Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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-five
Legolas could hardly manage to sit still and eat; his eyes kept straying to his father, and he was half-hard just thinking of all the things he had seen in the hidden rooms. Where would he begin, if it were left up to him? The harness, with his father laid out helpless for taking? Legolas quivered and almost groaned aloud at the thought of Thranduil suspended and bound for him, long silver hair trailing, desperate and begging.
Erestor laughed, setting aside his cup of wine. “Thranduil, we torture your son even as we sit at meat! Look at him; he is eager to hold you in thrall. The flush on his cheeks, the tremor in his hands… I will wager my favourite circlet that he is hard.”
Legolas blushed harder, but looked to his father, and would not drop his eyes; an answering flush rose in Thranduil’s cheeks-- and for a wonder, it was his gaze that fell, his lips parting on a slow breath.
Feeling as if he were in some strange dream, Legolas turned his chair to face his father, still staring at him. He felt no blush on his face now as Thranduil moved from his chair to his knees, his hands placed onto Legolas’s lap as if in supplication.
At last, Legolas looked to Erestor for guidance, who seemed as surprised by the turn of events as he was. When he saw Legolas looking at him, he nodded sharply at Thranduil, frowning. Chastised, Legolas turned his attention to his father again, realising he should never have let it drift away. Thankfully, Thranduil had no knowledge of any of that, his head bowed as he looked at the floor.
“Ada,” said Legolas with love, taking hold of his hands. Thranduil looked up then, and his gaze was pleading for something. Legolas did not know exactly what, but decided it did not matter. “We will begin,” Legolas said firmly, as he caressed his father’s face with his hand. “We play at niceties here, when all I wish is to play with you.”
Erestor’s teasing was forgotten as he stood up, Thranduil along with him. “You will be good, won’t you, ar-mul nín?”
“Yes, herdir nín.” Thranduil’s voice was hot and taut with lust.
They departed the wine cellar and made the short trek down the corridor to the hidden room, and Legolas made his father go first, the better to watch him. Thranduil still strode with innate pride, and Legolas glanced to Erestor, finding that the Noldo was watching him.
“Stop,” he said, and his ada did, glancing back with an inquisitive tilt to his brow.
“Wait here,” Legolas directed. “Erestor, watch over him.”
He went into the room ahead of them, rummaging until he found what he wished: a short length of chain between two leather anklets, meant to hobble. He returned with them in his hands, and Thranduil gazed down in surprise as Legolas went to one knee, removing his boots and putting them onto him.
“You walk like a king, not a slave,” Legolas said steadily. “While you are under my command today, you are the king no more.”
Erestor was smiling broadly when he arose, and Legolas took that to mean he had done well. Thranduil glanced at them both, wide eyed, but took the short, dainty steps required by the hobble, and Legolas steadied him when he faltered.
When they were stood in the middle of the room, Legolas looked around him in indecision. He did not know where to go or what to do first, although he found his gaze straying to the sling. But then he remembered how Thranduil had begun this, at the lunch table, and his heart was full of love. Legolas decided.
“Show me what you like the most ar-mûl nín,” he said, “and we shall do that first.”
Without speaking, Thranduil shuffled slowly over to a trunk against the wall. He found what he was looking for quickly, then returned to Legolas, holding the items out for consideration.
Legolas took them: a black leather hood with no eyeholes and a strange hole for the mouth: a round ring-gag that he saw the purpose of instantly. He gulped, even as he imagined it, and he also took a small long strip of hard leather with a handle. But this could not be used for punishment. It was too small. Legolas frowned at it, and then watched curiously as his father shuffled over the to the device he himself had been restrained in earlier.
Legolas gulped, remembering how it felt to be locked within the thing. Erestor stepped to his side, a firm and reassuring presence.
“Clean it for use, Thranduilion. Then I will help you put him in it.”
Legolas obeyed in haste, taking a clean cloth and grain alcohol to clean the bar, then set the supplies aside and looked to Erestor.
“On your stomach,” he told his father, recalling what had been said to him. He patted a table which should be just the right height-- doubtless it had been made with such a purpose in mind.
