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
- 2
- 3
Chapter Three

It wasn’t only emotionally difficult to face his father, it was physically challenging as well, since as soon as Legolas walked into the dining hall and saw Thranduil there, his gaze dropped automatically to his father’s crotch. He didn’t mean to do it, and he prayed no one had noticed as he quickly looked away and made his way to the table.

At least, unlike breakfast, he needn’t serve himself. His food would be brought to him. Legolas waited patiently, the hum of conversation ebbing and flowing around him as he sat quietly. He realised he could pick out his father’s own tones amongst the voices, and was horrified to find his body responding to it against his will.

He shuffled his chair further into the table, only for his father to pass by him, ruffling his hair. “Whatever is wrong, Legolas?” he asked. “You are quiet.”

Legolas bit back the gasp his father’s innocent action drew from him. It was impossible! And yet it was happening. Under the table he could feel his cock drawing out, thick, hot and heavy against his left leg. He licked his lips, aware that there was not only himself and his ada here, nor only the servants. The King shared his dinner table with the advisors and counsellors that made up the bulk of the court. This could not be happening here!

“Nothing, ada,” he managed. “I just feel a little out of sorts.”

His explanation appeared to draw several troubled glances, not least from Thranduil himself. Legolas tried not to catch their eyes, the memory of the dream fully upon him. They had all been characters in it.

Usually, his father would take the head of the table, and Legolas had seated himself some distance away on purpose, so he was taken by surprise when his father took the chair beside him, regarding him thoughtfully.

“Serve me,” he said after a moment, and Legolas jumped, startled. He knew he must look awfully guilty, and it was at least half a minute before Legolas understood his father was referring to the wine, which was within Legolas’ reach, but out of Thranduil’s.

He poured it with shaking hands, his erection hard as rock under the table, unseen. A flush was creeping up from his neck, and the more he tried to stop it, the worse it became. Thranduil’s hands came to cover his, and he looked into his father’s eyes helplessly.

“I think we shall talk after the meal, ion nín,” he said. “Something has clearly happened to upset you, and I will know what it is.”

Legolas’ heart hammered in his chest, his cock leaping eagerly at his father’s words, spoken so casually, but with supreme confidence. Dominantly… his mind supplied, and Legolas swallowed.

“Yes, ada,” he responded weakly.

How he got through that meal time, Legolas would never remember. His father was so attentive it tortured him for the longest time, but eventually his arousal died down sometime over dessert. Relieved, he stood up to escape the situation before it could return, only to find Thranduil was following him.

A heavy arm draped around his shoulders as he was steered silently in the direction of his father’s personal rooms. Suddenly, Legolas turned, finding himself facing his father who did not move out of his way.

“Really, I don’t need to talk about it,” he babbled, nervous. “I am quite all right now,” he said, smiling. Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, you do need to talk, if only to satisfy me. In there,” Thranduil commanded, nodding to his door. Legolas actually backed away, gulping, feeling for the door handle at his back and slipping inside his father’s room. He heard the click as the door was closed and locked behind them. Now he was trapped, and he could not think of a thing to say that would explain his erratic behaviour.

At the words 'if only to satisfy me' Legolas' imagination had run wild; something that seemed to happen much more frequently now. To the young Prince's chagrin, fragments of his nocturnal wet dreams had started to blur with his waking hours. His mind and body constantly played tricks on him and he was driven mad with unquenched desire and endless shame.

"I don't know what I am supposed to tell you, Ada," Legolas croaked, mouth dry as he nervously let his eyes roam the King's private quarters, desperate to look anywhere but at his father.

Thranduil led his son to a straight wooden chair and bade him sit down upon it. Something had been very off in Legolas’ behaviour all day, and he would know what it was. Thranduil lounged against his own desk, facing Legolas. Little did Legolas know this was how he interrogated servants, looming over them as they trembled in that very chair.

