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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the sole creation of JRR Tolkien. The characters in this story are, therefore, not mine, with the exception of OCs. I make no money with my writing, it is purely for pleasure.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Author’s notes: and here is the last chapter of the story. I hope you enjoyed it, and will continue to read The Protégé, as Legolas begins to say goodbye, and on the way, comes to grips with his new sword. Coming soon: The Protégé V: Harvest

Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader Mindirith for cleaning this up.

And finally… WARNING: very explicit group sex and kink in this chapter.

CHAPTER NINE: Acceptance

Conscience returned to him slowly. He was so very comfortable where he was, so what was the rush? The forest’s hum was peaceful and joyous, deep and vibrant; nothing was amiss, and he was in paradise. Adjusting his body slightly, he felt warmth at his side and snuggled into the soft body as he continued in his state of semi-vigil.

Soft singing filtered through his slumbering mind, swirling around in his head, it beckoned to him, lifting him up further towards the light of consciousness, until he finally cracked his green eyes open, registering the red sky visible through the canopy of rustling green leaves.

A finger caressed his lips then, outlining their curved shape, wandering down his neck, sketching the lines of his body, his face, his ear, and then he was kissed tenderly.

Looking up to the one that smiled down at him, he saw the face of an angel, a red sky behind him; Legolas wondered then if this had been the last thing the Balrog had seen, moments before its death after razing Gondolin to the ground – what a beautiful goodbye for such a perversion of nature.

Legolas sat up then, taking the angel’s face in his hands and kissing his lips demandingly, for a wave of love had surged over him, and so he shared it with the object of his desire.

Glorfindel drew back slightly, enough to focus on the face before him.

“Good morning, Lord of the Forests”, he smiled proudly.

“Good morning, Lord of my Heart”, he replied.

Of the two maias, there was neither sight nor sound, but a little field mouse scurried through the leaves, heading further into the forests, its task achieved.

………………………………………………………………………..

They reached Legolas’ quarters practically unhindered, for Imladris was abed. The celebration had lasted long into the night; they had even greeted the dawn in Celebrian’s gardens, watching as it came alive for the first time in centuries; they had looked on in awe as a carpet of flowers bloomed over the forest floor, the lady’s roses unfurling their petals to the morning sun, waking up after centuries of sickly slumber.

He had stripped naked and thrown himself onto the generous bed, yet he sat up as he watched Glorfindel shed his own clothing, wishing he had the strength to stay awake and pleasure him, yet his body rebelled, for it felt leaden and fuzzy – he had slept as a child in the forest, Mithrandir and Aiwendil watching over him, yet it was not enough, and so he lay back, feeling the fresh morning breeze over his naked skin, and his lover move up behind him, encircling him in his powerful arms.

He smiled as he surrendered himself to oblivion once more.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dusk had fallen as Legolas woke to the sound of sloshing water. The bathing room door was open and the bed beside him empty.

His naked lover appeared in the doorway, smiling at his sleep-tousled king.

“Good evening, my King. Were your dreams sweet?”

“Oh yes, now – come here” he said huskily.

Kissing once more, Glorfindel pulled him up and into the bathing chamber, where he had prepared a scented bath. It was early evening, yet he had lit every candle in the room, and a multi-coloured array of rose petals and fresh herbs floated on the surface of the warm water, glinting a vivid orangy hue as the ripples reflected the light of burning wicks.

Gesturing with his hand, Glorfindel invited the king into the luxurious, glittering liquid.

Obeying readily, Legolas stepped inside, sighing as he immersed his body up to the neck, wetting his long tresses which floated around him, then lay his head back against the cool stone, watching his lover as he took up a soft cloth and began to gently cleanse him, his movements slow and purposeful, taking care not to miss a single piece of luminescent skin.

His eyes were turned down and to the side, as he remembered how he had come across Legolas in the forests.

“I found you in the pre-dawn hours – cradled in the roots of a sentinel, the maias at your side; they are protective of you … They left then, leaving me to care for you. You looked so vulnerable, so natural, so right to me. I took you in my arms then, and held you in your slumber until the Sun peaked over the eastern horizon. I know not what the future holds for us, Legolas”, he said then, looking at his lover with an expression that begged understanding, “ but I do know that my future is with you - you and I will always be together – lovers may come and go, yet what binds us together is so much more.

