Read to Me

Title: Read to Me

Author: Maggie Honeybite

Type: FPS

Pairing: Elrond/Melpomaen

Rating: NC-17

Warning: m/m slash

Beta: Manon

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any profit from them. Any writing I do is done with a deep respect for Tolkien and out of an abiding love for his Elves.

Feedback: It really does make my day. :)

Summary: Elrond and Melpomaen spend some quality time in the library. Short PWP.

Acknowledgments: Many thanks to my beta, Manon, and to AC for all her help. Dedicated to Fellowslash 2003, because that's where this story was born.

Notes: This PWP fits into the "Sweetness and Gall" story arc (somewhere between chapters 7 and 8).

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Elrond looked around the library, taking in the expressions of the members of his council, and gathered up his papers. The session had been a long but productive one, and all the issues recently brought to Elrond's attention by Thranduil's delegation had been more or less attended to. They had spent the better part of the afternoon in discussion and argument, and Elrond's chief advisor, Erestor, had somehow managed to reconcile the differing views of the council members into some semblance of compromise. Tempers were running high however, and Elrond knew that no more fruitful discourse would take place this day.

"Let us adjourn for today." Elrond's voice was authoritative, if a bit tired. He stood up from the table, pushing back his chair as the council made ready to leave the room. "Melpomaen?" Elrond lifted a mischievous eyebrow. "May I have a word?"

A slow heat began building in Melpomaen's belly at the sound of Elrond's voice. It was nothing definite; the older Elf could have simply wanted to discuss official matters, and yet... Melpomaen knew Elrond well enough by now to detect a hint of desire in the Elven Lord's words.

One by one, the council members filed out of the room, talking in low voices. Elrond slowly strode up to the wide library doors, closed and locked them. He turned to look at Melpomaen, a feline glint lighting up his eyes.

Melpomaen trembled. "You... wanted to speak with me?"

Elrond moved toward him with measured steps, never breaking eye contact. He stopped a mere hair's breadth from Melpomaen, not quite touching him, the near-contact between their bodies filling the younger Elf with sudden want. Elrond's eyebrow arched as he leaned in close to the young scribe's delicate ear, his breath sending shivers down Melpomaen's spine.

"Beauty like yours should be outlawed, pen-neth," he said. "It took a supreme effort of will for me to concentrate this afternoon with you across the table." His lips brushed Melpomaen's ear. "You make the blood run hot in my veins, clouding my cool judgment."

Melpomaen closed his eyes, the heat from Elrond's body making his knees weak. Elrond's hand reached out to stroke the back of his neck, then moved lower, tracing the path of his spine, resting finally on one of his shapely buttocks. Melpomaen gasped.

"My patience is limited, young one," Elrond continued seductively, his hand grasping Melpomaen's flank firmly and pulling him forward, bringing their hardened members into contact. "I would have you now." The Elven Lord's voice was akin to a growl.

"Here?" Melpomaen's eyes widened as he gazed up at his lover in surprise, his lips parted.

"Yes, here." Elrond gave the younger Elf another smouldering look, then firmly grasped the back of his head and kissed him hard on the mouth. "Too many times have I sat in this library watching you, melme, longing to touch your slim body. Too many times has being in this room with you filled me with an unbearable ache. I would soothe that ache now."

Melpomaen felt a bolt of heat travel straight to his groin as Elrond looked at him, his gaze unflinching. He closed his eyes and nearly sank into Elrond's arms as he surrendered fully to the Half-elven's possessive kiss.

The effect the older Elf had on him never ceased to amaze him in its intensity. In Elrond's presence he quivered with desire, a mere look from the Elven Lord enough to make him breathless with need. His hard length wept for the older Elf's touch, his caress, his kiss. This time was no different.

Melpomaen swallowed hard and trembled at the power in his lover's grey gaze. "Command me as you will, my Lord," he whispered.

Elrond gave him a slow, knowing smile. "I *shall* command you, pen-neth. Starting now. Take off that robe."

Melpomaen's trembling fingers struggled with the fastenings of his outer garment, finally managing to undo the clasps and letting the robe fall to the floor. Elrond smiled and took a few steps back, his eyes appraising Melpomaen's form. "Now your undertunic and leggings."

Melpomaen closed his eyes, the intensity of Elrond's scrutiny too much for him. His undertunic and leggings soon joined his formal robe on the ground, next to his soft leather boots. "Loincloth." Elrond added, his voice less controlled now. Melpomaen could only imagine the look of hunger on the Elven Lord's face; he kept his eyes closed for fear of crumbling under the older Elf's lusty stare. Somehow, he felt less exposed with his eyes shut tight. His by now shaking fingers pulled the linen strip away from his heated flesh, displaying his proud erection. Trembling, he waited for Elrond's next command.

