Trick or Treat, Mirkwood Style

BY : pippychick & TheTV-Junkie
Category: -Multi-Age > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 1649
Disclaimer: We do not own Middle Earth, Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tolkien. We make no money from this.

Authors' Note: Hello there! When we decided to collaborate, we had no idea the first thing we wrote would be a Halloween fic. But, seeing as we're both quite addicted to Thrandolas, the Thranduil/Legolas content probably doesn't come as a surprise. We hope you enjoy reading as much as we enjoyed writing. Look out for more from us in the months ahead. :)

Trick or Treat - Mirkwood Style

 

"Now, where was I?" Radagast mumbled to himself, scratching his head. "Ah, right! Hellebore." The tiny wizard smiled up at Legolas, scurrying over to get him a chair. "Here, sit my dear Prince and make yourself comfortable."

 

Radagast took the whistling kettle from the fire and poured its steaming contents into a chipped tea cup which he handed over to the young Prince. It'll take me a while to get the last ingredient. Spider repellent is hard to brew, you know."

 

"Actually, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I could get the herbs for you if you told me where to find them," Legolas offered, not looking forward to twiddling his thumbs while he waited for the eccentric magician to return.

 

"No, no," Radagast said, hastily heading towards the door. "Very rare herbs, very rare. Only blooms for a short time before All Hallow's Eve. You wouldn't be able to find them, even if you knew where to look for them."

 

Truth be told, the whereabouts of that seasonal sort of Hellebore had simply slipped Radagast mushroom-affected mind but, of course, he didn't care to admit that. Let alone to Prince Legolas of Mirkwood.

 

Trying not to frown, Legolas slumped into the offered chair. "Alright. Just don't be too long, please."

 

"Yes, yes. Will hurry." Radagast replied and with that said, Legolas found himself alone in the cramped little hut. Time ticked away agonisingly slow and the young Prince had long finished his hot beverage when he started to rummage through Radagast's trinkets and bric-a-brac out of sheer boredom.

 

"Hm, now what's in here?" Legolas mused, opening a small, plain leather pouch. Carefully he let its contents drop into his hand. "Rune stones? How boring." The blond Elf dismissively tossed the stones and the pouch on a nearby table, never noticing the faint glow that now engulfed the magical artefacts.

 

Suddenly, Legolas perked at a muffled sound that came from the hut's backroom. "Hello? Anybody there?" He asked curiously, following the noise. Tentatively he poked his head into the dimly-lit room to find... a makeshift rabbit hutch! The young Prince smiled at his fluffy find, instantly grabbed one of the cute little Rhosgobel rabbits and started petting it.

 

"Awww, you're such a cutie, aren't you!" Legolas cooed, tickling the leveret under the chin. "And...Ouch!" The Prince quickly pulled his hand away, inspecting the bite on his forefinger. It bled a little, but not overly so. "You're a vicious little thing." Legolas grumpily admonished the indifferent rabbit, putting it back into his hutch. He then returned to the main room upon hearing Radagast's soliloquy in the distance, announcing the little man's imminent arrival.

 

"Oh, I forgot the runes!" Legolas recalled, snatching the scattered rune stones from the table, hastily putting them back into the pouch and returning it to its place before he casually sat back in his chair again. However, in all his hurry to veil his snooping, it had completely slipped Legolas' attention that the blood on his finger had come in contact with a few of the rune stones, conjuring a wicked magic which would soon come to turn his world upside down.

 

Upon his return to the palace, Legolas found himself somewhat out of sorts the next morning at the breakfast table. He picked through the selection of eggs, fruit and cereal in a desultory manner, feeling unsatisfied. Is this all there was to eat?

 

“Are you quite well, Legolas?” asked his father. The King did not miss a single thing, especially where he was concerned. Legolas shrugged and sighed.

 

“I am not hungry,” he said, and a quiet rumble of his stomach made his words into a lie. Thranduil merely stared at him. “Well, not for any of this. I think I will venture into the kitchens, ada,” he announced, standing up suddenly.

 

“Are you sure you wish to go out and test that potion Radagast provided today?” Thranduil enquired. “It could easily wait until tomorrow, if the trip out to visit him has wearied you.”

 

Legolas shook his head. His father would often use any excuse to keep him in for the day, and he did not relish the thought of spending the hours of daylight seated in his father’s court. He felt like stretching his legs.

 

With a mumbled refusal, deciding not to notice his father’s disappointed look, he excused himself to the kitchens, searching in the larder for a better breakfast.

 

He found a little green lettuce there that tempted his taste buds. It was juicy and sweet, succulent in his mouth, and he actually hummed in pleasure, picking up a couple more of the leaves before his attention was distracted. In a steel pot he found a large quantity of carrot batons, prepared for the evening meal later, and he scooped some up in his hand, munching on them happily.

 

No one would miss some of these, he thought, and filled a small sack to take out on patrol with him.

 

When he took to the trees with the rest of his patrol, Legolas felt amazingly alive. He leapt from branch to branch quickly, exhilarated, eager to try out the new potion on his arrow tips. He searched for spiders, ignoring the calls of his comrades to slow down. It was too much fun to slow down! They would simply have to keep up!

 

The new spider poison worked remarkably well, and Legolas was pleased. Yet halfway through the day he felt an odd tickle in his nose. He sniffed a few times, sure that he would sneeze. He could feel his upper lip quirking as he wrinkled his nose. Perhaps he had some kind of reaction to the potion? Maybe he should have listened more closely to Radagast, but none of the others seemed affected.

 

Reluctantly, Legolas decided to return to the palace, and quite naturally sought out his ada, finding him concerned with replying to missives in his study.

 

“You are back early, ion nín,” Thranduil said without looking up. “Did the potion do that badly?”

 

“No, it did well,” said Legolas, coming to stand by his father’s chair, looking down upon the King’s work without seeing it. “I just feel…” He considered. “Rather odd.”

 

“Odd?” Thranduil echoed, at last glancing his way. He patted his knee, and Legolas sank down onto his father’s lap happily. Though his father did not indulge in such displays in public, in private he was not averse to touching and intimacy. Something which Legolas was glad of now, since his father’s body heat felt extremely good. In fact he just wanted to get closer.

 

“Strange…” said Legolas as he tried to elaborate. He automatically wound his arms around his father’s neck and pressed the length of his body against Thranduil, startling him. Ah! That was better! “As if I wish for something, but do not know what it is.”

 

For a short while the young Prince simply remained stock still in his father's lap, contentedly revelling in the intimate feeling of soothing closeness and comforting warmth. Eyes closed, he heartily inhaled a nose full of Thranduil's enticing scent, an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood and earthy oak moss. "Mmmmm...." The Prince purred. "You really smell divine, ada."  

 

It was just now that Legolas realised his nose had started to twitch again, even more so than before, while he bluntly kept sniffing at Thranduil. And, much to the younger Elf's dismay, his nose wasn't the only part of him that had started twitching...

 

"Ummm," Legolas shifted uncomfortably. He nervously untangled himself from the Elvenking's impressive form and slipped from his lap, averting his eyes shamefully. "I think I desperately need to relieve myself," The Prince lied, averting his gaze. "Excuse me, please."

