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“Nelyo, come quick!” Carnistir’s urgent tone came through the window, and Maitimo reluctantly put his book down. If this was another prank from his brother, he would murder someone with his bare hands. He couldn’t take being interrupted every twenty minutes only to amuse his younger brothers’ stupid jokes.
But as he stepped into the porch, the scene that unfolded right in front of his eyes froze him where he stood.
His half-uncle, Nolofinwë, was being half-dragged, half-carried between Tyelkormo and Atarinkë, who both grunted with the effort of keeping him straight. His feet were unsure, and his legs wobbled like they couldn’t sustain his weight. He looked drunk, to say the least. So much for his poise, Maitimo had the time to think.
“What happened?” He inquired, rushing towards them and gently taking Nolofinwë’s face in his hands. His eyes were feverish, and at that mere contact, his half-relative released an unmistakable moan of pleasure.
Maitimo withdrew like he had been burned, and he could feel the tips of his ears getting awkwardly hot. “What in Eru’s name is going on?” He asked again, looking between his two struggling brothers.
“Blue mushroom,” Tyelkormo said, hopping Nolofinwë’s arm over his shoulder to get a better grip on him. “We found him deep in the forest, and he had laid on a bunch of them without realizing it. Their fumes must have worked through the night.”
“You think so,” Atarinkë added sourly.
“Yes, I do think so, little one. It’s my best guess. You saw the crumpled mushrooms underneath his blanket!”
Maitimo nodded. He believed him for, in matters of hunting and the woods, his silver-haired brother was an absolute authority – losing to Oromë alone.
“We need to get him inside quickly,” Tyelkormo was saying. “He will feel better once he’s out of these clothes and soaked in cold water. The longer we take, the more the poison will affect him.”
Maitimo licked his lips, wanting to ask the question and already dreading the answer. “What are the side effects?”
“Heat. A lot. Like it wipes your mind of everything that it’s not… rutting-related,” Tyelko stumbled over his words, frowning a little as he looked to Nolofinwë’s lolling head.
“And what happens if he… you know... doesn’t get what he needs?”
“It could last for days, and it only gets worse. One of Oromë’s Maiar told me once that they saw an Elda rutting with animals, such was his desperation. In the end, he was so delusional that, even after he was cured, his mind didn’t come back and was in a permanent vegetative state.”
Maitimo widened his eyes. “So we can’t just wait for it to run out!”.
He knew Nolofinwë and his father had many differences and never seemed to agree on anything, but that seemed a harsh fate indeed for anyone, let alone the father of the cousin he was in love with.
“No. Regrettably for us, we need to help him,” Tyelkormo muttered with an annoyed huff.
As he spoke, though, his breath brushed the shell of Nolofinwë’s ear, and their uncle lunged forward like a panther. He gripped Tyelko’s tunic and smacked their mouths together, rolling his hips on Tyelkormo’s thigh.
For a heartbeat longer than Maitimo would have wished, they all stood motionless, not quite knowing what to do. As Tyelkormo opened his mouth to protest, Nolofinwë stuck his tongue inside – and to Maitimo’s disbelieving astonishment, his brother closed his eyes and returned the kiss with a soft moan.
“Turkafinwë!” He growled with all the authority of the elder brother, and that was enough to wrench Tyelkormo from the heated kiss.
“What? That was good, Nelyo!”
Nolofinwë kept seeking the mouth that had just kissed him and, as he couldn’t reach it, he started licking and kissing Tyelko’s throat instead. In his defense, Tyelkormo had the decency to look sheepish with that sudden display of intimacy for a person with whom they had no intimacy at all.
“You reckless thing!” Maitimo hissed. He stepped in, taking hold of Nolofinwë’s arm and wrenching their half-uncle from his fair-headed brother, giving him his shoulder to lean on. “What if atar saw you? Hm?”
“He’s right, you know,” Carnistir stated unnecessarily. “Atar would skin you alive.”
“Well, I guess he’ll do that already to all of us for bringing him here in the first place,” Atarinkë added grimly, and Maitimo set his jaw. His brother had a point. A fair point.
“Let’s get him inside. Quick and quiet. Atar doesn’t need to know anything,” he whispered urgently.
“It would be terrible timing if he got out of the forge now,” Carnistir piped in again.
Maitimo glared at him, who was just watching them struggle with an arrogant raise of his black brow.
“Will you shut up and help?” Atarinkë growled.