Legolas looked long and hard at Glorfindel, who would no longer meet his eyes, instead continuing his precise and repetitive movements. Yet Legolas saw it for what it was - Glorfindel felt insecure, he worried that promiscuity would ruin their relationship. He thought then, that perhaps this had been triggered by the arrival of Gildor, for although Glorfindel had said nothing, Legolas knew they had been intimate, he also thought that Gildor may still harbor feelings for his lover, but were they returned?

“Glorfindel, there is a purpose to your words, I know. Tell me, are you worried that by taking another lover you will lose me? Is it Gildor you wish to be with?”

He sighed as he considered where to begin. He knew he may be exaggerating Legolas’ reaction, but he would take no risks – his feelings for the Forest Lord were too profound.

“It is not only Gildor, Legolas. I speak generally. I know that you do not require abstinence from me in your absence, but what of taking lovers when you are present?”

Legolas analyzed his lover’s face, watching every movement, every turn of the eye, every gesture, and then he spoke.

“What of it?” he asked.

“Well… I thought to ask, or more to reassure you – or perhaps myself, that should I take a lover, it does not mean I desire you less.”

Legolas was smiling compassionately now, for Glorfindel was getting himself into a pointless pickle over something that to him was neither here nor there.

“Sweet lover; I thought we understood each other on this. You take who you want, when you want. Now, if the subject in question takes my fancy, I would appreciate an invitation to join in – other than that, Glorfindel I am a wood elf for the love of the Valar! We would wither and die without sex, ‘tis our favourite past time - besides eating, drinking, singing, dancing…”

“All right!” chuckled Glorfindel, finally convinced that he was indeed free to act on his base desires. Yet he did have one final question.

“And does Gildor take your fancy?”

“Well…”, considered the lord, “he is handsome enough, strong – sinewy almost. I am sure he would be an adequate partner – perhaps you could tell me more.”

“He is skilled, I must say. He has an interesting technique with his throat, you see”.

“Well, what? What does he do?”

“Ah, I will leave that for another time, for we will fluster ourselves and dinner is nigh upon us”.

“Damn it all, Glorfindel” said Legolas as he stepped out of the bath, heading for the bedroom as he dried himself off, hearing Glorfindel’s snickering behind him - he was already flustered, which of course Glorfindel had noticed.

“Just let us get through the meal, and then I will fuck you senseless. Is that acceptable to you, my King?” he smiled saucily.

“It is suitable, my Lord. Yet I will have your head should you fail me”.

“That would be my very great pleasure”.

Smiling, he returned his attention to the wardrobe.

“Ai but I yearn for the simplicity of the wood elf’s attire! Simplicity, functionality, durability…” he said wistfully as he walked over to the wardrobe and considered his clothing for the evening.

After the pomp and ceremony of the previous evening, he yearned for something simple as his eyes strayed to a light blue tunic; yes, he would combine that with his black leggings.

Tying off the forest green sash, he sat before the mirror and completed his preparations with a tiny sapphire through the nose.

“However much you strive for simplicity, my love, it is simply not in your nature – you would look stunning in a horse’s oat bag!” exclaimed Glorfindel as he admired his lover’s elegant yet simple clothing.

………………………………………………

Galdithion was ready, and so he reached under his bed and pulled out the square wooden case that his Lord King had entrusted to him before their departure from the Greenwood. He remembered the exact words his King had uttered, as he reverently handed him the cask. ‘Lieutenant, I entrust you with this symbol of status, to be worn once he is proclaimed, just in case’ he had said, smiling enigmatically. Galdithion remembered how much it had struck him then, how very alike father and son were, the only difference was Legolas’ war-honed body, and now, his green eyes, and of course his strange hair. He smiled when he tried to envisage the King’s reaction to his son’s exotic appearance.

A wrap on the door revealed Aradan and Henian, whom he invited into his quarters with a sweep of his hand.

“Are you not ready to join the others?” asked Henian, wondering why his friend would want them to enter rather than join the others in the halls below.

“Come”, he gestured again, leading them into the bedroom and producing the wooden box.

“This is what Lord Thranduil entrusted to me, and now, we must present it to our new Lord, that he wear it as a symbol of his status, at his father’s behest.”

