Title: LEFT IN THE DARK
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com) 
Pairing: Erestor / ? (surprise)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Erestor suffers a rude awakening in the middle of 
the night...
AN: Happy birthday to my favourite half-elven big 
brother ;)
Warnings: BDSM

---With great thanks to Naresha for her hellp. xx---


Darkness was the first thing Erestor became aware of as he woke in a 
cloudy daze from his peaceful dream. Deep darkness. Not like nighttime 
darkness. More like something was covering his eyes. He blinked against 
the confining shadow and felt his eyelashes brush against soft material.

With confusion racking his sleep-fogged mind, he tried to raise himself on 
his elbows, but found he could not move any more than he could see. 
Something was holding him in place, face down on the bed. Something 
was bound tightly around his wrists. Panic made him try to jerk from the 
bed but he could not move an inch. A similar shackle was attached to his 
ankles, spreading his legs wide. 

Coming instantly wide awake, he cried out in alarm as he felt a cool 
breeze caress his skin, informing him that he was not only in this 
vulnerable position but completely naked also. Who had done this to him? 
Who had stalked into his private chambers in the deathly hours of the 
night? Who would have the audacity to…? Perhaps someone… two 
someones… but no… There was something very sexual about his position, 
he realised with a heavy gulp. Whoever had done this to him had plans for 
him. 

A soft chuckle whispered through the air and a hot hand laid itself against 
his left buttock. He was definitely not alone. 

His first thought - that it might have been one or both of the twins playing 
a trick on him - left his mind in that instant. He tried to rise and turn his 
head but felt the muscles in his back scream in protest. The hand stroked 
the back of his thigh gently and he squirmed beneath it in a vain attempt to 
shy from its uninvited touch.

"Who is there?" he asked the darkness in a hoarse voice. "Who is it?" 

The hand, rising up his leg to firmly squeeze his rear, its lithe fingers 
gently kneading his flesh, was the only answer he received. 

"Show yourself," he tried to demand firmly, in a futile attempt maintain 
the stern composure he was notorious for, but his voice came out as 
nothing more than a quivering squeak, echoing ineffectively in the 
shadows. "You will pay for this. I swear you will, whoever you are." He 
could feel the blood rising to the surface of his face in anger and 
humiliation and he turned his face away before his captor could see his 
uncharacteristic flush. 

He tensed as the mattress dipped slightly beside him under the pressure of 
someone's weight, the sheets whispering beneath the form as it seated 
itself. A gust of breath caressed the counsellor's ear in a shuddering flow 
of warmth and he could not stop himself trembling beneath its touch. 

But still he demanded in a very empty threat. "When Lord Elrond learns of 
this, you ---" 

His words were cut short as lips followed the breath and a tongue followed 
in its wake, probing into the point of his ear in taunting circles of wet heat. 
To his dismay, he felt himself rise as his ear was pulled into the moist 
cavern of his captor's mouth. Trapped painfully against the mattress he 
whimpered as he squirmed. 

"You do not allow yourself enough fun, my dear Erestor," a voice 
suddenly whispered at his ear as the mouth moved back. He could still feel 
the breath tickling his skin again, brushing his hair against the damp tip of 
his ear.  He could smell a potent taint of wine. But little served to lessen 
his arousal, in fact the tickle of the silky hair only teased him to further 
hardness.

"Who are you?" he gasped. "Why do you do this to me?" 

"Why not?" the voice hissed again. "I was bored."

He frowned, struggling once more in his confines. He should have known 
the voice, even beneath its owner's attempt to keep the identity anonymous 
in hushed tones. 

The weight on the mattress beside him increased as his captor joined him 
fully on the bed, moving across to lay a light kiss to his shoulder. He felt 
long hair fall against his back. And something else.... Something moved 
slowly across his naked skin. Something hard, yet pliant. Not hot, yet not 
cold. Harsh, smooth…knotted… leather?