“Out of the way, both of you!” Maitimo grunted as they dragged their very non-pliant uncle through the porch.
They groaned, puffed, and hauled Nolofinwë around the house. It was harder than Maitimo had anticipated. At one point, Nolofinwë’s arm slipped from under his shoulder and got a grip on his buttocks, squeezing it in such a way that made him yelp – and, to his absolute shame, the way Nolofinwë kneaded his fingers sent an unwanted bolt of desire through his body. If only this were Nolofinwë’s son…
Maitimo bit his lips to the thought and kept going. Slow step by excruciatingly slow step, they made it to the bottom of the staircase. They had to support Nolofinwë’s whole weight since their uncle didn’t seem to recognize the notion of stairs. Until Macalaurë came out from his chamber with an annoyed expression.
“Why are you making such a ruck–”
His voice cut off once his eyes fell on the figures jostling with their dazed half-uncle – head lolling back and to the sides, whispering, moaning and groaning without any of the composure that made him the infamous diplomat their father hated so.
“What happened to him?” Macalaurë said with a worried expression.
“Poison by blue mushrooms,” Tyelkormo said again from the back of the line with a hand on Maitimo’s shoulder blades.
“Out of the way, Káno,” Maitimo said, already breathless with the effort.
Macalaurë opened the twins’ chambers and hid in there until they had passed. Unfortunately for Maitimo, both red-haired brothers were at home and poked their heads outside the door, asking the same question he and Macalaurë had already made. Which could only mean that their curiosity – and their insatiable taste for wrong things – would not be slaked only by hearing of it. They would have to see it with their own impish eyes.
When they finally made it to Maitimo’s chambers, all of the brothers trailed behind the three of them, talking at the same time, making hypotheses, and, of course, laughing at their uncle’s expense. In all honesty, Maitimo could have laughed too, but the poor elf was in a dreadful state. His skin was too hot, and he was sweating, and Maitimo couldn’t really say anymore if the moans were of pleasure or of pain – or a bit of both.
Before he really started worrying, though, Nolofinwë leaned heavily on him, his smaller figure an unexpectedly good fit – and Maitimo couldn’t help thinking if Findekáno’s sturdier form would feel just as good. His absurd musing was interrupted, however. Nolofinwë started whispering something, and with all the noise around them, Maitimo couldn’t hear.
“Shut up, all of you!” He yelled to his unruly brothers but was glad his commanding voice could still silence them. He took hold of Nolofinwë’s head and guided his lips to his ear.
“It hurts,” his half-uncle whispered very low. “Please… it hurts.”
“What? Where does it hurt?” Maitimo said, alarmed.
“His clothes, Nelyo. Take his clothes off!” Tyelkormo said urgently.
“Such a pervert, brother,” Minyarussa muttered, and Carnistir chuckled.
The three of them started arguing again, but Maitimo didn’t listen because he heard Macalaurë’s gentle touch on his elbow.
“Nelyo… you can’t be serious about taking his clothes off!”
“It’s the only way! Tyelko warned me before, and now that he’s in pain, I can’t see another choice!”
“What about calling a healer?” Ambarto said. “Or atar. Isn’t it the most logical thing to do, Nelyo?”
“And what do you expect atar will do when he sees his enemy in such a vulnerable state? No doubt he will want to throw Nolofinwë out in the garden to suffer it alone, no matter the consequences.” However dangerous their position was for hiding such a secret, Nolofinwë didn’t deserve that, no matter what their father would say. “No. We’ll have to deal with it ourselves. So if you want to stay, you better help me, or I’ll kick you out myself.”
“Alright, alright, don’t need to get angry, brother,” Minyarussa raised his hands apologetically. “Tell us what we must do.”
“Moryo, Curvo, and Káno: you will unbutton and remove his tunic and shirt. Telvo and Pityo, get his boots off. Tyelko, help me hold him upright.”
“What about his trousers?” Atarinkë asked with a scowl.
Maitimo pressed his lips together. “Last resort. Let’s leave it on for now.”
It was far less easy than it seemed. Nolofinwë’s limbs looked like they were boneless, and he wasn’t at all steady on his feet. At one point, Maitimo had to support his uncle’s whole weight on his chest while the twins worked on the boots. On top of it all, as soon as the fabric of Nolofinwë’s shirt brushed his skin, he gasped, and as they tried tearing it off, he moaned so unashamedly they were all blushing and cursing under their breaths. Even if they worked far better cooperating than arguing, it took them some twenty minutes until they had stripped Nolofinwë of almost everything.
