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Durin was being an idiot.
He knew he was, but he couldn’t stop. Once they’d picked up all their scattered gear from the clearing, worked out a path to the nearest town and stumbled along it, he’d fallen into a sulk and he couldn’t seem to shake himself out of it. Elrond had tried to keep up a merry chatter, but he was obviously tired, especially after fighting off two trolls and a warg, and there was only so much cheeriness he could muster before he gave into Durin’s moody silence. And then the rain had started. By the time they’d reached the town they were soaked through, covered in mud, troll guts and slime, and were barely saying two words to each other.
By tacit agreement they squelched right into the nearest inn, which was luckily one of the nicer ones in the town, and requested two of their softest beds and two of their hottest baths. It was a testament to how awful they must have looked (and smelled) that the Human staff did their bidding straight away, running up and down stairs with metal bathtubs and jugs full of hot water. And before they knew it, they were hustled into a large room with two cosy beds, a roaring fire, and two bathtubs full of steaming water. The staff threw some towels in their general direction and fled. Durin gave himself a brief sniff – he smelled of mud, sweat, and somehow horse dung. No wonder they’d left so quickly.
Elrond next to him let out a sigh of relief and peeled off his clothes, which were so black with mud and blood that they barely looked like clothes anymore, then settled into one of the hot baths as quickly as possible. Durin tried very hard not to look in his direction and unbuckled his clothes and boots, leaving them in a wet pile by the door, and climbed into the opposite bath. The water was almost the perfect temperature, and the bath was Human size, so Durin was able to stretch himself out luxuriously.
“Ahh,” he said despite himself, and Elrond let out a little laugh. Durin peered over at him. Human size was not Elf size, and as such the bath was a little too short for the Elf. Elrond’s mudstained knees were poking out of the tub comically. He grinned ruefully at Durin, who had sunk so deep into his bath that his nose was touching the water.
“I’m jealous,” said Elrond, and sloshed water over his knees, grinning.
And Durin could not bring himself to grin back. Instead he just sank deeper, dipping his head back into the warm water. His mood affected Elrond, who also fell silent, and Durin could hear the quiet splashes of the other bath as he washed himself. Durin closed his eyes.
It wasn’t that he was annoyed at Elrond for taking all the glory and dispatching both trolls and the warg singlehandedly, once the warg had thrown itself at Durin so hard he was hurled into the nearest tree. Well, maybe it was a little – Dwarves never liked to be shown up in front of anyone, especially not Elves and especially not in battle. But it wasn’t just that. It was more that there was a moment when Durin had collapsed at the base of the tree, and he had looked up at Elrond standing over him, holding his sword in an iron fisted grip, his hair falling over his face and his mouth drawn in tight, serious line, and for the first time in his life, Durin had swooned.
It was deeply embarrassing. Dwarves did not swoon. No Dwarf ever had. Even the lady Dwarves preferred to hit their partner over the head with a rock to show their affection, not swoon. Elves were more the swooning type, yet there was Durin, practically melting into the ground at the sight of Elrond protecting him.
It hadn’t gone away either. Once the fight was over and Durin had managed to find his legs and get off the floor, Elrond had turned to him and lowered himself to one knee, taking Durin’s face in his hands before Durin could stop him.
“Are you injured?” he’d said, examining Durin from head to toe, and Durin had almost combusted on the spot.
But he couldn’t admit that. So instead he’d just roared, “You could at least have left one for me!” and ripped his face out of Elrond’s hands, stalking off down the mountainside with nary a glance at the warg and troll bodies left behind. And Elrond had followed him quietly, and was being quiet even now.
“This is nice,” Elrond said now, just as Durin was thinking he was being a bit quiet. The sloshing in the opposite bath had stopped, so Durin risked a peek. Elrond had lain back in the bath, dangling his naked legs over the rim of the bathtub to achieve this, and was resting his head against the side, eyes closed. His face glowed amber in the firelight, pale and perfect once more. His hair was also clean and dripped wetly onto his long, exposed neck. Durin tried not to whimper.
“Hmph,” he said instead, and began furiously washing himself.