 

That said, he rushed out of the room, utterly embarrassed. Tears of abashment pricked Legolas' cerulean eyes when the realisation sank in the had just gotten hard at his ada's close proximity.

 

Legolas felt confused, ashamed and aroused all at the same time as he aimlessly roamed the royal palace's entwined corridors and hallways. Something inside him urged him to mate, no matter the consequences and that fact was starting to drive him crazy.

 

Unbeknownst to the distressed Prince, the rune's wicked magic swirled about once again, making his pointy ears feel hot at the tips and grow. However, Legolas was way too preoccupied to even notice that change in his physique. He just kept walking aimlessly until he bumped into a random servant as he rounded a corner.

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Prince Legolas," Meludir apologised, bowing deeply. "I didn't see you coming."

 

Legolas didn't reply, he just tilted his head, eyeing Meludir with interest. Again, his nose twitched almost rabidly, taking in the new scent of the brown-haired Elf. Then, all of a sudden Legolas lunged forward, grabbed poor Meludir around the waist and started dry-humping him frantically. He just couldn't help it, it was like an compulsion he couldn't shake off.

 

Meludir's scandalised squeal did not go unnoticed by Thranduil keen ears.

 

“W-what are you doing?” Meludir gasped, as Legolas trapped him facing the wall and rutted against him. Legolas did not answer, because he didn’t really know what he was doing. All he knew was he had a compulsion to move against the inviting cleft of the servant’s buttocks. It was almost like an itch, and he could not stop himself.

 

Oh, it felt good! But not enough… not with all their layers of clothing in the way. When Legolas began pawing at Meludir’s breeches, it seemed at last the servant found some will to resist, and he slapped behind him at Legolas’ hands.

 

“You must stop this!” Meludir said. “Even if you are Prince of this realm.” When he sensed he was ignored, his protests held a note of disbelief. “Please! If you truly want me, I will dance with you at the next nightly feast,” he vowed, still trying to stop Legolas from undressing him where he stood.

 

Legolas was beyond words right then, and he slammed Meludir harder into the wall, stopping his frantic movements for just a second or two, just long enough to hiss a fervent: “Shhh…” into Meludir’s ear.

 

“Legolas! What is going on here?” His father’s voice mixed with the warbling high scream that Meludir gave, and he paused, confused, stepping away, whipping his head around only to find that his ada had followed him. Legolas stared at his father for a moment, which gave Meludir a chance to flee, clutching his torn breeches around his hips.

 

Breathing heavily, Legolas gave his father a pleading gaze as he strode slowly forward, frowning. Too late, Legolas realised he had taken to rubbing himself with his hands, too concerned with getting relief to even untie his own leggings.

 

When Thranduil had neared enough, he reached out a hand, as if to comfort. “Legolas…?” Without a second thought Legolas grabbed his father’s hand, and pressed it against his hard cock, whimpering. “Sorry,” he gasped. “Can’t… help…”

 

Like the twitch of a sneeze in his nose, this gave him the same feeling. He could not ignore it, could not will it away, and all he knew is that even when his father opened his palm so as to avoid touching him, the warmth of his hand was something Legolas needed desperately, to survive, like air or water.

 

The vision of his father blurred before him, becoming watery as tears swelled in his wide open eyes. That hand… Legolas leaned against it, hating to degrade his father like this, but needing the heat and grip of it around him. “Please, ada,” he moaned.

 

Thranduil's brow furrowed in parental concern for his beloved son and he gently but insistently made to break free from Legolas' desperate grip. He raised his hand to the younger Elf's forehead, finding it all sweaty and hot.

 

"You're feverish, ion nín." Thranduil concluded, his usually steady voice faltering a bit as he tried hard to block out his own body's treacherous response to the Prince's blunt behaviour. Such a lewd display was totally unlike Legolas and the ancient Elvenking was torn between serious worry and illicit images that inadvertently popped up before his inner eye with annoying vehemence. He finally managed to shoo away the unbidden thoughts for the time being, his apprehension outweighing his forbidden desires.

 

"Come," Thranduil said softly as he carefully led Legolas back to the royal chambers. The King was grateful for the sparsely lit hallways, hoping that the slight flush that graced his ethereal features would go undetected by the delirious Prince. Luckily, Legolas was far too busy with trying to keep himself from rutting against his father.

 

"I'll tuck you in and will send for Elrond. Something must be very wrong with you, mell ion nín.”

 

Upon arriving at Thranduil's chambers, Legolas made quick work of stripping down without a second thought. He lost one item of clothing after another as he made his way straight to the king-sized bed, his vision still blurry from tears of shame and frustration. The turmoil inside the young Elf's head left him exhausted and excited, yet the all-consuming urge for physical contact remained unabated and Legolas feared he would go insane over this state of insatiable longing if it wasn't met soon.

 

"Ada?" Legolas whined pitifully. "Please, join me on the bed, I need a hug." Legolas slipped under the velvety blanket, reaching out his hands helplessly. "I can't stand to be alone right now. It's maddening."

 

A little reluctantly, Thranduil did as he was bidden. But when he came to sit on the bed's edge, careful to keep a little safe distance between himself and his unpredictable son, Legolas instantly pounced on the King, caught him off-guard and rolled atop of him.

 

"Legolas, what on Arda?" Thranduil protested, but the younger Elf couldn't care less. Pupils dark and dilated with unmistakable arousal, the Prince undulated his hips against his baffled ada at a frenzied pace, droplets of pre-cum staining Thranduil's expensive ropes. After a moment of initial of shock had passed, the King finally regained his composure, easily dislodging his wicked son. "Stop this at once or I will have to tie you up for your own sake!"

 

Immediately Legolas stopped still, to Thranduil’s gratification. Perhaps that was the end of it, he thought, until he saw the dark look of invitation in Legolas’ eyes.

 

Of course, everyone in the land hereabouts knew the rumours about the ElvenKing, Thranduil, and what might happen to anyone lucky enough to find themselves tied to his bed. Gossip was something even the King himself could not hope to control. Legolas himself knew of it, and so his father’s threat had exactly the opposite effect to the one intended, which is to say that Legolas immediately imagined another way this terrible burning need could be assuaged.

 

Although a part of himself knew it was wrong, Legolas could not help justifying it. Why, this way his ada would just be taking care of him - the way he always had. It was perfect. He breathed heavily, in and out, his father holding him down to stop him from clambering back onto his lap. His father had the strangest look in his eyes, almost as if he might be thinking along similar lines.

 

“What would you do to me then?” Legolas asked. “If you had me tied to your bed?” As he spoke he raised his hips, straining against his father’s weight, but not to throw him off. And not to rub himself against his father either, although the urge was nearly impossible to resist. No, his aim was to rub his father against himself, and to his utter shame and delight, it was working.

 

“Ah…” Legolas sighed, twisting his head about as if he were already restrained. “Would you fuck me then, and ease this awful unnatural need in me? My body burns, and no one need ever know that you did it.” He became still again, opening his eyes wide. “I would certainly never, ever tell,” he urged, as honest as he knew how to be. “Please, ada… won’t you do it?”