Once he was half-naked, Maitimo couldn’t help but stare a little. Not because he had any thoughts regarding Nolofinwë, but because Maitimo never would’ve guessed that he would be so… exquisite. It was plainly evident to him that there was indeed little difference in age between them and that Nolofinwë’s political mind was not the only thing to be appreciated here. He had a lithe, muscular body, a little taller than their father but just as strong, it seemed. His shoulders were broad, and his stomach was flat and hard.
But before Maitimo could have his fill of the view, Nolofinwë swayed forward and fell into his arms, his hands gripping tight on his uncle’s stripped back. Nolofinwë shuddered and screamed so loud they all jumped in their skins, startled to hear such a primeval sound from their half-uncle’s throat.
“What happened? Is he hurt?” Ambarto asked, alarmed – though Maitimo was sure he was more excited about the whole event than actually worried about their half-uncle’s well-being.
Nolofinwë leaned heavily on him, and Maitimo felt his hips moving jerkily forward, little moans and gasps still escaping his lips.
“I don’t…” Maitimo trailed off the moment Nolofinwë’s groin touched his thigh. To say he was hard was an understatement: Nolofinwë’s erection was a bar of granite against his body, and he swallowed a confused lump of feelings.
“That was his first orgasm,” Tyelkormo said low, glancing at the rest of his wide-eyed brothers.
“Manwë’s balls!” Carnistir muttered. “Are we going to have to witness that too? I’ve never even…”
He stopped himself, his face the shade of a tomato.
“No? Not even with yourself?” Macalaurë raised his brows and smirked, making distinguished movements of his hand up and down. Maitimo rolled his eyes at the childish barb.
“Shut up!” Carnistir glared knives, but his complaints were drowned by laughter.
“Oh, come on, Moryo! Don’t tell us that Farínië never let you touch her jewel?” Atarinkë poked his ribs.
“I’ve never—she never—I wanted to wait—” Carnistir’s cheeks flamed redder than ever, highlighting his freckles.
“That is all very nice, but can we focus, please?” Maitimo growled over Nolofinwë’s shoulder. “If this…” and he moved his hand, signaling their uncle’s pitiful state, “is really going to happen, we don’t have to witness it. We can put him in the tub and just leave him there!”
“Not so simple,” Tyelkormo added nonchalantly like he was talking of tomorrow’s breakfast. “He needs to get it off, but it doesn’t look like he can do it alone.”
“And I assume you are volunteering for it?” Carnistir sneered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the silver-haired laughed. “I kissed him alright, but I’m not getting anywhere near his prick.”
They started arguing again about who would take their uncle in hand, and Maitimo had to breathe in several times in a futile attempt to regain his patience. But, the truth was, he didn’t quite know what to do. Tyelkormo decided to fill the tub – as this was the only thing they could all agree on – but that would take a while. Their half-uncle stood there, leaning on him, hips jerking erratically, eyes glazed and pupils as wide as two black pits of desperate arousal.
Maitimo brushed some hair out of his face to take a better look into his eyes, but that was enough to make Nolofinwë groan again and rut against his leg at an irregular pace that all but told him of another climax. Maitimo held his breath and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He sent a silent prayer to Eru, asking that his uncle had no recollection of this – because if Maitimo felt mortified to be in that position, his uncle would die of shame, no doubt.
Nolofinwë’s sweaty forehead rested on his shoulder as the orgasm ebbed out, but he was still panting, skin glistened with sweat. He started to slightly tremble as well, and Maitimo fought hard not to panic. They were running out of time, and it looked like there was no other choice: they had to touch him or call for their father – and stars knew he didn’t know which was worse!
An idea crossed his mind, and he started making soothing movements on Nolofinwë’s back. His half-uncle responded in no time, moaning louder with each sweep of his hands.
“What are you doing?” Minyarussa raised his brows.
“We don’t have to touch his prick to get him off,” Macalaurë answered for him, watching as Maitimo stimulated Nolofinwë with the barest of touches. “Do you think you can make it better just like that?”
Maitimo shook his head dismally. “I don’t know, but it’s worth the try.”
Indeed, as Maitimo pressed his fingers a little more to get a better angle at their awkward embrace, Nolofinwë screamed and climaxed again. Boy, what a mess it must be inside those trousers! He bit his lip as inappropriate laughter bubbled inside his chest. He exchanged an amused look with Macalaurë, sensing his brother thought the same, but both knew it was better to reign in the humor, or the others would never see the end of it.