The Half-elven's next words took Melpomaen by surprise. "There is a volume in this library I've much desired to consult of late. The blue leather-bound one on that top shelf. Please fetch it for me, lirimaer."

Melpomaen's eyes flew open in amazement, a look of uncertainty on his face. "You wish me to..."

"Humour me, Melpomaen." The older Elf's eyebrow rose in amusement, his face still flushed with desire.

Feeling very naked and on display, Melpomaen walked over to the shelf containing the item in question and looked up. The book was too high even for a tall Elf like himself; he would need the ladder generally used for these purposes. He glanced behind him and caught a glimpse of Elrond shamelessly appraising his naked body. The sight made Melpomaen's hardened member twitch with want, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He climbed the ladder carefully, less from a fear of losing his balance than the awareness of Elrond's eyes upon him. He reached for the book and was about to climb back down, when he heard his lover's voice, somewhat closer now. "Stay there, lirimaer. I wish to look at you."

Melpomaen stilled and closed his eyes again, trying to control his ragged breathing. He could almost feel Elrond's eyes roaming over his nude form, taking in every muscle in his back and thighs, lingering on the curve of his behind. He felt vulnerable yet strangely elated, standing there open to Elrond's scrutiny, his legs braced on the ladder in a wide stance.

"You truly are a feast, Melpomaen." Elrond's arousal was obvious in his voice. "A feast for the senses."

The young scribe heard his lover's steps on the stone tiles, then felt the air shift as Elrond came nearer. "The book is marked with a piece of parchment in the spot where my reading was last interrupted," the older Elf continued. "I would hear your sweet voice read the words to me now."

A strange thrill ran through Melpomaen on hearing Elrond's request. The Elven Lord had never before asked him to do anything as brazenly erotic as this. Their lovemaking was usually sweet and tender. They shared a deep passion and, although both enjoyed a fair measure of teasing, they usually did not indulge in elaborate games. Their couplings always left Melpomaen feeling fulfilled and cherished; he was Elrond's love, his companion. Now, however, the young Elf felt more like an object of pure lust, a vehicle for fulfilling Elrond's fantasies. To his great amazement, he found that he quite enjoyed the feeling.

He opened the book to the page in question and began to read, his voice as unsteady as his feet on the ladder. "In the beginning the Elder Children of Ilúvatar were stronger and greater than they have since become; but not more fair..." Melpomaen suddenly halted as he felt Elrond's warm hands stroke his back.

"Don't stop, melme," Elrond urged. "Pay no heed to what my hands or lips are doing. Just keep reading."

Melpomaen resumed, his clear voice carefully pronouncing each word. "...for though the beauty of the Quendi in the days of their youth was beyond all other beauty..." Elrond's hands moved lower, sensuously sliding down to cup Melpomaen's buttocks. The young scribe struggled to go on: "...was beyond all other beauty that Ilúvatar has caused to be, it has not perished..." Elrond's hands squeezed lightly, his fingers gently digging into the younger Elf's flesh.

Melpomaen paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath and gather his wits. His lover's ministrations were making it supremely difficult for him to concentrate. Still, he persisted: "...but lives in the West, and sorrow and wisdom have enriched it..."

The Elven Lord briefly let his hands glide down the inside of Melpomaen's thighs, lightly brushing the backs of his knees before bringing his talented fingers back up to again stroke the young one's backside. Those same fingers then quested forward, through Melpomaen's parted legs, and teased the soft curls around the base of his erect shaft, gently cupping the vulnerable sac.

"Nnhh..." Melpomaen's next utterance was rather less than articulate.

"Read." Elrond's tone of voice held enough authority to make Melpomaen clench his teeth and focus desperately on the page in front of him. Breathlessly, he continued. "And Oromë loved the Quendi...and named them...in their own tongue..." Elrond's fingers inched higher, tentatively stroking the young Elf's hardness and teasing a drop of liquid from the eager tip.

Melpomaen groaned and kept his eyes on the page through sheer force of will. All the will he possessed, however, soon crumbled under his lover's tender onslaught, as the young scribe felt Elrond's strong hands grip his buttocks and part them, exposing his private entrance to an expert tongue.

"Valar!" Melpomaen gasped and gripped the ladder for support, book tumbling to the floor.