 

He suspected Thranduil was not convinced, despite his fervent plea, and he sighed. “If you do not, I fear I will not be able to stop myself from screaming, and all the servants and guards will come running and see me like this. So out of control and desperate. They will never respect me as their Prince afterwards,” he pointed out, aware of how much stock his father put into appearances. “Please don’t let them see me, ada.”

 

The very moment those provocative words left Legolas' lips, something inside Thranduil cracked. Until now all of this had seemed like a fleeting, waking dream to him, one of those clandestine fantasies he used to occasionally indulge in, always blaming his wayward train of thought on just how much Legolas resembled his late mother, hence the attraction. Or so he thought. But upon hearing those words actually spoken out loud by his own flesh and blood things became all too real. Within the blink of an eye, any rapidly blooming excitement that had been triggered by his son's lewd display died in the Elvenking instantly. His jaw clenched.   

 

Inhaling sharply, he gracefully slipped from the bed, standing tall. "How dare you blackmail me," Thranduil hissed darkly, an air of menace around him that made Legolas flinch instinctively. "No matter what foul spell has befallen you and makes you act like a wanton whore, I shall never allow you to soil our family's reputation. Mark my words, boy." He drawled the last words, eyes narrowing.

 

Legolas sobered at his ada's sudden change in demeanour, flushing brightly when he realised what he had suggested earlier.

 

'Oh my goodness, what is wrong with me?!' His consciousness scolded him, leaving the tousled Prince blinking in confusion while Thranduil misappropriated two of the bed's silver tassels to unceremoniously bind Legolas' ankles and wrists together. At first, Legolas was thrilled, but once he came to understand that he had misinterpreted his father's intent and that his binding would not result in the desired fucking, he started to struggle.

 

Needless to say, the younger Elf was no match for the much stronger King and so Legolas soon found his naked form efficiently manhandled, neatly tied up and shaking in no time.

 

"You know," Thranduil said grimly. "I'd very much like to give you a spanking you'll never forget, but," he disapprovingly pointed at Legolas' twitching length, all angry and red. "I presume since such treatment would be rather counterproductive in your current state, I shall refrain from it. "

 

Legolas gave a loud, disappointed moan which caused Thranduil to grab one of the small crocheted tablecloths, crumpling it up and shoving it into Legolas' mouth without further preamble.

 

"Silence!" The King seethed. "Since I obviously can't trust you to keep that filthy mouth of yours shut, it appears more drastic measures are needed. Now shush!"

 

That being said, Thranduil turned on his heel, robes billowing behind him. Pulling the door open in barely contained anger, he called for one of the guards that happened to be patrolling by the royal chambers. "You! Fetch me Elrond!"

 

"But...but your Majesty, I'm afraid Lord Elrond has retired to his room and asked not to be disturbed...!?"

 

"Get me Elrond. Now!" Thranduil growled before slamming the door shut, his baritone voice reverberating from the corridor's stone walls.

 

Meanwhile, Legolas was shivering on the bed. He understood his ada’s attention had gone from him, and that the shouts he heard were directed at someone else. But he had made his father furious, and for a few moments he was so frightened of having done that, he could not spare any attention for his rapidly declining physical state.

 

He kept his eyes closed, and tried to move, quickly realising it was impossible. The maddening urge to fuck had not subsided, and he twisted as well as he could from side-to-side, in the hope of getting some relief. His erection merely rolled around on his lower belly, beginning to actually hurt now.

 

From behind the makeshift gag, he made nonsensical sounds, moans and pleas all sounding the same. Tears gathered behind his closed eyelids, spilling out from under his eyelashes, burning on his cheeks. All of his body felt cold, except for that one part, and the awareness that had made him lucid enough to try and tempt his father deserted him. Even if he was untied now, he would be almost mindless.

 

Footsteps approached the bed again, and Legolas struggled as if to escape, whimpering in a panic of sudden fear of his father. A series of images presented themselves to him, as if in a waking dream, but they made no sense. An instant of visceral sexual action would be interspersed by his father’s strict and furious demeanor, banishing him from Eryn Galen… or worse.

 

Yet despite his fear, all Legolas felt was a hand placed against his forehead, and a low murmuring he could not discern. But that was so odd, because there was nothing wrong with his ears… until the hand moved to one of them, and the touch there was so unbearable, Legolas jerked in the bindings, the tenor of the sounds that came from behind the gag meant he was definitely screaming, just as he had warned he would.

 

The fingers left his ear, and then attempted to prise his eyelids open, but the fingers on his ear had led to a slew of sexual imagery that Legolas was surprised his brain even knew. Each more detailed than the last. He subsided onto the bed beneath the onslaught of them, shivering again. So desperate.

 

The hand suddenly curled around his erection, lifting it from his body with a kind of clinical detachment. Legolas screamed again, his body arching up off the bed in some impossible fashion. Or at least, it should be impossible, given how his father had bound him to the bed. Legolas felt his spine strain under the pressure before he was released, and he wondered if it was possible to break, like a doll or a puppet.

 

“I have never seen this before,” Elrond said by the side of the bed. “And you say it came on suddenly?” Elrond turned to look at Thranduil, who was pacing agitatedly up and down.

 

“He came to me earlier, and said he had returned early from the patrols because he was feeling ‘odd’,” Thranduil said. “Then a few moments later I found him attempting to rape one of the servants in the corridor.”

 

Elrond nodded, and worried his bottom lip. The ears were strange, much longer, but floppy, as if the cartilage inside had not grown, only the flesh. But his physiological state bore an uncanny resemblance to some inherited maladies he’d seen in mortals.

 

Yet even as he stood there, Elrond noted changes in the prince. His breathing slowed, and his temperature was dropping sharply. Elrond put out a hand to his forehead to confirm it. Perhaps if the need Thranduil had described was to be satisfied? At this rate, if they did nothing, they would lose him. Alarmed at his own prognosis, he looked to Thranduil again.

 

“There is nothing I can do. He declines. Have you any objection to relieving him in some way? I could of course express him manually, if you wish. I think it is the only way to give him any ease at the moment.”

 

Thranduil cringed visibly at the healer's dark prognosis, almost breaking the wine glass he held in a shaky hand. He then downed the contents in one large gulp, hoping for the potent alcohol to calm his uneasy mind. This whole debacle was obviously more serious than the King had feared.

 

"No, no objection," Thranduil said, his voice betraying his trepidation. "Do whatever needs to be done, Elrond." The King swallowed hard, his initial anger seemed to have  faded away. "Please save my boy," he added feebly.

 

Elrond hesitated, even so. “I will need you to hold him down,” he said, and Thranduil immediately sat on the side of the bed, pressing Legolas' body down so that he could not struggle and injure himself.

 

“Brace yourself,” Elrond advised, having noted Legolas' previous reaction to his examination. Thranduil nodded tightly, and Elrond immediately reached for the Prince's straining erection again, this time with a view to easing it.

 

This was not a lover's touch. He did not tease or move his hand slowly. Elrond got straight on with squeezing and letting the sure grip of his fingers skim over Legolas' hardness. He heard the screams, and was aware that Thranduil had to use his whole body weight to keep Legolas down. Elrond merely concentrated on what he was doing, giving Legolas' body the touch it so desperately needed.