Thranduil obeyed, struggling a bit with the hobble. When he was there Legolas released it and set it aside. The device was very heavy, awkward in his hands. HIs father was taller than he, and its parts required adjustment. Erestor showed him the ways of it, and soon he had his ada positioned, his ankles within their loops.
Thranduil had not been opened as recently as Legolas, so Legolas took time to stretch and lubricate him, feeling him quiver as each finger pressed in, warm and slick. He wished he could warm the metal rod, but there was not time, so he set it in place, then guided it as they put Thranduil’s arms into the loops and tightened the binding, adjusting the bars until he was perfectly held, the bar buried deep inside his body.
Tenderly Legolas moved his ada’s hair, braiding it so it would not catch underneath him and pull.
“Now the hood,” Erestor said.
Legolas willed his hands not to shake as he positioned it, Thranduil opening his mouth to accept the gag. Erestor checked his work, and Legolas thought his ada’s lips looked terribly stretched around it, but he said nothing. Now that his mouth was so wide, Thranduil was making little noises as his body moved slightly, and Legolas knew what it was he was feeling. He laid a comforting hand on his ada’s shoulder.
Not only was he in the same position as Legolas earlier, but he could not see, could not speak and could barely hear. Touch was important to him now. Thranduil made a louder sound and a little drool escaped from the gag.
“Use him,” Erestor said. “It is what he expects now, what he wants.” Legolas was not so certain.
“Remember it is what he asked for when you gave him leave to choose,” Erestor pointed out. That decided him, and Legolas freed himself, touching himself slowly while he looked upon Thranduil restrained. It did not take him long to be ready.
He pressed into the open ring of the gag, feeling how helpless his father was to stop any of it, hand gentle on the back of the hood, and Legolas felt a rush of power and love that his father trusted him like this. He kept his first thrusts shallow, sliding along Thranduil’s tongue and watching him attempt to move, little noises coming from his wide open mouth every time Legolas pulled back.
Thranduil could not be still, and every motion Legolas made fucked him on the metal bar that lay inside his body. Now he understood the wisdom of him being made to try everything first. Legolas could not help but be aware of how it felt for his father; he stroked his ada’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the place where the metal penetrated his father, irresistible and merciless.
That brutality was desired.
He moved harder, making Thranduil moan, taking what he wished-- fucking Thranduil’s mouth with increasing confidence and strength. His ada drooled around the gag, helpless, quivering in his bonds. Legolas remembered the pressure on his cock, and knew his ada felt that as well, his erection crushed helpless beneath his weight.
Then Erestor picked up the small strip of hard leather, stepping close. “Here is how it is used,” he said. Legolas did not cease his movements, but watched as Erestor flicked the more flexible end of the leather against Thranduil’s right foot, right on the sole. His father cried out, heard even around Legolas cock as his body seized and then relaxed.
Erestor passed him the leather and Legolas realised it was long enough for him to reach, if he leaned forward. With a helpless glance at Erestor, he pulled away far enough for Thranduil to take a breath, then pressed forward all the way, feeling his cock slide down his ada’s throat as he used the implement to punish his other foot. In addition to the rest of his body, Thranduil’s throat tensed, and if felt so good Legolas moaned.
He leaned back again, his free hand rubbing at Thranduil’s shoulder.
“Continue,” Erestor said. “He can take much more.” The Noldo seated himself a short distance away to supervise, ready to intervene if necessary, and Legolas began to set a rhythm, pulling back to give Thranduil chance to breathe, then sliding deep into his throat, punishing his feet at the end of each movement. It was slow enough to delay his release, but did not prevent it, and Legolas finally came with a wild cry, deep inside his father’s throat.
Thranduil swallowed around him, milking him until Legolas withdrew, too sensitive to bear more.
“Well done,” Erestor praised. “Now watch as I have him.”
Erestor took himself out, bringing his cock to full erection with a few quick strokes, and drove into Thranduil’s mouth hard, making him moan. He swung the small flogger with precise, vicious strokes, each time drawing a yelp from Thranduil, who was helpless to resist any of it.
