Title: Passion & Ink
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net
Fandom: LOTR
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any characters, lands, or items from
the Tolkien world.  They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Khylaren
Cast: Erestor/Glorfindel with a surprise
Summary: His lover wants to leave his mark on Erestor.

---

Erestor slid his robes from his shoulders, and looked warily at
Glorfindel.

"All of it, meldir," Elrond said from his position beside the low
inclined table.

He sighed and untied his leggings, sliding them down his narrow hips. 
Within moments, he stood nude before his best friend and his employer. 
Erestor crossed his arms and glared.

Glorfindel patted him on the bottom.  "Come now, my Lord, you have
faced down demons and Orcs, Thranduil and the twins.  You can face
this as well.  Lay on the table."

The lights were low in the room, and it was almost suffocatingly hot
with a blazing fire in the hearth.  Erestor did as he was told and
laid himself on the table, baring his front to the Half-Elf.  "Will
this hurt?" he asked softly, a tremor of apprehension in his deep
voice.

Elrond dipped the long, thin, sharp hollow pipe into a clear liquid
and then wiped it with a cloth.  "It is not comfortable," he said, his
pewter eyes glittering in the orange light.  "I cannot stop once I
begin.  Are you sure?"

Erestor looked up to Glorfindel; the blond Elf smiled at him
reassuringly.  "You can do this."

He let out a long breath.  "Aye, Elrond, I am sure.  Begin."  He
reached behind him and took Glorfindel's proffered hand, instinctively
knowing it would be there waiting.  The Noldo flinched slightly when a
cold, wet substance was swabbed in the hollow of his right hip.

"You cannot do that, Erestor," Elrond warned.  "You risk damage or
ruining the pattern.  Close your eyes and breathe deeply, meldir. 
Trust us."

Erestor nodded, closing his ink black eyes.  Glorfindel squeezed his
hand and Erestor heard the clinking of glass.  "He is about to start,"
Glorfindel said quietly, his lips near Erestor's ear.

When he suddenly began to tremble uncontrollably, Elrond let out an
exasperated sigh.  "Glorfindel, sit behind him and distract him, or
this will never be done."

The Elda slid behind him on the table and settled Erestor between his
thighs.  Glorfindel swept the dark hair from the right side of the
Noldo's neck, his lips dancing over the rapid pulse beneath the thin
skin.  "Ulago gûrech, ulago hwestech," he repeatedly breathed into the
delicate shell of Erestor's ear.  Slowly, the Noldo's heart slowed and
his eyes became glassy.  "You may proceed, Elrond," Glorfindel said,
casting a meaningful glance at the Peredhel.

Elrond nodded and dipped the hollow pipe into a dish filled with a
heavy black liquid.  The slender piece of glass drew the fluid up and
the Healer turned his attentions to the cleaned skin on Erestor's hip. 
He spared one more questioning glance at the Advisor.  When there was
no further objection, the Half-Elf began his work.  Elrond placed the
sharpened point of the glass pipe against Erestor's skin and pierced
the flesh, depositing a drop of ink below the pale skin.

Pierce, push, and withdraw; pierce, push, and withdraw.  It took
several moments before Erestor was pulled from his reverie by the
pain.  He did not begin trembling again, but his breathing became
labored the longer Elrond sat working the small patch on his body. 

"Erestor," Glorfindel said, kissing the Elf's cheek.  "Erestor, do not
focus on the pain."

Erestor glared at the Elda sideways.  "What, pray tell, would you like
me to focus on, Seneschal?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Glorfindel drew his tongue up the outer edge of Erestor's ear.  "I can
give you something to focus on..."

"Give it to him, Glorfindel," Elrond snapped.  "He's beginning to
squirm and I risk either injuring him or ruining the design.  There is
not much left, so a few moments is all I ask."

"And a few moments you shall have."  Glorfindel ran his left hand over
the hard planes of Erestor's chest, brushing lightly over a nipple. 
Erestor gasped and looked with wide eyes at the Elda.  "I will give
you something more pleasant to think on, meldir," he purred, his hand
dipping below Erestor's navel.

Erestor closed his eyes again and the repetitious pain of Elrond's ink
pipe fell into the background of Glorfindel's gentle touch on his
erection.  A moan escaped Erestor's lips when the Elda grasped the
firm flesh in a sure grip and started a languid pace.