 

He was aware that Thranduil had a very close view of exactly what he was doing. Because of how he had to restrain his son, the King's face was only inches away. Elrond remained silent, and between Legolas' tortured, muffled screams, he heard the sound of his palm, moving fast. It was an unmistakeable sound. Elrond swallowed, suddenly very uncomfortable, but then Legolas' end was upon him, and semen was flung out of him. There was a substantial volume of it, and Elrond was surprised none of it managed to catch Thranduil's face.

 

At last, it was done, only Elrond noted the hardness didn't fully subside. Impossibly, Legolas was going to need this doing for him again, and again. Unless they found the answer to his state, he would be doomed to spend what remained of his life in this very bed. Elrond shuddered. “Thranduil, we need to arrange a more fitting solution for now whilst we investigate.” Legolas had quietened and was calmer. When Elrond had wiped his hand, he checked, and found the Prince unconscious but more comfortable. At least, he wasn't in any danger... yet. “He will require more stimulation before long.”

 

Thranduil had watched Elrond's clinical approach from the corner of his eye, grateful for his long silky hair veiling the blush that had crept on his cheeks. The combination of holding Legolas down and having to listen to his broken cry in the moment of release had brought back those inappropriate thoughts from earlier that day, and for a brief moment he couldn't help but picture his son underneath him, crying out his name as orgasmic bliss washed over the younger Elf.

 

Trying to shake that strong visual off immediately, Thranduil felt himself slightly trembling.

 

Nothing of this could ever be. Mustn't be.

 

"Did you hear me, Thranduil?" Elrond enquired when the King didn't reply. "His relief is only temporary. I believe once he regains consciousness we'll be back to square one."

 

"Yes, Elrond, I heard you the first time." Thranduil eventually said, his back to the healer as he produced an embroidered handkerchief from his pockets, delicately wiping away the tiny beads of sweat that had formed on Legolas' forehead. Next, he untied his son's wrists and ankles, only to re-tie one of the Prince's wrists to the upper bedpost, just to be safe. He then turned to face Elrond. "Come, sit with me. We have much to talk about."

 

The King gestured for Elrond to have a seat near to the hearth, while he gracefully crossed the room to retrieve another wine glass and a bottle of the finest Dorwinion red wine from his private stock next to the liquor cabinet. He poured Elrond and himself a glass full of the heady liquid before sitting down in his comfy wing-back chair, staring into the flames.

 

After an awkward silence, he eventually spoke. "You know, Elrond, this is all your fault." Thranduil growled grumpily, shooting the puzzled dark-haired Elf an angry glance.

 

With a sigh, Elrond let his head fall into one of his hands. He leaned forward. “Please, do not tell me you are going to be unreasonable at a time like this, when your son needs you. How could this possibly be my fault?” He looked up. “At this very moment, you should be arranging for Legolas’ relief, as I advised. Yet here we are.”

 

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming. "It's far more complicated than you think." He sighed, his elegant fingers starting to rub his temples. "And yes, I indeed blame you for sending Legolas to that old coot in the woods in the first place. I wouldn't be surprised if that moron broke some artifact while stumbling over his own feet,"  Thranduil continued, gesturing with his hands dramatically for emphasis. "Probably bringing some twisted curse upon Legolas as he helped him up. That would totally be like Radagast, wouldn't it?"

 

The Elvenking sighed, taking another large gulp of wine. "But I suppose you're right," he gnashingly agreed. "So - what do you suggest?"

 

Elrond frowned. “It will need to be someone you trust,” he ventured, registering Thranduil’s contemptuous grunt of agreement. “Someone not inclined to gossip.” As he spoke, he looked over at the bed. Legolas was still mostly unconscious, but he was writhing in a most suggestive manner, his free hand rubbing at himself. Elrond realised he’d paused for too long, and he cleared his throat, looking back to Thranduil only to find the King glaring at him.

 

“Yes,” he said carefully, trying to ignore the vision on the bed. “Well…”

 

Ada… please, ada…” moaned Legolas. On balance, Elrond thought it best if he pretended not to hear it, especially combined with the open lust in the young Prince’s voice.

 

Thranduil pretended not to hear Legolas' telltale moaning either, his face stiff as he refilled Elrond's glass. He was nonchalant, and snorted disapprovingly, trying to cover his nervousness. “Nearly everyone at my court is prone to gossip, I'm afraid. However..." He sat the wine bottle back onto the table. "Maybe Galion is trustworthy enough to handle such a delicate task without asking too many questions. He's been my most loyal servant for many centuries after all..."

 

After a few moments spent contemplating that idea, Thranduil added. "Nevertheless, we need to make it a priority to get to the bottom of this. Making poor Galion a convenient little fuck toy can not be the solution to the problem, now can it?" Anger flared up in the King once more. "Legolas needs to be cured and as one of the greatest Elven healers, Elrond, I will hold you personally responsible for ensuring his speedy recovery."

 

Thranduil knew his anger was misdirected and that making Elrond the scapegoat for what had happened was flat wrong, but the Elven King simply couldn't help it. Too many emotions whirled in his plagued mind, he simply couldn't be bothered with details.

 

“Very well,” Elrond said, ignoring Thranduil’s behaviour in much the same way as he was ignoring Legolas’ desperate moans. His concern for the Prince was paramount. If arguments were to be had, then they could be had just as well later. “Send for him immediately.”

 

He watched Thranduil tug on a bell rope near to his chair, and examined his own feelings of slight disappointment at the - albeit temporary - solution. After a second or two, he realised he had been secretly hoping he would be chosen for the task. After all, wasn’t he trustworthy, reliable, not prone to gossip? Elrond finished his wine and placed the glass down on the table. He looked over to the bed as Galion entered the room, to be met and pulled inside by Thranduil, the door shut firmly and locked behind him.

 

“Sire?” Galion said weakly, his eyes widening as he saw the state of Legolas on the bed.

 

"Galion," Thranduil said, his voice back to its usual, authoritative tone. "Prince Legolas needs your assistance." The servant's dark eyes darted to and fro between the Elvenking and Legolas' feverishly moaning form apprehensively.

 

"I expect you to handle this precarious situation with the utmost discretion," Thranduil stated matter-of-factly. "And for your own sake I hope my trust in you is not to be betrayed." The King added gravely, causing a very flustered Galion to flinch at the hidden threat.

 

The Elvenking was a true master of insinuation, so it took very little to have Galion's imagination run wild and come up with several punitive horror-scenarios being bestowed on him if he failed.

 

"Never would I dare to betray you, my King Thranduil." The dark-haired servant vowed, shaking his head for emphasis. "I promise to take this secret to the halls of Mandos with me."

 

"Very well." Thranduil said, mollified. "Lord Elrond will, " He hesitated for a second, not sure how to put this delicately. "Provide you with the details."

 

Without further ado, Elrond sighed and took Galion’s hand to lead him to the bed. “You will need to touch him,” Elrond said shortly. “Like this.” So saying he sat on the side of the bed and knocked Legolas’ own hand out of the way, again aiming to make the Prince come as soon as possible.

 

Galion looked on in what could only be called baffled shock. Elrond glanced around, and picked a bottle of oil from the bedside table with his free hand. “Here,” he said, pressing the small bottle into Galion’s palm. Legolas had begun to claw at his forearm, writhing beneath his touch.

