as Cam looked away, his eyes seeming to search for something in the forest beyond the camp. Erestor knew he had no reason to feel so panicked, almost as if he was terrified. All at issue was a simple conversation, and wasn't he one of Elrond's own counselors? Had he not participated in talks in which issues of momentous occasion were decided, more times, in fact, than he could count? So why should the idea of simply getting up, walking over the Camthalion, and initiating a discussion fill him with such dread?
But, he argued with himself, this was hardly the time to seek out such a discussion, when he wasn't even sure what it was he wanted to say. Thank you for saving my life? It would be hypocritical, for Erestor did not feel like thanking him. Beating him into a pulp for being so obtuse, perhaps, but not thanking him. Still, the words should be said, had to be said, and he knew he had put them off long enough. Why was this so difficult? Three words, he told himself. Thank you Camthalion. Just three little words . . .
Thank you Camthalion, he thought bitterly, glaring at the golden head burnished by the fire's flickering light. Thank you for arbitrarily deciding that you have the right to choose who lives and who dies. Thank you for clearly evidencing your brainless conclusion that your life means so much less than mine. Thank you for destroying the rest of my comfortable restraint and for forcing me to have feelings I can't control for the first time in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you Camthalion . . .
"Er, Erestor . . . are you all right?"
Elrohir was regarding him with barely concealed trepidation. Erestor realised that he had been jabbing his dagger into the root of the dead tree trunk on which he sat; repeatedly, by the look of things, as the wood along one side was quite shredded. "Yes, Elrohir." Erestor's eyes narrowed as Cam suddenly jumped up as if bitten by something and fled into the darkness. "I think I'll just go take a walk."
* * *
The steady thud of the lash on his back was soothing, but the pain was too light to bring him the release he craved. He increased the tempo of his strokes, but somehow knew there would be no satisfaction in this even if it brought him to climax. What Cam really craved, he could not find alone.
"Your technique needs work."
Cam looked up to find Erestor observing him from the darkness of the forest. The small amount of skin beyond the enveloping folds of his robes was bleached almost white by the moonlight, while the rest of him blended into the shadows. Framed by his midnight hair, his face was ghostly, its expression almost sinister. Cam's eyes devoured him, not quite believing he was real, and he suddenly realised that he had tears in his eyes. They were tears of anger, of pain, of longing, all rolled up into a mass of emotion that defied description, even had he tried. At that moment, he loved his master and he despised him, and he honestly could not have said which emotion was dominant.
Erestor noticed the clenched fists as Cam stood, half-nude and covered in his own blood, and smiled. He glided smoothly forward, his feet not seeming to even touch the rough forest floor. Cam wasn't sure if it was the stealth with which he moved--even now, when he did not need it--or the blood that pounded in his own ears, but it seemed that his master's feet made no sound on the leaf swept ground.
"You'd like to hurt me, wouldn't you?" Grabbing a handful of Cam's hair, he snapped his head backward abruptly. "I can actually hear your heart pounding from here," he whispered, and the current of warm breath against his cheek told Cam that this, amazingly enough, was no dream. "And that look in your eye; it's positively feral. You want satisfaction, don't you?" Erestor's fist tightened until Cam thought he would rip his hair out by the roots. "You even crave it, I would say. But you won't get it that way."
He released Cam so quickly that the elf stumbled, catching himself at the last moment or he would have fallen to his knees. Erestor held out his crop, and Cam did kneel then, kissing it, licking it, needing the control it represented so much that it hurt, far more than the silly toy in his master's hand ever could. Then it was suddenly withdrawn, and he looked up fearfully. "You don't know what you want, do you?," Erestor asked, his tone scornful, the contempt in his eyes as he turned away in the direction of camp a deliberate insult.
"Master . . .", Camthalion wondered why Erestor was taunting him. He had already submitted; what was the point? Then he noticed that his master's mocking smile contrasted sharply with his flustered, restless gaze, and he understood. Erestor craved something, too, and it was not meek obedience, not tonight. Then Cam saw him, really saw him, for the first time that evening. Erestor's usually gleaming hair was dusty and hung limply about his face. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his lips pulled thin over tightly clenched teeth, and his hands--his always steady hands--were shaking. He was obviously over-stressed, tired and . . . could that be nervous?
