Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Elei ned Îr Mín	By : pip & TheTVJunkie Category: -Multi-Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4466 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We do not own Tolkien's world, Middle Earth, or any of it's characters. We make no money from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Dream a Little Dream of Me
Legolas tossed and turned fitfully in his sleep, the images of his earlier discovery haunting him with vivid dreams.
There he was, in Celebfîn's place; bent over a plain barrel, leggings pooling around his ankles and completely at Thranduil's mercy. Feverishly, Legolas arched his back in his sleep. He could almost feel his ada pounding into him for real, though it was only a dream. The King stretched his virgin portal relentlessly, not minding the excruciating pain he elicited in his son. Quite the contrary, for some reason his ada seemed to revel in the fact he was causing Legolas distress, the filthy words he whispered into the younger elf's ears were all demeaning, Thranduil purposefully shamed Legolas with every syllable he uttered. He literally tortured his son with the idea of others watching him as he willingly spread his legs for the King, the whole court condemning him for being nothing but a mere whore.
Legolas could not understand why this was turning him on so much, his aching length trapped between himself and the keg as he surrendered to the rough manhandling. Yet the young Prince couldn't tear away his gaze from Celebfîn, who hid in the shadows between the barrels openly and happily masturbating, intently staring back at the incestuous couple.
Confused, Legolas found that Celebfîn's blatant voyeurism actually egged him on. The sudden urge to 'perform' for the servant made him wiggle his rear, standing on his tiptoes to change the angle of penetration which allowed Thranduil to plunge even deeper than before...
Legolas woke with a start at the sensation of his father climaxing into his abused arse in copious amounts, only to find that he had come in his sleep. Bewildered, he looked at the mess he had made; the sheets he had stained would surely not go unnoticed. The Prince's cheeks turned beet-red, tears welling in his eyes at the shameful realisation of what just had happened.
A short time later, Legolas almost tiptoed into the breakfast room, hoping his father had already been and gone, and he was relieved to find he had the table to himself. In truth, he’d contemplated breakfasting in his room, and avoiding his father for a little longer, but then he might have had the mortification of the laundry maid stripping the sheets from his bed while he was present… Legolas shuddered, and made his way to the counter for some oats and nuts. Better that he was away from his room for the time being.
“Good morning, ion nín,” said his father from behind him, having entered the breakfast room while Legolas was daydreaming. He turned, unable to help remembering all the wicked words Thranduil had said in his dream, and the praise he had earned... His father had a certain kind of magnetism, and Legolas noticed it now more than ever, because he’d felt the full force of it in his dreams. He drew in a breath as he tried to reconcile his dream with his real ada, acting completely normally. He suddenly felt slightly dizzy.
“Good morning, Ada,” he responded, his eyes wide as Thranduil reached around him for some fruit from the counter. His body heat was so close, so real. Legolas closed his eyes, then reluctantly moved away, settling himself in his seat.
His father seated himself opposite, with his usual fare. Though Legolas was sure it was only his imagination, he could not help wondering if perhaps his father’s smile was a little too broad. There was a kind of infernal twinkling in his eyes, and Legolas could not help remembering coming to face with what his father fantasised about.
What he himself fantasised about, if his dreams were any indication. He watched Thranduil eat, his own mouth dry.
“You left the feast early last night,” Thranduil noted, without looking at him. “Did you overindulge?”
“Perhaps a little, Ada,” Legolas replied, and then as if to add to his shame, Celebfîn entered the room to see if they required anything hot to eat.
His father did not, but because he usually did, Legolas asked for some eggs and toasted bread. He did not want to rouse any suspicion in his father, but he could not quite bring himself to meet Celebfîn’s eyes.
When his food arrived, Celebfîn lingered until he looked up, a customary word of thanks on his lips. He saw in Celebfîn the same fear he felt himself, and he shook his head slightly, his eyes widening: he would not tell. Celebfîn smiled at him in relief, and wished him a good breakfast, then departed with a last lingering look at Thranduil, who did not even acknowledge the servant’s presence.