 

“Use this to ensure there will be no chafing. He is quite insatiable.” He paused, removing his hand, much to Legolas’ dismay. “You may also want to prepare yourself,” Elrond said, without watching to see how his words were interpreted. “Legolas is quite strong, and he may overcome you.”

 

For a few seconds Galion just stood there, dumbstruck. He looked at the writhing Prince, unconsciously licking his dry lips in nervousness as he took a few steps closer. Legolas didn't bother to stop his obscene little masturbating session.

 

"Need to...touch you," Legolas whined pitifully, letting go of his angry erection for a moment as he held out his free hand invitingly for the reluctant servant. "I'm...burning."

 

Tactfully, Elrond cleared his throat  and Galion took that as a clue to hurry things up a bit. So he started ridding himself of his garments clumsily, grateful for the Noldo's nod of reassurance as he did so. Thranduil, however, had retreated to his armchair, watching on motionless and in an eerie silence. Only the flickering light of the flames that occasionally danced over his shadowy silhouette betrayed his presence in the room.

 

Meanwhile, Galion had discreetly finished preparing himself, oiling both his half-erect little cock and rarely used puckered hole sufficiently. He approached the bed, still in the dark as to whether he was supposed to do the actual fucking or if he was just to serve as a vessel and be fucked. Again, he looked at Elrond for help.

 

"Go on," Elrond advised softly. "Slowly untie him, but beware, " he added thoughtfully. "I presume you'll be pounced on immediately."

 

Swallowing hard, Galion did as he was told.

 

Before he loosened the rope tassel, Galion took the precaution of sprinkling some oil over Legolas’ straining erection. To his discomfort, Legolas didn’t say anything except look at him with half closed eyes, the blue of them darker than Galion could ever remember. He steeled himself, and pulled the last loop free.

 

The animal growl Legolas gave then would haunt Galion’s reverie for centuries to come. He was pushed down into the bed, face first, before he could even blink. Legolas was young and strong, as Elrond had said, and as a patrol guard, his body was easily able to overcome the physique of a mere servant, used to easy living and sedate wandering through the hall of the palace.

 

Galion’s startled yelp was immediate, and only a moment after that he felt Legolas penetrate him. But the Prince didn’t even stay still, and began moving back and forth immediately - so fast - Galion cried out again before he could even get his breath.

 

Legolas meanwhile was free, and there was a warm and inviting body ready for him. He was delirious, and in heaven, and he finally had what his body had craved since he had returned from the patrol and seated himself on his father’s lap.

 

Oh, it felt wonderful! Squeezing at him, oiled and easy. He thought he might be growling, but he didn’t care. It occurred to him in his feverish state that Elrond had been touching him, and he wondered if it was the Lord of Imladris he was currently fucking, but he couldn’t care about that either.

 

Galion squeezed his eyes shut, his pathetic little screams and gasps muffled by the fluffy pillow his face was pressed into. Legolas' first rough thrust into the servant's almost virginal ass had been excruciating, despite the oil that eased the way. Galion had been clenching down on instinct, his tight channel fighting the considerable intrusion vehemently. It took the dark-haired Elf a few more agonising seconds to force his abused rear end to relax, but gladly he found the pain slowly subsided.

 

Much to his disappointment though, the pleasure he had secretly hoped for never came, the Prince's erratic plowing too selfish to allow Galion to feel anything but being used and abused. A mere means to an end, not worthy of his own needs- as humble as they were - to be taken care of.

 

Upon that bitter realisation, Galion's diffident erection flagged completely and he willed away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

 

'This is not about you!' An inner voice chided him, encouraging Galion to tentatively move his hips, meeting the Prince's feverish thrusts. His new found enthusiasm was rewarded with a throaty groan of approval from the delirious younger Elf, the new angle allowing Legolas even deeper penetration. Galion felt the Prince's strong hands claw at his hips, holding him securely in place. He winced as sharp nails dug into his sides, sure to leave marks on Galion's tender flesh.

 

And then Galion felt the warmth.

 

Thick and hot, his ass was filled with Legolas' rich cream, the blond Elf's hips stuttering frantically as he ejaculated a copious amount into Galion.

 

It felt odd. Odd and degrading. Galion whimpered, his face burning with humiliation. When Legolas' organ eventually slipped from his entrance, little gushes of his sticky essence started to trickle out of Galion's twitching orifice, down his milky thighs and onto the bedding, staining it.

 

The flushed servant was utterly mortified, averting his gaze when he got ready to remove himself from the sheets, assuming his services would no longer be needed. Yet all of a sudden Galion felt nimble fingers snake around his flaccid length, starting to pump it purposefully. Baffled, the abashed older Elf let himself fall to his side, staring at Legolas with wide eyes as the Prince continued to fondle him.

 

"My Prince?" Galion rasped, not sure how to react to Legolas' ministrations. The wicked younger Elf just smiled at him sweetly, tilting his head playfully as he coaxed the servant's arousal back to attention. Not for the last time this evening, Galion imploringly looked into Elrond's direction, seeking guidance.

 

The Noldo just stood there, a dark brow raised in surprise. He then simply shrugged, indicating for Galion to just play along with whatever Legolas had in mind.

 

Galion swallowed hard. Much to his embarrassment his cock had filled out nicely, standing out proud from his hairless crotch. Flushing profusely, he shot Legolas a quick glance, eyes half-lidded. Galion noticed that, despite the fact that the young Prince had just spent himself, he had not gone flaccid. No, his bobbing arousal looked just as angry as before and Legolas came to seductively crawl next to where Galion lay prostrate on the bed. Giving a strange, mewling sound, he then rested his head and upper body on the silky sheets while raising his buttocks up high in the air.

 

Watching Legolas obscenely offering himself to a mere servant like a bitch in heat elicited a unified gasp from both Elrond and Thranduil. The King had abruptly leapt to his feet when Legolas' intentions had become unmistakable.

 

"Not like that." He hissed venomously, startling everybody in the room but Legolas. Galion ducked his head fearfully, utterly terrified by the prospect of the King's wrath.

 

However, just when Thranduil was about to rush past Elrond, the healer made him stop dead in his tracks.

 

"Let him." Elrond whispered. "Maybe him being claimed is the key to solving this mystery?"

 

Thranduil's face contorted in anger and sheer indignation, leaving him fuming with jealousy as he stood next to Elrond. Begrudgingly, he tried not to interfere in the scene unfolding before his very eyes.

 

“Thranduil,” Elrond said, as if asking for something, and the King realised Galion was frozen in his place, with Legolas whimpering and shoving his rear almost in Galion’s face.

 

“Oh, very well!” he said, aware he couldn’t stop this without giving himself away. “Do as Legolas wishes, Galion,” he ordered. Then he smiled sharply, as a warning. “Hurt him, and I will execute you.”

 

Galion gulped, rather obviously, and considered the problem before him. Trembling, he slowly reached for the oil, spilling half the contents on his hand so that most of it fell onto the bed sheets.

 

Though he had suffered through a number of strange requests from Thranduil over the years, nothing compared to this; not even the ElvenKing’s occasional demands for whole cucumbers was like this. Galion already knew many secrets he would take to the Undying Lands with him, and beyond, but it wasn’t the scale of this secret that made him nervous.