“Legolas. You have all the look of yourself at sixty years old when you sneaked into my wine cellar and broke a bottle of my favourite Dorwinion.” He smirked. “Have you been sneaking around in there again, or is it something else this time?”

Legolas felt the blush on his cheeks intensify. The memory of what he had witnessed in the cellar between his father and Celebfîn came to life again before his inner eye. Little beads of sweat formed on the Prince's nape, making his skin itch as they ran down his back slowly. Legolas gulped under the King's scrutiny, but he kept his head down, eyes desperately fixed on a beautifully sculpted tile on the floor.

"I..." Legolas started to explain, but his voice cracked. "I..." he tried again, swallowing hard as he tried to find the right words to admit to his poking about without giving away too much. "I might have been in the wine cellar at an inappropriate time, that much is true." Legolas admitted uneasily. His eyes darted up. "But I didn't break anything, I swear!"

Thranduil laughed inwardly. Really! It was to be hoped Legolas was never captured by the enemy or he would let go of Eryn Galen’s defence arrangements at the first glance. Standing up straight, he circled the chair in a predatory manner, never letting his gaze leave Legolas’ face.

By ‘inappropriate time’ Thranduil could only assume Legolas had seen him in there with Celebfîn. It was a favourite place of theirs to go, since they would be undisturbed. Now behind Legolas, Thranduil reached out to touch his shoulders, deliberately squeezing to ease the tension there. Thranduil did not care about being observed, but why would it affect Legolas so?

“Something was broken in there,” Thranduil murmured suggestively, letting his meaning remain unclear, still working those muscles with his hands. “Was it you, I wonder?”

Legolas was surprised that he leaned into Thranduil's firm touch so easily, but then again, he'd always been very close to his father. That definitely included physical contact, too, however it was his own physical reaction to the familiar touch that worried him so. Warmth started to spread all over him, starting where the King eased Legolas' strained muscles, over his torso and finally pooling in his crotch where it provoked yet another unbidden response. Much to his horror, Legolas realised that once more he was sporting a growing erection.

"Why would I be broken by being in your wine cellar?" Legolas rasped, deciding that it would buy him some time if he feigned ignorance.

Thranduil could not believe the evidence of his eyes, and yet there it was; Legolas was becoming aroused under the touch of his hands, no doubt aided by what he’d seen in the cellar. Deciding not to jump to conclusions just yet, Thranduil slid his hands forward and down over Legolas’ chest. Even through his clothing, Thranduil could feel the hard pebbles of Legolas’ nipples beneath his palms.

“I assure you,” Thranduil whispered seductively, “you have been broken in by me many times in there. Celebfîn is nothing if not a marvellous actor.”

Thranduil smiled, stood up straight, and went to lean against his desk again, making no secret of looking at Legolas’ straining erection where it tented his leggings. “You say one thing, bain neth nín, but your body says something else entirely.”

With one elegant hand, Thranduil picked up a small silver bell from his desk. “Speak the truth now, or would you rather I summon him? He will perform for both of us. Or… would you rather keep this private?”

Thranduil's forthright physical exploration left Legolas gasping for breath, not believing his ears. "So you're saying..." He began, his lower lip starting to tremble in utter disbelief as he feared his dreams would merge with reality once more. "Celebfîn bearing an uncanny resemblance to me is no mere coincidence?"

Legolas sat stark and stiff when realisation started to sink in. "You...you've been thinking about me...that way?"

The young Prince didn't even hear his father's idle threat of summoning Celebfîn, his mind was too occupied with processing the shocking secret that had been unveiled.

Thranduil watched Legolas’ stumbling reaction and began to lose his patience. He did not want to summon Celebfîn, but he must know if Legolas’ rather interesting physical response was for him or the servant. If it was for him, then Legolas had time to make up, and Thranduil would make certain he did it, beginning this very evening.

When Legolas continued to stammer and stutter his way through useless questions, Thranduil stepped forward once more, placing a palm around the back of Legolas’ neck and drawing him gracefully to his feet.

