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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.

Chapter List
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Chapter Nine

Some weeks passed in the same fashion, and Legolas learned more of what his father expected: what would gain him the sweetest of rewards, and what would earn him punishments. But he remained determined to learn all that he could, and he sometimes let himself dare to dream of what Thranduil had hinted to him.

His dreams were his own, and although he confessed some of them to his father, so they could be enacted, the dreams he had of one day having Thranduil for his own he did not dare to speak of.

There were so many new things, and Legolas’s life became one of drudgery by day and passion by night. He saw off the Gondorian Embassy with relief, and then spent some mornings long in bed, kept away from the patrols as his father had said, and slept off the nights’ activities gratefully.

But at last he had to find something to occupy him, and he oversaw the activities of their border forces from the palace, collecting regular reports from Tauriel on the spiders so that he could keep track of their nests and advise where to attack for best effect. He was a good strategist. Then, one day, everything seemed about to change.

He received his father’s summons at noon, when he was closeted with the captain of the guard, reviewing assignments for the next patrol. “Attend me in the throne room,” the note read, and Legolas hurried to obey as he always would have done, though now his obedience represented a greater depth of speed and satisfaction.

He strode up the steps, quick and sure, and laid his fist against his breast, bowing his head. “I attend you, my king,” he said, his voice just the slightest shade too breathless.

“Captain. Commander,” Thranduil surveyed Legolas, and he realised with a start that Tauriel had come with him, unasked and noiseless. “I have received word of huntsmen in our woods, poachers in my realm. They seek the white deer, and are shooting does and stags where they may.” His eyes flashed; the deer were his particular favorites of all the animals in the land, and they might not be shot on pain of death.

“Capture these poachers and have them brought to await my justice,” he commanded. “Take your best elves. Legolas, I would have you lead this group. Go in the morning. Find evidence of any deer they have killed and bring it before me.” He paused. “My son, I will retire to my rooms for supper. Bring me a list of your chosen troops before you go. I would see your choices.”

Legolas nodded, his chin firm, though Tauriel raised a brow; it was not usually Thranduil’s concern which elves they chose to send on patrol.

“Yes, sire,” Legolas said before she could speak. “I will bring it, as you command.”

*****

After ignoring Tauriel’s curious glances for at least ten minutes until she was distracted with someone else, the day passed slowly. At last, the time came for Legolas to attend with the list, although it really wasn’t about the list at all.

He knocked on the door and opened it to the softly-called command to enter, and shut it behind him, never realising he was observed. When the corridor was empty, Galion appeared from around the corner. He noted it and left silently.

When he was safe, with the door locked, Legolas threw the meaningless list aside and stripped by the door, as he had from the beginning of this. His clothes and boots were left there, and he hurried across to the bed where his father was waiting, falling to his knees beside it.

“I attend you, ada nín,” he said, head bowed.

Thranduil threw back the covers in invitation. “Join me,” he said. “I wish to know you again before you leave in the morning.”

With a glad sigh, Legolas slipped into the bed, feeling his father’s arms slide around him. For now, they kissed. To Legolas, these moments were reassuring. His father’s kisses were chaste and undemanding, and it assured him that even though they might explore a deeper relationship, he had not lost the familial wholesome love of his father.

They lay together for a while, naked, and yet if anyone had observed them, they would have been hard put to see anything more untoward in the their manner with each other. Thranduil asked him about his day, about his work, and Legolas answered. He asked his ada about his duties, and Thranduil made some small talk about stores and crops.

Then, as if a deadline had been reached, everything suddenly changed. Perhaps it was the way his father’s eyes flashed, but Legolas suddenly lay back, hands open on the pillows at either side of his head as Thranduil loomed over him. “I surrender,” Legolas said on a breath that might have been a wish.

“I said I would send you on patrol when I had my fill of you,” Thranduil whispered, holding his son’s eyes as Legolas arched up, purring, hoping to receive his kiss. “But I see now that could never be, ion nín. I will have to send you out without having my fill, and wait at home craving your return and planning how I will greet you. Care well for yourself, Legolas.” For a moment his eyes deepened, looking almost shattered. “Return to me whole, and soon.”

