Royal Flush

Legolas twisted in the golden Lord's embrace, the idea of his father having watched their coupling quickening his desire again.

"Kiss me malthen-nin," purred the young Prince slipping his hands beneath the silvered waters to pull Glorfindel hard against his lithe and slippery body. The seneschal complied finding Legolas' fervent ardor both endearing and arousing. Breathlessly he melted against the youngling allowing the Prince the opportunity to direct his passion.

"Aye…" murmured Legolas his hand firmly stroking Glorfindel's resurgent desire with blatant surety.

"So the legend of your magnificent swordsmanship is true meleth," he continued his mouth nipping along the water-softened column of the Elven Lords' throat.

Glorfindel smiled and chuckled lowly as the Prince licked the water droplet from his chest. It seemed the youngling was quite taken by their being discovered and if the tales Erestor had plied him with prior to his departure were true, and then perhaps the acorn did not fall far from the tree.

"Indeed I take every opportunity to hone my skill, lirimaer," he replied turning Legolas abruptly in his arms and pressing his arousal tight against his squirming back.

"And speaking of legends my young friend, I see that the preclusions of a certain King of Mirkwood lean towards the voyeuristic." Glorfindel's breath fanned the tiny hairs that pricked to attention along Legolas' neck.

"I know you know he was watching us," whispered the golden Lord into the Princes ear, his tongue slowly tracing the delicate edge.

"Do you like it when he watches?"

Legolas managed only a rumbling moan as Glorfindel's hand cupped his erection as it rose just above the waters rippling surface.

"Mmmmm... I will take that as a yes," replied the seneschal rocking his hips forward against the Princes slippery backside.

Legolas began to tremble at the golden Lord's touch, the silken words testing contcontrol almost to its limits. Did he know? How could he know?

"Ah meleth–nin," continued the seneschal noting the younglings avoidance of the subject. "Worry not, for you are not alone in your inclinations." Glorfindel scissored the young Princes pebbled nipples between his elegant fingers causing him to moan softly and melt back against the golden Lord's warm chest.

"In fact," he continued, his hips sliding his impressive arousal seductively against Legolas' backside, "I quite like to be watched..." Glorfindel grinned and then purred hotly against the youngling's neck.

"But I think you already know that..."

This time it was Legolas' turn to grin wickedly, for he had a proposition for the Elven Lord that just might prove to be quite arousing for them both.

~*~*~*~

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and he sat slouched against the ornatet cht chaise in the throne room, Beran's dark head bobbing between his spread legs. The vision of his son entangled within Glorfindel's wanton embrace flashed before his tightly closed eyes and he desperately attempted to push the erotic images away. It should have been him pressed against the slayer's exquisite body, moaning in carnal ecstasy, not Legolas. But why not the young Prince? He was fair and very desirable, after all he was HIS son.

A playful nip to his sensitive flesh drew Thranduil from his inward thoughts and focused his attention upon the glittering charcoal of his secretary's luminous gaze as he peered up from his expert ministrations. A feral grin flashed across the pursed moistness of Beran's full ruby lips as he momentarily doubled both the effort and rhythm of his attentions. The thick ruddied column of the King's arousal slid wetly to the front of his mouth and he held it delicately between his straight white teeth before taking it wholly into his opened throat again with a humming moan.

Thranduil gripped the carved armrests of the chair with whitened knuckles and threw his head back with a lusty growl. Beran's oral talents were indeed legendary, and once the darkling set to the task, nothing short of Sauron himself would sway his relentless eagerness.

The King's legs trembled at the intensity of the secretary's suction and he grasped the darkling's head as he thrust his hips into the silken sweetness of his servant's mouth.

"Aiya...Beran!!!!!!" Thranduil's surrender echoed off the stone chamber walls as the secretary swallowed the fruits of his labor greedily, leaving only a few sweet drops of pearly nectar to remain upon his lips. Slowly he let the still pulsing member slip from his sticky mouth and crawled upon the King's lap, his own arousal pressing hotly against Thranduil's' belly.