Pierce, stroke, push, stroke, and withdraw; pierce, stroke, push,
stroke, and withdraw.  Erestor felt Glorfindel's arousal pressed
against his back and he had to restrain himself from moving against
him.  Elrond sat back and took a cloth, patting the tender, abused
design and smiled.  "I am done, meldir.  And you did very well." 
Elrond stood from his seat and leaned over, looking into the lust
glazed eyes of his Advisor.  "Very well," he said huskily, leaning in
to capture the Noldo lips in a searing kiss.

Glorfindel groaned.  "You are making him squirm, Elrond, and that is
causing a most pleasant sensation, though I would prefer to be
undressed before I soil my leggings."

Elrond released Erestor's swollen lips.  "*I* am making him squirm?  I
do believe you stroking that area of his body is causing his
squirming."

"I don't care *who* is causing my squirming, but someone had better
tend to the squirming before I seek out Lindir," Erestor snarled.

"Sit up a moment, Erestor," Glorfindel said, shifting below the Noldo. 
Elrond was shedding his robe, showing he wore nothing below the ornate
fabric.  Erestor allowed Glorfindel enough space to unlace his
leggings and free his length.  "Much better, though I could use the
same attention I gave to you, meldir."  Glorfindel nipped Erestor's
ear playfully.

Elrond handed Erestor a phial of oil.  "Since you endured the process,
you decide this night, melethen," the Peredhel said, kissing his lover
again.  Erestor reached out and traced a finger over the black letters
embedded in the hollow of Elrond's right hip, a match to his.  Erestor
also knew Glorfindel shared the same mark in the same area.  He, the
last one added to the relationship and the last one to admit it was a
permanent love, had finally permitted the Half-Elf to mark him as
theirs.

The first letters of their names, in flowing, interlocking Tengwar,
was a beautiful brand and Erestor felt his heart swell with pride and
love.  "I desire to feel you within me, Elrond nîn," he said, turning
on the table and settling on his hand and knees, his lips now hovering
above the head of Glorfindel's shaft.

"I am more than happy to oblige, melethron," he said, taking the oil
from Erestor and coating his length with it.  Elrond eased two fingers
into Erestor and the Noldo cried out.  Glorfindel, I do believe I need
your assistance in keeping our vocal Advisor quiet."

The Elda smiled and rested his hand on the back of Erestor's head. 
"It will be my pleasure," he said, bringing Erestor mouth down around
his arousal.  The wet warmth wrung a low moan from his throat as
Erestor eagerly swallowed him.

Elrond mounted Erestor with on fluid thrust and the room filled with a
sharp cry of possession and a muffled cry of pained pleasure.  The
three remained still: Glorfindel with his head thrown back and a hand
on Erestor's head, Erestor with Glorfindel's length deep in his
throat, and Elrond with his shaft buried in the tight, pulsing passage
of his lover.

Erestor balanced on one hand and brought the other up to stroke
himself as Elrond began thrusting.  Glorfindel panted; he had never
had a lover who was as orally talented as Erestor.  They moved in
tandem, each intent on bringing another to completion.  Glorfindel
found his release first, thrusting up into the willing mouth; Erestor
hungrily drank his essence.  As soon as his body cooled, Glorfindel
nodded to Elrond.  The Peredhel batted Erestor's hand away from his
length and pulled him up to sit upon the Elf-lord's lap.

He was impaled further on Elrond's length, and Erestor cried out. 
Glorfindel kissed him briefly before bowing down and taking the hot,
thick shaft between his lips.  The Elda held his head still, allowing
the force of Elrond's thrusts to move Erestor in and out of his mouth. 
Elrond moaned and the pace of his thrusts quickened. Erestor cried out
and spilled his seed into Glorfindel's mouth.

Elrond found his release then, filling Erestor's clenching body with
his milky fluids.  They collapsed on one another, each panting and
still trembling with the intensity of their coupling.

"We must bathe, but I must bandage your hip first, Erestor," Elrond
mumbled, kissing Erestor's sweaty brow.

Erestor made some kind of noise that Glorfindel thought was either,
"All right" or "Not tonight."  He chuckled and embraced his lovers
closely.

"You are ours now, Erestor," Elrond said with a possessive note to his
voice.

"Ours," Glorfindel echoed.

Erestor smiled and looked down at the three letters twined around one
another on his hip.  "Aye, yours."