But as Maitimo kept rubbing Nolofinwë’s back, the next climax seemed to take longer. “Come on, all of you! Wherever you can touch his skin.”
Maitimo saw as they exchanged nervous glances, but Tyelkormo stepped forward and ran a nail over Nolofinwë’s spine. Their half-uncle arched and cried out loud.
“Stop staring and help, you pack of untried maids,” Tyelkormo said to the youngsters.
“Like you knew much about it,” muttered Ambarto scornfully.
“Oh, but he does! Ask Irissë, and she will tell you all about it,” Carnistir smirked.
“Or Findaráto,” Atrainkë added with a straight face, and the whole room gasped.
“Damn your big mouth, Curufinwë!” Tyelkormo shoved him on the shoulder.
“Don’t say that you have been dallying with Ingo!” Maitimo couldn’t help the question.
“Well, at least I have the balls to approach one of our perfect, pristine cousins,” and he grinned so knowingly that Maitimo felt his face heating up.
“Alright, stop talking and help out, will you? I’m getting tired of holding him.” The request averted the topic – and it wasn’t far from the truth: his arms were quivering with the effort of keeping Nolofinwë’s entire weight on himself.
The brothers approached with frowns, no minor complaints, and worries. While Tyelkormo was still working on the lower back with Maitimo, Macalaurë took one of Nolofinwë’s hands and started massaging it, blushing as hard as the rest of them with the positive – and wild – responses. Atarinkë put a hand on his shoulder, and Ambarussa settled for the wrist and forearm.
“There’s nowhere left to touch him!” Carnistir said, his face glowing furiously red. “I’m not going further down!”
“Anywhere, Morifinwë!” Maitimo sighed, more than a little tired of the whole ordeal.
Carnistir worried on his lower lip for a moment, then pinched lightly on Nolofinwë’s ears – and that was it. They all froze as Nolofinwë leaned back his head, clearly wanting more, and shouted through another climax.
They kept working on their stupefied half-uncle past what was acceptable even for the most lecherous of the bunch.
“How long do you think this will last?” Atarinkë sighed after a long while, kneading Nolofinwë’s shoulder like it was bread dough.
“It is surely taking too long,” Tyelkormo said with a worried frown. “How many times has he gone already?”
There were many mumbles of “don’t know” and “lost count,” and “why should I keep counting it?”. Maitimo exhaled through his nose, now genuinely concerned. Maybe this wasn’t enough. And if it wasn’t enough… he paled at the mere thought of having to do more than what they had already done. He couldn’t get his mind around the idea of doing anything else than superficial touches when the door to his chambers banged open and crashed against the wall.
“What in the seven hell’s name is this?”
Fëanáro’s furious voice roared over them, and they immediately stopped touching Nolofinwë’s body, moving away from Maitimo and giving their father the full view of the scene.
“What happened? Is that Findek-” Fëanáro cut himself, realization dawning on him.
Maitimo swallowed so hard he heard his throat working, his arms clutching Nolofinwë’s body tight against him – to protect himself or his uncle from their father’s wrath, he really didn’t know.
“Atar, we can explain…”
Fëanáro’s eyes were unfathomable. He had a deep frown on his brow, and his chest heaved just as much as the almost unconscious elf.
“Atar, please–” Maitimo began again, but Fëanáro didn’t seem to have listened.
In three long strides, he was beside them. He gently lifted his nearly unconscious half-brother’s head and sucked in a breath as black hair fell away, revealing Nolofinwë’s still very much dazed face. But when Fëanáro pulled Nolofinwë from his grasp, a cry of denial climbed upon him. He should stop his father from doing something rash and even uglier than the sword incident had been!
But the scream died in his throat as Fëanáro was surprisingly tender and hoisted Nolofinwë in his own arms, laying him down on the rug as carefully as if he was an injured bird. It was a strange sight to see, and Maitimo frowned as Fëanáro checked his vital signs, measured the temperature of his skin with the back of his hand, and searched inside Nolofinwë’s dull eyes.
“How long has this been going?” He asked quietly to no one in particular.
Maitimo looked at Tyelkormo, who answered: “Since we found him, at least two hours.”
“Two hours…” Fëanáro murmured, pressing two fingers onto Nolofinwë’s pulse. “How many times has he climaxed?”
“Many more than I would’ve liked to ever see, truth be told,” Maitimo said, sudden relief washing over him that his father showed nothing more than concern to the elf he claimed to despise.