Elrond's tongue continued its quest, powerful hands holding the trembling Elf in place. Melpomaen felt waves of desire and pleasure course through him at the Half-elven's tender yet merciless exploration. He swayed on the ladder, his knuckles white with the effort of holding on, his knees buckling. Elrond didn't stop. Instead, his insistent tongue kept plundering Melpomaen's taut channel, nearly sending the young Elf over the edge. Finally, when Melpomaen could take no more and feared he would spend all over the precious volumes stored on the high shelf before him, he felt Elrond's tongue cease its sweet assault.

"Come down." The tone of command in Elrond's voice made the words an order rather than a request. The thought that this was likely what the Elven Lord had sounded like in battle sent yet another thrill through the young scribe. He began to descend the ladder, the tension in his thighs making his steps unsteady. Impatient arms lifted him and pressed him to the cold, hard floor. Scarcely a moment later, Melpomaen felt his lover's body cover his, Elrond's velvet-clad form pressing his own naked one into the stone tiles. Greedily, he parted his legs and lifted his hips, seeking to increase contact between Elrond's embroidered robes and his own ignored member.

He looked up and, for the first time in many minutes, met Elrond's eyes. They were nearly black with desire, a sheen of sweat covering the older Elf’s brow, his lips parted in want. "I must have you now, or I fear I shall die..." his lover panted, his hands gripping Melpomaen's thighs and parting them further.

"Then take me." Now it was Melpomaen's voice that held the tone of authority, and Elrond wasted no time in carrying out his young lover's instruction. He lifted Melpomaen's legs and pressed them to his bare chest. Then, undoing only enough of his elaborate garb to free his own hardened shaft, he found the young Elf's already slicked opening and pushed himself inside.

Melpomaen felt a twinge of discomfort as Elrond's length pierced him, stretching his eager, yet unprepared passage in its wake. But the pain was soon replaced by a wonderful feeling of fullness, his older lover enveloping him from within and without, possessing him utterly. The contrast between his own nakedness and Elrond's ceremonial dress, coupled with the feeling of the cold, hard stone beneath him, aroused Melpomaen even further. He closed his eyes and abandoned himself completely to the sensations flooding his body, delighting in the feel of the Elf inside him.

Elrond thrust forcefully, his breathing uneven, his teeth biting into Melpomaen's shoulder. This wasn't the kind of slow, sensuous lovemaking Melpomaen had come to expect from his lover and at which Elrond was so masterful; no, the Elven Lord was taking him with such urgency that Melpomaen's naked back slid across the library floor.

Craving release, Melpomaen slipped his hand between their straining bodies and sought out his needy erection. But his fingers were soon pushed out of the way by Elrond's own hand as the Elven Lord grasped the younger Elf's arousal fervently, if a bit roughly in his passion.

Melpomaen felt the beautiful Elf on top of him stroke him with the ardour of one about to reach his own peak and felt Elrond's tensed body begin to tremble. His lover thrust harder, his movements becoming increasingly frenzied. The young scribe moaned and bit his lower lip as the Elven Lord's length repeatedly found that place inside him that he so loved Elrond to touch. And then suddenly he felt Elrond still, his buttocks strained with the effort of pressing as deep inside Melpomaen as possible, his breath coming in gasps.

"Mel... oh... Melpomaen!" his beloved called out and, as he felt Elrond's hot seed fill him, Melpomaen came too, surrendering himself to the most delicious spasm.

They lay on the library floor, sated and happy.

"I'm afraid I've soiled that beautiful robe of yours..." Melpomaen smiled up at the Elf who clutched him tightly.

"No matter." Elrond was still slightly out of breath. He shifted to lie beside Melpomaen and cradled the younger Elf's head in the crook of his arm. "It is I who should apologize, melme, luring you into my library and having my wicked way with you." He smiled.

"I like your wicked ways..." Melpomaen gave his lover a coy look, slightly reminiscent of the shy glances he used to steal when he thought his love was unrequited. He pressed his face to the side of his lover's neck, closing his eyes and relishing the scent of their lovemaking.

"Elrond?" The young scribe's voice was suddenly quiet.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Melpomaen felt Elrond's hold on him tighten. The Elven Lord's voice, when it came, was hushed but resonant with emotion. "Me too, pen-neth. Me too."

****

Notes: The words Melpomaen reads to Elrond come from chapter 3 of the Quenta Silmarillion, "Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor."

pen-neth – young one
lirimaer – lovely one
melme – love (Quenya)

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