It seemed ludicrous to connect the cool, competent, dispassionate creature he had fallen in love with and the exhausted, anxiety-ridden, vulnerable elf before him. Cam realised for the first time how wearying these last few weeks must have been for him, and felt a surge of delight at the thought that, finally, Erestor needed him for something, instead of it being the other way around. Still on his knees, Cam nonetheless suddenly felt like the powerful one. Without permission, he stood and caught Erestor by his belt, dragging him across the few paces that separated them.
Erestor's reaction to his boldness reinforced Cam' certainty that he needed this, wanted it, just would not admit to it: his nostrils flared slightly, as if savouring the mingled scent of Cam's sweat and blood; the full lips, looking strangely bloodless in the moonlight, were parted, as if he needed more oxygen than his system was getting; he leaned slightly forward, even while his eyes showed fear that he might surrender to something he had never even known he wanted. "Give in to me," Cam encouraged him, whispering into that beautiful ear. "There is no battle, no responsibilities, no tomorrow. There is only you and me and now." Erestor shivered, dark eyes strangely uncertain, but he made no objection as Cam slowly pushed him to his knees.
* * *
Erestor felt like he had fallen into a dream as he slowly allowed himself to be lowered to the forest floor. For a time, he almost forgot where he was, even who he was, as a dark tide of passion swept him to a place beyond thought, where worry and apprehension melted into liquid pulsing need, before evaporating away as if they had never existed at all. He could feel Camthalion's arousal even through the heavy material of his leggings. His partner thrust his hips forward into the caress of Erestor's lips, but when he went to undo the leather thongs, strong hands pushed him away. "Not like that, or do I have to restrain you?"
Erestor put his hands behind his back and used his teeth. It really didn't matter; he was equally dexterous either way. The material fell apart and he stretched to take in the full extent of the warm softness then revealed. He amused himself for a while, stroking slowly and allowing his tongue to explore him fully, savouring the taste and scent and warmth of him as he teased Cam to within a heartbeat of release, then withdrew when the elf's breath quickened too much. Erestor knew perfectly well how good he was at this, and was therefore not surprised when Cam's knees almost buckled and he had to clutch the tree behind him for support.
But Cam seemed to remember after a few moments that he was supposed to be leading this activity, and pulled away--quite a feat, Erestor thought, amused. His inner laughter must have shown in his eyes, for Cam let out a growl and attacked the buttons on his clothing, stripping the robes from his shoulders and dragging the tunic over his head without ceremony. Clad only in his travel stained shirt and leggings, Erestor doubted that he made an overly appealing sight, but Cam groaned as he ran his hands down the thin silk of his shirt, then bent his head to bite each of Erestor's nipples, pulling and stretching them through the delicate material until they popped.
Ripping the shirt from him, Cam pushed him to the ground, lacerating his chest with his teeth. Ripping the flail from Erestor's hand, he then cut across the abused nipples, over and over. "I'm going to break you, destroy you, smash that perfect control," Cam told him, as the lash came down again and again. "Then remake you, rebuild you, until you're only mine!" Erestor kept his smile hidden more effectively this time, for it was obvious that Cam was giving his best effort, and the lash did feel good, causing a feeling of warmth and ease to flood him for the first time in days. He wished his eager student would not be quite so gentle, however, as he had barely even managed to draw blood.
Camthalion suddenly stopped, and a second later slid up his chest, their blood mingling as he pressed Erestor down into the soft leaf covered ground and kissed him as if he expected the world to end at any moment. It shocked Erestor far more than the beating, for Elrond rarely kissed him; theirs was not that kind of relationship. They had a comfortable arrangement, and one that had lasted far longer than many built of supposedly more durable emotions than simple need. Both of them were too jaded to feel the ephemeral rush of youthful passion so often mislabeled love, or so Erestor had thought before this fateful trip to Lorien. Now Elrond was closeted with the only elf, as far as Erestor knew, who had ever caused him to shed burning tears of anguish at his loss. Erestor himself had never mistaken passion for love, had thought himself immune to all such silly emotions. But he had not wanted to see Elrond's face when he saw his beloved again, had, indeed, been afraid to do so. For always, there had been the deep, unacknowledged feeling somewhere within him that, despite ample experience, he was nonetheless missing something.