“Give me a number, Nelyo,” their father asked, eyes still focused on the prone elf.
“At least eight? Could have been more, I wasn’t really counting, atar, I’m sorry,” he mumbled the last words, and Fëanáro looked up at him.
“Don’t blame yourself. You did what you could,” he swept his eyes over the rest of them, “but it’s clearly not enough. If this has been going on for the duration you have told me, the poisoning is more serious than it seemed.”
And he fell silent. Maitimo knew he was thinking of the solution – whatever it may be – and that they, even Tyelkormo, knew nothing of. Then, with a swift motion but still so very gently, Fëanáro lifted him up again and looked down with concern to the lolling head, ignoring as best he could the soft moans and whimpers.
“Atar, do you need our help?” Macalaurë said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“No, Káno. I will take care of this.”
“What are you going to do?” Ambarto asked in his infinite, absurd curiosity, and Maitimo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m taking him to my chambers. One of you, please, turn the faucet off,” he said above his shoulder as he walked to the door. “I think I can hear water trickling down the tub.”
Tyelkormo widened his eyes and rushed to the bathroom. They all followed Fëanáro and watched as their father placed Nolofinwë on his own bed. Maitimo frowned, but he didn’t dare question his father – especially not when he had a solution.
“Go on, now. Give us some privacy,” Fëanáro smiled at them.
“Atar,” Maitimo stepped forward, wringing his hands. “I know he didn’t do it on purpose – I mean, I’m sure he didn’t get infected only to be brought here–”
“What are you saying, Nelyo? Are you concerned for his well-being?” Fëanáro’s eyes sparkled, then, and Maitimo moistened his lips at the fey light shining in them. But his fears were assuaged as his father continued. “Worry not. I will not harm him.”
Maitimo nodded and smiled tightly. One by one, his brothers left the chamber until only Maitimo remained, staring down at Nolofinwë – who indeed seemed worse than before. Fëanáro raised his eyes to him and smiled disarmingly.
“Don’t worry, son. He will be fine.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. But make sure no one disturbs us while we are in here,” he said and returned his attention to his half-brother.
“Nolofinwë. Listen to me,” his father’s low, potent voice rang on the room, and it was the last thing Maitimo heard as he closed the heavy oak door shut behind him.
***
“Nolofinwë, listen to my voice,” he said imperatively. “Can you hear me?” he added a little softer once the fuggy elf showed no response.
Fëanáro didn’t know what to think.
His relationship with his half-brother had always been terse at best, and since Nolofinwë was a child, his first instinct had been to treat him like he meant nothing – which has been true for all those long centuries. Nolofinwë didn’t make it any easier, though, always arguing, always demanding love and affection when Fëanáro couldn’t find it in himself to give; their clashes were like two deers butting horns. It had always been so.
At least until his banishment, when things had started to change. Isolation, and the lack of constant confrontation, made him look at the feelings he kept closer to his heart, and he found himself... wanting. Wanting to simply look at Nolofinwë, even if it was to hear his deep voice opposing him – but also to enjoy the great beauty of his face and his majestic figure.
And it was when he came to accept that he, in fact, had a secret desire for his half-brother. All those fights, that had intensified when Nolofinwë came of age, hid something Fëanáro hadn’t admitted to his own shadow, and it had taken him years to see the truth of it. His disregard for the rules once laid down by the Valar only increased his longing, notably these exiled years spent in loneliness.
Seeing Nolofinwë now, vulnerable and pleading, only fed the fires of both his fëa and hröa. Fëanáro didn’t believe for one second that his half-brother would forgive him for the trespass of intimacy, but his case required urgent measures. He didn’t expect Nolofinwë to understand how the mere sight of him, sprawled almost naked in his bed, invited lascivious thoughts.
As if moved by Fëanáro’s musings alone, Nolofinwë murmured something in his delusional state. Looking down at him – panting and breathless, heavy-lidded eyes burning with lust (even if unnaturally inflicted) – was almost too much. Fëanáro reached out and ran his hands over Nolofinwë’s bare torso, rejoicing at the smooth touch. He bent over the prone figure and inhaled deeply, feeling the musky scent of skin. Without much thinking, he placed an open-mouthed kiss on Nolofinwë’s chest, which made his half-brother moan aloud.
Startled by the response that made his bones thrum, Fëanáro moved to reach further down, but his half-brother caught hold of the neck of his tunic and pulled him inexorably, bringing his lips closer to Fëanáro’s ear.
