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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-six
When Legolas awoke, it was because Erestor was touching his shoulder, reaching over his father to to it. He blinked, and Erestor moved back. They both studied Thranduil in silence as he slept. He looked so peaceful between them. The welts on his back were healing quickly - soon they would disappear altogether, leaving him perfect once more. Sitting up, Legolas looked down at his father’s feet, which were a faint pink on the soles. He looked at Erestor, who smiled to see him remember to check if his father needed attention.
“He sleeps,” Legolas said fondly, leaning on one elbow and toying with a strand of his father’s hair.
“He will wake soon,” Erestor noted. “And when he does he should serve us both. How would you have him serve you, ernil neth?”
Legolas licked his lips, considering. There was no mistaking Erestor’s meaning, and Legolas was tempted by the perfection of his father’s mouth on him, but he had known his father’s body too few times.
“You may have his lips, Master,” Legolas said without thinking.
“Then prepare him for your use,” ordered Erestor, passing him the oil. Legolas faltered.
“But he sleeps!” he said again, shocked. Erestor only smiled.
“Did he always wake you beforehand?” he asked, and Legolas bit his lip, suddenly blushing to remember all of those mornings when his father woke him with his cock. To do the same to him… Legolas felt a sudden flutter of excitement at the thought. His ada would be perfection indeed when he awoke that way, his body tightening then welcoming.
He made his touch very subtle, starting out with a slow caress to Thranduil’s ribs and buttocks, then expanding, moving so slowly and gradually his father remained deep in reverie. He warmed the oil on his fingers, dipping into the bottle whenever he needed more, and slid them slowly into his ada. Erestor helped, lifting Thranduil’s thigh, giving similarly gentle caresses.
He watched with interest as Legolas prepared Thranduil, giving no further instruction-- apparently Legolas performed acceptably.
Finally he was ready, lining himself up and drawing a deep, slow breath, savouring this moment and all its meanings, readying himself for the tight clasp of his father’s sleeping flesh. He could drive in forcefully or slide in slowly, and he hesitated briefly as he considered which would be the sweetest.
Slowly, he decided-- to let Thranduil waken on a glorious golden tide of sensation, of possession. His possession.
As he felt his father’s heat around him, he didn’t need his father’s startled gasp to know he was awake; they were connected, and Legolas could feel the body around him become conscious. It wasn’t just a tightening he felt, it was a response that felt so good he had to still for a moment as he became used to it.
“Legolas,” moaned his father beneath him, all but melting into the bed now in a deliberate relaxation.
“It is all right, Ada,” he said. “Just let me take what I want from you.” He said something similar to what Thranduil might have said to him, remembering how it felt. He could feel the smile on his face as he began to move again and Erestor took some of his father’s attention, sitting up against the head of the bed so that Thranduil could please his other Master with his mouth.
“Do not come without permission,” Legolas warned softly, stroking his father’s hair aside so he could have a better view of Thranduil’s mouth stretched around Erestor’s cock. He angled himself deliberately so each stroke gave his father a jolt of pleasure, then set about the pleasant task of fucking him, increasing the sensations by sweeping his hands over Thranduil’s lean belly or pinching lightly at his nipples.
He noted Erestor was pulling Thranduil’s hair to make him moan, so he began working in tandem with the other elf, deliberately finding a rhythm between them that would drive Thranduil mad with need to come.
Erestor raised a brow and smiled, wicked and sharp, approving. He began thrusting harder and deeper, making Thranduil struggle to take him. Legolas felt that struggle in the clutch of his ada’s muscles, spasming involuntarily on him as he swallowed and half-gagged. Fascinated, he too speeded his hips, stabbing harder at Thranduil’s prostate, twisting one nipple very slowly.
It was too perfect to continue for very long, and Legolas was the first to let go, spilling deep inside his ada with a satisfied groan. He was still inside when Erestor came too. At if it were timed, they both withdrew simultaneously, leaving Thranduil on his hands and knees, struggling to catch his breath.
Without waiting, they got Thranduil on his back between them, and Legolas scrunched some oil on his hand to play with his father’s erection, smiling slightly as he moaned and trembled. “Do not come,” Legolas breathed, and his father begged - actually begged. Somehow it felt wonderful to draw such a response from him.
He watched as Erestor’s fingers plucked leisurely at one of his ada’s nipples. When he noticed Legolas watching, he smiled. “Observe,” he said, and then pinched the nipple so cruelly Legolas flinched in empathy. His father, though… Thranduil arched up from the bed, hissing. Legolas looked down, feeling his father get harder in his hand, as if the pain was pleasure to him. Perhaps it was.
“Master!” Thranduil managed, his eyes squeezed closed. It was irresistible for Legolas. With his free hand, he brushed his fingers over Thranduil’s other nipple, then pinched, as hard as he dared.
Thranduil gave a keening whine, shuddering, and for a moment Legolas thought he had disobeyed and come, but unbelievably he had not, his whole body quivering with strain. Sweat slicked his flanks, heat baking off him.
“Will you give him mercy or will you make him fail?” Erestor asked softly. “If he fails, a punishment must follow. He takes punishment very beautifully.” He stroked Thranduil’s silver hair, as gentle now as he had been cruel only moments before. “A little more of this, and he will not be able to resist you, no matter how he tries.”
Erestor pinched again, demonstrating Thranduil’s response; every muscle quivered, and breath came harsh in Thranduil’s throat as he battled his body’s instinctive need. Erestor raised a brow again at Legolas, challenging him.
With his eyes on Erestor, Legolas leaned in to whisper to his father. Something strange had come over him. It must have, for what he was about to do was so cruel, and yet he wanted to do it. It made his heart beat faster and a rush of awareness whisper over his skin.
He breathed in and let his heated breath go soft in a sigh near his father’s ear, brushing his lips there so that Thranduil could feel the upward curve of his lips.
“No mercy, ada,” he whispered, knowing Thranduil had heard Erestor’s words as well as he. He rolled that abused nipple in his fingers as he pointed his tongue and traced the edge of his father’s ear, and he felt his father climax in his hand, unable to obey the command to hold back. Legolas was pleased, somehow.
“And now, you shall be punished,” he whispered.
Thranduil was still trembling, his eyes still closed. “Anything you wish, Master,” he said.
Legolas glanced over to the little pile of equipment Erestor had fetched out of the dungeons. It included a number of floggers of various weights and sizes. He remembered his first taste of the particular humiliation of spanking: the sting and sensitivity, the lasting sensation, the embarrassment and uncertainty and dependence it created in him.
Now that the shoe was on the other foot, the memory provoked a lash of eager arousal in his belly.
“Go on your knees and fetch back one of the little whips,” Legolas whispered, trying not to let his lust make his voice thick and husky. “I will use it on you.”
Legolas watched as Thranduil crawled off the bed to the small table and selected one of the floggers. He came back on his hands and knees, the handle of the flogger in his mouth. It made Legolas smile, and he accepted it when his father tilted his face up, taking the instrument into his hands to study it.
“Come back onto the bed between us, ada,” he instructed as he handed the little whip to Erestor. “Your first master is going to show me how to punish you well.”
Thranduil shivered and moaned, but did as he was told, lying on his front between them, his head turned towards Legolas. He seemed eager to display his reaction to Legolas as Erestor began using the implement to punish his buttocks, and though Legolas should be watching Erestor, for a while he was caught by the look in his father’s eyes. Love, lust, submission and surrender. It was a heady mix, but eventually he gave his attention to this new lesson, and by the end, Legolas was doing the punishing.
Their day was spent exploring more in the secret room downstairs. Between them they had Thranduil in the sling, yet this time they used him between them. Then the rack, where Legolas learned how to affix the weights on the nipple clamps Erestor had used before.
The next week or two were full of lessons, and Legolas learnt much that he could not have learned from his father. These things required a teacher. Understanding when to pursue a punishment and when to stop was the most important of these, especially given the more extreme humiliations Thranduil seemed partial to: Erestor had been quite right about that.
But then, as if to disturb them, the messenger who had been sent out to catch up with Boromir’s party returned, with the son of the steward in tow. They met him first in the audience chamber, and though Legolas was aware Erestor and his father had discussed a strategy between them for the new negotiation, Legolas was not party to it. To his mind, Erestor had proved himself with the spiders, and Legolas was willing to trust that whatever he suggested would work admirably well.

