A Guiding Hand by cytryne  

When he spoke, Finrod nearly missed it.

"No more, please." Tyelpe murmured, barely more than a whisper. He remained stiff.

Finrod paused. He crooked his finger to stroke a line down Tyelpe's inner walls and felt the omega shudder, hips rocking back ever so slightly in search of stimulation. Another gush of slick slid onto his palm and down his wrist. Not quite there, then. But it could be reflex after too long of a day rather than intentional misdoing.

Finrod smoothed down Tyelpe's muscular waist and back with his free hand. He leaned forward, cock sliding pleasurably against the arch of Tyelpe's ass, to rest his thumb against the glands in his throat. "Have you learned which behaviors you must relearn?"

The younger elf swallowed, throat rippling under his hand.

"I—don't speak out of turn," he started, breath hitching as Finrod gave the smallest of thrusts along his upturned ass, precum sliding down the narrow curve of his spine to his finally loose hair. "Don't have my hair up or wear restrictive garments unless required for safety. Don't g—go into mixed spaces without a chaperone. Listen to family alphas."

"Who qualifies as an acceptable alpha?"

"Not—not uncle Tyelkormo. You or—or a Nolofinwean."

Finrod considered it. His scissored his fingers almost idly and felt as Tyelpe's muscles rippled again, hips twisting forward until Finrod knew his little omega dick rubbed against the floor.

That was mild on the list of concerns—especially compared to Curufin's entire pregnancy—but he didn't dare risk letting it go unchecked. It was a miracle Tyelpe had not ruined himself so far without anyone looking out for him.

He removed his hand from Tyelpe's throat. It went under his hips as he straightened, wrapping tight around the base of Tyelpe's cock, and he used it and the hand in his vagina to pull Tyelpe's hips until they were above his spread knees again, far from the distraction of the ground. The omega gasped. "Please stop, Findarato—alpha—please, I can't—"

Finrod's fingers brushed the solid inner nub of his cervix and Tyelpe spasmed again, pain intensifying the constriction far beyond what mere arousal could do. He stroked the omega's inner walls until the fluttering calmed into mere random contractions from arousal, and then spoke again.

"One more question and I will dismiss you until next week," he promised, and Tyelpe nearly sobbed. His hands flexed uselessly against the stone next to his cheek.

"What are you allowed to do with these?" He asked, tightening his grip on his cock even as he pushed all three fingers deep again. Tyelpe mewled.

"No—nothing, it's all—belongs to alphas. Not my right."

"Good omega," Finrod praised, letting his tight grip around the small cock loosen and fingers recede slightly. "I will allow that much for now."

Tyelpe did sob that time, full body shaking, when Finrod did not immediately stop. But he did not try to move away again. Finrod rewarded that with another set of gentle strokes along his velvety inner walls. He rubbed himself into the crevice between the omega's ass cheeks and imagined it was his warm, soaking hole instead. He'd stretch him more than he could take. He would be so pretty kneeling on a cushion after being ruined, making the whole court aware why he was unable to close his legs.

Tyelperinquar belonged as a court gem. Let him live up to his only appropriate name by gifting him a silver hand to rock on when his alpha was busy, to ruin himself until everyone knew it was his only purpose in life. He could even make it if his alpha let him have the energy to keep up his little hobby. The shine of his silver hair damp with sweat made Finrod
understand his grandfather's obsession with his first wife.

If only he could keep him.

"Fingon would have done this correction in front of his entire court," he warned, hips slapping hard against Tyelpe's at the thought of Curufin watching this. He should invite him next time. Let him see how well his precious, wild son behaved when given a proper role model. Let him weep.

 
Finrod came, painting Tyelpe's back in white stripes that he knew would shift his scent more generally Finwean for the next few days. It stuck in the locks of his long hair.

He removed himself from the omega without much fanfare, wiping the tip of his cock and his slick-soaked hand clean along the pretty arch of Tyelpe's thigh as he stood up. He retied his pants, adjusted his robes, pocketed the various pins and ties he'd taken when this all started, and sat down in his throne to admire the way Tyelpe struggled to rise from his presentation.

Proper submission did suit him, he thought as the omega slowly rose and dressed himself. It was a pity it had taken so long to get him somewhat out of his father's influence. Would he be good for Ereinion, he wondered, once he had corrected all of his familial teachings? Orodreth's son was approaching that age. Or would he require someone older, one of Turgon's followers perhaps, to keep him in line? Finrod would have to think about it. It was not as if Celegorm would take charge of that decision, much less do it properly.

Tyelpe stopped in front of him, eyes fixed on the floor like a proper omega. Shame painted his face a deep red. He did not say a word. Findarato softened his tone as much as possible, not wanting to spook him now that the hardest correction was over. Tyelpe would find it easier once he began to understand just how much his father's House had harmed him.

"I expect to see you in a week. You are free to seek me out at any time outside of that, Tyelpe, whether for explanations or simple companionship. I know Orodreth and Finduilas feel the same."

"Yes, my lord," Tyelpe whispered, and left the hall the second Finrod allowed.

Chapter End Notes

Feanor is the equivalent of one of those girldads who only recognized women as people when they had a daughter. He's an alpha, Nerdanel is a beta, neither thought about if the social expectations of omegas were good until they had three (Maglor, Caranthir, Curufin). Big "you can do whatever you want fuck them" energy that his kids inherited. When Curufin got
pregnant without anyone else in the picture at all it all spiraled into Big Family Political Drama. Their areas are now actually fairly egalitarian and dismissed for it. Unfortunately Nargothrond Is Not One.

Finrod and Fingon got the biggest dose of parental "don't you dare support that, make sure your siblings behave" and have never stopped to think about it again. That line about Fingon is partially horny-exaggeration to make Celebrimbor more scared of the other options.

Omegas don't usually use multiple names.

The hair thing is about showing mating bites/covering unbitten glands. Curufin takes glee in flaunting it

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