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Prince in Training	By : Pippychick_TAFKAB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 24084 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: We do not own Tolkien's world, Middle Earth, Lord of the Rings or any of the characters. We make no money from this.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty
Morning brought two cocks pressing against him – one prodding his belly, the other nestled comfortably against the cleft of his bottom. Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to verify which belonged to whom. He suspected it was Erestor behind him; if it had been Thranduil, he would have awoken as always, with his father buried deep inside his body, taking his pleasure.
As it was, the cock in front of him was stirring against his belly, a slight thrusting motion designed to inflame him without instantly bringing him to wakefulness. Lips grazed his throat. That was his ada; he could tell. The familiar brush of lips roused him, making his cock throb with want. Suspecting whatever what he did to Thranduil would still be done him, Legolas did not respond as fully as he desired.
“You were beautiful accepting my master’s kiss.” Thranduil’s voice was still rusty with sleep. “It pleased me deeply to watch the two of you together, ion nín.”
Legolas sighed; so much for hoping the sight aroused his father’s jealousy enough that he would order Erestor from his bed.
“You are my master,” he stressed the word firmly. “None other.”
“And he is mine,” Thranduil breathed. “Would you obey him if I required it?”
“Ada…” Legolas could not continue. He would, of course, though he would not like it. But to say such with Erestor so near, perhaps awake and listening!
Thranduil reached up and hooked fingers under the collar, jerking it forward slightly, and immediately Legolas moaned, transported partway to that nowhere space of bliss. “Answer me, Legolas,” Thranduil said.
“Yes,” Legolas whispered, and really he hadn’t been completely sure that Erestor was awake, but then he felt the body behind him press closer. He inhaled sharply and threw his arms around Thranduil’s neck as if for protection. “Ada!”
Thranduil only chuckled. “Be good, now, ion nín,” he said, and Legolas felt an inevitable despair.
“Turn around,” said Erestor’s voice behind him, and Legolas hesitated, but did as he wished in a sullen silence. When he was facing the Noldo, Erestor’s hands touched Legolas’s face, fingertips stroking over his cheeks as he looked deeply into Legolas’s eyes.
“Prepare him as you would,” Erestor murmured, and at first Legolas didn’t understand, but then realised the instruction was directed at his father. He bit his lip as his father touched him, slippery fingers inside him. His father’s touch! And yet he tried to hide his reaction from Erestor, who watched him closely, drinking in every nuance of his expression, every shivering moan that passed his lips, every tremble of his body.
He was sure what Erestor would insist upon next, and Legolas closed his eyes, feeling a kind of pained misery. Yet he waited for the instruction. He would not anticipate it, even though he could feel the hardness of the Noldo pressed against his belly.
“Fuck him as you would,” Erestor breathed, and Legolas’s eyes flew open just as his father claimed him at last, thrusting deep so that tears came to his eyes. Legolas reached forward helplessly, and clutched at Erestor as he cried out, hands on the front of his shoulders.
Erestor nuzzled close, murmuring reassurance, his hands wandering over Legolas’s body and legs. They were strangely soothing and inflaming at once; Legolas found himself shuddering and gasping, crying out as he rocked between them and his ada’s fierce claiming.
Erestor did not touch his cock, but he seemed to have no hesitation touching Legolas anywhere else – his face and throat, his chest and shoulders, his hips and bottom, the very place where Thranduil penetrated him. Legolas heard his father moan in response to that caress, and felt him speed his thrusts helplessly.
This was different, and not just because Erestor was with them, touching him as though gentling a skittish horse for riding. His father felt different as well – less confident, less assured; he did not laugh and speak, teasing Legolas gently. Instead, his father waited for Erestor to speak, to command him.
And he did.
“Touch his nipples, raun ernil. Pinch them, listen to him moan. Turn his face and kiss him deeply. Put your hand upon his cock and stroke it in the way he loves best.”
Each new touch fell on Legolas not at his ada’s wish, but at Erestor’s. Every pleasure, every caress, every stroke of finger, lip, and tongue. Legolas writhed, wanting it and resenting it all at once; he could not resist, slipping deeper and deeper into bliss, into the sweetness of submitting to his father. He could not help it; his body and mind were conditioned to offer this up to that beloved touch.
“Take us both in hand,” Erestor purred, and Legolas felt the Noldo’s hardness align beside his inside Thranduil’s palm. At the same time, his father thrust into him deeply, so that his body jerked forward into that grip, deeper into Erestor’s arms.
He cried out, protest and pleasure all at once, writhing; his hands clutched at Erestor in spite of all he could do, and he knew his motion gave the elf pleasure, but he could not be still.
“It is your ada’s touch, neth ernil. Not mine. Not mine at all,” Erestor chuckled softly as his father’s movement continued to jostle him, cock caressing him deep, hand caressing him in front.