The End

* Ulago gûrech, ulago hwestech : Slow your heart, slow your breath

---

Title: Brandy & Rings
Series: Seduction & Submission
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from
the Tolkien world.  They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Archive: LoM, OEAM, AFF.net, Melethryn
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Body modification
Beta: Ilye
Cast: Legolas/Lothvaen
Summary: Lothvaen gives his young lover a token to remember him by on
the long Quest, but Legolas has his own token for the Head Archivist.
A/N: Follows "Passion & Ink" -- though not in timeline.  Also -- for
those who have not read "Lu Vinui", Lothvaen is the name I have given
the fanon character "Melpomaen".  For my reasoning behind this, visit
my website.

---

Legolas reclined on the bed, his back flush against the beaded
coverlet.  He was nude from the waste up, his hands over his head,
bound with silken scarves to the bed frame.  His legs were slightly
spread, his lover standing between them.  The Wood Elf's erection
pulsed in his leggings.

The Prince was a vision of gold and moonlight, of soft curves and hard
muscle.  Lothvaen felt honored to know the body of Thranduil's heir as
intimately as he did.  And now he was about to put his permanent mark
upon Legolas' fair form.  "Are you sure, melethron?" he asked in the
warm quiet of the room. Lothvaen licked his lips as his violet eyes
focused on the bulge in Legolas' leggings.

Glazed sapphire eyes regarded him from beneath half-closed lids and a
smile played on Legolas' lips.  "Aye," he breathed.  "I will not leave
this valley unless you do it, and your Lord will be quite upset with
you for delaying me."

Snow had fallen that morning.  The Fellowship would set out in three
day's time.  Legolas had brought up the idea of this little ceremony
the previous night, in the languid heaviness of spent passion. 
Lothvaen could not deny the sense of possession the idea gave him, the
lustful thrill at knowing that Legolas would always carry an outward
sign of their relationship.  It was a permanence he had thought would
always be denied him; Lothvaen was but a Healer; he could not be the
mate of a great Lord such as Legolas.

But now...  Now he was.

"Then let us begin," he said huskily.  Lothvaen took a cloth from the
table beside the bed, soaked in strong brandy and snow.  He placed the
icy material across Legolas' heated abdomen and the Prince tensed, his
arousal twitching in his suede casing. 

After a few moments, Lothvaen removed the cloth and picked up the
slender forceps.  They were smaller than most, designed for this
ritual alone, and he took the small flap of skin between them.  They
had been resting in the snowy liquid and Legolas hissed with the cold. 
"Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes dark and intense.

Legolas nodded.  "Make me yours."

The words enflamed Lothvaen.  He held a large needle between his
fingers, larger than a simple sewing needle.  The Noldo looked only
once into his mate's eyes before stabbing the sharp steel through the
skin held tight in the forceps' grip.  Legolas let out a pained cry,
his eyes widening for a moment.  "I am almost done," Lothvaen told him
softly.  He dipped his fingers into the dish of brandy and snow,
retrieving a mithril ring with a small ball resting in the center of
it.  Inscribed on the ball, in tiny Tengwar, were vows of love,
devotion and fidelity.

Lothvaen's skilled hands quickly pulled the needle through, threading
the open ring through the large hole he had made in the Prince's
navel.  He secured the ring and rested the alcohol-soaked cloth across
the wounded flesh.  "You are mine, Prince of Mirkwood," he said as he
crawled on the bed, running a finger lightly over the ridge still in
Legolas' leggings.

"Always yours," the Prince whispered, straining against his bonds,
eager to taste his lover's lips.

The Noldo removed his robes, revealing a similar ring piercing his
left nipple.  Legolas had given it to him years ago, claiming Lothvaen
as his lover.  Now, Lothvaen had given Legolas his token, had marked
him as his to all who saw Legolas.  The Prince could not hide his
choice now, and Lothvaen reveled in the newfound freedom.  He unlaced
his leggings, sliding the fabric over his slender hips.  "I want to
take you," he said heatedly, his need to stake full claim almost
overwhelming.

"Yes," Legolas hissed, shamelessly spreading his legs.  In all their
years, the Wood Elf had never permitted him to know his body in this
way.  Lothvaen bent and bestowed and heated, hungry kisses to Legolas'
lips, stealing the breath from his lover's lungs.  When the golden Elf
lay panting and desperate for his touch, Lothvaen moved down his body.

He removed the cloth, revealing the pierced navel, the blue-tinted
metal ball gleaming in the late afternoon light.  Legolas arched off
the mattress slightly, silently begging for Lothvaen's attention.  The
Healer could no longer wait.  He unlaced the Prince's leggings and
swept them off, revealing the Elf-lord's impressive length.  It was
heavy with moisture and Lothvaen dipped his head down to capture drops
of the precious fluid.  He lapped at the slit, his own need growing
with every whimper and mew Legolas made.