“He has learned to breathe through this, but I must give him enough of a pause after each stroke that he may. If I drove in and stayed, he would suffocate. He could not fight free,” Erestor warned, and Legolas watched, realising that despite the ferocity of his thrusts, Erestor did indeed pace himself to give Thranduil a chance to breathe: inhale on one thrust, exhale on the next.
“Watch his fingers and his toes. If they turn blue, the straps are too tight, or he is not getting enough breath. In this apparatus he will show distress with his hands; he will signal with them, if he needs you to stop.”
Erestor resumed, peppering Thranduil’s feet with savage strikes, turning them pink and sensitive.
When he was done, Erestor held his position for a moment or two, his lips twisted as Thranduil milked him, just as he had Legolas. When he finally drew out, he did not remove his hand from Thranduil’s shoulder, caressing him lightly.
“It is important that you do not leave him alone at a time like this. He has been used by both of us. He needs touch and reassurance. Help me to free him, and we will care for him together.”
Legolas stepped forward, warning his father of his proximity with a palm on his back. Then he began to loosen the restraints, working quickly but tenderly, until he could free his father from the metal rod. Erestor meanwhile removed the hood, and the sound of Thranduil’s breathing was loud in the silence.
“He will hear you now,” said Erestor. “Tell him how he has pleased you.” He paused, still with those gentle reassuring touches. “Just as you have pleased me, raun ernil,” he murmured softly, so that Legolas could hardly hear. “Just as you always have.”
“You did beautifully, ada. You gave us both much pleasure.” Legolas stroked down the length of his back, over his arse, and along his thigh. “You took so much more than I could have done.” He examined Thranduil’s feet, warm and pink from the flogging. “I look forward to having you again,” he murmured, wondering if he could give Thranduil the pain he seemed to need.
“He will plead for you to hurt him, when he is not gagged. You must agree on signals so that he can escape if it is too much for him. You must learn to read his body so that you can stop if he neglects to signal-- but you need to know how much he can take before you stop. You are inexperienced yet.” Erestor spared a gentle hand for Legolas, stroking his hair. “Remember, he wishes this. He has risked much to bring you to this place where you can give it.”
Legolas stroked his ada again, sliding fingers up inside him to feel if he was chilled-- but he was not; he had warmed the bar in his desperation. Thranduil moaned, lifting into the touch.
“Good,” Erestor murmured. “Ensure he is warm, that there is no blood. Give him water.”
Together they helped Thranduil to roll on his back, and Legolas winced at his cock, red and swollen, unsatisfied, the grain of the table pressed into the tender skin.
Erestor was watching him again, he knew.
Legolas saw to his father’s more pressing needs first, offering him water and examining his feet, applying an ointment to them in an attempt to limit the soreness. Once those things were accomplished, he leaned over his father’s body, one hand on the table at either side of his hips as he studied his ada’s erection.
“Keep him still,” Legolas murmured to Erestor, and placed his own hands on his father’s pelvis to hold him fast to the table, using his bodyweight. The touch of a hand would be too rough, but a tongue… Legolas licked at his father’s hard flesh, enjoying the moan Thranduil gave.
“Ion nín… ion nín…” he gasped, over and over again as Legolas took his time before finally taking Thranduil into his mouth properly, leaning his weight on his hands so that his father could not arch up, leaving him free to direct the pace and depth.
“Thank your master for his kind attention,” Erestor said, and at first he thought the Noldo must be talking to him, but he was not.
“Thank you, herdir,” he said softly, pleading, helpless. “Thank you for helping me.”
Legolas hummed, his heart swelling with love for his father, and took him deep, swallowing around him, giving Thranduil the pressure and rhythm he knew his father liked, until he was moaning and writhing under the restraint, his cock quivering until he threw his head back with a cry and came.
Legolas accepted it in his mouth, then gently moved upward to kiss his father, sharing what he had been given in a slow kiss. Thranduil sucked greedily at his mouth, licking deep, still moaning low in his throat.