“You lie!” Legolas wailed; he could feel his balls drawing tight and knew he would come, no matter whose touch granted him that pleasure.
“Hold him off until I am ready,” Erestor breathed, lips caressing Legolas’s cheek; the Noldo thrust his cock into Thranduil’s grip as Thranduil’s other hand sought Legolas’s balls, tugging on them gently, backing him down just a bit.
Erestor sighed approval, and Thranduil’s hand tightened again, working them both. Legolas writhed, his nose filled with the unfamiliar but not unpleasant scent of the Noldo’s arousal, of his skin and his sweat and his hair. All the while, that slide of sensation, in and out. He heard himself whimper, mewling sounds tumbling from his lips; he felt Thranduil’s teeth at his throat, at the lobe of his ear. Then Thranduil kissed Erestor, long and slow, but his hand never faltered, and Legolas moaned, hearing the wet touch and part of their lips and tongues just at his ear as his father used his body.
“When I come, grant him release,” Erestor whispered, and tossing his head back, he thrust hard against Legolas’s belly. Thranduil laughed, soft and dark with pleasure; Legolas felt it resonate through him, driving him toward the inevitable climax.
Erestor was gasping now, his forehead pressed against Legolas’s own; no matter what he did, he could not escape sharing breath and skin, sharing his father – sharing climax, as Erestor shivered and his body arched, taut, pulses of warmth gushing out to slicken his father’s hand.
“Úthaes nín, my beautiful son, come for him – for me,” Thranduil whispered in his ear, and Legolas obeyed, helpless, his whole world shattering as he spent his seed in helpless surrender.
He felt Thranduil release him, felt Erestor shift, and opened his eyes to see the Noldo licking Thranduil’s palm, eyes sated and warm. He smiled at Legolas, wicked, withdrawing his tongue into his mouth and closing his eyes, sighing with exaggerated pleasure.
Thranduil suddenly moved again, and Legolas closed his eyes and relaxed as his father worked towards his own release, encouraging him in all ways, pressing back against him, using his muscles, moaning his name, until he quite forgot that Erestor was there at all. When his father came inside him, it felt perfect, and Thranduil held him so close he felt completely cherished.
“It is morning, ion nín,” Thranduil said. “And you must leave.” Legolas almost uttered an automatic agreement, but then he opened his eyes, and he remembered they weren’t alone.
“I will leave here when he does,” Legolas vowed. Erestor only appeared disappointed. And, just as Legolas had been surprised to find himself responding to the Noldo’s approval, now he found himself responding to that new look in his eyes. At last, Erestor stirred and sat up.
“Would you be discovered, Legolas?” Erestor asked. “With all the attendant disgrace that would bring? You would be kept apart then. I will go with you, and escort you to your rooms. We will talk, you and I.”
That was a suggestion Legolas could not argue with, and he dressed alongside Erestor before kissing his father and leaving him alone. Erestor watched him thoughtfully as they left and walked towards Legolas’s room.
“Don’t you realise, you give him what I cannot?” the Noldo asked. Legolas threw Erestor a sharp look as he walked.
“What is that?” Legolas asked, curious despite himself.
“Everything,” Erestor replied, and then they had arrived. Legolas showed Erestor into his room, and closed the door behind them.
“If you were his first, if you made him, if you were to him as he is to me, then you were everything to him once.” Legolas challenged him with a flat look. “Why are you apart now, if that is so?”
Erestor raised a brow at him. “Do you mean to make a match between us once more, or would you rather accept what I have said?”
Legolas sat back, frowning, but the Noldo had a point. “Then you do not mean to stay?”
“I mean to do what I was summoned to do: to ensure your father’s well-being – and because it is important to him, to ensure your own.”
Legolas was not sure he believed that, but let Erestor continue. “I believe I can be of assistance to you both. I have made progress already, and if you will cooperate, I can do more.” Erestor steepled his fingers.
“Thranduil Oropherion is an elf of extreme passions.” Legolas smiled suddenly, a half-dozen warm memories rushing in. Passion, yes. He sighed as Erestor plowed on. “Left ungoverned, he may stray into unwise practices, as he did when he took you in public and alarmed your faithful servant Galion, who knew of my relationship to Thranduil and summoned me to evaluate the situation and provide assistance as needed.”
Frowning a little, Legolas nodded. He had enjoyed that too. Did that mean they were both the same, he and his father? Were they dangerous together somehow?
“I have made my evaluation, and I think against all odds, the two of you are a suitable match in this.” The words filtered through and put Legolas at ease instantly. Erestor did seem to know what he was talking about, Legolas could not deny that. And he thought them a good match. His heart swelled with love for Thranduil.
“Therefore I would help you develop the relationship successfully. I would help you learn to give Thranduil what he needs when he needs it.”
