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The Wrong Room by elfscribe

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Beta: Oshun.  Thanks my dear!
Disclaimer: No own nada. 
Written for Inwe_saralonde. 
First published Nov. 1, 2008


“Where did you get that mark?” Elrohir asked suspiciously as he rubbed a thumb against the purple bruise on Legolas’ neck.

Legolas smiled creamily. “Late last night when you came to bed.”  His brow furrowed.  “Were you too drunk to remember?”

Elrohir’s voice went cold.  “I was still out with the patrol last night.”

Legolas sat up abruptly.  “No.  It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.”

“You can’t tell me from my brother, even yet?”

“I thought it was you. Of course I did.” Legolas pushed Elrohir out of his arms, rose from the bed, and paced angrily. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Why would you allow such a thing?”

“It’s not my fault, Elrohir.  He moved like you, felt like you, smelled like you.”

“Not surprising.”  Elrohir leaned up against the headboard with folded arms.  “But we are not the same.  I would have thought you, of all elves, could tell us apart.”

“Elrohir, he didn’t talk much and it was dark.  Very, very dark,” Legolas said.  He closed his eyes for a moment savoring the memory of pleasures in the night, then jerked them open guiltily.  “I’m sorry, meleth.  I didn’t know.  You must believe me.”   He came back and lay down sulkily next to his lover.

“Maybe I don’t believe you.  Maybe you’ve secretly always wanted him.”

“Why should I want him when I have you?” Legolas growled. He was in no mood for this.

“Well, how was he?”


“Was he good?”

Legolas looked at the wavering flame of the single candle.  Last night’s lovemaking had been remarkably passionate and completely satisfying. This called for caution. “Um, well, not as good as you.”

“Are you sure about that?  My brother has a reputation as a most ardent lover.”

“No, definitely not as good as you.”
“Look at me and say that again.”

Legolas looked into Elrohir’s narrowed eyes.  “You’re much better,” he said as sincerely as he could muster.

“You’re lying!  Oh Mandos in Valmar!” Elrohir spluttered.  “I’m going to have to kill my brother!  And it will be all your fault that I’m exiled for kinslaying.”

Legolas felt a rising sense of panic. “Listen Elrohir, it was dark. Maybe he thought he was visiting someone else.”

Elrohir snorted.  “Highly unlikely.”

But Legolas seized on the idea.  “Yes, my room is next to Ada’s. Maybe he got confused.”

“What!  Elladan is trysting with the King?”

Oh now he’d put his foot in it for certain.  Legolas sighed.  “I thought he told you everything.”

“Apparently not.” Elrohir scowled deeply.  “And you knew of this?”

Second misstep. Legolas clearly wasn’t getting any this evening. He said, “I don’t know for certain, but I have reasons for suspicion. But you see, it makes sense that he mistook my room for Ada’s.”

“Hmmm.” Elrohir tapped his lip.  “You must tell me everything that happened -- in detail. Everything he said and did.”

“In complete detail?” Legolas asked as he worried at a tassel on the pillow.  Oh gods, this was going to be painful.

“No, better yet.” Elrohir smiled wickedly. “You need to show me.”  He rolled on top of Legolas, pressing their bare loins together.
Black pits of Angband! Painful in more ways than one.  In fact Legolas was still more than a little sore from the enthusiasms of the previous night. “Listen meleth,” he began nervously. “Truthfully, I thought it was you. I don’t think a complete revelation is the best idea . . . .”

Elrohir caught his wrists and held them down hard. He leaned forward until their noses touched. “Tell me everything that happened or I’ll go back to Imladris right now.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Legolas sighed. “Well, I was asleep when he came in.  He woke me with a kiss.”

“Like this?” Elrohir asked.

Legolas found his mouth possessed and devoured by hungry lips. Oh, Elrohir had the plumpest, most delicious lips in all of Arda -- well maybe no better than his brother’s.

“Mmm, yes, like that,” Legolas groaned, when he caught a breath. “His body was cold at first as if he’d been outside.  He smelled of wood smoke.  I swear I thought it was you -- that you’d come back early from the patrol.  He was already hard and rather  . . . um . . . insistent.  Wanted to get right to it.”

“Like this?” Elrohir asked, with a smirk. He grasped Legolas by the thighs and lifted him up.  His cock slid along Legolas’ cleft.  By the gods, Elrohir was unusually commanding this evening.  Legolas found he liked it.  It seemed he was not so different from his brother after all.  Elrohir’s cock was pushing hard at his sore behind.

“Ouch, oil!” Legolas cried.

Elrohir reached for the secret compartment in the headboard, pressed the hidden switch, and reached in.

Legolas cocked his head sideways in puzzlement.  “Come to think of it, he knew where that was.  Did you tell him, melda?”
Elrohir smiled wickedly, “Why would I do that?  You must have told him.  How much wine did you have?”  He poured a handful of the slippery, almond-smelling fluid and caught up Legolas’ member in a tight grasp, then began rapidly working it, up and down.

Legolas closed his eyes and moaned.  He was trying to think.  Had he told Elladan?  He could swear not, but -- nguh -- his thinking skills were becoming less acute with every pass of his lover’s  hand.  “Uh, melda, that feels so good.”

“Better than my brother?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

The hand left and Legolas opened his eyes to watch Elrohir slicking himself up.  His magnificent organ emerged slick and shining from his efforts.  Legolas couldn’t help himself.  He reached forward and closed his hand around it, savored the hot throb in his palm.