He had secretly wondered why Glorfindel would choose to wait hundreds of years, merely on the promise that his long lost love would be returned to him. It had seemed folly when he did not take the handsome offer Thranduil made him, long before Elrohir was even born, an offer that would have given him a gorgeous and powerful lover, wealth, position--everything, in short, that most would kill for. Yet he had turned it down without hesitation, just as he had waited patiently for Elrohir to grow up before ever speaking to him of love. As Cam began kissing his cheeks, jaw and neck, Erestor thought he might finally understand why people would risk everything for this, for someone who could adore them--not the abilities they possessed or the wealth they brought, but just the person they were.
* * *
Cam felt tears on his cheeks, and wasn't sure whose they were. Erestor groaned into his mouth, arching up to rub their lacerated torsos together, and Cam knew his master wanted, needed, much more than he had given him. Rolling him over, Cam ran a hand softly over the perfect skin of his lover's back before beginning to give him the pain he craved, putting additional strength behind his blows. He did not stop until the skin before him was almost completely raw, then sat back, breathing hard, wondering what his lover would want now, desperate not to disappoint.
As he waited, Erestor reached back, fingers clasping his abused buttocks, and spread them as widely as possible. Cam immediately knelt between his master's legs and, curling the lash around its handle, he used the whip to slowly invade him. The complete lack of preparation must have been excruciatingly painful, but Erestor nonetheless writhed up to meet the crop, riding it with apparent bliss. Cam pushed it in as far as he dared before wrenching it back out in one violent movement. But to his disbelief, Erestor not only did not scream, he barely moaned, sounding, if anything, slightly disappointed. Cam threw the whip aside and mounted him then, intent on eliciting some type of response from the stubborn creature below him.
He did not know if this night was merely pity on Erestor's part, because he had noticed Cam's increasingly hungry stares, or if he, too, was nervous about what they would face tomorrow and desired to ease the tension in the emotional release of their actions. He did not dare to even hope that Erestor felt anything for him, for why would he? Cam had spent time asking about him--discreetly of course--but while few seemed to have much information, he had discovered one fact which helped to explain his lover's concern for the young Peredhil. Erestor was the long time lover of Lord Elrond himself. When Cam had heard that, it felt like his heart was being torn from him, for he then knew he stood no chance.
He bit Erestor's neck hard as he slid into him, knowing this might be the last time they were together, for even if they both survived the mountain, he would return to the Lady's service while Erestor accompanied his handsome lord back to Imladris. Then, with that legendary beauty all to himself, what would he need with Cam? He felt Erestor clench around him, practically begging him to begin thrusting, but he waited, difficult though it was. Cam wanted to have his complete attention while he whispered his pain into that perfect ear, for why should he not at least have the satisfaction of telling him? Why should he be able to treat him this way, and never even have to hear about the agony he caused? "You toy with me, while your lord is busy. You play with my love while you wait for him. And as soon as he is not preoccupied anymore, you will leave with him, and I will be forced to remain behind." His sweat mingled with his blood and his tears, dripping slowly onto Erestor's cheek. "But, my beautiful lord, you WILL have something to remember me by. Something to compare with him the next time he takes you."
* * *
Erestor would normally have enjoyed the sensations Camthalion was giving him, mild though they were to what Elrond could elicit, but the words he spoke drove everything else from his mind. He had always laughed at stories in which people had sudden epiphanies during sex, for he was usually far too preoccupied to think clearly about anything in similar circumstances. But he did not feel like laughing now, as Cam thrust into him, deep and hard, his hands gripping his hips strongly enough to bruise, seemingly in a frenzy to do as he had said and permanently mark him as his own.
