Surrender, by Lbilover

Originally written for the 2014 Kink Meme for OTP Summer Dreams Month at Tol Eressea. Written for Rakshi, who requested:  a Sean/Elijah fic where Eljiah engages in a little light bondage with a blushing, embarrassed, mortified... but totally willing Sean. 


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Sean finds them on the nightstand, occupying the space normally reserved for his wristwatch. Scissors and a roll of blood red vinyl tape. He picks the tape up, turns it over curiously in his fingers.


"Are we decorating for a party I don't know about?" he asks Elijah, who has just emerged from the bathroom, like Sean naked except for shorts, and wearing eyeglasses with thick black frames to replace the contacts he'd just removed.


"That's bondage tape, Sean," Elijah replies, an impish smile tucking in the corners of his mouth.


"Bondage tape?" As if the roll has suddenly become too hot to hold, Sean drops it; it bounces off the tabletop and falls to the carpet. Immediately he flushes nearly as red as the tape from embarrassment at his gaucheness that only emphasizes the difference in age and experience between them, but even more from the jolt of lust that sizzles through him as his brain kicks into information overdrive - with accompanying imagery. No googling necessary.


"Yeah, bondage tape." Elijah joins him by the bed and picks up the roll from the floor, weighing it in his palm as sometimes does Sean's erect cock - which certainly doesn't help Sean's state of mind. He tips his head to the side like a curious bird and regards Sean thoughtfully. "I take it this isn't something you've ever used."


Shit, how Sean hates to admit that he hasn't, but he and Elijah have sworn always to be truthful with each other, having lived the damage that lies can do to a relationship. "I'm afraid I'm a complete novice in the bondage department, Elijah. It wasn't something Chris was open to. I tried broaching the idea once or twice when things started to cool off between us, thinking it might help fan the flames, but it was a no-go." He shrugs then asks the question he doesn't really want to, but has to. "I take it this is something you've used."


Elijah nods. "A few times - this or cuffs. But for a first time, tape is preferable. Not so intimidating."


Although he expected the answer, Sean hates the idea that Elijah has done this with other men. Irrational to hate what Elijah had done before they finally found their happy ending, yet he knows that for all his seeming equanimity, Elijah is equally bothered by what Sean used to do with Christine. It was like that when your soulmate was with someone else.


Then the Safety Hobbit who will always be a part of him comes to the fore. Intimidating, Elijah had said. "You weren't forced, were you?" he asks, frowning.


"No, of course not," Elijah says reassuringly. "Bondage should be completely consensual, and it was. But it's not particularly easy, letting someone tie you up and have control over you."


The image that pops into Sean's mind is unstoppable and kinky as hell: Elijah, naked and aroused, wrists bound with red tape. Undeniable the surge of excitement that comes with the image, but at the same time Sean is appalled. Or perhaps, he's forced to admit, the reason he's appalled is because he's not appalled. Far from it. The stirring down below is proof positive.


Elijah reads him like a book. "Sean, it's okay to be turned on by the idea. In fact, I'm delighted that you are, since it turns me on, too. And I promise, the Missionary Position Only police aren't going to come after you."


Sean gives a sheepish laugh, but says, "Even without tying you up, they could have arrested me a long time ago." He hesitates. "The idea is a total turn-on, I admit. But shit, what does that say about me?"


"Oh, I don't know. Maybe that you're a normal, healthy bisexual male? C'mon, Irish, I bet right this very minute thousands of couples all over the world are tying each other up and going at it like rabbits. And the sky isn't falling or anything."


A reluctant grin twists Sean's lips. "Wanker." He holds out his hand, hoping Elijah can't see the faint tremor that makes holding it steady nearly impossible. Begin as you mean to go on, Astin, he tells himself. "I'll take that."


But to his surprise Elijah shakes his head and closes his fingers tightly around the tape. "Nuh-uh. Your turn will come another time. Right now it's my turn to be the tie-er and you to be the tie-ee." Behind thick lenses translucent blue abruptly darkens as if a purpling storm cloud has descended. His voice is husky as he says, "I want you to surrender yourself completely to me, Sean. I want you to let yourself be helpless and in my control." A muscle quivers and jumps in his jaw. Blotchy patches of pink blossom on the ivory pallor of his chest. "Will you do that for me?"


