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Glorfindel
08/16/17 06:40 pm
Good to be back Naledi :) All my characters would argue that they are as hot as Legolas lol
Naledi
08/15/17 10:31 pm
It's lovely to see you back, Glorfindel. Legolas may be mad, but compared to the rest of his family he's perfectly reasonable. And hot :)
Glorfindel
08/15/17 10:04 pm
Naledi - I htink Legolas is mad; he hides it well though lol
Glorfindel
08/15/17 10:04 pm
Thanks Ziggy and Naledi - I am really happy you are enjoying it. I am hoping to write more frequently - gone are the days when I had lots of time.
Naledi
08/15/17 09:09 am
Yes, it's great to see them back. They're all barking mad. Except gorgeous Legolas, of course.
ziggy
08/14/17 11:43 pm
Just loving the bonkers elves in Jeli in Valinor, Glorfindel!
Naledi
08/04/17 11:40 am
That's good to know, Spiced and Ziggy xxx I'm a bit wary of sharing my email publicly but anyone can PM me via my profile
ziggy
08/04/17 11:29 am
Yes- me too. My email is on my profile- I'm always happy to chat:)
Spiced Wine
08/04/17 10:23 am
I always have you all in my thoughts :) I hope of anything is wrong you might contact me.
ziggy
08/03/17 11:02 pm
Yes- so sad. Makes me think how easy it is for us fanfic friends to lose track of each other if we're not careful. Hugs to all then.
Shout Archive


A Lesson in the Library by Naledi

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A Lesson in the Library

Grey eyes gleamed appreciatively as they spied the willowy figure of the golden haired Elf who was browsing the volumes in a secluded recess. A predatory grin tugged at Elrohir’s lips as he softly closed the door to Imladris’ famed library behind him. There was the barest whisper of a sound as he slid the bolt across. With a skill borne of countless hunts, the son of Elrond crossed the room on silent feet and positioned himself at the entrance of the alcove, thus blocking the exit of the Elf standing within.

The object of his interest stood with his back to Elrohir and did not appear to have noticed that he was no longer alone in the library. Elrohir took the opportunity to subject the fair Elf to intense scrutiny. Legolas Thranduilion, for it was he, was a picture of radiant innocence with his unbound hair flowing freely down his back, clad in naught but a fine white shirt and leggings the colour of beech bark. He wore no shoes, but went barefoot. A true woodland sprite, Elrohir reflected. He held a lantern in front of him to aid in his perusal of the shelves and standing in the pool of light this cast, the woodland Elf’s golden hair and ivory skin gleamed like Anor and Ithil united. 

“It is a little late for you to be studying, is it not, Prince Legolas?” 

Legolas spun around; blue eyes wide in shock, clearly startled at realising someone had crept up on him unawares. A scroll he had been clutching dropped to the floor with a clatter followed by the soft slither of unfurling parchment. 

“Lord Elrohir!” exclaimed the flustered prince, hastily placing the lantern on a table and picking up the scroll. “Forgive me if I shouldn’t be here at this hour, but I couldn’t sleep. I thought to while away the time with a tale.”

“Peace, my prince. I meant no censure. I was merely surprised to find I was not the only occupant of the library at this late hour. I could not sleep either and was also seeking something to read, but I would gladly exchange reading in solitude for some time spent in your fair company.”  As he spoke, Elrohir roved Legolas’ form with a bold eye that left the fair prince in no doubt as to his intentions. Stepping forward a few paces, he closed the distance between himself and Legolas. The archer instinctively backed away until his back was pressed up against the shelves, a hectic flush rising from his throat up to his cheeks. Dropping his eyes from Elrohir’s piercing gaze, he nervously began to fidget with the scroll he was holding up to his chest as though it was a shield.

“Here, let me take that,” said Elrohir softly. “Erestor would have a thousand fits if he could see the way you were handling one of his treasured scrolls.” Taking the scroll from Legolas, he let his fingers briefly brush against those of the Wood Elf, before leaning up close to him in order to place the scroll on a shelf just above his shoulder. Legolas reacted with a gasp, jerking away his hand and pressing himself back against the bookcase as far as he could.

“Why so flighty, my prince? Anyone would think you a virgin, the way you shy from my touch.” 