Erestor barely reacted, too intent on the strange new idea that had occurred to him to do much to encourage his lover, who nonetheless continued to thrust mercilessly, the friction along his unprepared channel causing exquisite pain. After a few moments, Erestor reached his decision, then gave himself over completely to sensation, tilting his hips as much as he could, trying to impale himself even more on his lover's already impressive length. Cam lasted much longer than he would have expected, and was far stronger, forcing Erestor to clutch the grass on either side of him to keep from being pushed across the surface of the glade. Cam finally expended himself, spilling into him with a cry that sounded strangely like defeat, and collapsing onto Erestor's abused back with a strangled sob. His arousal softened and slipped out, causing another brief ripple of sensation through Erestor, who smiled. Cam had much to learn but, oh, instructing him would be a great pleasure.
It took a few moments for Erestor to realise that Cam was in serious pain, although not of the physical kind. He rolled onto his side and wove a hand through Cam's damp hair to drag him into a searing kiss. He tasted sweet, beneath the blood and salt, the latter from the tears that continued to pour down his face. Erestor gathered him into his arms, rocking him like a child, letting him sob since it seemed to please him to do so. When he finally hiccupped to a stop some minutes later, Erestor raised his chin with a single finger and examined him. No, he hadn't been wrong. There was no mistaking the expression in those liquid blue eyes.
"When I return to Imladris," Erestor told him softly, "you are coming with me. I will speak with the lady myself once all this is past."
Instead of joyful, Camthalion just looked confused. "But . . . I failed you. You didn't even cry out! I tried but I . . . "
Erestor smiled, his dark eyes laughing, and kissed Cam's lips again just because he could. He realised joyfully that he could do that whenever he wanted from now on, and made a mental note to put it high on his list of priorities. "Then you'll just have to work harder next time, won't you?"
TBC
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline and my precious, evil mind.
Feedback: Please!
Warnings: This is probably overkill, as I personally think this chapter is fairly mild and rather sweet. I know from past experience, however, that some others won't agree. So here is fair warning. This fic is rated for adults only. It is slash, meaning homoerotica people. It has added BDSM warnings plastered all over it. I won't read, much less reply to, any flames from anyone who ignores the warnings and gets squicked. For those of you who don't like this sort of thing, go read the last chapter again--it's safe. Then skip to 22.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused. This chapter is for Angilou.
* * *
The tea he was drinking was so hot it scalded his tongue. That was all right. That was how he liked it.
Camthalion was accustomed to using pain as a distraction. Even before he met Erestor and learned that it could heighten pleasure, he had loved it for its numbing qualities. His group stood out among the Silvan elves of Lorien, and the people's love for their sovereign lady had never applied equally to her servants. Being different, being alone, being suspect, could get very tiresome over the centuries.
But the mild sizzle on his tongue was totally incapable of distracting him from the dark vision who was slowly driving him insane. Cam had spent most of the day's ride trying not to look at Erestor, but his eyes refused to take the order seriously and constantly sought him out. Of course, Erestor had noticed. He was too aware of everything going on around him to do otherwise. His gaze met Cam's now across the breadth of the camp, even thought he had barely glanced at him, had just begun to admire the way his eyes became glittering black slits in the firelight, how his beautiful, soft hair made a dark halo around his perfect features . . .
Cam tore his eyes away. This was useless. Erestor cared nothing for him. Ironic, how pleased he'd been to find out that he was only comforting the young Peredhil, and had no real feelings for him. How incredibly stupid, when it had been made more than obvious the past few days that the elfling's angst was more important to Erestor than Cam's life.
He drank the rest of the tea, but it had cooled too much to provide any real pain. He knew he should sleep; they were attacking at dawn, and everyone had to be ready, but he felt that he would choke to death if he tried to lay down. Sleep would probably not come anyway, and if it did, it would only carry the dreams--vivid, agonizingly erotic dreams--that had tormented him every night since they met.