He dove in for a kiss that went unexpectedly deep and passionate, holding Legolas firmly, as if he could not bring himself to let go – and Legolas suddenly understood something of the desperation his father held secret deep inside himself, the compulsion he had to own Legolas, to possess him, to control him. Thranduil had lost so much throughout the long ages…

“I will do my best, ada,” he promised against his father’s mouth, deeply moved. “I will miss you more than you know. I will dream of coming home to your bed every night I am away.”

Legolas ran his fingers through Thranduil’s hair, right to the very ends, while his father rested his forehead against Legolas’s shoulder. His hands ended at the small of Thranduil’s back, palms resting lightly there.

“I love you, ada,” Legolas whispered softly, moving his lips over the top of his father’s head, barely touching. It was unusual for Thranduil to be so still and quiet. Usually when they were abed together, it was his father who always knew exactly what to do. So much so that Legolas barely had time to think when they were together. Now, he not only had time to think, he had time to display his affection, and it pleased him.

He caressed Thranduil’s skin with his fingertips, ranging down from his lower back to the top of his buttocks, just teasing, feeling his lips curve in a smile of love. “But how do you love me, ion nín?” Thranduil said, his voice muffled against Legolas’s shoulder.

“Melethron nín,” Legolas sighed. “Mell ada nín,” he said then, smiling. “Aran nín. Do you not know all the ways? I love you in all the ways you love me. None will ever diminish.”

Thranduil sighed, and then drew up, turning over onto his back next to Legolas, a slight smile curving his lips as if those simple words made him happy somehow. Legolas chased him, enjoying it to explore his father’s body with his hands while he seemed to be in this strange quiet mood.

“I love to touch you,” he said, daring to play. “You should let me do it more often.” To his surprise, Thranduil laughed lightly at his teasing, head falling to the side to look at him, his eyes shining. He was so beautiful Legolas caught his breath.

“Touch me, then.” Thranduil lay pliant, allowing his hands to rove, his eyes half-lidded in a sleepy look Legolas knew could be deceptive. “Show me how you would love me.”

Legolas did – touching with slow, reverent hands, letting his mouth trail in their wake, surprised when Thranduil did not lose patience with the careful, tender exploration and roll him to his back for a hard fucking.

His father lay still, breathing in low, panting gasps that quickened as Legolas’s meticulous worship neared his cock. He tensed so much Legolas could almost hear the whine in each breath when he skirted around his ada’s cock without touching it, moving to trace the long, lean muscles of his legs, taking each perfect toe into his mouth to suck and lick.

“Legolas, you are a tease,” Thranduil gasped, digging his long fingers into the bedding. “If you mean to waste your time in tickling my feet, then I will not allow you to have me after!”

Legolas stopped, setting his father’s foot down in great haste. He licked his lips, uncertain he had heard properly. “Have you, ada?”

A serious look came across his father’s face. “Before you leave, I would very much like to know you in all ways,” he said, as if confessing to some secret desire. “Although,” he said, concerned, “it is very soon. If you are not ready…”

Legolas was back up the bed in a heartbeat – less – the idea of it made him hunger suddenly. “I am ready, ada!” he said, and Thranduil laughed, pushing him back down before Legolas could clamber all over him. Of course he had thought of it, dreamed of it, dared to imagine it. How could his father not know?

“It would give me something to think on while you are away, ion nín,” he said, his voice low, fingers caressing Legolas’s lips. He sighed. “But you must heed my instructions in this,” he warned.

“I will, ada, I promise,” Legolas vowed, kissing his father’s fingers. He would obey every instruction. He would not hurt Thranduil for all the world. And yet, to think he might know the same pleasure as his father had found in him: here, tonight. His pulse raced with excitement.

“First you will prepare me,” Thranduil said, reaching to the bedside. “You will do as I have shown you, taking time to ensure my readiness to accept you. “Begin with your lips and your tongue,” he said, his voice husky. “I would feel your kiss there. Then your fingers.”

He lay quiescent, his eyes looking up at Legolas, challenge and fire in their depths – and something more, a flicker Legolas could not read. A steadiness, almost a wariness, as though his father watched him keenly for some particular reason from behind the lazy sensuality of his casual offer.

“Turn over for me, ada?” Legolas found him willing, and helped him turn to his belly, surveying the long planes of his back and shoulders, the spare curves of his buttocks, the pale perfection of the fine-grained skin between his thighs.