 

As he touched Legolas with a view to preparing him, he could feel Thranduil’s hot eyes watching his every movement. It was like suffering through an examination, and Galion’s composure was not helped by the way Legolas moved backwards onto his oil-covered fingers, moaning in lust.

 

"Maybe we should give them a little more privacy," Elrond suggested, sensing the pressure to perform and the crippling anxiety that came with it weighing heavy on Galion. Thranduil had obviously scared the poor servant out of his wits with the threat he'd uttered and it wouldn't have surprised Elrond if Galion had lost his boner as a consequence. Fortunately though, the servant's shock-induced paralysis also extended to his length, keeping it  happily throbbing and very much ready to penetrate.  

 

"Fine." Thranduil snapped grumpily, accompanying Elrond back to their comfy chairs in front of the crackling chimney fire. The Elvenking slumped down on the chair with little grace, his nerves and body tense for many reasons.  

 

His dear darling boy was just about to lose his anal virginity. To a servant. To a servant!

 

Every fibre in Thranduil's being screamed out loud at the very idea of Galion taking the place the King had pictured himself in so many shameful times. It was a strange juxtaposition. As Legolas' father, Thranduil knew he was not supposed to desire his adolescent son in the first place, no matter how fleeting those illicit fantasies were. It was plain wrong. The Elvenking couldn't deny those depraved desires haunting him, yet stubbornly prided himself of never having acted on them. Matter of factly, he used this an excuse for allowing himself to indulge in depraved, incestuous daydreaming every now and again.

 

But this only contributed to the King’s dilemma, completing the vicious circle he failed to break time and time again. Thranduil's own treacherous body was betraying him, he couldn't remember being as hard as he was now for centuries.

 

It felt like his painfully aching erection was mocking him as he silently sat in the shadows, all tied up in knots and at odds with himself.

 

First, he would need to get rid of Elrond. Thranduil's mind began to turn wickedly on how to get time alone with Legolas, so that he could ease his son's predicament for himself.

 

"Aren't there things you should be researching at this point?" Thranduil asked pointedly. "Or do you intend to waste time sitting here while my son suffers?"

 

Elrond frowned at him, but stood up regardless. There was no hint that he knew what Thranduil was up to on his face, but Thranduil had learned Elrond had a strange habit of seeing all, and knowing all. Still, as long as he said nothing. That is all that mattered.

 

"Very well," he said. "I shall seek out what texts are to be found in your library." He paused. "You know, this may have nothing to do with Radagast at all. Those ears... I have seen a similar affliction in men from Harad, the result of unhygienic piercing. The cartilage dies."

 

"Oh," Thranduil commented. "Besides not liking your inference about my son’s lack of cleanliness, do the ears of these men grow?"

 

For a moment, Elrond's brows drew together. "They do not," he confirmed. Then he turned on his heel to the door. "I will be back in several hours, unless you send for me." Thranduil nodded tightly, then Elrond was gone.

 

From the bed there came a long, wanton moan. Legolas. Thranduil stood and walked casually over to the bed, noting that Galion had already taken what he himself had wished for. He fucked Legolas slowly, with deference, despite the Prince's eager movements. Legolas' face was twisted in want. Thranduil pressed a hand against himself, drawing a hissing breath through his teeth.

 

"What is wrong with you, Galion? Can't you see he wants it faster? Harder?"

 

"Ada..." Legolas moaned at the sound of his voice, but then Galion heeded his instructions, and the sound of their fucking was threatening to drive him beyond all reason. Much more of this, and he would fuck his own son in full view of the servant. The way to get rid of him was to judge his performance lacking, although Thranduil had to secretly admit that he'd never suspected his servant capable of this.

 

"I do not hear my son moaning, Galion," he snapped. "Do you have no finesse? Make him cry out in pleasure."

 

Galion snapped out of his haze of languidly fucking Legolas, Thranduil's threat still ringing in his ears. "Yes, Sire. As you wish," He croaked meekly.

 

The servant started moving his hips with more fervour as he was spurred on by the King's cruel scrutiny. Sinking his slick length into Legolas' tight depths finally started feeling good; the change in pace forcing a natural jolt of bliss from Galion's straining body. However, despite the fact that he knew he should feel honoured to have been chosen to take the Prince, it took Galion great effort to fully enjoy the experience, at least emotionally. He felt so pressured it almost hurt, his body's growing pleasure was in stark contrast to his mind labelling the situation as trauma.

 

Nevertheless, Galion was rewarded with a heated groan of approval from the horny mess beneath him, Legolas’ eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation of eventually getting it good and hard.

 

Before long, Legolas keened ecstatically, a choked groan torn from him as his bucking body was wracked with desire, wave after wave of searing rapture washing over him. Galion followed suit shortly after, giving a contented sigh as he collapsed on the bed next to the tousled Prince.

 

Meanwhile, Thranduil suffered through his own blistering orgasm; the onslaught of sounds, all needy and desperate, Legolas uttering a broken Ada! as he came was too much for him to bear. Watching his son lost in the throes of a violent orgasm had caused Thranduil to spill himself in his breeches like a pitiful adolescent, leaving the King panting heavily in a mixture of disgrace and relish. He had never dared to dream anything like this. The tip of his pointy ears and cheeks burned a bright crimson.

 

The ears!

 

Thranduil blinked when a faint hope struck him, grateful to be able to cover up his mishap immediately. He rushed over to where Legolas lay contentedly on his back, checking for a change of his son's ears.

 

Suddenly, the door flew open with a loud bang and Elrond came rushing in, a heavy tome in hand, paying no attention to the couple on the bed.

 

"He did it wrong," Thranduil flatly informed Elrond as he found Legolas' ears still floppy, soft white-blond peach hair covering the tips. On closer inspection, they'd even grown longer! Also, Legolas' erection had still not flagged, it's angry red colour now turning to an alarming shade of blue.

 

"Galion, you are dismissed. Leave us." Thranduil commanded without so much as looking at the flustered servant as he scurried out of the room as quickly as possible.

 

"It's a druid's spell!" Elrond announced, excitedly. "Wicked, ancient magic of human origin, can you believe it?" The healer thumbed through the pages until he found the entry he was looking for. "A seasonal enchantment connected to a pagan festival called..."

 

"All Hallow's Eve?" Legolas interrupted Elrond's rant. Both Thranduil and Elrond looked at the Prince, surprised with Legolas' regained ability to form a coherent thought, let a alone voicing it. Probably his recent release allowed him a brief pause from his raging urge to mate.

 

"That's correct," Elrond acknowledged as he came to sit on the bed next to the Prince. "How did you know?"

 

"I heard Radagast talk about it," Legolas began to explain.

 

"I knew it was all this old quack's fault!" Thranduil exclaimed, cutting Legolas off. "I'll have his head for this!" He fumed, barely containing his rage. Elrond rolled his eyes at Thranduil's diva-like behaviour, encouraging Legolas to tell them more.

 

"So, what did Radagast tell you about All Hallow's Eve?" The healer enquired, listening attentively.

 

"Well, not much, actually," Legolas admitted, "He told me to wait inside his hut while he was out, looking for the last ingredient he needed for brewing the spider repellent. It only grows around All Hallow’s Eve."