** He gives me a long, savage kiss, his tongue cruelly invading me, depriving me of breath, of thought, of everything except him. I feel his teeth biting brutally into my parted lips. His hands viciously grip my shoulders while his arousal rubs against mine.**
But daylight brought the harsh truth that they were only dreams; it was never Cam that Erestor turned to, but always someone else. Those dancing, elegant hands were sketching abstract patterns in the air as he tried to impart to the insipid child beside him some wisdom the elfling would never be able to understand. Nor would he need to; his father being who he was, Imladris' prince would have everything he wanted in life laid out before him like a feast, and he just had to pick and choose his favourite courses. The fact that Cam apparently owed him his life only made his jealousy that much more bitter--what had he saved him for, more centuries alone?
** Then he bit his way up my thighs, leaving marks against the pale skin, and I whimpered and writhed beneath him, urging him on. Those beautiful red lips closed about my arousal, and he sucked hard, occasionally abrading it painfully with his teeth, while pulling and massaging my sac cruelly.**
The stupid elfling didn't even want Erestor, was sitting there not even looking at him. All that splendor and brilliance concentrated on him, and the dense, blind creature could not even appreciate it. While Cam would have gladly begged for the scraps from that feast; a word, a glance, anything with affection in it, he would have prized and cherished. But there was nothing in Erestor's gaze the few times their eyes met but calculation. He supposed it was better than pity.
** He twisted his fist in my hair, pulling it painfully. When he suddenly let go, I staggered and he backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling to the floor. With an evil smile on his beautiful face, he walked forward, kicking my legs apart. His arm rose and fell, the crop falling across my cheeks and thighs, which were soon raw and red from the lash.**
Cam could not stand seeing Erestor's face anymore, so cold and distant and so little like the way he imagined him in his dreams. He could not hear their conversation, but obviously he was pleading with the elfling for something, something Elrohir was refusing to give him. Erestor's eyes held an expression of concern as he spoke that Cam knew he would never see directed at him. He hated Elrohir, for throwing away as worthless that which he craved so badly. In that moment he also hated himself, for the love and desire and burning, aching need he could not deny. But he could not quite, despite desperate attempts, manage to hate Erestor. But neither could he endure laying there, dreaming of him, desperate for his touch, only to wake gasping and hard and alone yet again. There were other ways of passing the night.
* * *
Erestor could feel the weight of those eyes, burning with blue intensity from across the width of the camp. He almost dropped his cup, his hands were trembling so much, and he didn't know why. His bowels were twisting into knots of fire, as if they were melting from within. He knew he should go talk to Camthalion, but his utter failure with Elrohir was giving him pause. He was no longer certain of anything, much less his abilities to manage events into a nice, neat solution.
This was ridiculous, he told himself, as Cam looked away, his eyes seeming to search for something in the forest beyond the camp. Erestor knew he had no reason to feel so panicked, almost as if he was terrified. All at issue was a simple conversation, and wasn't he one of Elrond's own counselors? Had he not participated in talks in which issues of momentous occasion were decided, more times, in fact, than he could count? So why should the idea of simply getting up, walking over the Camthalion, and initiating a discussion fill him with such dread?
But, he argued with himself, this was hardly the time to seek out such a discussion, when he wasn't even sure what it was he wanted to say. Thank you for saving my life? It would be hypocritical, for Erestor did not feel like thanking him. Beating him into a pulp for being so obtuse, perhaps, but not thanking him. Still, the words should be said, had to be said, and he knew he had put them off long enough. Why was this so difficult? Three words, he told himself. Thank you Camthalion. Just three little words . . .
Thank you Camthalion, he thought bitterly, glaring at the golden head burnished by the fire's flickering light. Thank you for arbitrarily deciding that you have the right to choose who lives and who dies. Thank you for clearly evidencing your brainless conclusion that your life means so much less than mine. Thank you for destroying the rest of my comfortable restraint and for forcing me to have feelings I can't control for the first time in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you Camthalion . . .
"Er, Erestor . . . are you all right?"
Elrohir was regarding him with barely concealed trepidation. Erestor realised that he had been jabbing his dagger into the root of the dead tree trunk on which he sat; repeatedly, by the look of things, as the wood along one side was quite shredded. "Yes, Elrohir." Erestor's eyes narrowed as Cam suddenly jumped up as if bitten by something and fled into the darkness. "I think I'll just go take a walk."