Sean is silent. Surrender. Helpless. Words that have been anathema to him since he was a child, powerless against forces tearing his family apart. Control. His only recourse against those two words. Relinquishing it is, and always has been, incredibly difficult for him. Can he do that? Even for Elijah?


Elijah watches and waits, allowing Sean the time he needs to think it through, come to a decision. He won't pressure Sean - which is why, beyond every other person in his life, Sean trusts him. Even so, what he's asking... Is what he has every right to ask, he reminds himself.


It occurs to him that making this suggestion isn't easy for Elijah. He knows Sean's history, his demons, his insecurities. Therefore it must be incredibly important to him - and perhaps to Sean as well. You've never fully surrendered yourself to him, bondage tape or no bondage tape. There's always been a tiny part you've held back. He's no fool, and just because he's never brought it up doesn't mean he isn't well aware of it. Doesn't he deserve everything you have to give? But ultimately it isn't a question of what he owes Elijah; it's a question of what he owes himself. And the more he thinks about it, the more he listens to what body, mind and heart are telling him, the more he realizes that this is a wall he needs to break through so he can prove to both himself and to Elijah that the wounds of the past are well and truly healed.


Decision made, Sean releases a shuddering breath. "Yes," he says in a hoarse voice. "Yes, I'll do that for you."


"Then climb on the bed and lie on your back."


A softly spoken but undeniable command. Having assented to Elijah's request, his partner has lost no time in taking control. The thought of refusing doesn't even enter Sean's mind, as if Elijah were in fact his master and he the servant bound to obey. That's when he knows for sure that he's in this game for keeps.


He reaches for the waistband of his boxers, intending to remove them first, but Elijah stops him. "No, just do what I tell you, nothing more. I'm in charge now."


Without a word, Sean obeys. He stretches out on his back on the comforter, arms at his side, and discovers he's trembling. He turns his head on the pillow and watches Elijah pick up the scissors. His mouth goes dry, the blood thunders, rushes, roars, pounds through his veins, heading inexorably downward.


Elijah climbs on the bed, straddles Sean's tense, quivering thighs. Elijah's cock is already half-hard; the pulsing heat of it is palpable through his boxer briefs.


"Two things before we start," Elijah says quietly. "The first is that the scissors are always available. If the tape bothers you, you let me know and I'll cut it off. This is about pleasure not pain. Okay?" Sean nods. "The second is that I need you to pick a safe word. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with what we're doing, say the safe word and it ends." Again, Sean nods. "So, what's it going to be?"


"Uh..." Sean tries to focus. It's not easy with Elijah straddling him holding scissors and bondage tape. "Elbereth," he says. Elijah raises his eyebrows. "You should have read the damn book, Elwood. Sam used it as a safe word in the tower of Cirith Ungol."


"And here I thought the Orcs tied up Frodo. All right, Elbereth it is." He stares down at Sean. The muscle ticks in his jaw again. He licks his lips. "Ready?"


Excitement, fear, longing, tangle up in Sean's throat, so that his answer emerges as a croaked whisper. "Yeah."


Elijah picks at the end of the tape with his near non-existent nails, separating it from the roll. Then he measures out a long length, cuts it with a decisive snip that sounds disproportionately loud to Sean's ears, and measures out a second length using the first as a guide and cuts that, too. He returns tape and scissors to the nightstand, stretching out, sleek muscles under satin skin flexing like those of a sinuous great cat. The great cat who will soon have Sean bound and helpless.


"Give me your right hand," Elijah orders. Sean lifts it from the bed, his heart thudding almost painfully in his chest. Elijah's fingers are hot, damp, but nimble and sure as they wind the tape around Sean's wrist, snugly enough that he can't work his hand free through the loop, but not tight enough to pinch, and then securely knot it.


He repeats the procedure with Sean's left wrist, but doesn't release it. He draws it up over Sean's head and out to the side. It's a struggle for Sean to keep his arm lax, fight against the natural inclination to resist.