He yelled out in protest and fought unsuccessfully in his shackles, hearing 
the chains of his restraints clatter and rattle against the posts of the bed. 
But it was to no avail. The same hand that had been gently exploring his 
behind earlier came to rest heavily between his shoulder blades, exerting 
enough pressure to make him arch his back in pain. 

"Be silent," the voice, the whispered voice that he thought would haunt his 
dreams for the rest of his days, ordered him firmly.

"Will you gag me also?" Erestor spat, wondering less than a second later if 
it was the best thing to suggest to the madman who had him captive. 

A silent pause followed his enquiry and he received no answer. Maybe 
that in itself was enough of an answer. He would have to keep as silent as 
he could, though submission did not come easily to him. 
But maybe if he made enough noise he would wake someone. If Elrond or 
Celebrían found him, he would be saved and his captor severely 
reprimanded, though he would surely die of shame before it was over. Or 
maybe his movement and noise would just wake the children instead. 
Their bedroom was near and he knew Elrohir was an impossibly light 
sleeper at the best of times. It would not be good for the boys to find 
Uncle Erestor like this. They would surely spend half of the next Age 
asking him about it. 

He didn't think his captor meant him any menace, at least. Not that this 
thought gave him much comfort as the knotted end of the whip meandered 
lazily but purposefully down the length of his spine and across his 
buttocks. He tensed involuntarily, waiting for the leather to strike but it did 
not. It merely stroked, weaving a swaying path across the back of his 
thighs like a hypnotic snake.

Beneath his trepidation, something else fluttered deep in his body at the 
sensation. Clenching his teeth to suppress a whimper, he laid his head into 
the pillow, closing his eyes behind the blindfold and willing it all to go 
away. Maybe he would wake, and it would all be a horrible dream. 

A sharp strike hit his left buttock and he cried out in pain and shock and 
anger. He could almost feel his captor's smile hanging in the air. Then a 
cold blade caressed the skin at his neck, ordering him, in a cruel promise 
of pain, to be still. He wasn't sure where the blade moved to after he had 
ceased his struggle, but he didn't think it would have gone far. 

Forced to reconsider his captor's intentions, the counsellor had no choice 
but to lie still and submissive. If only he knew who had this hold on him… 
if only he could appeal to someone's name… 

He felt the whip brush against the inside of his thigh as it was dropped to 
the mattress between his legs and his captor rose up the bed again, gently 
pushing his hair aside from the back of his neck to place a tender kiss to 
the exposed skin. No sooner had they settled in this place, the lips moved 
swiftly down his body, sweeping sensitively over each vertebra, a hot wet 
tongue escaping to taste him as he began to sweat, despite his firm 
argument with himself not to be moved by the feeling.

He writhed to try and get away from the disturbingly erotic touch, 
subconsciously pushing his aching groin into the softness of the quilts 
beneath him. He didn't know when he had become so aroused, but he was 
helpless to stop it now. The mouth paused half way down his back and he 
groaned in objection. It couldn't stop. Not now. 

A shudder of breath drifted against his damp skin in the lengthy seconds 
that followed, and he could almost feel a full-lipped mouth curving into a 
smirk. And again, tendrils of long hair flowed across his skin. Was the hair 
dark?

Or was it golden?  But no, that would be preposterous. He would never do 
such a thing, and Erestor could never be so lucky to ever be allowed to 
feel those lips upon him… He chased that thought from his head before it 
did anything to encourage his reluctant state of agitation. 

The weight on the bed shifted to what Erestor guessed to be a kneeling 
position between his legs and the counsellor's ears picked up the rumour 
of a hand reaching to pick something off the covers on the bed.  Was it the 
knife or the whip?  Or did this Elf have more toys to choose from?  

His unspoken question was answered as a snap followed the swish of the 
whip as it cracked. It did not touch him, but even so, he flinched in 
anticipation. He was shamefully aware that his breath was now coming in 
gasps, panicked gasps as of a beast ensnared and at its hunter's mercy. If 
the hunter did indeed have any mercy. He felt like a deer, trapped in a 
noose, unable to move, bearly able to breathe for fear, yet wanting nothing 
more than to be able to bolt. 
 