"Mmmmm lirimaer..." groaned the Mirkwood royal as he tasted himself upon Beran's slickened lips, "You are far too good to me..."

The secretary shifted upon the King's muscular thighs and grasped his softening erection, coaxing it to attention once more with a few deft flicks of his wrist. Holding it by the base, he nestled the tip against his puckered entrance and impaled himself in a fluid and practiced movement.

"I would do anything for you Heru..." he hissed, as the royal's arousal twitched deep within his lithe body.

"Would you now..." replied Thranduil, as he lifted the darkling's hips and thrust hard against him.

"Aye..." moaned Beran, his breath catching as he rolled back his head to tumble his raven locks in an inky cascade over his slender shoulders.

Thranduil grinned and licked the hollow of the secretary's throat. Perhaps he might just enjoy the golLordLord despite his son's attentions.

~*~*~*~

Glorfindel lounged on the double chaise before the crackling fire in his chambers, swirling the crimson contents of his goblet with idle indifference. With a stretch of his long limbs he loosened the ties of the soft robe that had become his favorite since arriving. The room was perhaps a bit warm and since there were no windows in which to open, he had little other choice. Despite the unsettling underground location, the seneschal found Mirkwood and the idiosyncrasies of its inhabitants strangely provocative.

A soft rapping upon his door drew the seneschal's attention away from the rising heat of the room and he called for the visitor to enter, the combination of the wine and the fire making him far too comfortable to move.

A slender dark figure slipped across the threshold and Glorfindel recognized it immediately as the young secretary that had settled him when he first arrived.

"I beg your pardon Lord Glorfindel," apologized Beran as he glided towards the lounge where the seneschal was sprawled. "I do hope that I am not intruding upon your privacy." The secretary smiled, his lips curving sensuously at the edges.

Glorfindel watched the darkling approach and noted with approval the way his robes of office seemed to cling to his body quite attractively. It was not that he had not been conscious of Beran's beauty before, it was just after speaking wLegoLegolas he had a new appreciation of the Elf's assets.

"You are not interrupting at all, mellon-nin," replied the relaxing seneschal, his robes falling away to reveal hianlyanly muscled chest as he reached for the bottle of wine that lay tucked at his side.

"In fact, I do believe you are just in time," replied the Elven Lord swiveling his hips until he sat upright upon the couch.

"Will you join me...?" He raised the bottle to emphasize his invitation.

Beran padded towards a nearby table and lifted a goblet with his fingertips before turning to extend it out towards Glorfindel and his bottle of wine.

"I would be honored Heru," he replied, unabashedly letting his dark gaze roam the seneschal's half dressed form.

Glorfindel plucked the dangling goblet from the Elf's precarious grasp, purposely letting his fingers linger upon the secretary's slender wrist for a few tantalizing moments.

Pouring a large amount of wine into the cup, the Elven Lord returned the bottle to the floor and patted the cushioned seat neo hio him.

"There is room for two," he offered, a grin stealing across his full lips as he held out the ruby liquid.

"Indeed," replied the secretary coming to stand before the seneschal, his slim hand wrapping around the golden Lord's and pulling him easily to his feet.

The remainder of Glorfindel's robe slipped from his shoulders to drape seductively from the crook of his arms as he stood before Beran, the amber glow of the fire casting the planes of his well preserved body with erotic shadow.

Beran laced his fingers with the Elven Lord's and pulled the goblet towards his parted lips, allowing the seneschal to control the liquid as it slipped over his tongue and sweetly down his throat.

"Mirkwood's finest," he purred, catching an errant crimson droplet as it trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Glorfindel released his hand from the darkling's grasp and brought his own goblet to his mouth partaking of the warming liquid while he gazed intently at the smoldering secretary before him. When Legolas had suggested this liaison the Elven Lord had some doubt as to whether the secretary was the right choice for when he had first greeted him he was quite distant and cool, demure even. But the delectable and sultry Elf that was practically devouring him with his dark gaze and innuendo was proving to be quite the irresistible force.