Legolas felt his cock stirring, and knew he wanted his ada again-- as soon as it could be managed. He lifted his head and laughed softly in amazement. “You are beautiful, ada-- so beautiful I would spend every day and night having you, if I could. I do not see how you ever let me leave your bed.”
When they thought Thranduil was able, they helped him to dress between them and then aided him as they made their way back up into the palace’s upper levels. Erestor indicated they would continue Legolas’s training the next day, and he readily agreed, concerned only for Thranduil, who was still very quiet and thoughtful, quick to obey and please.
Since it was only early evening, they retired to a comfortable lounge and had dinner brought to them. All of them ate more heartily than they had at lunch, and Thranduil regained a little of himself, coming around in their company as they talked of the day’s events.
Tauriel sent a message that enthused them all over dinner: Erestor’s strategy against the spiders had met with rapid success, and the main battle against them was now being fought several leagues away from the palace. A few nests remained to be cleared and destroyed, but very soon the Silvans would be safe to return to their homes in the wood. Legolas spent some time in discussion with Erestor, intrigued by his ideas. Thranduil listened lazily, every now and again remarking upon how well they were getting on.
The later evening found them all together, Erestor and Legolas sat on a settee with Thranduil between them. His father leaned back against Erestor’s chest while the Noldo read a book, absently played with Thranduil’s hair and occasionally refilled his wine goblet.
All of Thranduil’s attention was for Legolas, however, who ran his fingers up and down over Thranduil’s calves and moved the pieces on the chessboard as they played. Legolas was sure his father was still vulnerable, and that combined with the wine made him certain to win. It was something of a shock to him when his father beat him easily before the night was through.
Distracted, he looked to Erestor, and saw he was reading the very same book that was recovered from the orcs.
“Why do you read that?” Legolas asked, far more receptive to hear Erestor’s reasons now than he had been when his heart was hurt. Erestor lowered the book and smiled.
“For hope. Why else?”
Legolas drew back a little while Thranduil drifted into reverie between them. Legolas took the goblet of wine from his father’s relaxed fingers before it dropped and placed it on the table. “How do you read hope there?” Legolas questioned earnestly. “Do you seek to save them from what they are?”
Erestor flashed him a perceptive look. “Sadly, even Elrond could not do such,” he remarked. “No, I do not seek to restore them. I find hope in the fact that despite the torture that made them, despite the darkness that bore them, there is some essence within that remains a part of Ilúvatar.”
For a moment, Legolas pondered that, his brow slightly furrowed. “But darkness has won then,” he argued, and he knew he was pleading for Erestor to prove him wrong in some way. He wanted to know that same hope, whatever it was. Erestor smiled, as if he could see that desire, and shut the book.
“Not completely, Legolas. Though they may be beyond redemption, the orcs are merely changed, not created anew. The darkness cannot create, only corrupt, which means that however bad things seem, we will find a way. The children of Ilúvatar cannot be destroyed. And all living things have a common source. That source is intrinsically good.”
These were ideas and concepts that Legolas’ education had not prepared him for, and he wondered if at some future time his father would free him to study at Imladris and learn of these things. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “I do not know enough about it,” he said, resigned.
“One day, I might get the opportunity to teach you that too,” Erestor responded, more than a little amusement in his eyes, as if he had read Legolas’ mind again. Before he could react, Legolas surprised himself with a yawn.
Legolas was weary by this time, and so instead of continuing the conversation he reached to run his hand along his father’s thigh, taking up his hand, waking him. “Ada, let us retire. Tomorrow you should be rested. And Erestor should come with us, if he wishes it.”
Erestor nodded, smiling and stroking Thranduil’s hair. They undressed together and lay down in the king’s wide bed, Legolas and Erestor on either side of him. Thranduil sighed in contentment, his eyelids heavy, and kissed them each before succumbing to his weariness and sliding peacefully into a deep reverie, Erestor not far behind him. Legolas lay awake rather longer, unwilling to surrender the sight of his father’s face, peaceful and satisfied, full of trust and love. But at last he slept, warm and content, and his dreams were filled with anticipation for the morning.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you had fun! :)

Translations:
ar-mul nín – my royal slave
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Prince in Training