He heard the insidious hiss of leather as the whip cut through the air 
propelled by a strong arm then a thousand nerves screamed up his spine as 
the blow hit him between the shoulder blades. He clenched his teeth to 
stop himself crying out loud, tensing himself for another blow despite the 
sensible part of himself arguing that it would make the pain worse. 

He bit into the edge of the pillow to suppress his cries as a flood of lashes 
rained on his behind, leaving stinging welts in their wake. Whatever he 
would lose this night, he would not lose his pride. Not to a nameless Elf 
who would only take him blindfold, the shadows the only witness to his 
identity. He did not have to submit his mind, even if he had no choice but 
to submit his body. He slowed his breathing until his body began to relax, 
despite the pain that was being dealt to it, and lifted his mind to a place 
beyond thought and feeling, until his abused body rushed its own numbing 
potions to his pained flesh and the thrashing became little more than a dull 
heated pain.

Over and over he heard the leather slap against his sweat-slicked skin, 
licking him with a corrosive tongue and he fought to keep his mind above 
it. Then another tongue followed in its wake, gentle, soothing with 
perverted consolation to his wounds. First between his shoulders, where 
the angry wound still seethed, caringly tending the length of the lash, then 
across the lower half of his back; gentle kisses on his heated flesh. Then 
the administration stopped. It stilled. It moved… down his back… and 
lower…slowly lower down the length of his spine. Lower, the hands 
stroking his sides moved, lower across his rear the long silken hair swept 
until it touched his thighs and the tongue moved to a much more forbidden 
place. He fell back into his body with a shuddering crash, jerking in his 
confines

He felt the warning graze of that cold blade again, this time against his hip 
and he felt it the sting as it nicked his flesh as he squirmed. He could not 
help but squirm as the tongue of the voiceless one breached his body. 
Neither could he help but whimper, with helpless lust, as his arousal grew 
beneath his pinned body. 

Slowly, and deliberately, like it was undertaking a lazy task, the tongue 
strove to inflame him, taunting him inside and out, with never more than a 
stroke or a flicker. Pressing intimately into him, stroking him gently but all 
the while adding to the fire growing slowly, burning in his groin, pressed 
between his stomach and the bed.  He tried to shift, tried to create friction 
- something to try and ease the building prressure.  He whimpered softly, 
his efforts to gain relief failing.

"Please..." he whimpered.  

The tongue stopped its probing.  

"Please?" the voice hissed softly from behind him. "You beg something 
from me?"  

An expert hand slid underneath him, lithe fingers gliding over his hard 
length several times.  The mere touch was enough elicit a moan; a moan 
which was answered with a low throaty laugh from his tormentor and the 
stirring strokes slowing to a stop.

Erestor tried to arch back to force his pleasure deeper, but the second he 
did, his captor moved back from him, the mattress dipping as he sat back 
between his legs. 

"Please…" the counsellor whispered again, though he had no idea what he 
was asking for. Please stop? Please don't stop? His breath caught in his 
throat, hoping the relieving touch would soon return.  But he was 
disappointed.  He squirmed again, but was stopped when a stinging slap 
fell upon his buttocks.
 
"It seems you have yet to learn who is in charge," the voice returned, 
making him shiver with its intensity. 

He should have known it! He should have recognised it, but it was cloaked 
in whispers and his brain was addled.

The coldness of the blade once again pressed into his flesh while the warm 
mouth pressed itself to his stinging buttocks, bringing a small measure of 
relief. He waited, longing for the teasing tongue. This time he was 
rewarded and he felt the wet probe of the warm muscle. Slowly it traced 
circles around his opening, lapping gently. With agonising slowness, it 
pressed forward, once again breaching him, spiralling as deep as it could 
reach.  But just as Erestor's body began to relax into the touch, it stopped 
again.  

He whimpered, arching as much as the restraints allowed, seeking contact 
but being denied until a firm hand stilled him.