“More,” he whispered hotly. “Please. More.”
Fëanáro felt an excited thrill sweep through his body. This was not how he would have them, one drugged and nearly unconscious and the other doing all the work, but it was what he had to do. So he opened the laces of Nolofinwë’s breeches and pulled them down to his knees, not caring at how soiled they already were. Nolofinwë’s cock jutted darkly against the alabaster skin. He noticed with another thrill that it was a good girth, not much different from his own, but a bit thicker while he was longer. Fëanáro hesitated only the span of a breath before he palmed Nolofinwë’s erection, entranced when he heard a long, throaty moan in response.
Fëanáro curled his fingers around the length and stroked, and it wasn’t long before Nolofinwë was screaming and spurting in his hand in long jets. However, the erection didn’t abate. In fact, it took Nolofinwë a matter of seconds to grow to full hardness again, and this time Fëanáro wasn’t gentle. He tugged and squeezed until Nolofinwë’s entire body quivered with need, and his whimpers were loud and wanton, beautiful in his debauchery.
Nolofinwë’s lips moved like he was reciting something, and Fëanáro bent over to hear his whispers once more.
“Fëanáro… Fëanáro, please… More, Fëanáro…”
He swallowed hard, fingers still caressing Nolofinwë’s iron-hard shaft. If he was really going to do it, then he would do it properly. Fëanáro tossed his clothes away carelessly, took a vial of flax oil from his desk, and knelt before Nolofinwë, spreading the elf’s legs apart. He had been half-hard for a while, and now, in this position, his cock twitched in anticipation.
“Don’t worry, Nolofinwë. I am going to take care of you”, he said and ran his hands over the long legs, from the calves to the thighs, watching as Nolofinwë moaned and arched up beautifully, like a bowstring.
He massaged the thighs, getting each time closer to Nolofinwë’s groin and the aching point that demanded his attention. The air in the room was heady with desire, and Fëanáro moistened his lips, leaning down to lick the whole length of it; Nolofinwë’s stuttered gasps were a sign that he was about to come again.
Fëanáro licked again and, this time, he closed his mouth around it and slid it between his lips once. Nolofinwë howled and came in his mouth as stronger as before, a taste both sweet and salty. Fëanáro didn’t pull away and looked up only to see his stunned half-brother’s eyes fixed on him. His own cock now throbbed painfully, and a muffled groan escaped his throat, reverberating all around the burned-up skin and causing Nolofinwë to gasp sharply.
Without further ado, he opened the vial of oil and coated his fingers generously, letting his tongue dart once again on the glistening erection and the slit while he drew lazy circles with his finger on the rim. Nolofinwë tossed his head weakly from side to side, his chest heaved with rapid breathing.
Once the finger started expertly working him from within, Nolofinwë spread his legs wide open to grant better access. Taking that as his cue, Fëanáro sucked him harder and put another finger, opening him up in precise little stabs that made his half-brother come again with a broken gasp. Fëanáro swallowed again, a bit forcefully this time. He let it go from his mouth with a wet pop and concentrated on the fingers. Nolofinwë feebly buried a shaky hand in Fëanáro’s loose mane, and he froze in mid-motion.
His half-brother stared at him with a slack jaw, panting loud. It was clear that lifting his arm was still an effort, but he carved his way through Fëanáro’s hair with trembling fingers, a touch so light that it seemed out of place – Fëanáro didn’t remember ever exchanging such tender caresses with his half-brother, not even when he was a child.
Strange though it was, Fëanáro welcomed it. The fingers in his scalp tightened a little when he introduced the third digit, all but telling him that Nolofinwë wanted his head to go down once more. Fëanáro felt his lips tug involuntarily up.
“And I always thought you were stupid, Nolofinwë,” he smirked.
“Fëanáro…” The whisper came a little louder, desperate, and Fëanáro knew it wouldn’t take long for the effect of the mushroom to recede completely.
He leaned forward nonetheless and took Nolofinwë in his mouth again, sucking hard and pressing three fingers inside. Nolofinwë’s hips bucked up but faintly, though it was another sign of improvement.
“I think you are ready,” Fëanáro muttered, more to himself than to the mess of his half-brother. He coated his erection with more oil and positioned himself, breathing on Nolofinwë’s neck. “I don’t know if you have done this before, but I will attempt not to hurt you. Try to let me know if I do.”
