Elrond groans when he feels Maglor moving above him. With the curtains closed he can't quite tell what time is it but fact is that they have been doing this for hours. His father barely gave him time to recover, giving their coupling a break only to get fresh water and something to eat.
"Again?," Elrond breathes, moans muffled by the pillow when he feels the head of Maglor's cock pushing against his entrance.
He's still warm and wet from the last time. So his father can push inside his open channel with ease. It still takes his breath away, every single time. Just like before Elrond gasps and buries his fingers in the sheets, closing his eyes in order to concentrate just on the feeling of being stretched. He doesn't know how it's possible that Maglor robs him his ability to breath with a single touch but Stars, it feels so good. Long he stopped counting how often he had been taken ever since his father dropped by for a visit and closed the door behind them. Now Elrond's body is on fire just by the simple contact where his skin meets Maglor's.
Rough calloused hands grasp his hips to bring them into the correct position.
"You're doing good, Ion nîn," Maglor whispers.
The Fëanorian presses his entire lengths against Elrond's body who shudders and arches his back to give the searching hands more room. They don't quite touch his throbbing member but Elrond long stopped paying too much attention to it. He's in a state of near constant arousal and it won't matter if he comes now. His father would just keep fucking him until Elrond is hard again.
"Ada..." Elrond moans and bucks his hips, trying to shift beneath the other Elf who isn't moving. "Why? Please..."
Fingers gently brush his hair out of the way until Maglor can suck at Elrond's bare neck.
"Easy," the Fëanorian murmurs against his son's soft skin. "Easy, Elrond, Easy. We'll get too it."
"Please..." It's more a question than a plea, because while Maglor is buried deep inside him he has yet to move.
Elrond is doing the most of it, shifting beneath his father, grinding against Maglor's pelvis to find some friction. Anything. Anything at all. But the Fëanorian is nothing if not patient. Centuries of wandering alone through Middle Earth he has learned to savor precious moments. Holding Elrond in his arms when everyone else has gone and left is the best thing of all.
The quiet keening sounds Elrond makes are a sweet tempation, better than all the songs of the Valar put together. Not even the Noldolante compares to it, supposely his greatest work. No, that honor goes to the wiggling body beneath him who bugs an squirms as Maglor slowly begins to move.
It's not much at first, Maglor remembers how insistent he has been over the last two days, never giving his son a time to breath. He has taken the always willing body in various states of arousal and awareness - last night Maglor didn't exactly wait until Elrond was properly awake to appreciate it. But it's exactly that kind of trust which always make him come back, searching for more.
"Oh ... oh," Elrond moans and pushes back against the cock which is somehow sliding even deeper into him. The Peredhel is keenly aware of the head brushing over that spot which makes him cry out with longing, stir up even more pleasure in his belly. "Ada,... just move!"
Next time, Elrond swears, he'll just straddle his father's hips. Ride him until he can't keep himself upright anymore. Show his father how much he loves him by siding up and down his hard length competely unashamed.
But Maglor knows what Elrond needs. Their hearts are entwined since thousands of years, ever since they meet on a balcony over the sea where the wind tore at their clothes and blood dripped on the floor. Love had grown since then and neither of them ever imagined of letting go. Though the sharing of the bed came more recently. Not that Elrond not tried as young adult but Maglor firmly refused, no matter how cold some nights were in the forshaken city of Amon Ereb.
All the doubts are gone now, washed away by the many nights and days they shared. From rough and desperate coupling where Maglor shoved his son against a wall and didn't hesiated to take what was his to gentle lovemaking between the sheets, there's only love beneath all of it. Sometimes mixed with old fears or the eagerness that comes with spring but the foundation is solid. No matter how much time passes, months or years depending on how long Maglor stays away, they fall into bed again sooner or later.
"Yes, yes,..." Elrond gasps as his father finally begins to move in sure, hard thrusts. "Just like this. I need it like this."
Elrond bends beneath Maglor's taller frame, stretches and rocks back to meet the ravenous appetite. The Fëanorian edges him on, stirs old and new desires, familiar feelings of want as Elrond seeks more friction. Wants to find release and is denied because Maglor isn't yet finished with him.
In the end Elrond is on his back, knees bend towards his chest and clinging to the sheets. His hair is a sweaty mess and his father a radiant figure above him. Merciless he's driving deeper, wild and nearly terrifying but Elrond bathes in the intensity. He loves the feeling as Maglor comes inside him, warm and wet. Hates it when his father lowers his legs and pulls out of him, breathing hard and resting his forehead on Elrond's stomach.
For a few minutes nothing disturbs the silence but the sound of their uneven breathing.
Until Maglor's tongue darts out, licks along Elrond's thigh ... downwards.
The Peredhel makes a loud wheezing sound when Maglor buries his face between his son's legs, pulls them apart and the mouth closes over the pink sensitive skin. Elrond manages to whisper a hoarse ' Please ' when the wet soft muscle licks him open and he surrenders himself to the whims of his father's devotion again.