He heard a soft noise then, similar to the sound of licking, yet not the 
same. His bewilderment was soon comprehended when he felt a firmer 
touch pressing at his entrance.  He hissed sharply at the new sensation, 
small pains gripping him, forcing his muscles to clench tightly.  

Another guttural laugh hit the air before his captor's free hand slid around 
his front, the smooth palm gliding over his hard weeping arousal, the light 
squeezes providing a more than adequate distraction while the teasing 
finger pressed further inside him.
 
Despite himself, Erestor became caught up in the sensations and almost 
failed to notice that one stroking finger had become two.  They probed 
deeply inside him, slick strokes that teased tantalisingly at that point deep 
within his body.  He shivered involuntarily at the touch, a shuddering 
moan slipping from his panting lips.  He felt his heart pound, beating a 
steady racing inside his chest as the fingers played, gently stretching him.  
He felt them slip from him before returning with a third damp digit.  He 
moaned again as the stretching intensified.  

"Please…" he nearly sobbed, trying to push back to force the pleasure 
deeper, but his shackles held him with barely an inch to move.

When had this stranger suddenly obtained so much power over him? 
When had he become so submissive and willing beneath the tormenting 
blows and caresses? And when in the name of the Valar had he begun to 
hump the mattress?! It was not long ago that he had been protesting the 
touch, yet now he was whimpering without it, begging for more of it.
 
The laugh wove through the air again, as his captor likely took immense 
pleasure in watching the counsellor lose his fight against becoming 
compliant.  Then hands and mouth withdrew at once, pulling a howl from 
Erestor's throat, as his captor moved to straddle his hips, leaning over him 
to nuzzle his ear as he had when the torture had first begun. 

Erestor squirmed as the heavy weight pushed his trapped erection deeper 
into the bed. He could feel the hard ridge of his assailant's arousal pressing 
insistently between his buttocks, the solid heat encased only by a thin 
layer of soft fabric. 
He felt the weight over him increase, the gentle yet impatient tug of 
fingers on material, the lacings of leggings falling loose upon his skin, his 
captor rising, the soft thud as his clothing fell discarded to the floor….

Erestor's heart thundered harder in his chest and his breath began to hitch. 
He felt a cold sweat break out over his skin, stinging the wounds left from 
the whip. "Please release me," he whispered, though he knew it was 
pointless trying to appeal. And even if he was released? Would he want to 
stop? 

"I shall never release you Erestor," the voice murmured softly, letting 
down its guise. "Never. Not ever again."

Erestor's blood ran cold then boiled in a second. No. No. It could not be. It 
could never be… He never would…. Would he? His oldest friend… The 
object of his private lust for more years than he cared to remember… 
Never…. But still he could not help but ask…. He had to ask… He didn't 
need to ask… He had to be certain, absolutely certain…

"Glorfindel?" his trembling voice betrayed him. "Why?" he shifted 
uncomfortably beneath the imposing weight as Glorfindel moved to lie flat 
atop his back. "I do not understand." 

"You once told me of a dream you had," Glorfindel whispered at his ear, 
and Erestor felt the full lips curl into a smile against his skin. He should 
have recognised that sensation before, he had felt it in enough of his 
fantasies. "You dreamed an orc had taken you captive, and was torturing 
you. Torturing you into pleasure. And that you liked it."

Erestor felt his cheeks redden at the vague memory of describing the 
dream to Glorfindel. It was proof that this was Glorfindel, if he needed 
anymore proof. It was surely his voice, undisguised now, and it was his 
hair that touched Erestor's naked skin. Soft golden hair that he had longed 
to sink his hands into for some many centuries, that he had longed to pull 
during moments of passion, that he had long to bury his face into and 
inhale the scent. Like trees and water and a slight hint of fire. 

Now he was captive and bound, whipped and violated, used, abused, 
tricked and taunted. By Glorfindel. Little made sense.
"You are drunk, my friend," he stated. "I can smell it upon your breath." 
He had almost forgotten this fact until now. Glorfindel, drunk. He had 
never seen it in all his years.