“Yes”, whispered Aradan. He was sorely tempted to throw the latch open and inspect what he knew to be a crown, yet he must not. Legolas would be the first to see the creation, and so he smiled at the two friends.

“Come, let us visit our Lord and present to him, that which his father would gift him with.”

All three shared a conspiring smile, as they filed out of the room, headed for Legolas’ quarters.

Once there, the three Greenwood elves were greeted by a smiling Glorfindel, who stepped aside for them to enter.

Legolas turned as he realized who had entered the room.

“Shall we go down together then? A merry band of wood elves?” asked Legolas.

“Of course, yet there is one missing detail. You remember your father’s insistence at taking ceremonial attire – ‘just in case’?” said Galdithion carefully.

“Ah, I do”, said Legolas carefully, observing his friend and the wooden box he clutched in front of him. It was Aradan, however, who continued to explain.

“This is what your father commissioned four years ago, after the Lady’s visit in the Greenwood. He has asked me to ‘urge’ you to wear it, if you will?” he said, as he nodded to Galdithion, who flipped the latch and pulled the lid back, revealing the item to Legolas as he approached, Glorfindel at his shoulder.

He stood there, admiring the beautiful piece as he considered Aradan’s words then. Of course ‘urge’ meant ‘do’, he knew. He really did not have any obligation to wear it though, yet he would defer to his father’s experience as a monarch – he obviously saw the merit of it, and he would not gainsay his father on this, unless there was a very good reason to, besides, it was a beautiful item.

And so he nodded as he dipped his head a little, enough for Aradan to slip it on.

“There, it is done, and it does not burn! You look splendid!” he whispered emotionally.

He felt the uncontrollable urge to hug the child then, for Aradan had lived through his entire life, before it when the happy couple so avidly sought a child, lived through the hell of loss, and then slow recovery as this child became an elf, a prince, and now, a king. And so he did just that, he stepped forward and wrapped him in his strong arms, savoring the moment before pulling away and squeezing his shoulders, and promptly turning away towards the balcony, controlling his raging emotions as best he could.

They had all seen Aradan’s emotions and so left him to his solitude while they stepped towards Legolas, admiring the workmanship, touching here and there. It was truly a beautiful piece, small enough to be worn on a daily basis, yet intricate enough to stand out for what it was, a crown for a king.

Once again his normal, cheerful self, Aradan turned towards the chattering elves, striding purposefully over to them.

“Now, let this ‘band of merry wood elves’ get themselves down to the festivities!” Declared the advisor with a flourish, as he turned and led the way, linking arms with his beloved king, and leaving a sulking Glorfindel to bring up the rear.

…………………………………………….

Amanthor and Lindir strolled idly down the tapestry-lined corridor, destined for the dinner room as they reminisced on yesterday’s events. They had given the concert of their lives, had given their all, their knowledge, passion, emotion, everything they had, providing the music for the amazing Spirit Singer, Mentathiel.

“You know, it is strange to think that I didn’t believe you that day when you told me about her – I thought you jested, Elbereth! Yet look what we have achieved – you and I. The concept of improvising to emotional stimulus seemed difficult enough in itself, but ‘improvisation’? I have not done that for years!”

“You are a wonderful musician, Lindir – the best I have known. I knew you could do it, you just needed to let go, stop being a Noldor and begin your ‘sylvanization’!”

“Oh away with you”, said Lindir, feigning annoyance as they reached the open doors of the dining room, crossing the threshold together.

Their surprise was monumental, as the entire dining room broke into enthusiastic clapping, cheering and hooting. Both musicians stood quite still, their eyes bulging until they understood that it was for them, they were being honored!

Lindir turned to Amanthor then, and broke into the most beautiful smile that the Sylvan had ever seen, and so he did they only coherent thing – for a wood elf. His kissed Lindir passionately on the lips, smiling into him as the crowd cheered even louder.

…………………………………………………………………………

As the ‘merry band’ approached the hall, they caught the sounds of cheering and clapping, looking to each other for clarification – which no one offered, and so they continued until they reached their destination.

And the clapping and cheering continued, even as the couple took their places at the table, beaming and nodding their gratitude.

When the Forest Lord entered, they picked up their cheering once more, this time for Legolas and last night’s magical deeds. He had sowed the seeds of hope in their hearts, had lifted the veil of sadness and mourning – had thus restored their sense of joy and light-heartedness; he was loved.