“I said,” he intoned, looking deeply into Legolas’ eyes. “Would you like to summon Celebfîn here, or is this,” - here he reached down with his other hand and dragged his knuckles up over the ridge of the hard cock in Legolas’ leggings - “only between us?”

Legolas flinched when his father's knuckles made brief contact with his cock which gave an eager twitch in response. He feared he would soil his leggings if he didn't get any form of release soon.

"Between us!" Legolas blurted hastily, now fully aware of the embarrassing consequences of having his father's favourite play toy join their little party. Apart from that, another emotion arose from the turmoil of his mind. "I hold no feelings for Celebfîn other than..." Legolas swallowed. "Other than envy."

Torn, the Prince closed his eyes, then timidly leaned into Thranduil's provocative touch, clearly trembling. This felt much better than it ought to. "I can't help those weird feelings, I'm so sorry, Ada." Legolas sobbed.

Thranduil blinked. He was sorry? Then a split second later, he felt a wicked grin on his face. Oh, yes, this was perfect. If Legolas wished to be sorry, then he would make certain the emotion was well-deserved.

Quickly, hiding his amusement before Legolas could open his eyes and see it, Thranduil let him go, seeing him stagger slightly. “And so you should be sorry,” he said. “I merely fantasise, while you stand here aroused at my touch. Why, if such were to happen at court, how you would embarrass me!”

Legolas was trembling now, looking at him with wide eyes. “I can see only one solution, ion nín,” Thranduil said sternly, then sighed. “I shall have to satisfy these lusts of yours by night so they do not interfere with the smooth running of this realm by day.”

He paused, giving his words time to sink in, making sure to appear less than pleased at the prospect. “Yes, that is the way of it.” He nodded sharply towards the bed. “Go to the bed and undress, Legolas.”

"I'm so sorry!" Legolas repeated in a weak mumble, his eyes darting to and fro in renewed confusion. There he was, thinking his confession would free him, but all he gained was punishment. Wait, punishment? What was it his father had said? It was hard for the Prince to think clearly; embarrassment, fear and arousal fighting for dominance in him. The commanding, strict tone of voice of his father didn't help either, adding another emotion to the bunch: curiosity.

Hence, Legolas did as he was told, slowly shedding away his tunic and leggings, even though reluctantly, as he made his way over to the royal bed, head bowed and face flushed.

Following him, Thranduil decided to have a little fun first, beforehand. It would also give Legolas a chance to escape this situation, if he really wished it. So thinking, Thranduil drew up a chair to the side of the bed, and made no secret of drinking in the sight of his grown son’s naked body.

“So, you saw us in the wine cellar, and you wished to be in his place. Is that it?” he asked, beginning a short interrogation which should quickly get to the heart of the matter.

Legolas flinched in tortured embarrassment. "I...I did, Ada." he stuttered helplessly, the glowing blush of his cheeks spreading to the tips of his pointy ears. "And yes, I couldn't help but wonder," Legolas swallowed hard. "What it would be like to be in Celebfîn's place." The Prince admitted nervously, careful to keep his gaze averted and trained on a spot on the marble floor. "You must think very lowly of me now." Legolas concluded bitterly.

Thranduil heaved a great breath and sat back, seeing how it affected Legolas. He was very beautiful when he was uncertain of himself. Without so much as reaching out towards him, Thranduil crossed one leg over the other and appeared to deliberate, making his gorgeous son wait.

“I appreciate your honesty,” he said at last, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Now tell me why you wished to be in his place, and perhaps I will be lenient with you, ion nín.”

Legolas' head darted up as he looked at his father in puzzlement. "Why?" he repeated, clearly overwhelmed with the question. "I...I'm not sure. I," Legolas groped for words, realising he had never thought about the why indeed! "I was just so stunned by...you...and it was such a completely unrestrained side of you I've never seen before." Legolas eventually tried after some intense thinking, recalling his father's otherwise often icy demeanour all too well. "Also," the young Prince continued, his voice wavering a bit. "I was under the impression that you made Celebfîn feel...really good, despite the way you treated him."