* * *
The steady thud of the lash on his back was soothing, but the pain was too light to bring him the release he craved. He increased the tempo of his strokes, but somehow knew there would be no satisfaction in this even if it brought him to climax. What Cam really craved, he could not find alone.
"Your technique needs work."
Cam looked up to find Erestor observing him from the darkness of the forest. The small amount of skin beyond the enveloping folds of his robes was bleached almost white by the moonlight, while the rest of him blended into the shadows. Framed by his midnight hair, his face was ghostly, its expression almost sinister. Cam's eyes devoured him, not quite believing he was real, and he suddenly realised that he had tears in his eyes. They were tears of anger, of pain, of longing, all rolled up into a mass of emotion that defied description, even had he tried. At that moment, he loved his master and he despised him, and he honestly could not have said which emotion was dominant.
Erestor noticed the clenched fists as Cam stood, half-nude and covered in his own blood, and smiled. He glided smoothly forward, his feet not seeming to even touch the rough forest floor. Cam wasn't sure if it was the stealth with which he moved--even now, when he did not need it--or the blood that pounded in his own ears, but it seemed that his master's feet made no sound on the leaf swept ground.
"You'd like to hurt me, wouldn't you?" Grabbing a handful of Cam's hair, he snapped his head backward abruptly. "I can actually hear your heart pounding from here," he whispered, and the current of warm breath against his cheek told Cam that this, amazingly enough, was no dream. "And that look in your eye; it's positively feral. You want satisfaction, don't you?" Erestor's fist tightened until Cam thought he would rip his hair out by the roots. "You even crave it, I would say. But you won't get it that way."
He released Cam so quickly that the elf stumbled, catching himself at the last moment or he would have fallen to his knees. Erestor held out his crop, and Cam did kneel then, kissing it, licking it, needing the control it represented so much that it hurt, far more than the silly toy in his master's hand ever could. Then it was suddenly withdrawn, and he looked up fearfully. "You don't know what you want, do you?," Erestor asked, his tone scornful, the contempt in his eyes as he turned away in the direction of camp a deliberate insult.
"Master . . .", Camthalion wondered why Erestor was taunting him. He had already submitted; what was the point? Then he noticed that his master's mocking smile contrasted sharply with his flustered, restless gaze, and he understood. Erestor craved something, too, and it was not meek obedience, not tonight. Then Cam saw him, really saw him, for the first time that evening. Erestor's usually gleaming hair was dusty and hung limply about his face. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his lips pulled thin over tightly clenched teeth, and his hands--his always steady hands--were shaking. He was obviously over-stressed, tired and . . . could that be nervous?
It seemed ludicrous to connect the cool, competent, dispassionate creature he had fallen in love with and the exhausted, anxiety-ridden, vulnerable elf before him. Cam realised for the first time how wearying these last few weeks must have been for him, and felt a surge of delight at the thought that, finally, Erestor needed him for something, instead of it being the other way around. Still on his knees, Cam nonetheless suddenly felt like the powerful one. Without permission, he stood and caught Erestor by his belt, dragging him across the few paces that separated them.
Erestor's reaction to his boldness reinforced Cam' certainty that he needed this, wanted it, just would not admit to it: his nostrils flared slightly, as if savouring the mingled scent of Cam's sweat and blood; the full lips, looking strangely bloodless in the moonlight, were parted, as if he needed more oxygen than his system was getting; he leaned slightly forward, even while his eyes showed fear that he might surrender to something he had never even known he wanted. "Give in to me," Cam encouraged him, whispering into that beautiful ear. "There is no battle, no responsibilities, no tomorrow. There is only you and me and now." Erestor shivered, dark eyes strangely uncertain, but he made no objection as Cam slowly pushed him to his knees.
* * *
Erestor felt like he had fallen into a dream as he slowly allowed himself to be lowered to the forest floor. For a time, he almost forgot where he was, even who he was, as a dark tide of passion swept him to a place beyond thought, where worry and apprehension melted into liquid pulsing need, before evaporating away as if they had never existed at all. He could feel Camthalion's arousal even through the heavy material of his leggings. His partner thrust his hips forward into the caress of Erestor's lips, but when he went to undo the leather thongs, strong hands pushed him away. "Not like that, or do I have to restrain you?"