Trust. It's all about trust.


Elijah slides off the bed, stretches out Sean's arm until is almost fully extended then winds the other end of the tape around the bed post, securely knotting it. Instinctively Sean pulls against the bond, testing it. Elijah's hand comes down on his arm to stop him. He shakes his head. "Leave it," he orders.


Surrender control, Sean. Does Elijah add that, or is it the voice in his head?


Sean pins his gaze to Elijah as he strides purposefully around the end of the bed. But the bright red extending from his left wrist to the bedpost teases the corner of his eye. He remembers how Elijah willingly let himself be wrapped up in fake spiderwebs to shoot the Shelob's lair scene, even joking about how he looked like he was wearing the world's largest condom. Sean had marveled at his bravery, because he could never have tolerated having his body confined like that, arms pinioned, legs immobile. Hell, he'd barely survived having his face mold made.


And yet... as Elijah secures his right arm, Sean discovers that there's a strange sense of freedom in giving in, relinquishing control. He begins to comprehend, on a visceral level, why couples do this.


When Elijah's finished, he shucks his boxer briefs, releasing a cock now nearly fully erect, and moves to the nightstand. He takes a bottle of sandalwood massage oil from the drawer, sets it ready on the table. Removes his glasses, turns off the lamp. The room becomes dim, the only light from the half-moon, whose pale rays through the skylight above the bed shed a faint ghostly radiance on Sean and the beautiful, grave young man standing still and silent by the bed.


"Elijah?" Sean breaks the silence.


"Don't speak unless you're spoken to." He sounds stern. "Understood?"


Sean wets his lips. "Yes."


"Yes what?"


"Yes, sir."


"That's better. Now close your eyes."


Obediently, Sean does.


Elijah still doesn't move; the silence lingers, grows, becomes almost a palpable thing. Sean strains his ears, but all he can hear is the beating of his own heart, loud enough to drown out every other sound. A light sweat breaks out all over his body. When will it begin? He wonders. What is Elijah planning? Who is he, this once familiar, easygoing lover, who now has Sean at his mercy?


He desperately wants to find out.


Perhaps, he thinks as the seconds tick pass, this is a test. If so, it's a demanding one. Patience has never been one of Sean's virtues. He pictures himself as Elijah now sees him - arms bound, eyes shut, glistening with sweat - and his cock, already aching, starts to swell, filling and lengthening behind the flimsy barrier of cotton. Sean has never been so conscious of the pure mechanics of arousal before, because he can't do a thing about it - only Elijah can: his master.


Finally, when he's so attuned to the atmosphere in the room that every tiny hair on his body seems to have morphed into an antenna and every hyper acute nerve is clamoring for action now!, the stillness abruptly shatters. With his hearing sharpened, the crinkling of fabric as a knee presses into the comforter, the faint pop of a joint releasing as Elijah brings his full weight to bear on the bed, the hiss of an indrawn breath are clear and distinct.


The bed creaks several times as Elijah shifts on the mattress but nothing touches Sean. Frustration fuels a desire to look that is nearly overwhelming. "I'm going to bind your eyes," Elijah says as if intuiting Sean's desire. "You know what to say if you don't want me to."


Sean doesn't say it. More shiftings, movement, the whisper of tape unwinding, of scissors cutting. A small but strong hand slides beneath his head, lifts it. "Hold still." The tape is cool as it passes over his eyes, once, twice, three times before Elijah ties it at the back and lowers Sean's head to the pillow. The blackness is now total. He is completely at his master's mercy.


Time ticks past while he waits for the next move in this erotic play, until a soft puff of breath, warm and moist, caresses Sean's throat. Immediately his attention rivets to that tiny patch of skin. The breaths continue - careful, methodical, meticulously spaced - to the base of Sean's throat, along his right collarbone and down his breastbone. They veer to the left - puff, puff, puff- moving toward his nipple, which contracts with anticipation into a peak so tight that it's almost painful. But Elijah maps a slow, tortuous circle around the areola without ever touching it, and then he retraces his path up Sean's breastbone, along his left collarbone, down and around, treating the areola's mate with the same calculated neglect. Sean's nipples are a major erogenous zone for him and a favorite play toy for Elijah - under normal circumstances. It's clear, though, that tonight Elijah plans to withhold what he knows Sean craves, what he needs. In desperation Sean pleads, "Elijah, please."