Legolas wording was clumsy; the realisation of his burning need for being dominated by the King was not sinking in as of yet. The confused Prince couldn't name the odd craving that was making his blood boil, couldn't understand his twisted desire to submit.

Moving to sit on the side of the bed, Thranduil smiled to hide his disappointment. “So you disliked the way I treated him?” he queried. He put a hand out to Legolas’ knee, letting his fingers stroke the skin on the inside of Legolas’ lower thigh. “You wish merely for my touch, is that it?”

It was confusing though. If Legolas merely wished for erotic sensation, he could approach any elf as a lover for that. Another possibility raised itself in the King’s mind immediately, and it was one he could not dispel.

“Ion nín,” he said with some regret. “Have I been so cold to you that you would dare so much just to be close to me?” He’d kept some distance between them, that was true, and it had been for his own benefit. His fantasies about Legolas had come upon him suddenly, in twisted and sordid dreams he could not ignore.

"No!" Legolas exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. "It's not like I despise your actions, not at all!" Then the Prince's shoulders slumped in renewed shame. "Quite the contrary, really," he confessed, wincing when he felt his father's long, elegant fingers caress the sensitive, ticklish skin of his inner thigh.

"Your game with Celebfîn made me feel...weird...and left me hot all over," Legolas continued, almost choking on his words as he recalled the night in the wine-cellar. "I felt drawn to you in a way I never...felt for you before."

Again, Legolas words were awkward and vague, the young Prince neither able to comprehend his feelings nor express them properly.

"As for your touch," Legolas mumbled, an unspoken desire glistening in his dilated pupils as he spoke. "Of course I crave it, I always have." The Prince replied innocently, revelling in the memory of the days before his father had started to withhold his affections from him, leaving Legolas sad, yet he never addressed his worries. "Wouldn't any elf?"

He could not know how appealing his little confessions were, Thranduil decided. So unsure and uncertain. Embarrassed, too - Thranduil noted that. He moved his hands up to Legolas’ face, allowing no escape, turning Legolas’ head so that he would have to look right into Thranduil’s eyes.

“Do you crave humiliation, Legolas?” he asked. His own dreams had confused him, but if Legolas was having them too… “Do you dream of it?” He laid his forehead gently against Legolas’ own.

“If I were to claim you as my secret lover, that would be one thing,” he said softly. “But what if I were to berate you for lusting after your own father as I did so? What if I were to name your behaviour for what it is?” He paused, judging the moment to the exact second. “Are you asking to be my slut, Legolas?”

Eyes growing wide in shock, Legolas gasped. Did he crave humiliation? The word had so much negative connotation to it, Legolas thought. And yet again, on second thought it pretty much hit the nail right on the head.

"I think I do crave it." The Prince whispered, his mouth going dry. "My dreams have been full of it as of late." He added, both relief and another wave of embarrassment washing over him as he did so. Nevertheless, he felt himself calm down a bit at the tender gesture of his father leaning his forehead against him. No one could soothe him like his Ada, despite the delicate topic.

At Thranduil’s provocative wording, Legolas broke the connection in instinctive shock. He tried to ignore the thrill that rushed through him in response to the indecent proposal of becoming the King's slut.

Instantly Thranduil wondered what the exact nature of those dreams were, and if they matched his own. Why, just before dinner he had been indulging in the most pleasant daydream of having Legolas serve him while he held court, in front of everyone!

Even though he really did want to take Legolas, he couldn’t resist wanting to see that dream play out, even if needs must it was only between the two of them.

“Then behave like a slut, if that is what you are,” he suggested. “Serve me on your knees, ion. You can start by using your mouth on my cock.”
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Elei ned Îr Mín