As group took their places at the table, the guests bowed reverently, waiting for their king to take his seat before accommodating themselves. There was much expectation among the people for they had not seen Legolas since the restoration – he had simply walked away and not given them the chance to thank him, bow to him, show their acceptance of his new station.

Elrond sat smiling fondly as he watched his people pay homage to the Forest King. He felt his heart swell, for although they had applauded him, the emotion behind it was also for their lost queen, Lady Celebrian. She had been so well-loved by all - still sorely missed, yet he knew they applauded the restoration of her gardens, and what that meant to Imladris, and to its Lord. And so he continued to smile proudly, his heart bursting with love and energy – for the first time in so many years.

Once the commotion had died down, Elrond stood, as was protocol, to say a few words and get this ‘dinner’, which was rapidly becoming another feast, off to a good start.

“My Lords, Ladies. I believe that after yesterday’s events, in which we were all witness to the coming of the Lady Yavanna, and the restoration of Lady Celebrian’s gardens…”

He had to stop, for they had burst out into frenzied applause once more, shouting their joy to the heavens.

“… the restoration of our beloved Queen’s gardens, it would be redundant if I were to proclaim Legolas Thranduilion as King, for I know he already is in our eyes, and indeed in our hearts. However, I am compelled to invite any present to voice their concerns now, or forever hold their peace.

And the silence was deafening.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The ‘party’ was well under way, and it seemed to Erestor that the Sylvans had in some way ensorcelled his Noldorin kin, for they had lost their sense of measure, were drinking considerable amounts of wine, and were dancing without the slightest modicum of dignity – for they were wheeling and jigging, swirling and jumping to the music that the Greenwood bards were offering, laughing outrageously, and enjoying themselves as much as they had on that first opening ceremony, not so long ago.

Celeborn was not far behind them, although he was still seated, together with his new found friend Gildor, and Haldir. His right foot stomped loudly on the wooden flooring, in time with the furious jig being played, his left hand slapping the table top, head bobbing from side to side.

“My Lord Celeborn – you truly are a Sylvan at heart. For look at you, anyone would say you were on the brink of taking a partner and joining them!” laughed Gildor as he glanced at Haldir, who was looking back at him with his right eyebrow arching dramatically.

‘What have I said’ he wondered to himself, but he was not left to ponder on it for long, because Celeborn the Wise had risen from his chair with an impetus that belied the alcohol he had imbibed, and walked over to Llyniel, who was conversing with Arwen.

Yet he did not speak. He simply did what any Lorien elf would do under the circumstances – he danced his invitation to the amused lady, who nodded immediately, taking his outstretched arms, and finding herself immediately whipped up in the swirling motions of the dance, screaming her surprise and joy as she was danced away.

Legolas watched the scene in amusement as he sat at the almost empty table. He had come to know Celeborn well during the festival, and had come to like him very much. He turned his head to Elrond who, he realized, was watching him.

“Legolas, I have not had a single moment alone with you since yesterday, and I have been wanting to – thank you – for what you have done.”

As soon as he had said it, it had sounded lame, for to simply thank him for that life-changing moment was simply inadequate.

“What I mean”, he began again, taking a generous sip from his goblet, “is that what you have done – what you have created, your gift to me and mine, you will never understand what it means to us. You have given us closure, you have healed the wound that would not close, you have saved my sons, and brought me back to life, Legolas. You have my eternal love and friendship, and my allegiance, my King.”

Legolas was touched beyond words, his eyes filling with moisture as he stared into the lord’s eyes, smiling kindly.

“Then perhaps you would show your gratitude by inviting your King – to a nightcap”, he said, watching Elrond’s face as it lit up with joy.

“I will indeed show my most enthusiastic gratitude, my Lord”.

Smiling, Legolas turned back to the dance floor, spotting Glorfindel with Gildor, Galdithion with Llyn, Haldir with Arwen – it was going to be an interesting night, he thought, as he adjusted his seat.

………………………………………….

Some hours later found the lords sprawled indecorously over the colourful cushions in Celebrian’s gardens, now a permanent fixture – so popular they had been.