*****

The Gondorian ambassador’s arrival at Thranduil’s palace occurred with little fanfare this time, just a quiet announcement from Tauriel.
Thranduil, with Erestor and Legolas at his side, mounted the throne of his realm and received Boromir, who seemed far less self-assured than before. He refused to meet Legolas’s eye.
“We are willing to negotiate for the return of the criminals to Gondor,” Thranduil informed him. “But I fear the terms of our former treaty no longer apply.”
Boromir was ashen-faced as he knelt before Thranduil, and he swallowed rather obviously. “Please believe I had no knowledge of what the criminals did, majesty,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard in the chamber. “As representative of Gondor, I am willing to do all I can to repair the harm that has been done here.”
On his throne, Thranduil appeared bored. “Those criminals endangered the life of my son. I do not think there is any reparation for that. Do you?”
“I apologise, majesty,” he said, and at last his eyes alighted on Legolas for a brief moment. “Highness,” he said, licking his lips nervously, his voice even quieter. Thranduil let the man tremble before them for another endless moment.
“Very well. We will reconvene in the conference room when you have rested. Your accommodations are much more comfortable than those of our prisoners. You have my son to thank for that.”
Boromir’s gaze flicked to Legolas again, a combination of hope and alarm in his eyes.
“I am grateful for your intervention, Your Highness.”
Legolas lifted a hand lazily, his best imitation of his father’s bored dismissal, although it was true he had prevailed upon his father to provide a well appointed suite to the steward’s son. “I thought it would be convenient to have you close at hand. For… the negotiations.” He remembered his father’s instructions to flirt, from before, and could not help continuing it here. He felt Erestor’s eyes boring into him, though the Noldo remained calm and impassive.
Thranduil smiled, the faintest flicker of approval. “My son is quite generous.” He arose and laid that languid hand on Legolas’s shoulder. Legolas leaned into it without thinking, making Boromir’s eyes go wider, then narrow with suspicion.
Yet they filed back out, the three of them together, leaving Boromir to gather his wits until the morrow, when he would face them all again.

To be continued...

Authors' Note: Thank you for reading, we hope you're enjoying it. Why not leave a comment?
Mmm... the next chapter is one of my favourites... *g*
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Prince in Training