Elrohir grabbed both Legolas’ wrists and leaned his weight forward, pressing Legolas into the mattress.  He rubbed their cocks together hard. First one way, then the other.  Oh yes.  Frissons of delight. Then Elrohir dropped back a little. Legolas felt him pushing against his balls, which was somewhat painful.

“Careful,” he warned.  He felt the heat from Elrohir’s shaft positioned just so.  He couldn’t help it, his knees parted that much further.
The corner of Elrohir’s mouth quirked.  His eyes reflected the candlelight. “I want you to pay particular attention, so you’ll always be able to tell us apart,” he said.   Then he thrust forward.

“Gah!”  Legolas shouted as he felt himself stretched, filled, and then rammed into the mattress with great hard thrusts.

“Did he do this?”

“Oh gods,” Legolas cried. “Yes, it was just like that.”

“You can’t tell any difference?”

“Yes, no, I can’t . . . ngarrrr.”

The bed was protesting with strange creaks and groans.  Legolas felt the tenderness inside bloom into a lashing, coiling desire.  Oh, he’d missed this during the long years when they’d been separated.   So deliciously good.

“Then, unhhh, what, what did he do?” Elrohir breathed.

What had his mysterious lover done last night? He couldn’t even think. This, it was like this. Just as hot and sweet.    

“Speak to me, or your punishment will be worse,” Elrohir said with a wicked thrust.

Legolas was seeing in tones of flickering red.  He needed, needed to touch himself. “Yes, punish me.  Take me hard,” he cried.  He tightened his stomach muscles, thrust up, trying to rub himself against his lover’s belly.

Elrohir stopped completely, lowered himself to kiss Legolas’ lips, teasingly.  “What if I just stay like this. Keep you in this state all night long?”  He rolled his hips in a circular motion, so that Legolas could feel every inch of him inside.  By the gods . . .

“You wouldn’t,” Legolas said.

“You think not,” Elrohir challenged.  He began a shallow thrusting that was just short of hitting Legolas where he needed.

Legolas closed his eyes.  “Curse of Mandos,” he gasped.

“What if I were to tie your hands to the bedposts so you would be completely at my mercy?”

“Do anything you wish,” Legolas cried.  He could only think of his throbbing need. He struggled against Elrohir’s grip and nearly bucked him off.  Elrohir sank his weight down.  There was another roll of the hips, then a repeat of the shallow sawing motion.

“Did he do this to you?” he asked.

“Yes.  He did.”  Funny that, Elrohir seemed to know everything his brother had done.  Were they so alike then?  A suspicion was beginning to blossom.  Then Elrohir pulled out all the way and shoved back in again so hard that Legolas’ head bumped against the headboard and he yipped in pain.  Elrohir released Legolas' wrists, abruptly dragged him further down the bed, and grabbed him about the thighs.  Holding him up, he entered him again, lifting his arse up off the bed with each thrust.

“Shite, Elrohir!” Legolas moaned.  He reached down and took his straining organ in his hand, stroking hard.  It felt so good.

“Tell me, am I better than my brother?  Tell me truthfully,” Elrohir growled.

“Truthfully? No . . . Aiiiiiii,” Legolas cried as his cock shuddered in his hand and he came in blessed, hot pulses, that showered as high as his neck.  “Gaaaaaahhhh,” he groaned as he continued emptying himself, coming until his balls hurt.       

Elrohir’s pupils were blown dark; his expression luminous.  He shifted to a long stroke, withdrawing nearly completely and thrusting back in so hard that Legolas gasped each time.  He dropped down onto his hands on either side of Legolas’s chest.  A drop of sweat trickled in the line between his shifting pectorals and his long hair swung forward and back. Legolas was struck anew with his beauty.  Then, just before Elrohir lowered his head to kiss him again, Legolas noticed a faint blue bruise at the base of his jaw.  Curious.

Suddenly, Elrohir’s mouth dropped open and he thrust hard, stopped for a moment, and groaned as deeply as if struck by a javelin.  His eyes rolled back in his head.  He resumed thrusting, slower, slower, riding out the orgasm.  “Ah, ah, ah,” he moaned.  Finally he stopped, collapsed on top of Legolas, and shuddered. “Valar’s mercy, that was good.”
“Was it as good as last night?” Legolas asked sweetly as he pulled his fingers through cool strands of dark hair.

“Oh, even better,” Elrohir sighed. Then he opened his eyes and met Legolas’ smirk.  He smiled ruefully.  “How did you know it was me?”

“Even twins could not repeat a performance so exactly,” Legolas said. He reached up and probed the bruise on Elrohir’s throat.  “Down to the mark I made in the heights of ecstasy last night.  You, my darling peredhel, are wicked.”

Elrohir chuckled.  “I took you for a ride though for a while, didn’t I?”

“Hmmm.” Legolas slanted an eye at him. “In more ways than one. And now,” with a quick motion, he rolled Elrohir over and held him down by his wrists.  “I’d say turnabout is fair play. Wouldn't you?”

Elrohir laughed delightedly as Legolas reached for the compartment in his headboard and pulled out two red silk scarves.  He held still while Legolas tied one wrist to the bedpost. Then he frowned.  “Meleth, did you say that Elladan was trysting with your father?”

Legolas grinned as he finished affixing his lover’s other wrist to the bedpost and surveyed him spread wide before him. “Either that or he got the wrong room.”
The End

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