Erestor put his hands behind his back and used his teeth. It really didn't matter; he was equally dexterous either way. The material fell apart and he stretched to take in the full extent of the warm softness then revealed. He amused himself for a while, stroking slowly and allowing his tongue to explore him fully, savouring the taste and scent and warmth of him as he teased Cam to within a heartbeat of release, then withdrew when the elf's breath quickened too much. Erestor knew perfectly well how good he was at this, and was therefore not surprised when Cam's knees almost buckled and he had to clutch the tree behind him for support.
But Cam seemed to remember after a few moments that he was supposed to be leading this activity, and pulled away--quite a feat, Erestor thought, amused. His inner laughter must have shown in his eyes, for Cam let out a growl and attacked the buttons on his clothing, stripping the robes from his shoulders and dragging the tunic over his head without ceremony. Clad only in his travel stained shirt and leggings, Erestor doubted that he made an overly appealing sight, but Cam groaned as he ran his hands down the thin silk of his shirt, then bent his head to bite each of Erestor's nipples, pulling and stretching them through the delicate material until they popped.
Ripping the shirt from him, Cam pushed him to the ground, lacerating his chest with his teeth. Ripping the flail from Erestor's hand, he then cut across the abused nipples, over and over. "I'm going to break you, destroy you, smash that perfect control," Cam told him, as the lash came down again and again. "Then remake you, rebuild you, until you're only mine!" Erestor kept his smile hidden more effectively this time, for it was obvious that Cam was giving his best effort, and the lash did feel good, causing a feeling of warmth and ease to flood him for the first time in days. He wished his eager student would not be quite so gentle, however, as he had barely even managed to draw blood.
Camthalion suddenly stopped, and a second later slid up his chest, their blood mingling as he pressed Erestor down into the soft leaf covered ground and kissed him as if he expected the world to end at any moment. It shocked Erestor far more than the beating, for Elrond rarely kissed him; theirs was not that kind of relationship. They had a comfortable arrangement, and one that had lasted far longer than many built of supposedly more durable emotions than simple need. Both of them were too jaded to feel the ephemeral rush of youthful passion so often mislabeled love, or so Erestor had thought before this fateful trip to Lorien. Now Elrond was closeted with the only elf, as far as Erestor knew, who had ever caused him to shed burning tears of anguish at his loss. Erestor himself had never mistaken passion for love, had thought himself immune to all such silly emotions. But he had not wanted to see Elrond's face when he saw his beloved again, had, indeed, been afraid to do so. For always, there had been the deep, unacknowledged feeling somewhere within him that, despite ample experience, he was nonetheless missing something.
He had secretly wondered why Glorfindel would choose to wait hundreds of years, merely on the promise that his long lost love would be returned to him. It had seemed folly when he did not take the handsome offer Thranduil made him, long before Elrohir was even born, an offer that would have given him a gorgeous and powerful lover, wealth, position--everything, in short, that most would kill for. Yet he had turned it down without hesitation, just as he had waited patiently for Elrohir to grow up before ever speaking to him of love. As Cam began kissing his cheeks, jaw and neck, Erestor thought he might finally understand why people would risk everything for this, for someone who could adore them--not the abilities they possessed or the wealth they brought, but just the person they were.
* * *
Cam felt tears on his cheeks, and wasn't sure whose they were. Erestor groaned into his mouth, arching up to rub their lacerated torsos together, and Cam knew his master wanted, needed, much more than he had given him. Rolling him over, Cam ran a hand softly over the perfect skin of his lover's back before beginning to give him the pain he craved, putting additional strength behind his blows. He did not stop until the skin before him was almost completely raw, then sat back, breathing hard, wondering what his lover would want now, desperate not to disappoint.