Legolas looked down upon his lover and felt his heart swell.  His
navel ached, but it was a pleasant ache, one that reminded him he was
loved and wanted.  The ache was also lessened with each stroke of
Lothvaen's talented tongue.  The Noldo finally moved between his legs,
and Legolas eagerly lifted his knees as far as he could, offering
himself to the Healer.  "Please, melethen," he begged.

Lothvaen moved down from the shaft, licking and sucking at the tender
pouch beneath Legolas' length.  More moans and pleas came, the words
warming Lothvaen's heart.  He slipped lower, nuzzling against Legolas'
most intimate place.  The Prince became utterly still, completely
silent, and Lothvaen smiled.  He counted to ten, making Legolas wait,
and then snaked out his tongue, caressing the Wood Elf's opening with
his tongue.

The Prince's eyes became wide and he saw white for a moment.  No other
had touched him as Lothvaen was touching him, and he felt the first
twinges of trepidation seep in.  The fear, though, was washed away
when Lothvaen's tongue breached him, gently preparing the way for
something much larger, much thicker.  He writhed, impaled on that
smooth, supple muscle, begging for more.

The Noldo drew back and reached for the oil on the night table.  He
looked down on the Prince, nude, hard and spread open before him. 
Lothvaen coated his shaft with the lubricant and then stroked Legolas
with that same slick hand.  As he slowly moved over the hot column, he
pressed in, slipping into the untried body with little difficulty. 
His hand stilled and his eyes closed, a growl of possession rumbling
in his chest.

Legolas let out a loud, low moan as he was filled, completed.  He
pulled at the scarves, cursing himself for suggesting the bondage. 
The Wood Elf was pulled from his thoughts when Lothvaen made his first
tentative thrust, brushing against something inside his passage that
caused Legolas to buck and cry sharply.  "Lothvaen!" he panted, his
lust dilated eyes falling on the creature laying claim to him.

Lothvaen released Legolas' shaft, clutching the bedspread in his hands
as he thrust faster, harder, into that tight, hot sheath of the
Prince's body.  He teetered on the edge for one blinding moment, and
then plummeted over, burying his face in Legolas' neck as he filled
his lover with his love.

The Wood Elf shifted uncomfortably, his arousal weeping steadily. 
Lothvaen's sated gaze fell on him and Legolas felt himself pulse.  He
needed release, and he hoped his eyes showed the need.  A sleepy smile
graced Lothvaen's beautiful face and Legolas' heart stopped at the
sight.  The Noldo gently withdrew from him, though he did not leave
his position from between Legolas' legs.  The Prince watched with open
hunger as Lothvaen took him into the heat of his mouth, and Legolas'
eyes fell shut, the vision burned into his memory.

Lothvaen worked his lover's shaft between his lips, suckling the head
and teasing the underside with his tongue before swallowing the Prince
deeply.  He held Legolas' hips down, setting a steady pace, drawing
the Prince closer and closer to his release.  Lothvaen's talent and
skill soon coaxed the warm, salty-sweet seed from his mate's body and
he drank all Legolas offered.

In the sated hours following their coupling, the pair lay in silence,
finding peace in each other's arms.  But, as the night darkened their
room, Lothvaen stirred.

"I will miss you," he whispered in the darkness.

Legolas planted a soft, chaste kiss to the center of Lothvaen's chest. 
"I will miss you as well, meleth.  But, you will be with me every step
of my journey, in body and in spirit."  He brought Lothvaen's hand to
the new piercing, hissing with the slight pain the gentle caress
caused.

Bright violet eyes gazed at him.  "And you with me," he said, resting
Legolas' hand over the ring that speared his nipple.

The End

---

Title: Leather & Cream
Series: Seduction & Submission
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from
the Tolkien world.  They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Archive: LoM, OEAM, AFF.net, Melethryn
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Leather fetish
Beta: Khylaren
Cast: Oropher/Lindir
Summary: Oropher has a special gift for his devoted minstrel and love;
Lindir is taken aback that the Sindar King has perceived his secret
fantasy.
A/N: Follows "Brandy & Rings".

---

Lindir's eyes opened from the unnatural sleep.  His hands were numb
and he tried to flex them, but his arms were firmly bound above his
head.  He looked frantically around the room and felt his heart slow
when he saw his lover standing at the foot of the bed.

"Oropher?" he asked, lifting his head and casting a quizzical look to
the King.