He could hear Nolofinwë swallowing hard, and as Fëanáro nudged the entrance, he withdrew only enough to take a closer look at his half-brother’s face. Once he pushed in, Nolofinwë screamed – and came – even before he was fully sheathed. Fëanáro held his breath for a moment, but the fingers that were still on his scalp were relentless and tugged on him to keep going. He didn’t stop until his thighs touched Nolofinwë’s buttocks.
“Ah! You’re so tight and so hot!” Fëanáro panted, and he felt Nolofinwë’s legs slowly moving to encircle his waist.
He started rocking in shallow thrusts, watching with bated breath as little moans escaped through Nolofinwë’s parted lips. When their eyes locked, Fëanáro’s own breath stopped. Nolofinwë’s pupils were still blown wide, but the deep blue of his eyes was like staring at the bottom of a lake, deep, cool waters beckoning him to plunge.
And plunge he did. Fëanáro lowered his body and plastered himself against his half-brother’s sweaty torso, enjoying the feeling of his hard shaft pressed between them. Their noses were almost touching, and Fëanáro wondered if they should kiss. Nolofinwë didn’t give him much time to think, though, for he pressed Fëanáro’s head forward, just enough for their lips to touch.
Fëanáro was surprised when Nolofinwë took the initiative and licked his lips apart, but gladly Fëanáro obliged. Their tongues slid and twined in a kiss more heated and passionate than any other he had had in his life, and Fëanáro felt his balls churn. The idea that Nolofinwë wanted to eat him whole made him moan inside his half-brother’s mouth.
Nolofinwë gasped brokenly, and he felt seed spurting between their joined bodies. Fëanáro stilled with a gasp of his own and had to clamp down his climax with the force of his teeth, as the feeling of Nolofinwë twitching and squeezing around him was almost overwhelming.
Once the muscles relaxed again, his half-brother’s legs tightened around him, stronger, locking them in that embrace. Fëanáro gave open-mouthed kisses on his bared throat, his neck, licking him to his ears and spurning Nolofinwë for another climax before long. Another trial that Fëanáro barely managed to control. He groaned and pressed his forehead on Nolofinwë’s glistening collarbone.
“It feels… ah! So good… you feel so good, Nolvo…” He panted, feeling the delicious squeeze around him.
Fëanáro repeatedly hit the sweet spot inside Nolofinwë that made him sob. Nolofinwë’s arms regained some of their strength because they came around his neck loosely as Fëanáro rammed into him, digging his fingers on his hip. He lifted his half-brother’s lower back from the bed, and as he got the perfect angle, Nolofinwë threw back his head with a cry in oblivious bliss.
When Fëanáro was nearing his climax, he heard Nolofinwë’s broken whisper. “Go on… give me… More.”
He groaned and moved Nolofinwë’s legs to his shoulders and nearly folded him in half, fucking him hard, grunting like a savage beast. Each mighty thrust tore a half-scream, half-sob from Nolofinwë as he clutched at the sheets and the bed rattled on the wall. At last, Nolofinwë exploded once more, and this time he took Fëanáro with him – and the feeling of his climax reverberating through their joined bodies was the most ecstatic thing he had ever experienced.
Fëanáro collapsed atop Nolofinwë, taking his half-brother’s breath with his weight. Once his heart slowed down, he pushed himself back.
“Fëanáro…” Nolofinwë croaked.
“How are you feeling?”
“Still… very sensitive. Hot… like my skin was... on fire. But… better,” he panted weakly.
Fëanáro hummed and eased himself out of Nolofinwë’s body and fell beside him, noticing with a raise of brows that the erection still hadn’t withered.
“Fëanáro, I…”
“Don’t thank me.”
“I… Well, I was going to, but… The reason your children found me… It’s because I was coming here… to make things right… between us.”
Astonished, Fëanáro stared at him for a moment, and his lips twitched involuntarily. He pressed them together, trying to disguise it, but Nolofinwë saw it… and chuckled. Fëanáro followed him, and soon they were roaring with laughter that brought tears to their eyes.
“I never would have thought this would settle things,” Fëanáro spoke again, still grinning. “What do you say? Will this be enough to breach the rift between us, brother?”
Nolofinwë snorted, but at the next moment, his face fell, and he gaped at Fëanáro with furrowed brows. He licked his lips, and Fëanáro stood up to bring them a pitcher of cool water. He helped Nolofinwë wet his undoubtedly parched throat before lying down facing his half-brother, hand supporting his head.
“Do you really mean it?” Nolofinwë gazed beseechingly at him.