"What did I tell you?" Elijah says sternly.


Sean swallows. "Don't speak unless I'm spoken to." A pause. Elijah waits. "Sir," Sean chokes out.


"Very good. You're a quick learner. For that, I'll give you a reward." The next instant Sean's tight-budded nipples are pinched between thumb and forefinger and sharply tweaked. It's like being struck by lightning. Sean cries out, arches and strains against his bonds. A hand in the center of his chest pushes him firmly down again, holds him in place. When it's removed, Sean imagines it leaving a print behind, like a brand. Almost he thinks he can smell scorched hair. "Lie still," Elijah commands.


The breaths resume: moist, hot, erotic and arousing beyond belief. Elijah leaves no inch of skin untouched as he goes down, down, down. The tormenting breaths tickle Sean's rib cage, tease his belly button and send nearly unbearable chills chasing across his fevered skin. How can Elijah be doing this to him with only his breath? Sean wonders in a daze.


By now, he's fully erect, the front of his shorts tented out, a growing wet spot proof of exactly how aroused he is. When Elijah reaches the barrier of the waistband, he doesn't, as Sean expects, stop and at last remove the final piece of clothing standing between them and total nakedness. Instead Sean feels the mattress shift as Elijah moves and then the moist-hot breath falls directly over his cock, molding the thin cotton around it. Sean whimpers and his hips jerk. Elijah's hands grip Sean's hips and hold him ruthlessly down. Puff, puff, puff. Sean whimpers again and again.


Nothing can prepare him for what happens next. Elijah's mouth closes around him, right through the cloth, and he gently bites down.


"Oh shit!" Colors explode in the darkness behind Sean's eyes, and for a moment he fears he might actually pass out. "Elijah, what the fuck are you doing to me?"


Just like that, he's free of the gentle, tormenting entrapment. "I said, no speaking unless spoken to. Should I gag you?"


But Sean's immediate, gut-deep reaction tells him that this is a step too far, at least for now, too likely to rouse childhood memories of his fist stuffed in his mouth as he hid in a closet from his mother's wrath. He doesn't want to risk anything destroying the trusting intimacy they've established thus far. So he stutters with difficulty, "E-Elbereth."


"No gag then," Elijah immediately replies, and gentles Sean with a touch. "But the reward for good behavior system seems to work well. So we'll go with that. Now raise your hips."


Sean digs his heels into the comforter and lifts, blessing the strong quads that running has given him, because he can't use his arms for leverage. Elijah hooks his fingers into the waistband of Sean's boxers and pulls them down to his thighs then all the way off. When he's done, there's more shifting around on the bed until Sean smells the distinctive odor of sandalwood. Elijah has opened the massage oil.


"Spread your legs," comes the next order. Sean does, until he thinks he must resemble a starfish. Never in his life has he felt this open and vulnerable - or this aroused. His cock, not at all happy about the previous interruption, curves eagerly over his belly and pre-come drips and splatters. The wonder is that it doesn't sizzle on his overheated skin. He doesn't know what Elijah has planned, and he can't ask. He can only wait, blind and bound and trembling with longing.


At that moment, the final wall comes crashing down and Sean understands at last what it's like to surrender fully, to throw caution to the wind and give himself completely into another's keeping. Scary? Fuck yeah, but also exhilarating beyond belief, beating the hell out of every crazy-ass stunt he's ever attempted, up to and including bungee jumping into a narrow canyon.