Unbeknownst to Legolas, Thranduil secretly observed the Prince's every facial expression as they sat together, enjoying their breakfast in mutual silence. The boy seemed flustered and uneasy for some reason, his cheeks flushed and his breathing hitching every now and again. Furthermore, Legolas kept his eyes averted most of the time, concentrating on the food on his plate intently...
Despite his better judgement Thranduil couldn't help but let his imagination run wild, picturing his son accompanying him to one of the many endless, boring court meetings the King had to endure day in and day out. Legolas would kneel between Thranduil's legs, preferably stark naked as he rested his chin on the edge of the throne. Hands and arms behind his back, no sound would escape his lips but occasional choking noises caused by the King's flaccid cock hitting the back of hiss throat. Thranduil might run his fingers through the Prince's golden tresses just as though he would pet a dog. Legolas would do a fine job of keeping his ada's length comfy, cosy and warm in obedient submission, thriving on the name calling and degrading stream of abuse that was showered on him by both his father and the court's attendants. They would no longer respect the hitherto proud Prince once he'd been degraded to nothing but a filthy whore, a mere toy to be used at his father's sadistic whim.
In his little fantasies, Thranduil revelled in the idea of his son being subject to plentiful variations of humiliation and sexual subjugation. And, unlike his morally torn son, Thranduil couldn't care less about enjoying those daydreams in the fullest!
They were only fantasies after all, no harm done. Or so he thought...
When the kinky dream had finished with Thranduil's mind, the King cleared his throat audibly, startling Legolas.
“I should like you to attend me today, Legolas, whilst I hold court,” Thranduil said, and Legolas was dismayed. Even without the secret shame of having seen his father with the servant, or his dreams the night just gone, Legolas hated to be cooped up in the palace.
In fact, at a time like this, he would clear the cobwebs in his mind better if he were out in the trees with the rest of his patrol, but he merely nodded in acquiescence. Every now and again his father required him to observe what happened at court, so that he would be well prepared for it perhaps, if he ever had to take up the reign of the woodland realm. Little did Thranduil know that Legolas had become more and more convinced as the decades passed that he would never wish to be King. That indeed if it ever came to that, he might well pass the title on to someone more personally suited to the role.
As the day passed, Legolas felt his discomfort ease. Spending time around his father had been good for him, despite his reservations. It had made certain he did not continue to see those private moments every time he glanced at the King, and that was good. Thranduil seemed to look at him very often though, and Legolas wondered if he knew somehow that he’d been observed. But then his father would not merely glance at him if that was the case. He’d insist on having it out in private, and giving Legolas a good dressing down for voyeurism. Perhaps.
He felt tired after attending the throne room. Perhaps his dreams had stopped him from resting properly, and so he spent the later afternoon and evening in bed, drowsing tiredly until dinner. He fell asleep quickly, but his dreams had not done with him, not by a long shot.
Legolas found himself back in the throne room, with his father holding court, and yet he was naked. It was shocking, and Legolas looked around him wildly at the assembled elves, yet none of them seemed to notice anything was amiss, hardly glancing at him.
“Legolas!” rapped out his father. “Come serve me,” he said, just as if they were sat at table for their evening meal.
Serve?! Legolas was disconcerted by the request. Whatever could his father mean by such a request? Was he expected to fetch and carry for him? Legolas approached the throne in the way of dreams, accepting his own nakedness the way the crowd of gathered elves did, the way his father did. He fell to his knees in front of his father as he might usually do during ceremonial matters, and opened his mouth to ask what the King required of him.
“Come closer,” urged the King before Legolas himself could speak, spreading his legs to make room. “Place your chin here,” he ordered tapping the edge of the oversized throne. Legolas gulped, but did as he was commanded, shuffling forward on his knees, completely mystified.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Thranduil snapped, “else I shall have someone bind them there for you.” Chastised, Legolas did as he was bid, putting his hands behind his back and lacing his fingers together so that his chest was pushed out and his shoulders square. His posture made it seem even more humiliating to rest his chin when the King wanted it, and still Legolas didn’t understand, until he saw Thranduil unlacing his breeches right in front of his face.
