The Librarian 8/
LotR
NC17
Summery: Erestor = Erestor! w/ Glorfindel & Melpomean
Warnings: BDSM, RPS in the AN
Disclaimer: All LotR characters and settings are the exclusive property of the Tolkien estate. I do not have permission to use them.
Feedback: Oh yes, please.
For kharessa and machiavellian, AN um this set up was partially created so I could write a bunch of PWPs strike because I'm a perv like that/strike
"Lord Elrond, the contents of these scrolls cannot be open to any casual reader"
The earnest pleading of Haldir's expression was unquestionably genuine, but instinct and an age worth of experience raised the hair on Elrond's neck. They were ensconced in Elrond's chambers, the guardian having captured Imladris' lord's attention during dinner. But what had started as a pleasant seduction was now evolving into a political negotiation. Elrond sighed heavily, noting the span of golden skin peeking from Haldir's tunic, his muscled calves and his firm lips. Lips he had had plans for.
"Knowledge and information cannot be hidden, Haldir of Lorien. And I must wonder what you know of these matters and why you come to me instead of appealing to Erestor"
"My Lord, forgive me. I meant no lack of decorum in bringing this issue to you. I can only plead that you do not let the contents of those scrolls be widely known"
Haldir had fallen to his knees, and Elrond felt the warning tickle again. But, oh the warrior of the Golden Wood looked exquisite, crawling towards him, pleading with his eyes. Haldir wetted his lips, ripe and red against his tongue and any thought of caution left Elrond.
*
The freedom of it was intoxicating. Knowing that should any member of the household wander by they would see nothing out of the ordinary; just Erestor working at his desk, his apprentice primly beside him on his knees bent over some no doubt scholarly work. But, oh what they missed. Erestor had gifted Melpomaen new robes, supple fabric that moved with him like a breeze and was tailored with strategically placed slits that Erestor could slide his hand through to have instant access to Melpomaen's soft skin. No, none of that was visible to a library visitor.
Erestor grinned down at the top of Melpomaen's head. Over the past few days they had developed a ritual: Melpomaen would arrive in the Library at dawn, long before Erestor. He would disrobe and kneel nude, waiting in anticipation until Erestor arrived. The first day had been nerve-wracking for both of them. Erestor was terrified that they would be discovered, was unsure what to ask of Melpomaen and quite certain that he shouldn't want this quite so much. Melpomaen was just terrified, in a way that electrified his skin and hardened his sex. That obvious arousal chased any thoughts of the appropriateness from Erestor. Whether right or wrong that one of the first born should want something so carnal, so brutal disappeared at the open need in Melpomaen's eyes. Whatever else, when his head spun around ethics, shame and perversity - he knew that Melpomaen needed this. Needed it as much as Erestor needed him to need it.
And so he did, replaying the scene of Glorfindel's humiliation training every morning. He stalked around Melpomaen, a vulture circling his prey, teasing him, pinching, stroking him, pushing the edges a little further each time. By the Valar he was beautiful like that, balanced on his completion, begging for it, desperate and wanting.
*
Melpomaen must have felt Erestor's wolfish stare and he looked up uncertainly. So irresistible and Erestor didn't bother trying, leaning down and slipping his hand through one of the hidden openings of Melpomaen's robe he raked his nails across Mel's ribs.
"Master, please..."
Oh that whimper was good. Erestor scratched lightly across his skin again until he reached a nipple. Melpomaen caught his breath, holding it as Erestor ghosted teasingly around the hardened nub.
"Yes Melpomaen?"
Melpomaen leaned into Erestor's rubbing himself against his hand. Erestor felt his breath hitch but managed to stay very very still. He was mesmerizing with his want, Erestor thought dimly. He twisted the nipple, feeling the tremble ringing in his own loin. I could just push him down here and take all he was offering, all that he is. But he wouldn't. Not yet, not when he had something special planned. He pinched Melpomaen hard; a sharp warning that was greeted by another obscene moan.
"Not yet" Erestor removed his hand and glared at the door. When would the blacksmith's runner arrive?