He spread those perfect thighs and began there, kissing along the soft insides of them, daring to nip as Thranduil had often nipped him, knowing how it wakened the nerves and made his whole body sing with want. He tongued the crease of buttock and thigh, licking up salt, thumbs probing between the crease, pulling gently to open his father. He felt his heart quiver within him; Thranduil was so soft and vulnerable here, so impossibly exposed, helpless and revealed as Legolas had never pictured seeing him, even in his most heated and bold imagining.

He kissed his way in, hearing Thranduil gasp against his pillow; his father’s back and shoulders flexed, and he clutched the pillow tightly, anticipating. He built the anticipation as long as he dared with tiny licks and nibbles, waiting until Thranduil began to relax, trying to read his father’s impatience – and just as Thranduil would have spoken to reprimand him for teasing, he pointed his tongue, curling it, and drove it through the taut muscle.

His father yelped, a startled cry wrung from his lips, and his whole body shuddered, his hair falling across his face. Legolas heard the slide of it, heard the wet sound of Thranduil’s tongue slicking his lips as he fought to regain control – and battled that control with his only weapon, closing his eyes and driving his tongue deep again and again, pushing his father open to accept him. It was harder than he imagined; the muscle was very strong, and it resisted him.

Again he sensed Thranduil about to speak, and forestalled him, pressing at the flat expanse of skin beneath his chin and finding the pleasure-point deep inside, making the words escape in another meaningless cry. He hummed satisfaction, reaching for the oil he had been given, and slid a finger deep to aid his tongue, liking the sweet oil, crooking the finger, seeking – there! A spasm shivered through Thranduil’s long body, heralding another low cry. He sensed control at his fingertips, just outside his reach, tantalisingly near, and his cock pulsed with eagerness to be sheathed.

Legolas withdrew his tongue, feeling it stretch and then release from the tight channel suddenly. He swallowed and licked his lips, before paying attention to his fingers, slipping another inside his father carefully so now there were two. He worked at the task, his fingers gliding up and over the coils of muscle inside him, making the inside of him slippery and easy.

Pressing a line of kisses up from the small of his father’s back to somewhere just below his left shoulder blade, Legolas rested his chin there, fingers still moving. His father’s face was mostly hidden by his hair from this angle, but Legolas could hear the sounds he made, continuous, almost silent, expressive of need and longing.

“You do not do this often, I think,” Legolas guessed, certain he was right.

Thranduil groaned. “Not often,” he said, gasping as Legolas touched that place inside him. “It is a privilege. I grant it to you!”

With those words, Legolas felt some of his new found certainty desert him, and even though he had known this from the other side many times now, by his father’s own hand, he found he was nervous. “Is it enough?” he asked.

“Enough,” Thranduil agreed, and Legolas removed his fingers. “Ensure you oil yourself before….” Here, words seemed to fail him. “I trust you,” he said, and Legolas felt a fierce feeling of love and care rise up in him.

Leaning back up so he could pay attention, he used the oil liberally on himself. Thranduil trusted him, gave no further instructions, and he lined himself up carefully, pressing forward very slowly, attentive to Thranduil’s responses beneath him. When he was barely inside, Thranduil gave him a long, low moan.

“More now, ada,” Legolas almost whispered, and pushed a little further, the effort of going so slowly was almost driving him out of his mind, but he could not just ravage Thranduil. He felt strongly that he wanted to please, not merely take.

His father’s lashes fluttered, strands of hair streaming across his face, his pink tongue slicking his lips, and the sight nearly drove Legolas to climax then and there. He stilled, trying to steady himself, but Thranduil pushed back, an insistent move that sheathed him to the hilt.

“Ada!” Legolas cried, seizing Thranduil’s waist in desperate hands to hold him still. “Do not make me spend so soon!”

Thranduil laughed softly, throwing his hair back over one shoulder, and looking to see Legolas poised behind him, quivering with desperation not to come. “My virgin boy,” he said softly, and his body clasped Legolas in a long, deliberate squeeze that left him trembling, clinging to control by his fingernails. “No, do not come, not yet.”