At that, Legolas bit his lip and turned his head away. Elrohir gave a throaty chuckle. “So that’s it! You are an innocent! Truly the Valar have blessed me tonight!”

“Please, my Lord,” whispered Legolas, “My father…. he warned me…” he tailed off and squeezed his eyes shut as Elrohir brushed the back of his fingers in a feather-light caress down the side of his face and across his quivering lips.

“Your father?” Elrohir puzzled, “What would he have to do with this?” Then his eyes flashed in comprehension. “Ah! You mean he warned you against succumbing to the wiles of one of the notorious sons of Elrond?” 

Legolas said nothing, just nodded.

Elrohir gave a slow smile and then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching Legolas’ left ear. The two were now standing so close he could feel the warmth emanating from the other’s body. He spoke in a low, husky tone. “So tales of our carnal exploits have reached even Greenwood, I see. But have you ever heard of one who has had occasion to complain after a night spent in my arms? I think not! I would have you know, Legolas, that I consider it a matter of honour to bestow naught but the very greatest pleasure on my bedfellows. Aren’t you curious to know what that would be like?” Elrohir breathed gently onto the delicately pointed tip of Legolas’ ear, causing the prince to shiver and draw in a sharp breath. “I can promise to bring you utter ecstasy as I tend to every inch of your delectable body. Shall I describe how I plan to pleasure you?” With that, he whispered into his ear the long tale of how he would stroke, caress, lick, kiss and suck each and every part of the prince’s body to delirious arousal and climax. 

As his narration drew to a close, he ran his fingers through Legolas’ silken hair and murmured, “I am at your command, my prince. Just tell me where you wish me to begin.”

Legolas seemed too dazed to reply, but opened his eyes wide and turned his head to face Elrohir once more.  The Elf Knight, continuing to comb his fingers through Legolas’ flaxen locks, noted with satisfaction how his breathing had become rapid and shallow. The pulse point at his throat was throbbing erratically, causing the delicate amber and mithril acorn pendant he wore to quiver where it lay at the base of his throat. As he watched, Legolas reached up to grasp the acorn in a defensive gesture, but then let go to steady himself against the bookcase as Elrohir’s fingers brushed against a sensitive ear tip. Elrohir could not resist reaching out to touch the finely embossed mithril that formed the cup of the acorn.

“Exquisite!” he breathed. “If that is where you wish me to begin, then how can I deny you?”

Then in a move that elicited gasps of surprise from Legolas, he bent down and caressed the hollow at the base of his throat with heated lips and then ran butterfly kisses along his collar bone and then finally back down to run his tongue around the flesh beneath the pendant. Legolas trembled violently under these ministrations and tilted his head back with a soft sigh.

“Exquisite!” purred Elrohir once more, regarding the prince’s flushed face and darkened eyes with a satisfied smile. “You cannot deny you enjoyed that.”

“No,” whimpered Legolas. Then a perplexed frown furrowed his brow. “I mean yes. No, wait, I mean….” 

He broke off with a strangled gasp as Elrohir grasped him by the waist and pulled his body firmly to his own. Elrohir gave a wicked smile as he felt telltale hardness pressed against his thigh. Giving the woodland prince no chance to recover his wits, he shifted his hips, the delicious friction causing Legolas to moan and instinctively rub himself against Elrohir. The Peredhel twin could wait no longer: he claimed Legolas’ mouth in a demanding kiss. When Legolas gasped against his lips at the audacity of the move, Elrohir took full advantage of the moment and easing his tongue between those petal-like lips, proceeded to caress the archer’s palate with leisurely swipes. Legolas tensed in his arms and gripped the raven-haired warrior’s shoulders tightly. At first it seemed as though he would try to push his seducer away, but then he melted into the kiss and wound his arms around Elrohir’s shoulders, burying his fingers in the raven tresses that lay there.  Relaxing in the Elf Knight’s embrace, he began to return Elrohir’s attentions with an exploration of his own. With tentative strokes that became more insistent as he gained confidence, he ran the tip of his own tongue along the underside of Elrohir’s, causing the twin to moan with approval.  

When they parted for air, Elrohir regarded the archer carefully to see what effect his ministrations had had on the prince. Legolas was breathing heavily; his usually pale cheeks stained a deep crimson. His eyes were closed and as Elrohir watched, he ran his tongue over his lips as though to savour the taste the twin had left upon them. Opening his eyes, he gazed wonderingly at Elrohir and then bestowed a dazzling smile upon him.

“Let me taste you again,” he murmured huskily. 

This was the signal Elrohir had been waiting for and he brought their lips together once more in a scorching kiss. Without breaking the kiss, he unfastened the clasps on the Wood Elf’s shirt and tugged it impatiently free from his arms and dropped it to the floor. Before turning his attentions to the ties on his leggings, he distracted the archer by running a series of searing kisses and playful nibbles down his chest and finally laving his tongue over a taut nipple, evoking a sharp cry of pleasure. By this time Legolas was so absorbed in the exquisite sensations wrought by tongue, lips and teeth on his sensitive flesh that he scarcely noticed as Elrohir unfastened the ties and pulled down his leggings.

Only when Legolas stood naked did Elrohir step back and regard him with a lust-filled gaze. 

“Truly, you must be the most beautiful Elf ever to grace Arda,” he breathed. Without once removing his gaze from the stunning sight before him, he hastily stripped off his own clothes and then pulled Legolas once more into a full body embrace, both Elves sighing with approval at the feeling of flesh against flesh. 

There was a low couch situated to one side of the alcove, placed under a west facing window for the benefit of Erestor, who liked to sit there in the evenings while perusing the library’s latest acquisitions. It was to this couch Elrohir now steered his conquest without breaking their kiss and eased his lover down onto the soft velvet cushions. He then proceeded to put the couch to a use that, had Erestor witnessed it, would have caused the chief counsellor to have said item of furniture chopped up for firewood.

Presently the renowned library of Elrond Peredhel, usually a venue for hushed, reverent sounds such as the scratching of a quill on parchment or the rustle of paper, was treated to a crescendo of moans, gasps and keening cries all interspersed with the ominous creak of the couch as it protested such vigorous usage. Lantern light gleamed off mingled raven and golden hair, undulating muscles and toned limbs entwined in passion. The shadows they cast against the wall shifted as the two bodies moved in the rhythm of the oldest dance of them all. Finally Legolas arched his back, locked his legs tightly around Elrohir’s waist and cried out his lover’s name in frantic gasps as he came to a shattering completion. Soon after, Elrohir reached his own climax and muffled his ecstatic cries against Legolas’ shoulder. 

The lovers clung together as the waves of rapture slowly subsided. For some time the only sounds to be heard was their gradually slowing breathing. Eventually Elrohir stirred. Raising himself up onto an elbow, he treated Legolas to a languorous kiss.

“You were right, my love,” he murmured after a pause for breath. 

Legolas managed to bestir himself enough to utter an interrogative, “Mmm?”

“Playing a part like that,” elaborated Elrohir, between planting kisses down the side of the Wood Elf’s smooth, alabaster throat. He nuzzled the crook of his neck before continuing, “I didn’t really believe you when you said it could be more stimulating this way. But Elbereth! I’ve never felt anything like it.” He gave a throaty chuckle. “You were amazing! You almost had me believing your wide-eyed, untouched forest prince act when I know from first-hand experience just how wanton you can be!”

Legolas laughed and ran the tip of his tongue down the shallow cleft of Elrohir’s chest, wiping away the trail left by a bead of perspiration. “Maybe you won’t take so much persuading next time I have a suggestion. And there’s so much more I have to teach you.”

“Really?” Elrohir said with a gasp as the roving tongue slid over a nipple and then began to circle it. “Then what do you suggest for our next lesson?”

“My, what an eager pupil you’ve suddenly become!” Legolas remarked before resuming his attentions to his lover’s chest. He closed his lips around the pert nipple and tugged on it gently, rewarded at first by his student’s ardent sighs of approval and then by the feel of hard flesh pressing against his belly as Elrohir’s member surged into life once more. 

“Ai, Elbereth! How do you manage to do this to me so soon?” Elrohir growled. Legolas responded with a beguiling smile and shifted his hips so that his own resurgent shaft was rubbing against Elrohir’s. Soon they were both moaning needfully.

Legolas chuckled suddenly and moved away slightly, ignoring the protesting cry from Elrohir. “I wonder if anyone heard us tonight? You were rather noisy. I’d love to see you try to explain this away at breakfast if anyone recognised your voice.”

“You were hardly quiet yourself!” retorted Elrohir, frustrated by the sudden break in contact. “Anyway, you will have to look for other entertainment in the morning: everyone is either abed or in the Hall of Fire and both sleeping quarters and Hall are well away from the library. No one will have been close enough to have heard our passion.” Elrohir looked pensive for a moment and then a speculative gleam appeared in his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “In fact, tomorrow we will be most fortunate, for Lindir has announced that he will be performing his new composition tomorrow. He’s been working on it for months. No one wants to miss that. The Hall of Fire will be packed, leaving the rest of Imladris for us to make as much noise as we wish in and no one will hear us.”

Legolas’ eyes glittered with lust, “By the Valar! That would make a most admirable location for our next lesson,” he whispered.

“What would?”

“The Hall of Fire!”

“No, I said that would be crowded tomorrow. It is everywhere else that will be empty,” corrected Elrohir patiently, thinking that Legolas’ senses were so obscured with lust that he hadn’t heard him correctly. “Where shall we go, my love? I rather like the idea of the balcony outside the dining hall.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of his lover’s neck.

“Oh you heard me correctly,” replied Legolas in a low, throaty tone. He delicately ran a light finger up and down the Elf Knight’s spine. At least, that is what Elrohir assumed he was doing. Either that or the stark terror caused by the realisation of what Legolas was proposing was making his spine shiver of its own accord. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry with shock.

“Are you jesting with me?” Elrohir sat up and looked the prince straight in the eyes, seeking the truth. He felt a flutter of panic as he saw that he was serious. “Sweet Eru, Legolas! When you said you had more to teach me I thought you meant you could tie me up, or, or…” Elrohir paused as his mind, only recently awoken to the more adventurous aspects of lovemaking, grasped frantically for another example. “Or we could do it in Glorfindel’s wardrobe. Or something. But the Hall of Fire? Everyone will be there tomorrow!”

“Exactly! That’s the whole point: the danger that we might be seen, the need to be silent…Ai! Elbereth! I think I’m going to come just thinking about it!” Legolas’ post-coital languor was starting to turn into a distinctly pre-coital fervour.

“But Legolas, we will be seen,” persisted Elrohir desperately, his face a picture of horror as he imagined the reaction of the denizens of Imladris to finding him locked in a passionate embrace with the heir of Thranduil in such a public place. He struggled to clear his mind in order to present a rational argument to convince Legolas of the sheer folly of his proposal. However he was finding it hard to remain coherent in the light of what Legolas had started to do with his tongue.

“Legolas,” he tried one last time, “my mother will be there! Surely you can’t – ai!” He broke off abruptly as the tip of Legolas’ tongue found a particularly sensitive spot.

Having satisfied himself that Elrohir was in no state to argue further for the moment, Legolas ran his elegant fingers through Elrohir’s hair and crooned softly, “When I made that suggestion about the cherry sauce and the egg whisk you objected, saying it would make a horrible mess, didn’t you?” He received a mute nod in response. “Yet when we tried it, I seem to recall you rather enjoyed the experience. If memory serves, when I asked your opinion you said, ‘Ai, Valar! Yes! This is amazing!’ Then you went on to say something about me being your hot Silvan stud, or words to that effect. It was hard to make out exactly what you were saying by that time.”

Another swirl of the tongue elicited a whimper from the twin.

“I told you afterwards that that was just the beginning, didn’t I?” Legolas punctuated his words with tantalising nibbles and licks.

“Yes!” Elrohir gasped, rational thought abandoning him as his lover’s talented mouth continued its work on his trembling body.

“In fact, have you not gained complete and utter satisfaction from each and every one of our lessons since then, even though you may have expressed doubts at first?” Another swipe of the tongue.

“Oh yes!”

“You do trust me, don’t you?” 

“Yes! Legolas please, just -,”

“Good, then the Hall of Fire tomorrow it is!” 

Grasping Elrohir by the nape of the neck, Legolas drew him down into a searing kiss, silencing any further protests from his lover. He broke the embrace just long enough to say, “Nice idea about Glorfindel’s wardrobe though. We’ll definitely do that another time.”

The End

 

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