*
The blacksmith had stared at the drawings, stared at Elrond's chief advisor, then stared at the drawings some more. Erestor felt his cheeks flood with color and he almost snatched back the parchments and fled. Almost. What stopped him was the thought that had been gnawing on him since he read Ecthelion's 'training': if an elf could be trained to arousal from shame, could he also find it in pain? Was it possible for one of the firstborn, or was it a side effect of Melkor's corruption? He glared at the blacksmith.
"And this part here, you um want to be able to adjust it?"
The blacksmith was trying very hard not to speculate what Elrond's chief advisor wanted with such devices. He was failing miserably. His mother had often warned him that dealing with t' elves would bring him no end of trouble. 'They're just not like us' she often said with a frown, but refused to elaborate further. He'd ignored it for the most part – these beautiful, mysterious creatures seemed perfect, without stain or threatening way. He stared at the drawing again. Perhaps mum had been right.
"These parts here, I can make no problem. Um this piece you uh might want to not have it be forged from metal, I mean I suppose you could but it might be more uh comfortable if it was made of something more uhhh giving" the blacksmith was sweating profusely.
"What would you recommend?" The blacksmith goggled then flushed angry.
"Well, I don't KNOW what might work, I'm just guessing. I'VE never seen such a device and even if you are an elf you'venobusinesscomingtomyshopandsuggestingthatI'mfamiliarwithsuchthings!" he was shaking and Erestor was fairly certain it was his fault. Chagrined, he patted the human on the back, calming him as he would his horse in a lightning storm.
"There, there" Erestor's soft murmurs seemed to have the desired effect; the blacksmith was calmer and regarding Erestor through slitted eyes. "I meant only to ask what types of materials are available"
"I'll have me cousin try his hand at this part. He's been 'perimenting with a sap he's leached from the tallari trees. He's found he can mold it into solid forms that are still pliable to touch. AND PLEASE STOP PETTING ME AS IF I WAS SOME CHILD'S PET DOG". Clearly his mum was a wise wise woman.
Erestor withdrew his hand as if burned. He'd really have to read up on humans sometime.
LotR
NC17
Summery: Erestor = Erestor! w/ Glorfindel & Melpomean
Warnings: BDSM, RPS in the AN
Disclaimer: All LotR characters and settings are the exclusive property of the Tolkien estate. I do not have permission to use them.
Feedback: Oh yes, please.
For kharessa and machiavellian, AN um this set up was partially created so I could write a bunch of PWPs strike because I'm a perv like that/strike
"Lord Elrond, the contents of these scrolls cannot be open to any casual reader"
The earnest pleading of Haldir's expression was unquestionably genuine, but instinct and an age worth of experience raised the hair on Elrond's neck. They were ensconced in Elrond's chambers, the guardian having captured Imladris' lord's attention during dinner. But what had started as a pleasant seduction was now evolving into a political negotiation. Elrond sighed heavily, noting the span of golden skin peeking from Haldir's tunic, his muscled calves and his firm lips. Lips he had had plans for.
"Knowledge and information cannot be hidden, Haldir of Lorien. And I must wonder what you know of these matters and why you come to me instead of appealing to Erestor"
"My Lord, forgive me. I meant no lack of decorum in bringing this issue to you. I can only plead that you do not let the contents of those scrolls be widely known"
Haldir had fallen to his knees, and Elrond felt the warning tickle again. But, oh the warrior of the Golden Wood looked exquisite, crawling towards him, pleading with his eyes. Haldir wetted his lips, ripe and red against his tongue and any thought of caution left Elrond.
*
The freedom of it was intoxicating. Knowing that should any member of the household wander by they would see nothing out of the ordinary; just Erestor working at his desk, his apprentice primly beside him on his knees bent over some no doubt scholarly work. But, oh what they missed. Erestor had gifted Melpomaen new robes, supple fabric that moved with him like a breeze and was tailored with strategically placed slits that Erestor could slide his hand through to have instant access to Melpomaen's soft skin. No, none of that was visible to a library visitor.