Just as he's wondering if there will be another of those endless, tormenting delays, an oil-slick hand slides between his legs, curling around his tight, aching balls and massaging them. Sean's eyes roll back in his head and his toes involuntarily curl. He groans, spreads his legs wider without being told. A searching finger reaches further back, along the dark cleft until it finds the hidden opening and teases it, circling and rubbing, pressing and dipping. Spasms wrack Sean, and he clenches his buttocks around Elijah's finger. When he relaxes them, Elijah pushes his finger inside, breaching the ring of muscle and drawing a long guttural moan from Sean. Unerringly he locates the prostate and strokes it, while at the same time, his other hand closes firmly around Sean's cock and slicks it with oil, moving the loose skin up and down in a roughly circular motion that is a counterpoint to the stroke of his finger.


Streaks of white light throb behind Sean's eyelids like a strobe, and the sounds torn from his throat are almost feral in their intensity. The tension builds again inside him, until he knows that with just a few more strokes, the blissful agony of release will take him, turn him inside out and right him again.


He thrusts desperately into Elijah's fist, ready for the delirious sprint to the finish, only to be disappointed again as both hand and finger are taken away. He wants to cry out in frustration, he wants to tear away his bonds, grab Elijah, turn him over and fuck him into oblivion. He does none of those things. He's not in control. He bites his lip, forces himself to quietude. Waits. Trusts. Surrenders.


"Such an obedient servant you are," Elijah murmurs approvingly. "And what does an obedient servant deserve from his master, hmm? This?" The pad of a finger strokes up the underside of Sean's rock-hard cock, tracing the pulsing vein, pushing on it lightly. "Or maybe this?" The finger moves higher, to the crown, and circles the leaking slit, smearing sticky seminal fluid around and around. "Or maybe this." A mouth, all wet silk and heat, replaces the tormenting finger. It envelops Sean, sucks him hard; an agile, muscular tongue finds the sensitive spot right beneath the crown and teases it. Sean bucks and writhes, or tries to - dimly he's astonished by Elijah's strength that keeps him pinned down as he suckles. Soon he's on the cusp again, so close to coming... With a wet pop of relaxing suction, Elijah releases him, denies him that reward. Somehow Sean manages to obey, to remain silent. To trust. To surrender.


"No, what I think you deserve is... this." His hand grasps Sean's cock, holds it upright, and then, with breathtaking suddenness, Elijah has mounted him and he is sheathed in a tight passage, enveloped in buttery warmth. Elijah's hands come to rest on Sean's chest. For a long moment all is still and silent again, but Sean can hear the harsh rasp as Elijah struggles for breath, feel each minute movement as he tries to get comfortable. He's large for Elijah even under more normal circumstances, and careful preparation has always been a part of their lovemaking. But not this time. It has to hurt.


Maybe that's how Elijah wants it - but the thought is fleeting, because Elijah presses his palms into Sean's nipples, rubs the heels of his hands roughly against them, sending electric shocks skittering along already raw nerve endings. His fingers curl into the sweat-dampened mat of bronze-gold hair, gripping it hard enough to hurt - if Sean weren't beyond feeling pain, that is. Elijah braces himself, and at long last he gives Sean what he would have begged for if he were allowed to speak: he raises his body, withdrawing almost completely, and then plunges swiftly down.


Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod. Sean doesn't think he says it aloud, he hopes to hell he hasn't, because if Elijah were to withhold fulfillment now, he truly might lose his mind. But Elijah doesn't withhold anything, he repeats the motion, over and over, sometimes with a teasing slowness that has Sean futilely fighting his bonds, sometimes like a bolt of lightning, scorching in its intensity.


His climax having been twice delayed, Sean is teetering on the edge again all too soon. He doesn't think Elijah could pull back from the brink now, even if he wanted, because he himself is poised on the edge of that cliff, standing right next to Sean. Even with his eyes covered, Sean can tell, because Elijah's movements are increasingly jerky and erratic, he's making the sexy little hitching whimper that always appears in the moments before he comes, and wet warmth is dripping on Sean's belly. In his mind's eye he can picture Elijah exactly as he must look, and his partner's face on the verge orgasm is an object of mind-blowing beauty, from the sweat-dampened curls on his brow, to the fiercely glittering eyes, more black than blue beneath the frowning slash of his brows, to the bright pink flush mantling his cheeks, to the deep ruby of his aroused cock, standing stiffly out from its nest of mahogany curls.


