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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.

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Chapter Twenty-three
Legolas awoke snuggled in comfort, two warm bodies wrapped around him. His father lay behind him, and Erestor’s dark hair mingled with his own on the pillow. He studied the other elf without moving, wondering at what drove him to be as he was, then felt his father move behind him, warm hand seeking.
He hissed softly, feeling bruised skin flare to sudden intense awareness of Thranduil’s touch. The sound made Erestor stir. He smiled at Legolas, morning sunlight pooling in his pale eyes.
“Have him, mûl ernil nín,” Erestor whispered, and Thranduil gave a low purr of acquiescence, reaching for oil.
Legolas cried out with pain and wanting the minute his ada’s hand touched him, unable to stay still, but Erestor held him steady, drinking in the sight of him with rapt attention as he writhed and moaned, sore but submissive.
The moment his ada slid inside, he felt his world go hazy with bliss, and was barely conscious of Erestor making a hum of approval. “He submits beautifully and swiftly for you. You have trained him well in this. He is exquisite.”
Then he could only exist, floating in his father’s possession, taking all he was given and letting it drown him.
The pain was harsh enough to make him whine instinctively in protest, and yet he would not give it up or else have it taken from him. He could feel the slightest movement his father made, every part of him, and Legolas relished it. He understood he enjoyed the pain, and saw the moment Erestor saw him embrace it too.
It seemed a while before it ended, but his father found release in him at a word from Erestor and Legolas felt all was well. He would recover, if given the chance, and suddenly he wondered if Erestor would take him too. But there seemed to be something else on the Noldo’s mind.
“Your first lesson, Legolas,” he said, his fingers caressing Legolas’s jaw. “Watch as I take your father. He wants it, just as you wanted him. Watch his reactions and how I respond to them.”
Legolas nodded instantly, turning over onto his other side to watch as Erestor climbed supple over the bed to Thranduil.
He couldn’t help but think on the parallels between what he saw and his own single experience with taking his father. Erestor began by kissing his way down Thranduil’s spine, opening him with his tongue, and Legolas wondered if Thranduil had asked for that from him before because it put him in mind of his old master and not of Legolas at all.
But that was not what he had been instructed to think; instead, he was to watch Erestor and learn from what he was doing. So Legolas tried to do so, having noted on his own behalf that Erestor was exceptionally deliberate, never acting without reason or cause. What made him do as he did? What signals did Thranduil provide to guide him?
Erestor’s eyes were keen, and he never seemed fully lost in what he was doing, always observing Thranduil. A gasp prompted the touch of a reassuring hand. A tremor caused him to intensify what he did. A moan brought an answering sound that drove Thranduil deeper into his own lust. At once, it occurred to Legolas this is how Erestor had treated him, and he remembered how it felt.
Erestor’s eyes flicked aside to Legolas, who nodded, trying to communicate understanding of what he saw.
Once Erestor had that signal from Legolas, he seemed to change how he handled Thranduil, as if he were taking the lesson a step further. Using both hands, he slapped Thranduil’s thighs smartly.
“Knees,” he ordered, and backed off as Thranduil struggled to obey, positioning his body the way Erestor wanted so he could get deeper. Also, it meant Erestor could drag his fingertips down the king’s back, over the ridges and raised welts that were still left there. Thranduil moaned and whimpered.
“See how he enjoys being reminded of what he is,” Erestor said, though he didn’t look in Legolas’s direction. All of his attention was focused on Thranduil. His father trembled, but remained in his position as Erestor’s thrusts became faster, harder, making his flesh quiver at the end of each movement.
“Only this morning are you mine, raun ernil,” Erestor said, leaning over, making his thrusts longer, pulling almost all the way out before sliding deep again. Legolas watched, and he thought Thranduil enjoyed that even more. He silently noted it. “After this, you will be a thing for your own son to practice on.”
Thranduil groaned. Erestor smiled and turned his head aside. “Today, you will learn about ropes and chains and binding,” he said, and Legolas nodded eagerly.