Yet since his crowning, he had been puzzled as to where Aiwendil and Mithrandir had gone. He wished to speak to the brown wizard regarding the nature of his ‘apprenticeship’, yet he was nowhere to be found. When he had asked Elrond about it, he had simply answered that he had an errand to run, no further information had been forthcoming, and Legolas knew better than to press the point.

His attention was caught by Celeborn, who laughed deeply as he took a sip of his wine, listening to Erestor tell a funny tale involving Elrond and a rather inventive 10-year-old Elladan.

The atmosphere was relaxed, lazy, dreamy almost, for they had spent the entire evening feasting and drinking, yet the conversation turned necessarily to the future.

“Legolas, there is now very little left on the agenda for the Spring Festival” began Elrond. “There are but a few loose ends that will not take more than a week to iron out, write up and sign. What are your plans?” he asked. He had not wanted to start this conversation because the outcome was indeed obvious, yet the time factor was important to him, for he wished for a little more time, to say goodbye, to come to terms with what he knew had to be.

Legolas considered Elrond’s question for a moment, reading the sadness in his eyes as he had asked, a sadness he knew was mirrored in his own.

“You are right, of course. One week seems about right to me. And I must return henceforth to the Greenwood. Yet during this week we must fix the list of names for the first rotation of the military and cultural exchanges we have agreed on, we will not be travelling back alone”, he said, smiling kindly. “And, I hope to be back before long, if you will have me”, he asked dutifully.

Elrond smiled and nodded, no answer was required. He knew what Legolas was doing, he was taking away the bite of separation, easing their parting by simply stating that this was not a goodbye, rather a ‘see you soon’, yet Glorfindel’s face had dropped as he turned away from the conversation, not willing to face that reality just yet – they still had one week – one whole week he vowed he would make special, a memory for his Forest Lord to cling to in his absence, one for he himself to bide the time and dull the sting of separation.

“Well, my friends”, said Legolas as he stood. “It is time for me to retire, if I may. The evening has been – memorable.”

“Come, my King, I will escort you” offered Elrond, “for I too will retire” he added, rising and nodding to his friends as Erestor and Glorfindel joined them, nodding a good evening to the Lords of Lorien.

“Good night, my Lords”, said Galadriel, a knowing smile on her placid face.

Once the group had left, she turned to Celeborn, a far-away look on her face.

“If Celebrian were here, she too, would have retired.”

And Celeborn’s eyebrows rose, wondering if he had understood her correctly.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Once inside Elrond’s chambers, they shed their over-robes and sat themselves comfortably around the hearth.

“Dwarven brandy!” exclaimed Erestor, as he showed them the stone bottle triumphantly. “I had forgotten all about this, it was a gift to me so long ago – it was stashed in the deepest recesses of my rooms. Shall we try it?” he asked mischievously, for dwarven brandy had a reputation for ruining the senses and heightening the libido.

“Oh aye!” exclaimed Glorfindel, looking at Erestor in wonder. “You are a bundle of surprises, advisor.”

“Yes, well, after drinking this, we all may be, if what they say is true.”

“Out with it”, said Elrond, eager for a taste of the rare spirit, and so Erestor served him first, waiting for his reaction.

Closing his eyes, he rolled the thick liquid over his tongue, around his mouth, testing the retro-nasal aromas it produced. Swallowing, his eyes flew open as he exclaimed loud enough to startle Erestor.

“ogggggghh, Valar – ‘tis pure fire, try it!” he said enthusiastically, taking his second sip as Erestor served his lovers.

Ten minutes later, and the lords were beginning to feel the exquisite results of the fiery spirit. Glorfindel lay on the floor, his limbs sprawled indecorously, his legs wide apart. Erestor slumped against the sofa, feet straight out in front of him as he cocked his elbow once more, tipping his glass to his eager lips.

Elrond sipped as he watched the Forest Lord, who kept his cool, apparently at least, yet his gaze was fixed on the bulge in Glorfindel’s breeches, he simply stared as he drank, and Elrond smiled.

Glorfindel turned to Legolas then, a naughty expression forewarned the lord that an indecent question was about to be posed.

“Now, Legolas, I will tell you that this dwarven concoction has sent my cock to the heights, as I believe you have already realized; can you help me with it?” he asked saucily.

“I will do more than help you with it”, he said huskily, as he put down his cup, stood, and began to remove his clothes, under the lustful gazes of the dark-haired elves.