“How? And what do you mean by ‘what he needs’?” Legolas questioned. He bristled, as if Erestor was questioning his loyalty somehow. He gave Thranduil everything he asked for.
For a moment, Erestor said nothing, just watched him, and Legolas felt scrutinised.
“You are very similar, aren’t you?” He smiled, and there was real warmth in it. Legolas found himself smiling back.
“We are, I hope,” he said, feeling Erestor’s question as a kind of compliment.
“He needs the same things you need. Sometimes, all he wants is to be mastered. Not merely taken, not merely played with. He needs to be owned.” Erestor paused. “Just as you do.”
Legolas stared at the Noldo, wondering what he thought he was playing at. “Then you do mean to stay.”
“No. I mean to teach you how to dominate your father.” Erestor leaned back in his chair. “He has hinted before that you might do such, has he not? It will be easier to learn with guidance he cannot provide while he is submitted to you within his mind. I can provide it, but I will require your cooperation and trust. You must learn to obey me without question, or you may falter at a crucial moment and fail him.”
Erestor rose and walked to the wall, examining silver threads in a rich tapestry, giving Legolas a little space. “I do not propose to defile you, or to reclaim Thranduil as my own and take him from you, or to divide you from one another in any lasting way. Perhaps I erred in assuming your partnership required such cruel testing, or in putting your devotion to the test so casually, for it set your mind against me. But it is not usual for relations to choose this path, and I doubted its wisdom.”
Legolas supposed that was true; he did not know of any elves who loved as he and Thranduil did. He would doubt the wisdom of this course himself, if he heard of such a thing occurring between others!
Erestor sighed. “I hope you can forgive me my doubts. They came from a sincere concern for your father.” He turned and walked back to Legolas quietly, and came to stand behind him. “You do not enjoy pain in the same way as Thranduil does. I understand that, and will give no more to you than you find enjoyable.” He reached out, setting the fingers of one hand upon Legolas’s shoulder. “But you… You will need to learn to hurt him if you wish to own him. And I can teach you that.”
The Noldo’s words frightened Legolas a little, and yet his mind turned to how his father had been the night before. Thranduil had enjoyed that attention. Probably, Thranduil had enjoyed it when Erestor had beaten him. Legolas remembered his father’s fierce pride when he’d sworn he hadn’t begged for mercy or forgiveness, that he hadn’t repented. Somehow, his father had enjoyed that too.
Swallowing, Legolas knew he would have to learn it. “When will we begin?” he asked, and his voice sounded deeper than usual, as if the gravity of what they discussed had affected it. The fingers on his shoulder squeezed a little.
“There is something else you must do,” Erestor said, and Legolas thought he understood what it was. He remembered Erestor’s words, from when they had been out in the wood.
Theoretically you are then submissive to me, but in practice you are not.
The hand on his shoulder turned soft, caressing… Legolas suddenly stood up, turning around defensively, the ‘no’ on his lips almost before he could stop it, and yet he didn’t speak. Erestor stood before him, offering to tutor him in something that would ensure the strange relationship between him and his father did not break, that it would stand, that it would last. Must I? he thought to himself. As if in answer, he took a step forward as Erestor watched him.
He must do something. Submit. And for all that he had done with Thranduil, Legolas realised he did not know what to do. He reached out a hesitant hand, only to let it fall. He looked into Erestor’s eyes, nervous. “I do not know how to –”
His words were cut off when Erestor closed the gap between them and kissed him, one hand under his chin, tilting his face into it.
It felt wrong, as if he betrayed Thranduil, as if he were being unfaithful, disobedient. He knew his father had acquiesced before, had let Erestor touch Legolas, had even seemed to like it… But he needed his ada to give this his open and knowing consent.
“Tonight,” he pulled back, breathless. “With my father to witness, and grant me his permission. I cannot do this, else.”
“Then you cannot do this,” Erestor said simply. “I am sorry for it.”
Erestor turned away with a slight sigh. He walked to the door, prepared to leave, but then paused. “I am sorry for him. But if you do this, you must submit to my will before his.”
“What will happen to my ada?” Legolas took a step forward, aware that he was near to pleading.
Erestor shrugged, his face still, all but expressionless.
Legolas closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat, and stepped forward, forcing through his reluctance. “Very well, if you must have it so. I will do this for my father’s sake.” Slowly he knelt before Erestor and bowed his head.
“You are yet young, with all the drama of youth,” Erestor noted. “You kneel before me as if I were about to put you to death.” He shook his head. “Stand up.”
Legolas did so, and Erestor moved him until he felt the hard unyielding wood of the door at his back. “I wanted a kiss,” he explained patiently, his palms warm on Legolas’s face. “Let us begin with that.”