Erestor grinned down at the top of Melpomaen's head. Over the past few days they had developed a ritual: Melpomaen would arrive in the Library at dawn, long before Erestor. He would disrobe and kneel nude, waiting in anticipation until Erestor arrived. The first day had been nerve-wracking for both of them. Erestor was terrified that they would be discovered, was unsure what to ask of Melpomaen and quite certain that he shouldn't want this quite so much. Melpomaen was just terrified, in a way that electrified his skin and hardened his sex. That obvious arousal chased any thoughts of the appropriateness from Erestor. Whether right or wrong that one of the first born should want something so carnal, so brutal disappeared at the open need in Melpomaen's eyes. Whatever else, when his head spun around ethics, shame and perversity - he knew that Melpomaen needed this. Needed it as much as Erestor needed him to need it.
And so he did, replaying the scene of Glorfindel's humiliation training every morning. He stalked around Melpomaen, a vulture circling his prey, teasing him, pinching, stroking him, pushing the edges a little further each time. By the Valar he was beautiful like that, balanced on his completion, begging for it, desperate and wanting.
*
Melpomaen must have felt Erestor's wolfish stare and he looked up uncertainly. So irresistible and Erestor didn't bother trying, leaning down and slipping his hand through one of the hidden openings of Melpomaen's robe he raked his nails across Mel's ribs.
"Master, please..."
Oh that whimper was good. Erestor scratched lightly across his skin again until he reached a nipple. Melpomaen caught his breath, holding it as Erestor ghosted teasingly around the hardened nub.
"Yes Melpomaen?"
Melpomaen leaned into Erestor's rubbing himself against his hand. Erestor felt his breath hitch but managed to stay very very still. He was mesmerizing with his want, Erestor thought dimly. He twisted the nipple, feeling the tremble ringing in his own loin. I could just push him down here and take all he was offering, all that he is. But he wouldn't. Not yet, not when he had something special planned. He pinched Melpomaen hard; a sharp warning that was greeted by another obscene moan.
"Not yet" Erestor removed his hand and glared at the door. When would the blacksmith's runner arrive?
*
The blacksmith had stared at the drawings, stared at Elrond's chief advisor, then stared at the drawings some more. Erestor felt his cheeks flood with color and he almost snatched back the parchments and fled. Almost. What stopped him was the thought that had been gnawing on him since he read Ecthelion's 'training': if an elf could be trained to arousal from shame, could he also find it in pain? Was it possible for one of the firstborn, or was it a side effect of Melkor's corruption? He glared at the blacksmith.
"And this part here, you um want to be able to adjust it?"
The blacksmith was trying very hard not to speculate what Elrond's chief advisor wanted with such devices. He was failing miserably. His mother had often warned him that dealing with t' elves would bring him no end of trouble. 'They're just not like us' she often said with a frown, but refused to elaborate further. He'd ignored it for the most part – these beautiful, mysterious creatures seemed perfect, without stain or threatening way. He stared at the drawing again. Perhaps mum had been right.
"These parts here, I can make no problem. Um this piece you uh might want to not have it be forged from metal, I mean I suppose you could but it might be more uh comfortable if it was made of something more uhhh giving" the blacksmith was sweating profusely.
"What would you recommend?" The blacksmith goggled then flushed angry.
"Well, I don't KNOW what might work, I'm just guessing. I'VE never seen such a device and even if you are an elf you'venobusinesscomingtomyshopandsuggestingthatI'mfamiliarwithsuchthings!" he was shaking and Erestor was fairly certain it was his fault. Chagrined, he patted the human on the back, calming him as he would his horse in a lightning storm.
"There, there" Erestor's soft murmurs seemed to have the desired effect; the blacksmith was calmer and regarding Erestor through slitted eyes. "I meant only to ask what types of materials are available"
"I'll have me cousin try his hand at this part. He's been 'perimenting with a sap he's leached from the tallari trees. He's found he can mold it into solid forms that are still pliable to touch. AND PLEASE STOP PETTING ME AS IF I WAS SOME CHILD'S PET DOG". Clearly his mum was a wise wise woman.
Erestor withdrew his hand as if burned. He'd really have to read up on humans sometime.