"I had to be drunk to find the courage to do this," Glorfindel replied. "And 
mad. But you have driven me to this madness, Erestor. I have to have 
you."

Erestor opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. His voice 
seemed to stick in his throat, choking him. A vision came into his mind, a 
vision that had strayed there many times before, a vision of Glorfindel 
taking him brutally and forcefully, yet with untold love and possession. It 
stirred him in ways he never dared to admit. 

"Do you want this?" The Elf lord's weight shifted from over his body as 
Glorfindel moved back to sit across his legs once more. "Tell me you do 
not want this and I will release you and leave and we will not speak of it 
come tomorrow." 

He swallowed hard. One word, one word was all he had to say and he 
would be spared. But now, although all the while he had been begging to 
be let go, he didn't want to be released. "Tell me you are not doing this 
because you are drunk."

"I am not," Glorfindel told him in a soft voice very different to the tones 
he had been using all night. "You know that I lust after you. I know that 
you lust after me. Neither of us have had the courage to speak of it until 
this night, when my madness brought me here and found you sleeping. I 
longed to be beside you, and I was certain you would welcome me in the 
space beside you, but instead of presenting myself to you I went away and 
drank myself into thinking this was a good idea. I do not know what I 
would have done had you not discovered me just now. Forgive me, my 
friend."

Erestor cringed slightly at Glorfindel's confession. He had thought he had 
kept his own lustful feelings well hidden. Obviously not as well as 
Glorfindel had kept his. It would have been better if the Elf Lord had 
merely climbed into his bed, but the night had not been all bad. Maybe 
another time, when he knew who had him captive… though the anonymity 
of it had proved to be somewhat interesting. Another time, he would have 
longed to have Glorfindel as his master.

"Just tell me to go," Glorfindel whispered, "and I will release you." 

"I do not want you to release me," Erestor replied. "I do not want you to 
stop." He wriggled under Glorfindel's weight, simultaneously rubbing his 
own newly hardened length into the sheet and nudging the hard shaft that 
bobbed above his back, eliciting a gasp from the golden-haired Elf.

"Very well," Glorfindel said. "So be it. I shall continue then?"  The 
question was genuine this time, no sense of victory, no overtones of 
superiority.
 
"Yes.  Please…" Erestor whimpered. Glorfindel had brought him so much 
pain but at the same time had brought him to the brink of ecstasy so many 
times, but had never allowed him to fall over it. His body ached for it. 
"Take me. Please take me."
Confusion and disbelief swirled around Erestor's mind, distracting him 
from the movement of Glorfindel rising from the bed and the distant 
sounds of shackles sliding being released.  It was only the release of the 
pressure on his ankles that pulled him from his mental haze.  "Glorfindel?  
I told you not to release me."  His own words shocked himself. Indeed he 
did want this. He wanted Glorfindel to have control over him; he wanted 
to be able to beg him.

"Oh, so you like being held like this, by me?" the Elf Lord chuckled. 
"How about the blindfold? Would you like to see me?" A promise was in 
the question.

Erestor nodded, and felt warm hands brush over his ears and cheeks as the 
blindfold was removed from his eyes. He blinked for some seconds as his 
eyes readjusted to the light, then he turned his head as far as he could to 
peer over his shoulder. Glorfindel knelt on the bed behind him, seeming to 
glow in the darkness, his hair falling loose and brazen over his shoulders 
to lie against a firmly muscled chest where dark nipples stood up against 
the cool air. He allowed his gaze to roam lower, to follow the path of 
Glorfindel's hand from a bottle of pale liquid which tipped into to the other 
hand to pour the oil to his palm. 
Then, giving the softest moan Erestor had ever heard, Glorfindel closed 
his eyes and stroked the oil onto his length with an unsteady hand. 

"Glorfindel…" Erestor whispered, barely able to look. He felt his own 
erection throb beneath his body. 

"Yes, my pet, I know," Glorfindel winked at him, helping him onto his 
knees. "It will be easier this way. But do not worry; I am only releasing 
you this much. Your hands still belong to me."  He grinned wickedly at 
him.