 

"Hm. You didn't touch anything in there while you waited for Radagast, now did you, Legolas?" Elrond said, a vague suspicion forming in his mind. "Maybe some sort of artefact, no?"

 

Legolas blushed, feeling uneasy at the fact that he would have to admit his snooping. "Well," he drawled evasively. "Maybe I played a bit with some rune stones that lay scattered about," he admitted reluctantly, then quickly added. "But they didn't look like they held any magic, I swear! Just plain old runes, nothing special."

 

"Mh-hm." Elrond snorted. "Did you touch anything else?"

 

"Not that I can remember." Legolas thought hard. "Oh, wait! One of his Rhosgobel does had kittens and I petted one to pass the time away," the Prince continued, "but that ungrateful little shit bit me." The young Elf was back to whining, terrified of being punished for his unseemly transgression.

 

Elrond exhaled sharply, not believing his ears. "Is there any chance your blood came into contact with the runes?" He asked, horrified at the prospect of seeing his suspicion confirmed.

 

"Umm," Legolas replied sheepishly. "It might have when I put them back into the pouch?"

 

"What's all this nonsense about rabbits and runes?" Thranduil interrupted, impatiently pacing the floor. "Runes don't leave you mad with the urge for mating like," The King left the rest of the sentence hanging mid-air when realisation hit him hard. He paled visibly.

 

"Rabbits?" Elrond suggested in mock-help.

 

The penny had not dropped for Legolas though, and he just kept darting his eyes between Elrond and his father. "What? What do you mean?"

 

All of a sudden, Legolas started convulsing, a painful sensation shooting through his tailbone. He instinctively rolled onto his belly, reaching behind him to ease the sudden itching.

 

"By the Valar," he gasped, the Prince's eyes wide as saucers as he looked over his shoulder. "What's that?"

 

Just above his arse crack, a creamy-white, fluffy little bunny tail had formed on his rear end, wiggling enticingly every time Legolas moved. If the situation hadn't been that dire, it would have been almost comical.

 

Legolas gave an appalled shriek while Thranduil just stood there, mouth agape and frozen in place. It was Elrond who first regained his composure.

 

"This...is worse than I expected," he mumbled. "Legolas' transformation is almost complete and we're running out of time," the healer said, to no-one in particular. "Thranduil, I need a word with you. I'm afraid you are your son's last resort."

 

“Me?” Thranduil said sharply, instantly suspicious. “What have I to do with this?”

 

For the first time in millennia, and probably for the last time in his life, Elrond blushed. Time could not be spared for dallying, however. He must be blunt. “As in all mortal enchantments, the spell can only be broken by Legolas’ true love.”

 

Thranduil and Elrond stared at each other. Behind them, on the bed, Legolas was sobbing and poking fingers at the fluffy tail that had sprouted on him. His nose was twitching, and as Thranduil turned his head to look, Legolas lowered his gaze.

 

Shaking his head, Thranduil looked back at Elrond. “You think that is me?” For his own part, he would gladly admit it if that would save Legolas, but Elrond had said Legolas’ true love, not Thranduil’s.

 

“It is you he was with when the greater part of the enchantment took hold,” Elrond explained. “You said he sat on your lap, yes?” Thranduil nodded quickly, making a motion with his hand for Elrond to get to the point. Quickly.

 

“I believe your proximity at that moment hastened the transformation. His body has been burning for you ever since that moment.”

 

Oh.

 

Thranduil looked at Legolas again. “What must I do?” he asked, without giving Elrond another glance. Elrond cleared his throat delicately.

 

“Take him as your lover. Either way,” Elrond hastened to add, anticipating Thranduil’s question about which way around it must be done. “Then you must call him by name at the height of your passion and say…” Elrond consulted the book his hands and bit his lip.

 

“Well?”

 

“I love you, I release you, I claim you.” Elrond paused, and read aloud. “Thrice.”

 

“Need there be witnesses?” Thranduil asked quickly, already beginning to remove his clothing as Elrond shook his head.

 

Alarmed, Elrond forestalled him with a hand on his arm. “Have a care, Thranduil. You must mean it or the attempt will fail, and Legolas will turn.”

 

“I will mean it,” Thranduil vowed.

 

“And you must keep to it,” Elrond said sadly. “You can never go back to being father and son only. You must repeat the ritual every All Hallow’s Eve, for the rest of your lives, and each time you must mean it.”

 

“I understand. Get out.” There was only one thing on Thranduil’s mind now, and he heard the door close softly behind Elrond as he advanced on the bed, shedding what remained of his clothing on the way.

 

Legolas had been too self-absorbed with examining his newly grown extension to overhear anything of significance of his father's delicate conversation with Elrond. Instead, the young Prince had managed to get all worked up about the situation, triggering another, strong surge of wanton desire flaming up in him.

 

It was only when he found his ada approaching him, stark naked and stunningly beautiful, that Legolas train of self-centred thought was interrupted. He blinked, not believing his eyes.

 

"Ada?" he whispered, a hint of hope and disbelief evident in his tone of voice.

 

Could it be?

 

"Shush, ion nín," Thranduil said softly as he sat on the bed, reaching out a hand to beckon his flushed son closer. "Come here."

 

A little reluctantly, Legolas did as he was told. Conflicting feelings whirled in his clouded head, embarrassment still very persistently nagging at him. It fought for dominance with the mind-numbing urge to fall to his hands and knees, shamelessly offering himself like he had done for Galion before.

 

But this was different. This was Thranduil.

 

Unlike with Galion, or when Legolas had tried to get into Meludir's pants, there hadn't been that warm, fuzzy feeling inside him when the Prince had looked at his partners. Yes, there had been the overwhelming desire to touch and be touched, but it was fleeting. His soul was still left with nothing but a subsequent emptiness and his body's lust remained unquenched, despite their frenzied coupling. Also, the Prince realised with a certain disillusionment that fucking or being fucked by random Elves only granted him a brief reprieve and the few moments of clearness that came along with it before he was bound to go into heat again.

 

But whenever Legolas had surreptitiously looked at his ada, it was like Legolas' heart was having the hiccups, skipping beats at an alarming rate and fuelling the urge to simply surrender himself to his father, consequences and morals be damned. Instinctively it just seemed like the right thing to do, the Prince never being any the wiser that he should consider himself lucky it was true love indeed that had him burning for his father in the first place.

 

Self-consciously, Legolas just stayed put; head bowed and stoop-shouldered as he waited for further instruction.

 

Gently, Thranduil took hold of Legolas’ chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. "You know, " the King whispered. "As cute as those fuzzy ears look on you, I'd rather have them back to pointy and hairless." he gave a reassuring smile to relieve a bit of the awkward, unresolved sexual tension that was clearly palpable between father and son. Both were undeniably aroused, their throbbing cocks painfully aching for release.

 

No matter how unholy and illicit their sexual union would be considered, it was a necessity that gave both Thranduil and Legolas a long-needed carte blanche for acting on what they had been denying for so long.

 

Trembling, Legolas only nodded, his pupils all dilated with excitement when he yielded to the King insistently pushing him back by the shoulders until he lay on his back. Wantonly, a small groan escaped Legolas' lips as he unabashedly spread his legs, longing to be ravished.