Oropher, bare as the day he came into the world, smiled dotingly at
the Elf.  "I have been planning this for weeks," he said, his voice
warm and liquid to Lindir's ears.  "Did you not think, in all these
years, I would not have noticed?" the King asked, slowly crawling onto
the mattress.

"N-n-noticed?" Lindir stammered.  It was then that he took in how he
was garbed.

From his ankles to his neck, he was encased in well-oiled, shiny black
leather.  It hugged his lean body, showing not only his slender curves
but also his prominent arousal.  He shifted under Oropher's gaze and
felt the material move against him; his body had been oiled before the
leather was placed on his skin.

"Aye.  I have noticed how you prefer the tight leather breeches... the
leather jerkins... the way you wear the thigh-high leather boots... I
see how you fondle the riding crops and the leather aprons the stable
hands use."  Oropher's voice went right to Lindir's groin and he
moaned softly.  The King moved up the leather-clad body, dragging his
tongue from the material covered shaft to the fastener at Lindir's
throat.  "I noticed."

Oropher rose and straddled Lindir's narrow waist.  The King's arousal
bobbed as he settled on the slick surface of his lover's body.  "I can
feel your need, melethron, and I have tried to give you that which you
would not speak of."  The King reached out and ran his hands over the
smooth surfaces of Lindir's body, using his thumbs to tease the
hardened nipples under the material.

Lindir moaned, his eyes slipping shut and he arched against the
taunting fingers.  "Oropher," he breathed, his length uncomfortably
pressing against the leather.

"Aye, melethron," the King said huskily.  He leaned over the minstrel,
kissing the moist, parted lips tenderly.  "You are a vision, linnon
dithen.  Mithril and midnight," he whispered, his sweet breath
caressing Lindir's ear.  Oropher began moving against the
well-lubricated material, his cock sliding alongside the stiff ridge
of Lindir's shaft.  "Slick and hard," he continued, his movements firm
and steady, pulling a whimper from his lover.

Oropher's breath shuddered before he continued, his sapphire eyes
gazing down into Lindir's pewter ones.  "I was able to have the tailor
give me your measurements," he said, gripping Lindir's hips, the
leather creaking as he moved against the prone, tortured body.  "He
wondered why I needed them, but this was for you and I, no one else. 
You are *mine*," he said, kissing Lindir until the minstrel mewled
from between bruised lips.

"I then asked two of my most trusted leather workers to create this
masterpiece.  It clings to your beautiful shape, it leaves nothing and
everything to my imagination," he said raggedly, pressing into Lindir
more forcefully, his orgasm quickly building.  Lindir's broken moans
and desperate pants drove the Sindarin King over the cliff and cream
pooled on the dark leather.

Lindir watched his King's eyes slowly clear of their passion, his
arousal more painful and pronounced than before.  The weight atop of
him shifted and his eyes widened as he watched Oropher grin wickedly
at him. 

"I am not through with you, seron vell," Oropher murmured.

Oropher's dark pink tongue snaked out from between the King's swollen
lips and Lindir watched in lust-filled amazement as his lover slowly,
sensually cleaned the shiny leather of the milky fluid.  He throbbed
with need every time the Sinda's tongue slid across the taut material
of his groin.  His lover then stood from the bed, fumbling with
something on the floor beside the bed.  Lindir's heart pounded in his
chest when Oropher remounted the mattress.

The King swiftly untied the lacings that held the leather closed over
Lindir's arousal, releasing the darkly colored column to the cool air
of the room.  Lindir moaned, his hips lifting in silent entreaty.

"Pen-vara," Oropher whispered.  "I drugged you," he said, continuing
the dialogue he had begun.  Lindir cried out when a well-oiled, black
leather-clad hand wrapped around his desire.  "I undressed you."  Up,
down.  Up, down.  "I coated your wondrous body with oil scented with
sandalwood."  Lindir moaned loudly, thrusting up into the wonderfully
tight, slick hand.  "I then slid your body into this lovely, well-made
suit.  Smoothed the creases and bound you to our bed."

Lindir panted franticly, lost in touch and sound and smell.  "So
beautiful."  The voice washed over him, enflamed his already burning
desire.  "Flushed.  Needing.  Wanting.  Come for me."

The minstrel arched off the bed, a rough cry ripped from his throat as
his seed flowed over the slick surfaces.  Oropher continued to stroke
him, milking all he could from his body, until Lindir pleaded with a
weak voice.

Oropher licked the opalescent fluid from his fingers and smiled at the
glazed eyes of his lover.  "Mmmm," he said softly.  "Leather and
cream."

The End