Legolas moaned, more of a whimper, and shut his eyes, biting savagely at his lip. His father’s body held him brutally tight, slick blood-hot warmth enclosing him, pulsating with life. Unable to help himself, he withdrew and thrust in again, and Thranduil gave a low groan of pleasure – and frustration – as he stilled, once again struggling to control the sensations threatening to overwhelm him.

“Let me, let me…” he pleaded with his father for patience, for indulgence. “Give me time!”

He reached around Thranduil to palm his cock, giving it a few quick strokes to placate his father, but even that made the tight channel constrict around him, wringing pleasure from him, dragging him in. He managed a few staggered thrusts without coming, enough to make Thranduil shudder and let his head fall back to the pillow, which muffled his low moans. He caught his ada’s buttocks in his hands, kneading them, spreading them wider so he could push deeper.

He managed half a dozen hard thrusts that made Thranduil quiver and gasp, then a long pause as he clawed for restraint, staring straight up into the vault of the ceiling so he did not have to see the beauty of his ada spread wide and taking his cock. Then another few thrusts, and a brief glimpse of Thranduil stretched open, then Legolas looked away again in desperation, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He closed his fist tightly about Thranduil, stroking him with a force and rhythm he knew drove his father mad, trying to coax him toward the brink.

The more he stroked, the more his father’s body tightened around him, and Legolas was possessed of a sudden urge to subdue that maddening clench of sensation, his movements becoming longer, deeper, more fluid. His mind was screaming at him to stop, though whether that was aimed at his own impending climax or at Thranduil himself was debatable.

He heard himself almost growl, some kind of savage joy in him when he felt his father relax before his thrusts, as if he’d finally submitted. Ah, yes! That was better. “Yes, ada,” he said, his voice deep, and it sounded suspiciously like praise.

His hand squeezed and pulled until he felt Thranduil’s cock pulse with his touch, his essence spilling out of him as his body constricted more tightly than before, and that was the end for Legolas too. He could no longer control the movements his body made, but there was the strangest sensation of sheer victory and exhilaration in him as he came, his seed deep inside his ada’s body, marking him as Legolas’s own.

When it was all done, Legolas did not linger, but pulled away and rolled onto his back, looking at the ceiling, automatically lifting his hand to his mouth to lick it. It was covered with Thranduil’s issue. He sensed his father moved beside him, and that he was propped on his elbow, watching as Legolas cleaned off his hand.

At last he turned his head, and he felt love rise in him again. “Is that what you wished for, ada?” he asked, and his question sounded strangely innocent, even to him, though he could say now, surely, he had no innocence left.

Thranduil stared at him for a long moment as if he failed to understand; his ada’s pupils were blown wide and dark and his tongue flickered over his lips again, seeming almost nervous.

Thranduil reached and took Legolas’s hand, and finished licking it clean himself, his hot, dark eyes studying Legolas’s face all the while, a strange, half-startled look on his face. “It is,” he said at last, and pressed a kiss against Legolas’s palm, the tip of his tongue teasing there for an instant. “Was it what you wished?” The words escaped him on a breath, and he stopped, inhaling sharply, as if he would have them back, but he could not withdraw them now.

“I wish what you wish,” Legolas answered, wishing he dared embrace his father and curl him close. “And I wish all things, if they are with you.” He remembered the darkly beautiful feeling of triumph in his father’s flesh giving way before him, growing slick and pliant, yielding as he plowed deep inside and worked for his pleasure. Was that how it felt when his ada took him?

“I wish now that I had not given you such pleasure, so you might turn me to my belly and fuck me in turn,” he confessed, blushing a little.

To his surprise, Thranduil moved close, giving Legolas no option but to embrace him as he curled up, a sigh of happiness escaping him that Legolas did not miss. Now, it was like when he’d first crawled into his ada’s bed, the love between them was deep. It was more than the actions they took. It was forever and it was perfect.

“Sleep here,” Thranduil said, his voice already deep with approaching reverie. Legolas blinked. He always did sleep in his father’s bed now. He smiled and settled, his chin resting on Thranduil’s head, and pulled the sheets up over them both.

Let the morning wait.

To be continued...

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Translations:

ada – father/dad

ion nín – my son

melethron nín – my lover

mell ada nín – my dear father

aran nín – my king
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Prince in Training