“I don’t want to fight you anymore, Nolofinwë.”
His half-brother agreed with a slow nod. “Not when we can solve our problems in more… pleasant ways,” Nolofinwë smirked, and Fëanáro had to laugh out loud once more.
He started when Nolofinwë brushed a strand of hair out of his face delicately, staring at him like he was more precious than the Silmarils themselves.
“I have longed for this, Fëanáro… for a long time.”
“I know,” he answered, suddenly knowing it to be true. “Being in exile showed me how much I have wanted it also.”
Nolofinwë widened his eyes in utter surprise at the unexpected confession and leaned in his direction. His body was still weak and not entirely under his control, so Fëanáro fell back to allow his half-brother to come on top of him. They shared a slow, exploring kiss that told much of the pent-up yearning they truly felt for one another.
Fëanáro felt Nolofinwë’s hard erection rubbing against his groin, and he knew his brother would soon find another climax. Indeed, Nolofinwë shuddered and gasped on his mouth, spilling between their joined bodies. Fëanáro recaptured those luscious lips in a hungry kiss as he felt his own hungriness awakening. Nolofinwë felt wonderfully pliant in his arms, and something tugged inside his heart.
He threw his legs over his half-brother’s waist and locked him in a vise-like grip, delighting in the way Nolofinwë’s shaft rose to meet his, the clash of two mighty swords – the only one that mattered.
“I think I know a way to beat off this affliction of yours once and for all,” he said, rolling his hips up and allowing Nolofinwë’s length to slide between his cheeks.
Predictably, his half-brother’s breath hitched. “Would you let me?” He spoke with a small voice, almost fearful.
“Nay, not ‘let you.’ I want you to do it, Nolofinwë,” his voice came out husky and deep like the raw blue fire that reflected in his half-brother’s eyes.
Nolofinwë pressed down and enveloped him whole, arms and mouth and legs, and Fëanáro felt cradled, protected like so few times in his life – and that it came through the one he had hated and despised magnified those feelings tenfold.
After a cursory preparation, he arched his back and allowed a rough and urgent entrance to his body that made him hiss and curse. Nolofinwë’s hips couldn’t stay put, and he snapped them forward in shallow thrusts that tore blissful moans from his lungs. His half-brother wore a concentrated, incredulous frown on his brow. For, at that moment, Fëanáro smiled and pulled him down for another tantalizing swirl of their tongues, in which he tried to pour all the complex emotions that threatened to burst from his chest.
There were tears in his eyes from the unbelievable pleasure, and Nolofinwë huffed with laughter, going ever deeper, searching for the spot that made them both forget the world in sweet oblivion.
“Oh, Fëanáro…” Nolofinwë moaned and threw his head back, incapable of riding the wave of ecstasy that swept over him with open eyes.
He stilled and exploded inside Fëanáro, flooding him to the brim, pulling him towards the brink of his own release. Fëanáro cried out loud as his climax hit him, and still, he could feel Nolofinwë spending inside him endlessly, the hardest orgasm he had had that afternoon so far. After long minutes, his half-brother finally collapsed on top of him, grunting with the effort and the mushrooms’ side effects.
“I think… it’s finally gone,” he breathed on the crook of Fëanáro’s neck.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Fëanáro said and grinned when he felt Nolofinwë’s shoulders shaking with laughter.
They disentangled and laughed more at their messy bodies, dripping with sweat and seed, and lay together, smiling at the ceiling.
“I hope your children won’t hold it against me,” Nolofinwë said after a while without looking at him.
Fëanáro turned to him. “They will be happy to see we have amended our differences.”
Nolofinwë looked at him thoughtfully. “I kissed Turkafinwë against my most basic logic, groped Curufinwë’s behind, and rutted against Nelyafinwë’s leg for far longer than I like to remember.”
Fëanáro brows shot up for a moment, and he saw Nolofinwë’s shoulder tense, but his heart had other ideas. He shouted with laughter at the image of his children trying to deal with their sex-intoxicated half-uncle.
“Don’t laugh! I am terribly ashamed!” Nolofinwë was saying, but Fëanáro kept on laughing. “I can’t even remember how many times I came in front of them! Because of them! My nephews!”
Fëanáro couldn’t stop, his belly hurt, and the more Nolofinwë said, the more he laughed.
***
Outside, pressed against the door, seven heads glanced worriedly at each other at the sound of hysterical laughter, and they all wondered what in Eru’s name was wrong with their father.