“Do you hear that?” Erestor again slapped Thranduil sharply on the thigh. “Today you will be bound as a slave by your son, and he will use you for his pleasure.” He thrust hard into Thranduil, giving him no mercy. “Where is your collar, mûl ned mûl?”
Thranduil jerked, grimacing as if he would resist. Erestor wrapped a fist in his long silver hair. He stilled the motion of his hips. “Your collar,” he said, his voice silky with threat. “If I say you will be a slave of this slave, that is what you will be. You are no king now. You are no prince. You are nothing.”
Thranduil moaned, shaking his head, but Erestor did not release him. “Legolas,” he said. “There is a drawer with a false bottom in his dresser. It is the third down. Open it and you will find the collar there, I think.”
Legolas went, obeying with reluctance, one eye on his ada.
“Do you wish to do this now, raun ernil?” Erestor asked his father quietly. “Think very carefully,” he warned.
Instead of voicing a reply, Thranduil struggled slightly. “And so I have my answer,” Erestor murmured. He didn’t seem disappointed about it though.
“What else do you find?” he called out more loudly to Legolas.
“There are things within.” Legolas hesitated. “Whips for beating and other things I do not know the use of.”
“Bring them.” Erestor held Thranduil firmly by the hair as he twisted it. “He requires discipline.”
Legolas hurried over with his arms full of a variety of devices and implements. He let them go onto the bed, but retained the collar, examining it with curiosity. It was very similar to his own, but it had his ada’s name on it. He looked at Erestor with a question on his lips.
To his surprise, Erestor pulled out of Thranduil’s body, his erection still hard and angry, and restrained Thranduil with his body weight, pulling his head up from the bed with the grip in his hair. He nodded. “Put it on him. It may cool his unwise insolence.”
Legolas crawled to the head of the bed with the collar in his hands, biting his lip. When he faced Thranduil, his ada looked up at him, something rebellious burning in his eyes. Legolas felt something deep in him answer the look, something he’d never felt before. He tilted his head.
Holding his father’s collar with one hand, he reached the other up to his own neck to caress the leather circlet he himself wore. Thranduil’s eyes blazed in recognition, while Legolas regarded him coolly.
“Come now, ada,” he said softly. “You are to be mine.” He reached forward, and Thranduil’s hands shot out to grab at his wrists. Behind him, Erestor pulled on his hair until he let go, his eyes closed now in pain. Legolas frowned and put the collar on quickly, following Erestor’s instruction, taking a short length of chain from the objects he had brought, and attaching one end to the collar, and the other to the bedstead.
“He will fight all the way,” Erestor announced, displeased at Thranduil continuing struggles. “I shall bind his wrists behind him. Watch me and attend how I make the knots so as not to harm him.”
Legolas did, though he was quite well-versed in tying knots. Erestor knew how to tie knots that slipped in one direction but not the other, and he tightened them with care, ensuring they did not pinch.
“Now you tie his ankles.”
“Close together?”
“Yes. He will not have satisfaction until he has submitted himself properly.” Erestor did not grace Thranduil with another look, instead watching Legolas make the knots and instructing him when he faltered. At last Thranduil lay bound hand and foot, jerking against his bonds and cursing, and Erestor finally loosed his hair.
“Gag him,” he told Legolas coolly. “He has nothing of use to say.”
Legolas quickly found a gag amongst the items and used it, while Erestor secured his ada’s bound ankles to the foot of the bed. Once they had finished, Thranduil could not move at all, and Erestor turned his head to the side where Legolas was sitting, watching. Thranduil’s eyes still blazed, though he seemed less angry and more regretful.
Just as Legolas was considering touching the collar around Thranduil’s neck, Erestor joined him on the bed. “Lie down, Legolas,” he said softly, and Legolas looked at Erestor with a soft gasp, seeing the intent in his eyes.
Swiftly he complied, while Thranduil looked on, unable to do anything else. “I did not mean to do this,” Erestor said, taking the time to apply a liberal amount of oil to himself, and to Legolas who stayed with his legs spread open for it, even though it would hurt very much.