The counsellor felt every muscle in his back strain under the awkward 
position. He felt utterly vulnerable. He trusted Glorfindel completely. At 
least he thought he did, though after tonight's events…

"Ah! Glorfindel!" he gasped as he felt the first pressure against his 
entrance. 

"Hush," Glorfindel whispered as he eased himself in slowly. "Hush my 
beautiful one. The time to shout will come soon."

Erestor whimpered, gripping the headboard as much as his trapped hands 
would allow him too. "You are beyond cruel."

"I said hush," Glorfindel repeated firmly, though an amused tone laced his 
voice. "I do not want to hear you talking now." He reached around to take 
Erestor in his hand. "Only screaming, maybe begging." 
 
And to scream and to beg, to sob and howl, and plead and appeal was all 
Erestor was able to do as Glorfindel claimed him, taking him painfully 
slowly yet taking him hard, never letting him forget who was the master. 
The hand that pumped him was as steady as Glorfindel's slow rocking into 
his body. He shook, he ached, he yearned for release but it was not for him 
to choose when this would happen. He wasn't sure when he became 
unaware which gasps and moans were his and which were Glorfindel's, or 
who was shuddering the more against the other, or who was crying out the 
loudest, but the sounds and sensations began to mingle all too quickly.

Glorfindel's free hand suddenly reached to grasp his hip and Erestor bearly 
had the breath to plead anymore as his lover drove himself harder into his 
body. He was getting closer, he could feel it, even Glorfindel could not 
hold back for much longer. 

And as soon as he thought it would never be over his climax was 
shuddering through him even as Glorfindel emptied himself into his body, 
matching the stroke of his hand with his own fervent thrusts. Throwing his 
head back, Erestor let go of a yell that echoed with Glorfindel's, shattering 
the silence of the night, before both Elves collapsed face down, their 
bodies shivering and spent. 

Erestor fidgeted beneath Glorfindel as his breath slowed, blinking in those 
uncertain seconds that always follow spontaneity, trying to convince his 
exhausted brain that it was all true. His body, though just as exhausted, 
certainly knew it was. He could feel Glorfindel's heart thudding against his 
back and his panting breath against his ear. Warm hands gripped his 
outstretched arms, gently stroking his skin. This is bliss, if anything was. 
Though it had to end sometime, he knew.

"We must do this again some time," Glorfindel murmured at his ear, 
before rising from the bed and covering him with a sheet. "You are a lot of 
fun, my dear." He stooped to kiss his cheek. 

"Yes, we must," Erestor smiled, trying to turn his head into the kiss but 
Glorfindel had already moved. He rattled the chains still on his wrists. 
"Can you release me now?" 

Glorfindel smiled down at him. "Yes, we will definitely do this again," he 
winked. "Maybe in the morning." And stopping once to snatch his clothes 
from the floor, and retrieving the knife from it's precarious place on the 
mattress, he grinned back at the prone counsellor and walked from the 
room, only faltering a little drunkenly. 

"Glorfindel!" Erestor shouted after him. "Come back here at once! You 
cannot leave me like this!" He tried to force his way free but only caused 
the chains to clank noisily against the bedposts. "Glorfindel!!" he yelled, 
but it was futile. The Elf Lord was long gone. 

At least he'd had the decency to cover him. If not to clean him up. 
Morning could not be too far away, and with it came the promise of more. 
He would be able to wait that long. He had no choice but to wait. Giving 
into defeat, he laid his head down on the pillows, only to hear the door 
creak open.

"Glorfindel?" he asked hopefully and turned his head to be greeted by the 
horrifying sight of two pairs of bewildered grey eyes. 

"Uncle Erestor?" Elrohir questioned, still rubbing his eyes.

"Did an orc get you?!" Elladan hopped onto the bed beside him, snatching 
the whip from the sheets. "What's this? Was it a Balrog?" 

And Erestor wished, not for the first time that night, that he would soon 
wake up to find it was all a horrible dream. 

~THE END~