Legolas, shocked, did not dare to move, not even when his father opened his mouth with blunt fingers and eased the length of his soft cock inside. He was overcome with a sense of inevitability. As if, by submitting to the more innocent commands had stolen his ability to protest. He stretched his mouth wide, in case he should inadvertently hurt Thranduil with his teeth, feeling the warmth of the cock lying against his tongue. After just a few moments, he felt saliva dribbling from the corners of his lips, cooling on his skin, but he did not dare to swallow, and lessen the space inside his mouth.
“There,” Thranduil said, as if satisfied. “Now you are at last in your rightful place, we may begin!” His father spoke as if this was a ceremonial ritual he performed, as if he had performed it many times before, and Legolas’ mind was in a whirl of contradiction. Sexual awareness combined with duty, and the two did not really mix. Was he dreaming?
“Oh,” said Thranduil, holding up a forbidding hand to his advisors, who had started forward with documents and proclamations for him to deal with. “Just one thing, Legolas.” He obligingly looked up with his eyes from the humiliating position, and his father must enjoy seeing him that way, because he felt a gentle hand in his hair, sliding through it, and he realised he had not even braided his hair! He was naked, with loose hair, worse even than a commoner! No rank at all in the eyes of those present. Legolas felt the heat that rose in his cheeks.
“If you get me hard,” Thranduil told him, wiggling a finger near his face in an affectionate fashion, “I’ll have to fuck Celebfîn in full view of the court again, and you know how they like to goad me on. So be good for his sake, and keep very still, hmm?”
Celebfîn, who looked so much like him... Legolas longed to gulp, but did not dare. He tried to nod, only then realising he had disobeyed the King’s instruction already. He made a sound of regret, and that too was wrong. Legolas felt the tears in his eyes a moment before his vision blurred. Thranduil moved forward a little, and Legolas’ breathing was suddenly obstructed, a choking sound coming from his mouth before he made certain to breathe through his nose.
“Very good. Looks like no harm was done,” Thranduil said, still petting his hair. “You are such a naturally obedient submissive, ion nín,” he said, still affectionate, and it made something break inside Legolas. “To think that once you were the Crown Prince.” His father laughed strangely. “It is clear where your true abilities lie, Legolas. In giving pleasure to me and to the whole realm when they see you serve me so prettily.”
He wanted to deny it, but could not without moving, and he did not want to move for he did not want to cause his father to carry out his threat to hurt the servant, who had done neither of them any wrong. It did not even occur to Legolas to think Celebfîn might want such treatment. His understanding in those matters was naive and incomplete.
Thranduil never did back down when he voiced an intention, and he imagined Celebfîn being made to take that in front of the gathered audience. He could easily imagine how the court would watch such a spectacle too… after all, weren’t they watching this? His own debasement?
He realised with a kind of detached horror that his father had moved on to discussing matters of state, as if his cock was not… was not… Legolas swallowed delicately, and felt a pulse in the King’s flesh. He stilled, and just let the drool escape helplessly, his head motionless while his body shook with the strain of holding his position. His conscious mind seemed to fade in and out as his ordeal continued unabated. He wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening around him, but every now and again his father would lean forward to take a document or look at something more closely. At those times, he would push into Legolas’ mouth, making him almost choke.
It was not just his father who was acting as if this was an everyday occurrence. The elves around them were fully engaged in matters of state, as if Legolas were not even there. The only acknowledgement of his existence came from his father, whose fingers occasionally strayed to Legolas’ hair to stroke him, who sometimes murmured praise. Legolas blushed at those times, because even then he still wanted that praise, longed for it, and several times he turned his eyes up to his father as if to ask for his attention.
Legolas jerked half awake to the sound of the dinner gong, and with a strangely sensual moan. “I’m sorry, Ada,” he said automatically, his mouth watering in the dream at the thought of dinner, his mouth which was still clinging lovingly to his father’s soft cock.
Then he woke up properly, lifting his head from the pillow and wiping at the drool which had escaped from the side of his mouth with distaste. His pillow was wet with it! Sighing, he prepared himself to face the evening meal, aware that it would quite as difficult to face his father now as it had been that morning. Why was he having these dreams? Legolas was distraught as he changed his rumpled clothing. There was no one he could speak to about them. He would just have to carry on as best he could.

To be continued...

Authors' Note: Thank you for reading; we hope you had fun!
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Elei ned Îr Mín