Gently, he turned Legolas’s head to look at his father. “Let him see the pain in your eyes as I find my satisfaction in you. You who are obedient even in the face of your own pain.”
Then he sheathed himself, and Legolas cried out, tears blurring Thranduil’s image before him. His body burned like fire as Erestor took him, but he wasted no time, finding resolution quickly, although Legolas was certain that his pain-filled helpless cries drove Erestor on to that end.
Erestor gently pulled out and comforted Legolas when he had finished. “You are a fine submissive, obedient and willing.” He kissed Legolas gently. “You have earned your reward. Use the slave we have tied. Give him as much pleasure as you can without granting him release. He has not earned it. Leave his arms bound and do not remove the gag. You may come inside his body when you finish.”
Hesitant, Legolas approached Thranduil, who looked up at him, eyes wet, lashes spiked with tears. Legolas thought the look might have been an apology, and he trailed his hand over Thranduil’s shoulder, trying to comfort him – trying to draw comfort.
Erestor bent low to Thranduil’s ear. “Resist either of us, and I will fuck him again, hard and without mercy. Then I will make you do it as well. Will you submit, or will you hear your precious treasure scream?”
He slowly untied Thranduil’s ankles, wary lest his father kick, but he seemed subdued, and when Legolas pulled him to his knees and parted his thighs, he stayed there.
Thranduil shuddered and bent his head, meek, to let Legolas mount him, moaning through the gag.
Thranduil’s body was ready, already slick and well-loosened.
Legolas couldn’t help remembering the last time he’d known this pleasure, but everything seemed different now. His father was not in control of this. He and Erestor were. Legolas looked over his father and palmed his cock, pumping a few times, aware that Thranduil would hear it. Then he slowly pushed inside.
Almost immediately, he felt his father’s body constrict around him, and he swore, remembering how he’d feared to lose control straight away, because it felt like that now. Nevertheless he set an even pace, long strokes as he’d seen Erestor give – the ones that seemed to give his father the most pleasure.
Again and again his father’s body tightened around him, until Legolas knew he was doing it on purpose. Trying to make him come. Legolas had a good idea that was not allowed unless he asked Thranduil to do it, and it was threatening to undo him.
“Stop that!” he said in desperation, but Thranduil didn’t, and then, shocking himself and without thinking too much, Legolas delivered a slap to Thranduil’s thigh. The sound was shocking, and yet when Legolas looked to Erestor for guidance, the other elf nodded his head as a signal he’d done the right thing.
The maddening rhythmic clench around him ceased, leaving only the natural tight embrace of his father’s body. Legolas drew in a breath and began moving again, those same long in and out movements; withdrawing almost completely, then sinking deep, feeling that beloved flesh give way before him in a kind of relaxed surrender. It felt fantastic.
He watched Erestor, who approached his father with something in his hand – small bits of metal joined by springs, with some soft material on the tips and chains at the other end, fastened to bits of lead. He watched as Erestor attached them to Thranduil’s nipples, tightening them by means of rings that slid up the length. Thranduil gasped and shuddered, clenching involuntarily on Legolas again.
“Do not,” Legolas warned, delivering another slap that made the chains sway. Thranduil keened, a high, aching sound, but he obeyed. The weights swung with every push of Legolas’s hips, and Thranduil’s ears turned dusky red. Erestor half-smiled, stroking the tip of one. “Watch his ears,” he confided to Legolas. “This is a sign of great pleasure. Deprive him of climax.”
Legolas stopped his even strokes, staggering the rhythm. He could hear Thranduil’s harsh breaths, a whimper at the beginning of each. Erestor attached another set of weights to the clips, and Thranduil shuddered, sweat breaking out on his skin, his ears still that eager, dusky red.
“He will not come unless you are fucking him or stroking his cock,” Erestor advised. “Still yourself entirely, and drag your nails across his back.”