As was his wont, he left his boots and his jewelry, yet he freed his hair, shaking it loose as he walked over to the sprawling warrior.

Kneeling, he bent over the straining bulge, opening the ties, and releasing the hot flesh, leaving it free for a moment for all to see as he flicked back his hair. And then, he opened his legs wide, his boots scraping along the wooden floor, as he took the cock into his mouth.

As Glorfindel groaned in utter delight, Elrond and Erestor gasped, for the lord had opened his legs so wide his balls almost touched the ground, his long mane falling to his flanks, a silken frame of twisted hair for the most exquisite backside Elrond had ever seen.

This wanton provocation had them both adjusting their posture, pushing their breeches down to their thighs, watching the magnificent spectacle of the Forest Lord engulfing Glorfindel’s cock, eliciting loud groans and grunts from the fevered warrior who undulated beneath him.

Elrond could not hold himself back as he moved up behind the sucking lord, running his hands over the muscled buttocks, cupping his heavy balls and fingering his entrance. Erestor joined him, alternating between stroking the magnificent behind, and peeking over his shoulder to watch as the glistening cock moved in and out of the lord’s delectable lips.

And then a mighty slap reverberated around the room, drawing Glorfindel’s mind back to the present as he searched for the source of skin slapping skin, watching as Legolas’s mouth withdrew and opened in a gesture of surprise.

Another slap followed, harder, eliciting a gasp from the lord, yet he did not move. Elrond struck him again, watching in fascination as the cheek bloomed red. Erestor slapped his other buttock then, and another beautiful gasp escaped him. Glorfindel was enflamed as he moved to his knees, taking the lord’s head in both hands and thrusting into his wet mouth as he watched Elrond and Glorfindel slap his buttocks mercilessly, and Legolas moaned around him, sending waves of vibrating sound to his core, making him thrust harder, willing his lovers to slap him harder, faster – for it was undoing him, he was coming.

“Oh Gods” he whispered fiercely as his cock exploded, flooding Legolas’ mouth with copious amounts of hot liquid, as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked his taught, thrusting body, he had lasted but scant minutes, so strong had been the stimulus.

He withdrew then, moving behind Legolas to sit and recover, sipping on his wine and watching in fascination as Elrond and Erestor continued to punish the already scarlet buttocks.

Erestor’s balls ached fiercely, his cock impossibly hard, he needed to fuck this elf, now. And so he rose, taking Legolas by the arm and pushing him over the sofa, where Glorfindel sat watching and drinking. He pushed him to his knees and bent him over, his head scant centimeters from Glorfindel’s lax cock.

Moving back a moment, Erestor took in the submissive lord, bent over, opened wide, buttocks now almost purple from the spanking he had received, and Glorfindel before him, looking down at him with an expression akin to aggression, yet it was pure, unbridled lust. Elrond joined them then, his fingers coated with Glorfindel’s special recipe. Sharing a passionate kiss with Erestor at his side, he plunged first one, then two, and finally three fingers into the exposed elf. Erestor’s finger joined Elrond’s, and together, they stretched him mercilessly, listening avidly to the groans and grunts they were provoking. Meanwhile, Glorfindel had taken Legolas’ hair into his fist, tilting his head up, his other hand slipping into his seed-filled mouth, moving slowly in and out, mimicking what Elrond and Erestor were doing inside his ass – and he began to fill again.

It was Erestor who hoisted his robes up, revealing his white buttocks and positioning himself behind the punished buttocks, skewering the elf in one, merciless thrust, forcing his head down further onto Glorfindel’s hand.

Legolas groaned long and hard around the invading hand as Erestor began to thrust into him – speed increasing as he felt his release coil and then explode as he came hard, wailing his bliss unashamedly, finally stopping and withdrawing quickly, as Elrond anxiously took his place, his cock sliding into the seed-filled passage, groaning his own ecstasy.

Glorfindel was beyond himself as he withdrew his hand and moved from the sofa to kneel next to the thrusting, jerking Elrond, his thighs slapping harshly against the splayed elf.

Taking his own cock, he began to slide his hand up and down, watching as Legolas was fucked hard, used so beautifully.