A sudden hot breath tickles Sean's ear. "Tell me who you belong to." Elijah has moved his mouth next to Sean's ear. He raises up and slams down. "Tell me."


"Y-you, sir. I belong to you - ah!" Raise, slam.


"Tell me again." Raise, slam.


"You, s-sir." Raise-slam.


"Louder." Raise-slam-raise-slam-raise-slam.


"You! I belong to you!" It emerges as a wail, for that final slam has done the trick, pushing Sean over the edge and into the delirious spiral of climax. With a shout he goes rigid, the bonds biting into his wrists as he strains them to their limit, and then release, glorious in its intensity, sweeps through him and he spills his seed deep inside Elijah, his master. At the same moment, semen spurts onto his chest and belly. Elijah's semen, and through the roaring in Sean's ears he hears Elijah keen high and long, "Oh fuuuuuuck!" The orgasm lasts an insane amount of time, spasm after delicious spasm shuddering through Sean - and Elijah, too, for they are so intimately connected that Sean can feel every one of Elijah's as if they were his own.


When at long last they are spent Sean slumps back, chest heaving, feeling as if he's just run a dozen marathons in a row. Elijah is draped across him; he's trembling, and Sean wants more than anything to hold him, cuddle him, soothe him, serve him. But he can't, not until Elijah unties him.


"Elbereth," he says when he's regained enough breath to speak.


Elijah says, "Give me a minute, okay? I think my bones have dissolved." But he moves almost at once, carefully separating their bodies and sliding off the bed to retrieve the scissors and cut Sean loose.


The coolness of metal glides along Sean's right wrist. He hears the scissors snip and the bond falls free. Perhaps thirty seconds later, the second bond is gone. Sean lowers his arms, tries to keep his face impassive as they protest the motion. He must not do a very good job of it, though, because Elijah says with concern, "You're hurt? Sean, you should have said the safe word."


In truth, his shoulders are aching like the dickens and his wrists are sore, but Sean could care less. "Are you crazy, Elwood? Deliberately ruin the best sex I've ever had? Fuck that."


Elijah giggles, a very relieved giggle. "I admit it might have killed me to stop - but I would have. Now raise your head and I'll untie that blindfold."


"Yes, master." Sean lifts himself on his elbows, tilts his head forward.


"Smart ass. I'm not your master now." Elijah deftly unknots the tape, unwinds it, and Sean can see again.


"You'll always be my master, Mr. F," Sean replies lightly, but he means it.


Elijah perches a hip on the bed and takes Sean's hands. He raises them one at a time to his lips and very, very gently kisses the faint red marks the tape has left behind. "Sean," he says in a serious voice, "I know that can't have been easy for you. Thank you for trusting me."


Sean closes his fingers around Elijah's, meets his gaze with total openness and honesty. "You know what? It was a lot easier than I ever imagined it would be. The truth is, the worst demons we have to face are the ones living in here." He points at his head. "If we can only bring ourselves to confront them, they're never as bad as we think. Thank you for leading me there, Elijah, for showing me a truth I ought to have learned a long time ago." Then he chuckles. "Not to mention treating me to the most mind-blowing orgasm of my entire life."


"Trust me, the pleasure was all mine." He gives a little wondering shake of his head. "Fuck, Sean, you have no idea how incredibly hot you look naked, bound and blindfolded."


Sean blushes. "I'll have to take your word for it." Then he adds with a grin, "And look forward to when I can see you in the same state."


"So bondage is permanently on the menu?" Elijah makes no attempt to hide his pleasure.


"Kinky hobbit," Sean teases, "but yeah, as far as I'm concerned, it's on the menu for good."


"I'm delighted to hear it. Now, shower or bath?"


"Bath, definitely. A long, hot soak will do you good. I can tell you're sore." Elijah had been unconsciously shifting on his buttocks, a dead giveaway.


"A little," Elijah admits, "but it was oh so worth it." He gets up, pulls Sean up after him.


Arms around each other, they head toward the bathroom, and Sean is already planning what he'll have in store for Elijah next time, when it will be his turn to play the master.


End


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