 

While the sight of Legolas spread out before him was the stuff of his dreams, it was not the stuff of his wildest dreams, and a thoroughly wicked plan began to form in Thranduil’s mind. After all, if he was to do this, then why not do it exactly how he wanted? He was sure Legolas would enjoy it too.

 

With a slight nod forward, Thranduil commented: “Your nose is pink and twitching.” The effect of his words was exactly what he had hoped, since Legolas immediately turned over and crawled up the bed, alarmed, to study his face in the mirror by the side of Thranduil’s bed.

 

Moving quickly, Thranduil began to put the tassels to good use again, binding one of Legolas’ wrists to the bed. With his free hand, Legolas touched his face, clearly relieved that his nose had not changed. Now his alarm was all for what Thranduil was doing to him, yet he allowed his other wrist to be restrained too, leaving him face down on the bed with his arms stretched up and away to either side of him.

 

His shoulders were muscular - the shoulders of the best archer in Eryn Galen - and while those strange ears were covered by his hair, he seemed like some perfect erotic dream as Thranduil looked upon him - at least until his heated gaze reached the fluffy tail. With one hand, Thranduil oiled himself, though it was hardly needed; he could see the oil and the white of Galion’s prior release shining wetly on Legolas’ thighs. With his other hand, he touched the tail while Legolas whimpered and trembled, flicking it with his thumb. It drew a wicked, longing moan from his son, and Thranduil tilted his head in curiosity.

 

“Please, ada,” Legolas gasped, writhing on the bed, spreading his legs so wide Thranduil could see everything. “It feels so… it makes me want...  please, fuck me!” Thranduil tapped the tail with the flat of his hand, and Legolas let out a strangled cry into the pillows. Well, that was clear enough.

 

“You have been very naughty, ion nín,” he said, his voice stern, swatting the tail again. Legolas jerked and cried out. “Haven’t you?”

 

“Yes, ada!” he said, desperation and lust in his voice. “I have been so naughty. Please!” He was pulling at the tassels now, trying to free himself, but that would not work. Thranduil had too much experience in knots for erotic purposes. With an aching sigh, he positioned himself and slid inside Legolas’ body smoothly. Galion had fucked him wide open. It was easy.

 

The difference in Legolas was sudden and drastic. He melted into the bed with a relieved sigh, head down, no longer struggling. “Oh, ada…” he moaned, which only spurred Thranduil into giving Legolas a pleased sigh of his own, and a few long thrusts, revelling in finally being inside his son at last.

 

“Would you care to tell me how you have been naughty, Legolas?” Thranduil asked then, stilling himself since even with his earlier orgasm, the knowledge that it was Legolas he possessed was already threatening to completely undo him. Instead, he let his hands roam free over Legolas’ skin, touching him all over, everywhere he wanted. He could feel that strange tail shivering between their bodies, and leaned on it deliberately with his weight. Legolas let out a high pitched yelp, his passage tightening deliciously around Thranduil’s cock.

 

“I poked about in Radagast’s things,” Legolas said, his voice muffled, breath hitching. “I petted his kittens.”

 

“No. That is not it, Legolas. Try to think,” he suggested darkly, moving once, then resting on that tail again, sensing that Legolas felt more dominated by that than anything else. Thranduil rather thought Radagast would have kittens, though… as soon as this was done and Thranduil managed to get a hold of him. No one need ever know that this situation played right into his illicit fantasies. Except Legolas. Thranduil had decided that he would have Legolas. Not just now, not only when the change was upon him, but whenever he wanted. And since he now knew that Legolas loved him that way, he would not be protesting, else he would find himself bound to Thranduil’s bed for the rest of his days, awaiting the King’s pleasure.

 

When Legolas did not answer, Thranduil sighed dramatically. “Have I ever allowed you to keep secrets from me, Legolas?” he demanded, feeling how excited his words made his son, because of the way their bodies were joined.

 

“No, ada,” he said. Then he seemed to realise. “I hid my love for you,” he gasped, as if he only now realised it was out in the open.

 

“Yes, you did,” Thranduil growled, menacing. “And despite the fact that I feel the same way, you gave the gift of your body to a servant before me, your love, your father, your King. A servant!” He grasped a handful of Legolas’ hair, pulling his head back. Then he thrust his hips once, as if to make his point.

 

“I am sorry! I am sorry, ada! I did not think!” Legolas gabbled desperately. Behind him, Thranduil smiled, sharp and dangerous as he resumed the slow fucking, savouring all the pleasure of finally being sunk balls deep in Legolas.

 

“You did not,” he observed. “When this is done, Legolas, you may expect your first punishment as my lover. Do you understand what I am saying? You will be my lover, Legolas. Not just now, not just once a year, but always. And you will be submissive to me in all things.”

 

Ada…” His passage was constricting now, tight and rhythmic. He was so easy to excite, and Thranduil suspected it wasn’t just the enchantment. Legolas really wanted it, wanted him, wanted all of those dark things. Something slotted into place between them then, something Thranduil almost felt, as if a negotiation had been made and an accord reached. The spell that held Legolas responded to it, and Thranduil felt himself overcome with an unnatural lust that far outstripped his own.

 

Mindless, he fucked Legolas so hard and so fast it almost hurt, and he growled like an animal, only wanted to subdue the thing that squeezed and wriggled beneath him. “Be still!” Thranduil hissed, never letting go of Legolas’ hair, the crescendo in him speeding closer and closer.

 

At the last moment, he remembered the words he was to say, and he recited them to Legolas like pronouncements, imagining all of the things he would do, all of the pleasure he would take, and how Legolas would look in his bed, satiated and debauched, with marks of Thranduil’s ownership all over his body.

 

“I love you,” he recited for the final time, meaning it, wanting only to have Legolas safe in his arms and in his bed forevermore. “I release you,” he said, knowing that once the spell let go of Legolas, it would only be to entrust him to Thranduil’s utter domination. “I claim you,” he cried for the last time, impassioned. “You are mine!”

 

Beneath him he felt Legolas climax for the last time - at least during this session, and all of the strange changes to his body popped out of existence one by one, leaving him with an elf tied to his bed, instead of a strange kind of rhosgobel elf hybrid. He found release, exulting in his possession of Legolas, his heart almost ready to burst for love of him. It was too much! Thranduil felt himself topple from that dizzying pinnacle, pouring all of himself into Legolas’ body in a series of hard, jerky movements as he groaned in pleasure. When it was done, he rolled away to the side, finally letting go of his son’s hair.

 

He untied Legolas carefully, and pulled his son into his arms. Legolas was exhausted from his long ordeal, and he moulded his body to Thranduil’s in a most pleasing way. Thranduil was feeling rather tired himself, and he pulled the covers up over them both. Legolas would sleep in his arms, tonight and every night for the foreseeable future. It was perfect.

 

And so, dear readers, don't you dare blame us,

For pagan magic's the creator of this incestuous mad fuss,

By revealing true feelings, all kinky and such,

Thus was born the guilty pleasure that's Thrandolas.

 

~ finis ~

 

A/N: Happy Halloween, everybody!^^ Comments and kudos very welcome. :)



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