Legolas swallowed; there were still dark welts there; he had watched earlier as Thranduil responded when Erestor touched them.
When he was deep inside his father, Legolas stilled as Erestor had told him. Just to be still was a pleasure, Thranduil was hot and tight, and Legolas could almost feel Thranduil’s pulse around him. Leaning forward, he followed Erestor’s other instruction, though he did not use his fingernails.
As his fingertips dragged over the welts, he felt Thranduil’s body tighten in pain… but it was not just that. His father enjoyed it to be reminded of the pain! Legolas gasped, as nonsensical sounds came from behind the gag. Legolas’s open mouth formed into a kind of smile when he realised Thranduil was trying to apologise for the tightening of his body. He couldn’t help it.
Legolas bit his lip, and caressed the marks more, using his nails as Erestor had suggested, certain that those were not sounds of pure pain coming from behind the gag. “You suffer very beautifully, ada,” he said, and Thranduil shivered. Erestor nodded, pleased with his words.
“Keep him on the edge,” Erestor commanded, his eyes dark as he watched them. Legolas varied slow thrusts of his hips with passes of his hands and nails, even flicking the weights at the end of their chains, until Thranduil’s flanks gleamed with sweat and he whimpered against the gag; he had lost control of his body again, and was unable to keep from tightening around Legolas whenever a new surge of sensation wracked him.
Erestor reached and loosed the gag, taking it away. “Apologize and show him you know your place. Beg for release.”
Broken syllables fell from Thranduil’s lips: “I am sorry… please, let me… ion nín!” but Erestor frowned at him.
“He is not your subordinate to command!” He forestalled Legolas with a commanding gesture. “You will address him properly or I will have him withdraw and I will stripe you again for insolence!”
Legolas made a soft sound of distress in his throat, but Erestor flashed him a warning glance.
“Herdir,” Thranduil moaned, barely audible, and buried his face in the coverlets. “Forgive me, herdir!”
“To him.” Stern as steel. “Lift your head and speak.”
By now Thranduil was trembling so violently he might almost have thrown Legolas off, but he did as Erestor commanded and raised his head, speaking clearly into the silence.
“Please, Legolas, herdir nín. Grant me release, I beg of you,” Thranduil said, his voice shaky. Legolas made a move to allow it, but before he could use his hand to stroke his father, Erestor grabbed his wrist. Thranduil had not finished speaking.
“I am sorry I resisted the collar. I am yours. I belong to you, utterly. Just as deeply as you belong to me.”
Legolas bit his lip, surprised to find his father’s words had moved him so much. He recalled the long ago evening when Thranduil had tried to explain the games he would teach, how he had hinted that Legolas was his equal. How he had poured the wine, purposefully subservient. Resistance was just part of that game, Legolas realised now, and it made his heart swell with love and happiness.
At Erestor’s nod, he took hold of Thranduil’s neglected hardness and stroked him quickly, urging him on. “Come for me, ada. You have been so beautiful here for me.”
He watched as his ada shook and sobbed out his release, tremors wracking his long, lean ribs and flanks, his body tightening mercilessly on Legolas, though not intentionally, dragging climax from him as well. He bent forward over his ada, moaning through his release – but with some small part of him watching, some part aware of Thranduil, ensuring that he was well.
That same small part of him that remained aware also noted Erestor looking upon them with a faint expression of disconcert or loss – perhaps even envy? – as they moaned and shuddered together, and he understood deep in his heart that he had touched something in his ada Erestor never had, and perhaps never could.
Legolas understood abruptly that Thranduil would have submitted more deeply, and without such rebellion, if Erestor had not come between them. Moreover, the other elf knew it.
Legolas recovered and realised his eyes were still locked with Erestor’s, that silent communication passing between them, assertion and acknowledgement.

To be continued...

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Translations:
mûl ernil nín: My slave prince
ada: Father, dad, daddy
raun ernil: Errant prince
mûl ned mûl: Slave of a slave
Herdir: Master
Herdir nín: My master
Ion nín: My son
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Prince in Training