Elrond opened his eyes, glancing in Durin’s direction. “Are you hungry?” he said. “Perhaps they will serve us something. I’m starving.”
“I should think so, after all your exertion,” Durin snapped back, waspish.
Elrond huffed, clearly irritated, and moved to get out of the tub. Durin hurriedly closed his eyes again, lying back in the bath, and then watched Elrond out of slitted eyes as he wrapped two towels around himself, picked up their muddy clothes with one hand and then opened the door, peering out into the corridor beyond.
“Thank you,” he said to whoever was waiting outside – Durin suspected one of the maids. “I don’t suppose you could wash our clothes? Or at least dunk them in a hot bath like you did to ourselves.” There was a smile in his voice when he said it, and Durin heard an answering titter from the maid. “And perhaps some food and drink? Thank you.”
He closed the door. Durin realised he was looking rather obviously in Elrond’s direction and hastily moved his head back, closing his eyes again, but he suspected it was too late. There was a significant pause from Elrond’s direction, and then Durin heard him walk, light-footed, over to Durin’s tub. He moved behind Durin, lowering himself to his knees, and then Durin heard the rustle of towels and suddenly Elrond’s damp arms were twining around his shoulders from behind.
Durin opened his eyes. Elrond’s arms dangled around his shoulders, grazing Durin’s chest, fingertips splashing the bathwater idly. He pushed his head into the crook of Durin’s neck. Durin bit hard on his lower lip.
“You’re being far too quiet,” Elrond said, his voice soft in Durin’s ear, and Durin struggled not to relax into his loose embrace. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, trying to sound snappish, but his voice was too low, the traitorous thing. “Except you took all the glory for yourself.”
Elrond sighed. “Durin, a warg the size of three men slammed you into a tree. I feared you were dead. All I could think was that I had to eliminate the threat so I could check on you.”
“I was fine,” Durin growled, which was a lie. He’d definitely been knocked unconscious for a moment there, and his back was aching in a weird way. “You Elves are all the same. Greedy.”
“And you Dwarves are all the same,” Elrond retorted. “Stubborn.” But he pressed a kiss to Durin’s shoulder, and at the touch of his lips Durin couldn’t help it – he took in a quick, sharp breath.
There was another meaningful silence. Elrond looked over at Durin, but Durin dared not look at Elrond. Then Elrond said, “hmm,” in a deeply thoughtful way, and one of his hands that had been dangling in the bath passed across Durin’s chest in a more deliberate manner than before, his thumb grazing Durin’s nipple. Durin felt himself gasp again, his head falling back by itself against Elrond’s shoulder, and Elrond nuzzled quietly against his cheek and ran his fingers over Durin’s nipple again. Durin could feel it tighten under his touch.
“Durin – ” Elrond started haltingly, which was when there was a shy knock at the door. Elrond stood somewhat abruptly, pulling his towels around him, and went to answer it. The door opened on a maid with a trayful of cold meats and cheeses, and Durin was suddenly very glad for the deep bathtub, for he was as hard as a rock and a shallower bath would have showed it – it would have been embarrassing to say the least.
Elrond took the tray. “Thank you,” he said and held the door ajar in a gentlemanly manner as she bowed and exited. As Elrond moved to put the tray aside, Durin began to hastily wash himself again, but they both knew the ruse was over. When Elrond came back around the back of the bath, draping his arms once more over Durin, Durin collapsed into his hold without another word.
“Now,” Elrond said softly. “Where was I?”
Durin took Elrond’s wrist in a light grip, directing his hand back to his chest. “Here,” he said, and when Elrond pressed his face into his neck, he could practically feel his grin.
“You know,” Elrond said, hands stroking Durin’s nipples until Durin had to grasp the edges of the bathtub to stop from simply sinking under the water. “I don’t think you’re that angry at me.”
“I am,” Durin panted. “I’m furious.”
Elrond laughed softly and pressed a kiss against Durin’s bearded cheek. “I’m sure,” he said, and Durin turned properly in the bath to kiss him on the mouth, and that was when the ache in his back made itself very known.
“Ow!” he said.
Elrond’s hands stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Durin ground out, but his hand was automatically going to his aching muscles, and in a moment Elrond’s hands had joined him.