Erestor took Legolas’s cock in his fist and squeezed the root, keeping his hand there as the lord almost screamed at the sensation, for he had been on the brink of spilling himself wildly, yet Erestor had now made that impossible. His orgasm however, would not be stopped as Elrond grunted and groaned behind him and Legolas panted wildly as he came, yet not a drop escaped Erestor’s iron grip. It was too much for Elrond, who spilled in mighty spurts, again and again, until he had no more to give and withdrew, leaving the space for Glorfindel.

By now, the sticky liquid was leaking from him, over his balls, dripping onto the floor between his open thighs.

Glorfindel took up his lover’s cock, urging Erestor to let go, which he did, as he moved to sit in front of the two elves together with a gasping Elrond, watching avidly as Legolas was taken one more time.

Glorfindel pulled his lover’s torso up and back against his heaving chest, angling himself and then impaling him viciously, forcing Elrond and Erestor’s seed to ooze out and over his own balls. He was inflamed, beyond rational thought as he thrust and stabbed, jerked and rammed, rocking the lord in every direction. Elrond sucked on his glass, swallowing hard as he leered dangerously at Glorfindel.

“Oh yes, so good. Take him, General.”

“I,” he panted – “I come”

“Yes”, he hissed, “rut him, yet release his cock, show me how you make him come.”

It was too much, and Glorfindel roared as he rammed himself inside his lover, releasing Legolas’ cock as he spilled himself once more to the symphony of Legolas’ wails as he was finally allowed release, spurting wildly, chaotically, as his lover’s hand pumped him to blissful completion.

……………………………………………………………………….

Light filtered through his throbbing eyelids, urging him to open them, yet he would not, for his mind told him in no uncertain terms that he needed darkness, to avoid the light, and so he turned his head away from the source of it, hoping to fall back into slumber. Yet it was not to be, for a rustling off to his left, followed by a dip in the bed had brought him back to conscience as he cracked his eyes open, only to close them immediately.

“Glorfindel?”

“Um – leave me be”.

Someone chuckled, then whispered something he could not quite catch.

“Glorfindel, sit up, drink this.”

Opening just one eye this time, he saw Elrond smiling down at him, a cup in his hand.

Rising enough to take it, he swallowed it all without thinking, and then regretting it as the sickly liquid crept down his throat.

“For the love of Elbereth! Elrond, must you?” he grumbled.

Elrond chuckled again as Glorfindel finally sat up and took in his surroundings. The two dark-haired elves accompanied him on the bed, as Legolas entered the room from the bathing chamber, a thin wrap around his waist.

“Good morning, you sloth. Have you taken your dose of Elrond’s special brew?” he smirked.

“Oh aye, have you all had it? Do you all feel as bad as I?” he asked in self-pity, raking his hands through his muddled hair.

“We did”, confessed Erestor, but we have been up for half an hour, the effect wears off quickly, you will soon feel better” he said, smiling.

Well that was a relief, he thought as he brightened somewhat, patting the space at his side for Legolas to sit with him, yet the lord did not move.

“I am not sitting down, thank you” he said, somewhat irritated, for his backside smarted from last night’s beating.

Glorfindel smiled as it all came back to him, the night had been explosive, the dwarven brandy living up to its reputation – they had all lost control last night, and Legolas’ backside had paid the price.

“Then come lie down” he smiled saucily, making more room as Legolas lay himself on his side in front of Glorfindel, feeling his hard cock against his red hot buttocks.

Yet he didn’t rub himself against them as he normally would have, instead he gently pushed the silk away and rubbed his palm over the red skin, observing the marks they had all left there.

“Let me see”, said Elrond, revealing the taught buttocks completely, tutting at what he saw.

“Aye, we have marked you – that must hurt”, he said apologetically.

“It does, but by the Gods it was worth it!” he said as he looked at them all, his face alight – for never had he enjoyed so much pleasure on one single night and he told them so.

“I admit”, began Erestor carefully, “that I have been worried that we treated you too – harshly” he said tentatively.

It was clear to Legolas that they all felt the same, and so he smiled as he answered.

“Oh you were harsh, and you have indeed marked me” he paused wickedly before continuing. “But I enjoyed every brazen, wanton moment of it!” he exclaimed.

He was met by three relieved faces that smiled and chuckled, all of them wondering where they could get more dwarven brandy, and when they could do it again, for their appetite had been whetted, and there was no turning back.

THE END

Coming soon: The protégé V: Harvest
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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests