A Perfect Night

A Perfect Night

Posted: March 23, 2007
Title: A Perfect Night
Sequel to: A Perfect Day
Author: Jay of Lasgalen
Type: FCS
Characters: Elrohir/Legolas, Elladan.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s, not mine.

Summary: Elrohir has long had a fantasy of his own.

*****

Elrohir drifted back to wakefulness at the sound of a soft tap at the door. He stretched lazily, and grinned as he recalled what had happened the last time he had done that. His body still ached pleasantly from their exertions. Legolas was sprawled across the bed, one arm and one leg still draped over him possessively, and the sun was now high in the sky, streaming in through the open windows to pool in golden puddles on the floor.

The tap at the door was repeated, and after a moment the door opened slightly. Elladan peered around the edge warily. “Can I come in yet? Is it safe?”

Elrohir turned his head and smiled. “Idiot. Of course you can.” He slid free of Legolas without disturbing him and sat up, wincing slightly. It had been a long time since he had been taken quite so thoroughly, but it had been most exhilarating, and he grinned again at the memory. Pulling on a pair of loose sleep pants he stood to greet Elladan. “Good morning, brother. I am sorry if we disturbed your rest earlier – we were … a little preoccupied.”

Elladan gazed at him in expressive silence, one eyebrow raised as he took in the tracery of wine stains that decorated Elrohir’s chest and stomach; his tangled hair; the faint bruises and blemishes that marked his neck and throat. “So I see. Preoccupied? I have not heard it called that before!” He grinned. “It is clear that you have already had a good morning,” he added. His eyes went to the broken bars on the bed, and the tattered strips of cloth still bound to Elrohir’s wrists. “A very good morning,” he amended, and grinned again. “It gladdens me to see you so happy, little brother. It almost makes me regret that I am still single!”

Elrohir smiled with deep satisfaction and contentment. “We will have to find you a mate – you do not know what you are missing, El. But will you join us for breakfast?”

Elladan shook his head regretfully. “I cannot. I came to tell you that I am taking a patrol – your patrol – down to the southern border overnight. We return tomorrow. I just came to say goodbye.”

Elrohir hugged him in farewell. “Then I wish you a safe journey, brother. And El – thank you for taking on my duties and patrols. For giving us this time together.”

Elladan grinned. “You owe me, little brother. And I will not forget!”

As he left, Elrohir gazed at the closed door thoughtfully. If Elladan was away overnight, then he and Legolas would have this part of the house to themselves. There would be no-one within inconvenient earshot. That could be most useful – and perhaps it was time to indulge in a little fantasy of his own that he had long dreamed of.

He returned to the bed where Legolas still slept. Lying at his side, he traced a finger lightly down Legolas’s back, following the line of his spine. Legolas hummed slightly and burrowed more deeply into the sheets. “Mmm … nice,” he murmured drowsily.

Elrohir replaced the finger with his mouth, drawing a wet pattern with his tongue along the same route. Legolas moaned and woke fully, turning his head to smile lazily at Elrohir. “More?” he questioned. “Already? You are insatiable!”

Elrohir finished with a darting sweep of his tongue against the cleft at the base of Legolas’s spine, and raised his head with a grin. “More later,” he amended. “That was merely a promise for tonight. For I have a fantasy as well.”

“Yes,” Legolas responded immediately.

“Yes? You agree so readily? You do not even know what my fantasy is!”

Legolas shook his head. “It does not matter. Yes. I look forward to whatever you have planned,” he added mischievously. “Although …” For the first time he sounded almost hesitant, though there was a familiar sparkle in his eyes. “If that was only a promise, you may have to gag me, or we will have Elladan pounding on the door again!” He grinned wickedly.

Elrohir laughed and pulled Legolas against him, kissing the back of his neck. “Elladan,” he breathed softly, “is away tonight. He told me. So we will be alone.” He ran his tongue over Legolas’s ear. “Undisturbed,” he continued, his breath soft and caressing. “Unheard.” He licked at the soft hollow. “There will be no-one to hear you scream my name.” He smiled with satisfaction as Legolas shuddered and gave a low moan, then drew away regretfully. He could wait until tonight – they both could. And then, perhaps, he would see just how far he could take this.

“Tonight,” he promised again.

o-o-o

That night they dined alone on the stone flagged terrace outside Elrohir’s rooms. There was no moon, and the only light came from softly flickering candles on the table, and the glittering stars overhead. The night was still and quiet, full of the heady scents of the honeysuckle and jasmine that grew along the low wall, the silence broken only by far-off laughter, the ever-present music of the streams and waterfalls, and the liquid song of a distant nightingale.

Elrohir poured the last of the wine into a goblet, then gazed at Legolas across the table. “It is time,” he murmured, as he reached into a pocket on his tunic. Legolas watched curiously as he unfolded a small packet and took a pinch of some fine powder, then added it to the goblet. He glanced at the packet, shrugged, and tipped the last of the brownish coloured grains in as well. He swirled the wine briefly, then held the cup out to Legolas.

Legolas took the goblet, brimming over with curiosity and anticipation. He eyed Elrohir questioningly, but drank without hesitation. He trusted Elrohir no matter what he had planned – but by the Valar, he wished he knew what it was! He took a large sip, savouring the flavour – now subtly different – and then drank again. The wine left a slightly sweet aftertaste, and he licked his lips, trying to identify it.

Already he could feel a warm glow spreading through him, a pleasant tingle throughout his body. As he raised the goblet again, Elrohir caught his hand, stopping him. “Wait. Save some for me,” he whispered.

He set the goblet down again, noting how Elrohir’s fingers felt cool against his heated skin. The warmth spread further, seeming to pool in his groin, and he shifted slightly in his seat as he felt the first stirrings of arousal. He gazed at Elrohir curiously. “What is it?”

“Aphrodisia,” Elrohir explained.

Legolas gaped at him. Aphrodisia was incredibly rare, fabulously expensive, and rumoured to increase sexual pleasure and endurance tenfold – at least. “Where did you get it?” he asked at last.

“Through Glorfindel. It seems that he has certain sources among the traders, denied to the rest of us. He said we should try it. From the gleam in his eye, I suspect he and Erestor already have.”

“But …” Legolas swallowed his words as Elrohir reached across the table and placed a finger against his lips.

“No buts. No questions,” he whispered. “This is my fantasy.” Elrohir’s low voice, his gentle touch, sent bolts of fire through Legolas, and he moaned softly. He was already hard and aching, and the heat in his groin was a sweet torment. He realised that the rumours about Aphrodisia were true, every one of them, but they fell far short of this exquisite reality. “Come.”

Legolas feared he would, right there and then, but Elrohir drew him to his feet and moved into the bedroom, setting the unfinished wine down carefully. “Later,” he explained. “For now, I wish to pleasure you. I do not want to be distracted by my own desires.”

Legolas was beyond arguing the point. Elrohir’s every touch, every word, fuelled the fire within him. They were on the bed now, and both suddenly unclothed, and he felt the gentle caress of the night air on his flushed skin. The silken sheets were soft and cool, tangling in his legs as he reached out and pulled Elrohir to him.

The feeling of intense arousal and fierce desire were not unlike those few occasions when he had taken too much wine – but this was far stronger, and unlike those times he was clear headed and lucid, aware of every touch against his skin. He could feel the cool breath of the evening breeze, the rough calluses from sword and bow on Elrohir’s hands, and his own heart rate, faster than normal as the blood thrummed through his veins. The heightened awareness of sensation tantalised him with erotic promises of what was to come, and he ached to feel Elrohir’s caress again.

Elrohir leaned closer, his voice low. “Now, where were we?” he whispered.

Legolas swallowed, clenching one hand convulsively against the sheet as he tried to retain some pretence of coherence. Elrohir’s breath, soft and warm and slightly scented from the wine they had drunk, brushed against the side of his face. “You were telling me,” he managed, “that we would be undisturbed tonight. That no-one would overhear us. That no-one would hear when I scream your name.” He turned, rolling and pinning Elrohir beneath him. “And I hope,” he added with relish, “that you will fulfil all those promises!”

“I promised to make you scream my name,” Elrohir told him again. “And I will. Now.” He pulled away, twisting so that he lay behind Legolas. His tongue, so wickedly skilled and talented, flickered into the whorl of his ear, then moved away to lap slowly all the way around.

Legolas gave a low, ragged moan, drowning in wave after wave of pleasure. Elrohir had long known all his most vulnerable spots – just as he knew those places that would reduce Elrohir to a quivering, incoherent wreck in moments. But the sensual pleasure this time was overwhelming. He pressed backwards, feeling Elrohir’s hardness against him, and tried to reach down to touch himself. “Please,” he gasped. “I need …”

Elrohir caught his questing hand and held it firmly. “Wait,” he breathed. “You will. Soon.” Elrohir’s tongue continued to explore every fold and curve of his ear, and curled gently around the tip.

“Ai!” Legolas could not prevent a sharp cry of ecstasy. Their love play had always been a decadent, erotic pleasure, and Elrohir delighted in wringing such sounds from him; but this was more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. The fire in him was raging out of control now, fuelled by the Aphrodisia coursing through his veins; and he was desperate for release. He was already at a higher pitch of ecstasy than ever before; and the pleasure continued to build to a level that was almost painful. He jerked in Elrohir’s hold, trying to touch himself again. “Elrohir!” he begged helplessly, shameless in his need.

“Not like that,” Elrohir whispered. “Like this.” He licked Legolas’s ear once more, then nibbled gently at the soft, fleshy lobe. “Now.”

“Elrohir!” Legolas gave another shrill cry as release flooded through him. He came with a force and intensity that took his breath, and stars danced before his eyes. Pearly fluid splattered his stomach and chest and the bedsheets as he thrust his hips forward instinctively into a non-existent grip. He clutched at Elrohir’s hand desperately and gave another sobbing wail as teeth nipped him again. Colours flickered in his vision as another wave of orgasm washed over him and he spilled again. “Elrohir!”

At last he fell back, limp and shaking. Elrohir continued to hold him, whispering words of love and kissing his face, neck and back soothingly. When he could breathe again, and could trust himself to string at least two words together, he turned his head slightly to look at Elrohir. “That was … amazing,” he whispered. “Did you know it would be like that?”

Elrohir shook his head. “No. Not quite. That was even more than I ever hoped for. I have long dreamed of doing that to you, but never thought it possible.”

Legolas stirred himself enough to turn and face Elrohir, propping himself on one elbow. He stretched across to the table and retrieved the half empty goblet of wine, giving it to Elrohir. “Drink,” he commanded softly. “I would do the same for you.”

Elrohir took a small sip, savouring the wine. “It tastes different,” he commented. “Sweeter, and richer.” He drained the goblet in two long swallows, and lay back. “Valar,” he breathed. “I can feel it already. A heat, burning through me.”

His skin flushed slightly, and his eyes dilated as the Aphrodisia took effect.

Legolas waited. Despite the blinding pleasure Elrohir had just brought him, he was already hard again, yearning for more – to feel Elrohir thrusting into him hard and fast, or to bury himself deep within Elrohir’s warm body. He did not particularly care which, for both acts were welcome and familiar and equally enticing.

Then he smiled. The night was young, and there was more than enough time for anything and everything they might desire. And there was no danger of being overheard.

*****

THE END

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