“Is it your back?” said Elrond, and his voice had lapsed into what Durin had always termed his ‘healer voice’, which was a darn sight more professional and business-like than his last tone of voice had been.
“I’m fine,” Durin tried to say, but at that moment Elrond pressed on a muscle somewhere, and the sentence turned into a garbled shriek.
“You are injured!” Elrond sounded upset now, which was even worse than his healer voice. “I knew it! Durin, you idiot.”
“It was nothing,” Durin snapped, wriggling out of Elrond’s grip and wincing again. “Until it wasn’t.”
Elrond stood up. “Get out of the bath.”
Durin thought lamentably of his erection. “Er, no, I’m fine here, thank you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Elrond was pink in the face with exasperation and a touch of anger, a look that Durin had only seen a few times in his life and was far more attractive than it had any right to be. “I can’t check it properly if you’re in the bath. Do you need help?”
“No!” Durin hoisted himself out of the bath before Elrond could do something stupid like lift him out of the water bodily. “Just – hand me a towel, will you?”
The annoyed look flickered into brief amusement, but thankfully Elrond said nothing, merely handing Durin a towel. It was a Human size towel, so it fit Durin well and covered up everything embarrassing. “I’ll just get changed.”
“There’s no clothes, they’re all being washed,” Elrond said, and Durin bit down on his teasing response of what a pity. “Just lie down on the bed, will you, and let me check you.”
Durin huffed, but the look on Elrond’s face was broking no argument, and a smart Dwarf knew when he was beaten. “Fine,” he said, and stalked towards the nearest bed, removing his towel and thumping down on it face first. His back screamed in protest, but he grit his teeth and ignored it.
“Good,” Elrond said, and Durin felt the bed dip as Elrond got on too, briskly straddling Durin’s legs so he could reach his back. “Now,” he said, a bit softer. “Let me know where it hurts.”
In my groin, Durin thought but did not say. He tried not to grind down into the soft mattress beneath him.
Elrond’s hands, achingly gentle and cool, feathered across his back, and Durin tried not to moan. “I think it was here,” he said, and pressed, and Durin’s moan choked itself into a series of Khazdul curses. “Careful!” he snapped.
“Yes, yes,” Elrond said, just as irritated. “Just relax.” And then he did something with the base of his hand and pressed again, and the pain went from agonising to pleasant. Durin groaned. “Good,” Elrond said, and pressed again, and then again, and Durin went lightheaded.
“That’s better,” he said into the mattress.
“Hmm,” Elrond said. “I need to do your whole back really. You did collide with a tree.”
Durin snorted dismissively, but Elrond was already climbing off him. “I have some massage oil in my pack,” he said. “Give me a moment.”
Durin reached for a pillow, resting his chin comfortably on it. “Massage many people on your travels, do you?” he snarked, trying to cover up his vulnerability at being both naked on the bed and at Elrond’s mercy.
“Only stubborn Dwarves who refuse to look after themselves,” Elrond said from somewhere across the room. Durin turned his face on the pillow to his voice and treated himself to the sight of a nude Elrond, digging through his pack on the other side of the room. Elrond met his eyes and pulled a face at him, grinning, and then withdrew a bottle of amber oil and padded back over to the bed.
“Keep your eyes to yourself, Dwarf,” he said, climbing back onto Durin’s legs.
“I shan’t,” Durin retorted, and then Elrond’s hands, now slick with oil, slid along the muscles in Durin’s back and Durin sighed into the mattress.
They lapsed into a silence again, but this one was far more peaceful. Elrond’s hands worked expertly on Durin’s back, sometimes digging into knots, sometimes gently caressing his skin, and Durin found himself relaxing by degrees. He was warm, clean and comfortable and Elrond’s hands were pushing him further and further into drowsy pleasure. There was only one thing stopping him from falling asleep entirely, and it was trapped between him and the mattress.
It had to be something to do with how gallant Elrond was being, he thought, trying to focus on the warmth in his muscles and not how hard he was getting. First protecting him from wargs and trolls, then getting him to a place of safety and warmth, and then literally massaging the aches out of him. Durin wasn’t sure he’d ever been so looked after in his life.