Legolas opened his mouth and closed his mind as the Noldo drew him forward and took his lips, tongue darting between them with consummate skill. He understood Erestor well enough by now to know he was required to participate, so he parted his lips to receive the kiss and moved his tongue in response, though without enthusiasm.
“That was neither a proper kiss nor a true submission.” Erestor drew away, his mouth wet, eyes steady and cold on Legolas’s face. “You will not lie under me like a corpse and be raped. I am many things, but that is not one of them.” He turned away, his manner growing brisk. “I will go to Thranduil now and tell him I am not able to train you to meet his needs.”
“No,” Legolas gasped, distraught with the idea of his father’s disappointment.
“Then convince me.” Erestor’s voice cracked like a whip as he turned back, eyes flashing. “This is your last chance, ernil ned avad!”
Legolas jumped as if he had been struck. “I am sorry!” he said, and then swallowed, his eyes wide. “Until you came here, I had never kissed another.”
Erestor tilted his head so slightly it was almost invisible, and he paused for a long moment, as if this was new information to him. “I understand,” he said at last, more forgiving now. “Didn’t I promise you pleasure?” He had, and Legolas nodded. He reached out and touched Erestor’s lips with his fingertips. They were soft and full. Warm. Erestor did not move, but allowed him to investigate.
Then, slowly, Legolas closed the distance between them and covered Erestor’s lips with his own, letting his hand fall away. He shut his eyes as the Noldo’s arms closed around him and pulled him close. Nudging Erestor’s lips with his tongue, Legolas was given access with a soft warm breath, and then tasted him, so unlike his father.
The kiss deepened, and Erestor’s tongue chased his. The experience of the Noldo was much greater than his, greater even than his father, and as Legolas relaxed, he realised there was much pleasure here. Erestor kissed him in a way that made him want more, and he slipped his arms around Erestor’s neck, only for the Noldo to pull back, a pleased look in his eyes.
“That is better,” he said softly. “I have handled this badly, I can see. Let us begin anew.” He stroked his fingers over Legolas’s hair, tracing the rim of his ear with one fingertip.
Legolas closed his eyes, surprised by a shiver of pleasure that ran through him like a flicker of flame. It still felt strange, and some part of him felt it wrong, but he swallowed the feeling, trying to remember his father’s need.
“Do not panic,” Erestor breathed, and nuzzled back for another, which Legolas gave, slowly warming to the gentle caress of lips and tongue, of fingers in his hair. “Don’t think.” He breathed the words into Legolas’s mouth, arms tightening gradually, until Legolas found himself pressing lightly against the door with Erestor’s body resting against him.
He could feel the elf’s arousal, hot and hard, but Erestor did not thrust or crush him close; instead he kissed patiently, devastatingly sweet, as if there was no rush to do this, no urgency at all. Except Legolas slowly realised that he was chasing Erestor’s tongue now, pushing forward for more of him, as what he grew to crave was given to him only in a measured dose, not quite enough.
At last Erestor drew back. “I think that is enough to show willing,” he said, and Legolas blinked his eyes open, tilting his head back slightly without thinking, trying to encourage Erestor to continue. The Noldo’s thumb was still brushing softly over his ear, and Legolas sighed, feeling a little confused.
When Erestor let him go completely and stepped back, Legolas gasped as he felt his own arousal nudged slightly by the other elf’s body.
“Tonight, you should enjoy time with your father. Speak to him of what we have discussed, and gain whatever reassurances you feel you need. He will put you at ease, I know.”
At those words, Legolas felt a confusing mix of joy and new disappointment. Now, when things were beginning to subtly change, why wouldn’t Erestor take what he would? Was it mercy, or perhaps rejection? “You will not be there?” he asked, bewildered.
“No,” Erestor said. “I will go to him now and we will spend the day together. He and I have matters of our own to discuss. I will rest tonight while you are with him, and we will resume your training tomorrow.”
He regarded Legolas for a moment. “I hope you will find it a pleasant thought to look forward to your lessons, and to their ultimate goal,” he said. “There is much of value that I can teach you.” He looked into Legolas’s eyes. “And much of pleasure to be had in the learning.”
So saying, he turned and departed, leaving Legolas to consider his words and to look forward to the unexpected gift of time alone with his ada. Maybe Thranduil would explain his relationship with Erestor and help Legolas better understand its nature and its limits.
Legolas touched his lips, which still felt pleasantly warm and swollen from kissing. He felt himself blush. Would he have to tell his father what he and Erestor had done? He knew it was so, and felt a flicker of shame – and of arousal – at the thought. Perhaps Thranduil would wish to reinforce his claim upon Legolas, even if they still must share.

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Translations:
ada – father/dad
ion nín – my son
raun ernil – errant prince
neth ernil – young prince
Úthaes nín – my temptation
ernil ned avad – prince of reluctance
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Prince in Training