"Aye, mellon," replied Glorfindel fingering the delicate fasteners of the secretary's soft robes, "I would like to taste more."

Beran smiled darkly and dipped the tip of his finger into his goblet and swirled it about lifting the dripping digit towards the seneschal's mouth, tracing the supple bow with the bittersweet nectar, before slipping it between the Eleven Lords warm and waiting lips.

Glorfindel swirled his tongue about the slender finger drawing it deeper into his mouth and nipping the tip softly with his teeth. The sweet secretary was not only a sight to behold he tasted uniquely of vanilla and warm spices, a combination that stirred the seneschal's senses intensely.

Beran chuckled lowly and slipped his moist finger from Glorfindel's mouth and trailed it wetly across the Lord's bared chest snailing a glistening path of moisture and pebbling flesh in its wake.

Grasping the secretary's wrist firmly, his brows raising suggestively, the Elven Lord pulled the tasty finger back into his mouth and suckled it with relish, moving it in and out of his mouth in a most erotic rhythm.

Beran shivered and pulled back his tingling flesh, eyeing the seneschal with a wicked smirk. Thranduil had warned him of the Elven Lord's appetite when he had propositioned the seduction, but the secretary had found no reason to be on his guard for the Elf he had met earlier seemed to be just another pretty face. It seemed he had underestimated the lovely slayer.

"Ohhhhh meleth," pouted Glorfindel, his cobalt gaze glittering in the firelight.

"I was not done tasting yet," the seneschal stepped forward and brushed his hand across the soft curve of Beran's smooth jaw.

This time it was the secretary's turn to grasp, and holding Glorfindel hand firmly, he guided the palm to his mouth and kissed it softly, the tip of his tongue swirling the warm flesh.

"There is more to taste than what you see lirimaer," whispered Beran as he guided the seneschal's hands to the stays on his robes.

"Would you like to see more?"

Glorfindel growled softly and began to release the frogs, but backed away suddenly the secretary slapped him away.

"Noooo... that would just not do," rasped Beran pushing the annoyed seneschal back onto the couch.

"You are a guest in this house, and I will see to your... comfort Heru."

The secretary stood mere inches from the gaping seneschal and deftly released the clasps of his robes, the velveteen fabric slipping silently to the floor in a puddle of sapphire softness revealing his flawless body in its entire aroused splendor. Stepping gingerly from his robes, Beran lowered himself to sit astride Glorfindel lap, tipping the flushing Lord's chin with his fingers.

"Now, mellon-nin…drink..." Beran lowered his mouth and captured the Elven Lord in passionate kiss, silencing his moans of pleasure with a plundering tongue.

~*~*~*~

Legolas cursed his luck as of late. When has nowhere to be, he was always looking for something to occupy his time, but where the golden Lord was concerned he seemed always a step behind. He had gone to his father and requested that Beran show their new guest about the palace grounds, and had been quite shocked when he seemed to be quite in accordance with the suggestion. Thranduil usually kept the lithesome darkling close by, and had never offered his companionship as easily in the past, and the Price had to wonder at his motives. He probably would have pressed the King for more details had he not been summoned to the archery field soon after, but he had ran off only to discover the field abandoned and that the request had been a mere ruse to keep him out of the way.

Out of breath, and quite warm from both his rising anticipation of the events to come and his useless trek across half of Mirkwood, Legolas slipped silently through a small paneled door at the rear of the throne room and padded lightly along the darkened tunnel toward the special guest chambers that his father had so conveniently assigned their illustrious guest.

In the dark it took him sometime to locate the proper groove in wall that opened into the hidden platform behind the heavy tapestry that decorated the entire far wall of the guest room. Fitting his fingers into the well- worn crevice, he slid the barricade open and slipped into the dark and musty shadows, gasping as a strong hand covered his mouth firmly and pushed him hard against the closed door.