As he waited, Erestor reached back, fingers clasping his abused buttocks, and spread them as widely as possible. Cam immediately knelt between his master's legs and, curling the lash around its handle, he used the whip to slowly invade him. The complete lack of preparation must have been excruciatingly painful, but Erestor nonetheless writhed up to meet the crop, riding it with apparent bliss. Cam pushed it in as far as he dared before wrenching it back out in one violent movement. But to his disbelief, Erestor not only did not scream, he barely moaned, sounding, if anything, slightly disappointed. Cam threw the whip aside and mounted him then, intent on eliciting some type of response from the stubborn creature below him.
He did not know if this night was merely pity on Erestor's part, because he had noticed Cam's increasingly hungry stares, or if he, too, was nervous about what they would face tomorrow and desired to ease the tension in the emotional release of their actions. He did not dare to even hope that Erestor felt anything for him, for why would he? Cam had spent time asking about him--discreetly of course--but while few seemed to have much information, he had discovered one fact which helped to explain his lover's concern for the young Peredhil. Erestor was the long time lover of Lord Elrond himself. When Cam had heard that, it felt like his heart was being torn from him, for he then knew he stood no chance.
He bit Erestor's neck hard as he slid into him, knowing this might be the last time they were together, for even if they both survived the mountain, he would return to the Lady's service while Erestor accompanied his handsome lord back to Imladris. Then, with that legendary beauty all to himself, what would he need with Cam? He felt Erestor clench around him, practically begging him to begin thrusting, but he waited, difficult though it was. Cam wanted to have his complete attention while he whispered his pain into that perfect ear, for why should he not at least have the satisfaction of telling him? Why should he be able to treat him this way, and never even have to hear about the agony he caused? "You toy with me, while your lord is busy. You play with my love while you wait for him. And as soon as he is not preoccupied anymore, you will leave with him, and I will be forced to remain behind." His sweat mingled with his blood and his tears, dripping slowly onto Erestor's cheek. "But, my beautiful lord, you WILL have something to remember me by. Something to compare with him the next time he takes you."
* * *
Erestor would normally have enjoyed the sensations Camthalion was giving him, mild though they were to what Elrond could elicit, but the words he spoke drove everything else from his mind. He had always laughed at stories in which people had sudden epiphanies during sex, for he was usually far too preoccupied to think clearly about anything in similar circumstances. But he did not feel like laughing now, as Cam thrust into him, deep and hard, his hands gripping his hips strongly enough to bruise, seemingly in a frenzy to do as he had said and permanently mark him as his own.
Erestor barely reacted, too intent on the strange new idea that had occurred to him to do much to encourage his lover, who nonetheless continued to thrust mercilessly, the friction along his unprepared channel causing exquisite pain. After a few moments, Erestor reached his decision, then gave himself over completely to sensation, tilting his hips as much as he could, trying to impale himself even more on his lover's already impressive length. Cam lasted much longer than he would have expected, and was far stronger, forcing Erestor to clutch the grass on either side of him to keep from being pushed across the surface of the glade. Cam finally expended himself, spilling into him with a cry that sounded strangely like defeat, and collapsing onto Erestor's abused back with a strangled sob. His arousal softened and slipped out, causing another brief ripple of sensation through Erestor, who smiled. Cam had much to learn but, oh, instructing him would be a great pleasure.
It took a few moments for Erestor to realise that Cam was in serious pain, although not of the physical kind. He rolled onto his side and wove a hand through Cam's damp hair to drag him into a searing kiss. He tasted sweet, beneath the blood and salt, the latter from the tears that continued to pour down his face. Erestor gathered him into his arms, rocking him like a child, letting him sob since it seemed to please him to do so. When he finally hiccupped to a stop some minutes later, Erestor raised his chin with a single finger and examined him. No, he hadn't been wrong. There was no mistaking the expression in those liquid blue eyes.
"When I return to Imladris," Erestor told him softly, "you are coming with me. I will speak with the lady myself once all this is past."
Instead of joyful, Camthalion just looked confused. "But . . . I failed you. You didn't even cry out! I tried but I . . . "
Erestor smiled, his dark eyes laughing, and kissed Cam's lips again just because he could. He realised joyfully that he could do that whenever he wanted from now on, and made a mental note to put it high on his list of priorities. "Then you'll just have to work harder next time, won't you?"
TBC