Elrond could ask for anything right now, he realised, and he’d give it to him.
Elrond’s hands, somewhere around his hips, suddenly slipped, pressing into the muscle, and Durin yelped.
“Sorry,” Elrond said, but his voice was oddly rough. He cleared his throat, but the damage was done. Durin glanced round at him. The Elf was sat astride him, naked in the firelight, and his face was pink again, but not with annoyance this time. It seemed Durin wasn’t the only one affected.
Durin tried not to grin, turned back to the bed and grinned into his pillow instead. After a little pause, Elrond’s hands began sliding up Durin’s back again, but Durin could feel them shaking, and when he reached Durin’s shoulders he didn’t slide them back down. Instead Durin felt Elrond move, lowering himself so that he was almost pressed against Durin’s back, and then he kissed Durin’s neck. It was a tremulous, warm kiss, a little more haphazard than Elrond usually was. And that was when Durin had a mad, mad idea.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice was slurred in his ears, like he was drunk.
He felt Elrond exhale against his beard. “Yes?” he said, questioningly. So Durin shuffled back slightly, pressing his buttocks against Elrond, where Elrond was impressively hard. Elrond gasped against his neck.
“Yes,” he said.
Elrond’s hips canted forward, apparently of their own accord, and Durin could feel the slide of him against his skin, and swallowed hard.
They had never done things this way. It was – it had always been – the other way around. They’d never discussed why, but both of them had been happy with the arrangement, so there seemed no need to talk about it. Until this moment. And Durin had no idea why it was happening now, except Elrond had been so valiant, so chivalrous, so heroic, all day long.
And that, apparently, was enough for Durin to want Elrond inside him.
Elrond’s hands skated down Durin’s back again, pressing once more against his hips. Durin’s mouth went dry. “Have you ever…?” Elrond murmured.
“Once,” Durin said. There was no point saying it had been an unqualified disaster.
Elrond pressed another warm, sloppy kiss against his shoulder blades. “I’ll be gentle,” he said. His voice was somehow sloppy as well, like he was drowning in his desire. “I’ll be very, very gentle.”
The Dwarf inside Durin told him to demand it hard and strong. Durin told it to shut up, hard and strong.
“I trust you,” he said, and pushed his blushing face into the pillow.
Elrond made a low sound and kissed Durin’s back again, and then pulled away slightly. “If at any time you want to stop,” he said, a bit more like himself, “We can.”
Durin nodded into the pillow, trying to stay relaxed, but his heart was hammering for a new reason – he was nervous. Elrond ran a soothing hand down his oiled back, and then his slicked fingers trailed lower into Durin’s buttocks, and then between –
Durin jerked against the feeling, breath catching. Elrond paused, his finger stilling, other hand against his back, but he didn’t withdraw. His finger was – was inside Durin, barely up to the second knuckle but still. Inside.
Durin told himself, very firmly, to relax, and settled back on the pillow. Elrond’s free hand traced circles over Durin’s back, and then his finger sank a little deeper. Durin choked into his pillow, gripping it tight. Elrond let it stay there for a moment, giving him time to adjust. And then, once Durin let go of the pillow, he withdrew a little, and then pushed inside again, and all at once the vague pain transmuted to pleasure again, like gold shining through a rock, and Durin groaned.
Elrond let out a shaky breath – he sounded more nervous than Durin himself – and pushed again, carefully. Durin groaned again, more loudly, and pressed back, and he felt Elrond shiver all over. “Durin,” he said, and twisted his finger inside him, brushing against something that sent sparks throughout him and had him swearing into his pillow. He balled up his hand into a fist and bit on it, hard, and Elrond pushed inside him again, once, twice, thrice, until Durin was moaning.
Elrond’s hand moved from his back to his hip, and squeezed. “A second finger?” he whispered.
“Aye,” Durin said around his fist, and Elrond squeezed his hip again. Durin heard him try to catch his breath, like he was running a race he had not expected to run.
The second slicked finger was a jolt, moving the pleasure back to something bordering pain again, and Durin twisted uncomfortably, but Elrond’s hand on his hip held him down. “I have you,” he said, and kept his fingers where they were. Durin breathed around his fist for a bit and focused on the comfort of the sheets below him, Elrond’s warmth against him, how toweringly aroused they both were. Then he removed his teeth from his fist and wrapped it around the pillow again, and pushed experimentally against Elrond. It was still painful, but there was an element of pleasure to it, and when Durin pushed again, Elrond pushed back, and suddenly it was all pleasure once more. Durin cried out again, involuntarily.
Elrond groaned himself, and abruptly lowered himself down again, pressing the upper half of his body against Durin’s back, his fingers still working inside him. He kissed Durin’s neck, and Durin fuzzily turned his head to capture Elrond’s mouth with his own. Elrond whimpered, like he was the one underneath Durin, tasting impossibly sweet and opening Durin’s mouth against his own.
“More,” Durin tried to demand, only his voice was trembling so hard he was barely understandable, and Elrond whined in his mouth, pulling away.
“Durin,” he said, stilling his fingers. “You – ”
Durin shoved his face back into the pillow. Dwarves did not beg, they never begged, but by Aulë, he was close. “More,” he said, a bit more forcefully this time, and Elrond murmured an affirmative, and pressed another impossibly long, oiled finger inside him.
This time Durin was ready, insanely ready, and he thrust against Elrond’s fingers with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a while. Elrond’s hand around his hip tightened so hard he would get bruises later, and that thought, that he might see the bruises in the morning and remember what they had done together, almost undid him. He bit on a mouthful of pillow to steady himself, then raised himself on his hands, giving himself more purchase to push back against Elrond.
“More,” he choked out. Elrond shuddered behind him.
“Durin – are you su – ”
“Dwarves never beg,” Durin gasped, shoving himself against Elrond as Elrond clung to him. “Don’t make me start now.”
Elrond laughed, but it was breathless. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and Durin breathed out hard, feeling oddly empty. “It may hurt again,” he warned, and Durin heard the oil running from the bottle, and felt Elrond’s fingers, freshly slicked, pass again between his buttocks. “But we will go slowly.”
Durin positioned himself more comfortably on his knees like he recalled Elrond doing all those times before between them. His cock was hard against his stomach, weeping, he realised now. He felt wildly out of control. “We have all evening,” he said, more to himself than Elrond. “It’s just us.”
Elrond was once more against his back, arms curling around Durin’s chest and holding him in place. Durin was glad he hadn’t touched his cock or it would all be over too soon. “It’s just us,” Elrond echoed, a note of deep affection in his voice, and pushed into him.
Durin felt him breach the tight muscle, hot and hard and somehow impossibly bigger than he had seemed before, and tried not to tense in his grip. Elrond slowed, sensing Durin’s pause, but didn’t stop. Durin was glad – if Elrond stopped, he might change his mind altogether, but a slow, steady slide forward meant all he could do was acquiesce. He let out a breath and slumped in Elrond’s hold. Elrond didn’t fail for a moment, effortlessly keeping Durin up while he inched into him by degrees. By the time he was halfway, they were both panting against each other. Elrond was right, it hurt again, but Durin was so out of his mind with desire that pain didn’t seem to matter much anymore. He steadied himself once more, enabling Elrond to straighten up, moving his hands to Durin’s hips and sinking in further, further and further. And Durin didn’t think he could be so full until he was, he was stuffed full, and Elrond had buried himself up to the hilt.
Elrond stopped, so incredibly, madly deep inside Durin, and then swore an impressive stream of Elvish curses, most of which went over Durin’s head. Durin laughed, a little manic, and heard Elrond laugh back in exactly the same way. “You feel – ” he started, then cut himself off, like if he said too much he would be overwhelmed.
Durin reached backwards for one of Elrond’s hands, pulling it off his hip and back around his chest. The motion caused Elrond to jostle inside him and they both groaned, but Elrond squeezed Durin’s hand and kept it where Durin had placed it, curling around his chest. And Durin took in a breath and said, once more, “Yes.”
Elrond made a muffled noise against Durin’s back, and thrust forward, possibly a little sharper than he had intended, but Durin simply groaned against the feeling. Elrond held onto him hard and thrust again, and then again, and Durin was catapulted into a new kind of pleasure, a sinking warm pleasure, falling into complete surrender, and all he could think was why didn’t I try this years ago.
He let go of his mind, relaxing into his instincts, leaning down to fold himself against the mattress in a motion of pure submission, whilst Elrond moved with him, plunging into him firstly with some finesse, and then no finesse whatsoever, his hips jerking against Durin, cock pounding into him and hands clenching into fists against Durin’s hip, against his chest.
“Durin,” he said, apparently unaware he was doing so, “Durin, Durin,” and Durin pushed back saying, “Yes, Elrond, yes,” and then Elrond’s hand reached down and curled around his hard, hard, aching cock and Durin dug his hands into the mattress, insane with desire, swore, and then tumbled over the edge like he had thrown himself off a mountainside, coming so violently that his vision went white. The pleasure was so strong he was unaware of himself for a moment, and when he came to, Elrond said, “Durin, oh – you – ” and burst inside him with a sharp, wordless cry, filling him with warmth.
And that was the moment when both their strengths failed and they collapsed forward as one, faces plunging into the soft mattress, and a dizzying silence fell over them.
Elrond broke it, while Durin was still recovering his wits, by laughing. It was almost hysterical, unrestrained, like he couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to, and he stayed where he was, splayed against Durin’s back, half inside him and laughing into the pillow. And Durin, crammed into the mattress as he was, simply found himself laughing along. And there they stayed for some minutes, giggling in a wobbly fashion into the bed, squashed against each other.
After a moment, Elrond lifted his head, chest still jumping with amusement, and Durin felt a gentle hand against the back of his head. “Are you well?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Durin said honestly, and Elrond laughed in a slightly more sane way, and carefully lifted himself off Durin, sliding out of him. Durin let out a half groan against the pillows – he felt warm and sore and oddly vulnerable all over again.
Elrond pressed a kiss against his neck. “Let me clean us up,” he said, and got off the bed. Durin couldn’t work out how he had the strength to move – all of Durin’s great Dwarfish strength seemed to have been sapped out of him. He would willingly have fallen asleep right there, if Elrond hadn’t come back with a towel wetted with bath water.
“Let me,” he said, and gently cleaned Durin’s back and buttocks with efficient, soft strokes. Durin raised himself enough to take the towel from Elrond and clean his front, and then Elrond removed the towel from him and then took his hands, pulling him off the bed and leading him the few steps to the other unsullied bed, as though he thought Durin might not make it there on his own. Which, to be honest, Durin was not sure he could.
He found the covers pulled back and himself dragged into the bed, and then Elrond got in as well and tangled the covers around them both, propping his head against Durin’s pillow so that there were almost nose to nose. Durin closed his eyes, letting himself relax into the warmth between them, which was always there, and always so steady.
Elrond’s hand stroked through his hair and down his cheek to his beard. “How do you feel?”
“I – ” Durin said, and then stopped. The truth was he both knew exactly how he felt, and he had never felt it before. Durin, Crown Prince of Khazad-dûm, felt shy. He opened his eyes, meeting Elrond’s luminous, understanding gaze. “Now that is strange,” he said.
Elrond smiled. Of course he would know exactly how Durin felt. Durin wondered if he always felt so exposed after their couplings, or if this was just a first time thing. All he knew was if Elrond left him now, he’d be broken.
Elrond pressed a hand to his cheek. “It’s just us,” he said. “Remember?”
“I do.” Durin turned his face, pressing a kiss against Elrond’s palm, and voiced something he’d thought earlier. “We should have done this years ago.”
Elrond grinned. “Well I am not adverse to doing it again.” And then his expression went a little glazed, like he was remembering certain parts of their encounter, and he went a bit pink in the face. Durin couldn’t help feeling a mite smug.
“And thanks,” he said.
Elrond blinked, like he hadn’t spent the whole day and evening doing things Durin should be thankful for. “For what?”
“Saving me,” Durin said, “From a warg and two trolls. Although I could have managed them by myself.”
And even though he didn’t think he’d said anything funny, Elrond still fell back on the bed and laughed and laughed.