A night of fulfilled desires

BY : sevenofmine
Category: +Third Age > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 2935
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make money from writing this story.

Warning: It gets rough. And afterwards, very romantic.


Chapter 4

“How many dead?” Thranduil hissed in disbelief. His face reflected hatred, though it was not clear whether he hated spiders, or he hated losing. Probably both.

Legolas did not bow like Cwingand, the commander of the army sent to the spidernest, did. He repeated the number and watched another outburst of anger in Thranduil’s face. He found for a short time that hatred made his father ugly, but he pushed that thought away immediately.

Thranduil turned away from his two soldiers. He breathed deeply, either to calm himself or to prepare another round of shouting and insults. Finally, his voice had come down to a normal volume, but this did not mean that his words were filled with less emotions.

“Cwingand, you may leave. See to that the wounded are being treated and that a nurse takes a look at your shoulder. Legolas, you stay.”

His son did not move but exchanged a quick look with the oak brown haired elf. Cwingand was glad that he could leave and got treated, both because his shoulder was hurting and bleeding, but also because he was sure that Legolas was in for another round of being yelled at by Thranduil.

The king waited until Cwingand had shut the door of the briefing room behind him and then ordered his guards to leave as well and not return until after their midday break. The door fell shut another time and Legolas shrieked by the sound. It meant that he had no choice but completely surrender to his father’s enraged mood.

He looked at him expectantly. Thranduil looked back at his son who could see the veins in his face pump the blood through the body.

“Arda, the spiders were too many,” Legolas tried to soothe him. But his intent was futile.

“Turn around,” Thranduil said. Legolas sighed. When he was a child and misbehaved, he was often punished by his father. At times, his behind had been so red that he could not sit for hours. It would hurt in the night and he could not sleep.

Legolas obediently turned around to face the long, wooden table. He opened his trousers and let it drop. He removed his underwear and bent forward. In the meantime, his father had picked up one of the twigs that would be used for fire making in the nights. Legolas took off the cloth bandage that he had provisionally draped around his left underarm where a spider claw had cut him. The tissue stank of his own blood, but he still put it into his mouth to avoid grinding his teeth.

Thranduil did not give him advance notice so the first stroke came unexpected. Legolas made a muffled sound through the cloth and tasted the blood with which it was soaked. He nearly had to gag when he swallowed the blood. He wanted to prepare himself, but the hits were without rhythm. Thranduil hit him with different times to relax in between, with different strength. He would not stop until Legolas’ cheeks were red with bloody striae. He threw the red twig next to Legolas onto the table, but his son knew that the punishment was not over yet.

The blonde prince felt the cold hands of the king gliding over his bottom, not to caress the wound but to get enough blood to use as lube. Then he felt immediately two fingers inside him and held his breath in pain. He wanted to scream, but no voice left his mouth. He bent down further, but it did not help to lessen the pain. Thranduil rubbed his fingers inside him and took a third one to join in too early. Legolas panted heavily and the cloth dropped out of his mouth.

“I hope this will be a lesson for you,” Thranduil hissed in his malevolent voice. “To be a better archer, to be a better soldier.” With that he entered his stiff penis and pushed himself fully in. Legolas gave only a short shrieking sound before he returned to a silent scream. His head was red by now as well, and the pain made his limbs twitch. He wanted to beg, but he would not give his father the satisfaction of admitting his weakness.

Thranduil worked in Legolas, at first slowly, but he increased the pace without mercy. Only when he had come, he stopped, not giving in to his son’s pain. Pleased, he took out his penis and dressed again.

“I do not want to see you a minute late for lunch,” he said and left the room without looking back.

Legolas fell to his knees the moment that he was alone. Tears dripped out of his eyes and he hid his face in his hands. He rested in this position for a few moments, his behind aching, the pain coming and leaving in waves. He felt the blood pumping in his face. Then he stood up, supported his hands on the wooden table and caught his breath. He wiped the tears out of his eyes. Father got angry when someone saw him cry. And he did not want to be punished again today.

He got dressed and walked out of the room without a hint on his face of what had happened. He joined the soldier’s lunch silently. Actually, there was no one who spoke. The few soldiers that had returned and were healthy enough to take the meal at the common table were thinking about what had happened and how the spiders would have nearly had them. Elrond came late, too, and he took a seat, too, without talking at all. However, for Elrond, it was nothing unusual as he was wise enough only to speak when he had something to say.

As soon as it was possible to excuse himself politely, Legolas left the scene and returned to his private quarters. He wanted to sit down but his rear would not let him. Hence, he sunk down in front of his desk and looked at the floor. He was so lost in his thoughts and pain that he did not hear the door open and close behind him. Only when he felt a warm breath near his ear did he notice the elf kneeing beside him.

“What happened?” Elrond asked calmly. His voice was like a breeze trying to soften the ocean’s maelstrom that was playing inside Legolas’ heart and body.

He felt wet tears running over his cheek again. Angrily, Legolas wiped them off, only to find his hand caught by Elrond’s.

“There is no shame in crying,” the dark-haired elf solaced him and licked the tears off Legolas’ hand. He then put his hand around his shoulder, pulling the blonde youngling slightly towards him.

Legolas leaned his head against Elrond’s chest and whimpered. “I Adar nîn,” he stammered after a while, his voice shaking like the thoughts inside his mind. He felt Elrond’s hand wander from his shoulder into his hair and caressing his head. He had never felt such soft touches by his father.

“He hurt you?” Elrond whispered into his pointy ear. Legolas could not speak but nodded. He sensed Elrond furrow his brow and then sigh in disappointment in Thranduil’s fatherly skills. “Get up and undress,” Elrond then decided. “I want to take a look.” He helped Legolas up and towards the bed. Legolas was weak and needed Elrond’s strength to help him remove his many layer of clothes. When he was finally bare, he lay down on his chest, and Elrond pushed a fluffy pillow under his head. The blonde elf looked sideward while Elrond searched for oil in the drawer of the night table. He dribbled the liquid onto Legolas’ reddened cheeks and gently applied it with his hands. He worked around the asshole at first but then went slowly closer until his smallest oily finger entered him. Legolas tensed at the feeling of the finger entering him, but as the anticipated pain was damper than expected, he relaxed again.

Elrond turned his finger, then took his index finger and repeated the massage inside him. When it seemed too sore, he added more oil until Legolas’ muscles eased. Then his hands slid down Legolas’ hairless legs and he gently petted his thighs with his big, manly hands. The young elf moaned repeatedly in pleasure. His mind was not with his father anymore, he now concentrated solely on Elrond’s touch.

He must have dozen off because when he awoke again Elrond was sitting next to his face and drying his wet hand with a towel. He carefully pushed a strand out of Legolas’ face.

“How do you feel?” the half-elf asked.

“Better,” Legolas said, even though he became a bit sad when he thought about his punishment.

“You are still thinking about your father,” Elrond seemed to read his mind. “Let me help you forget this unpleasant event.” He leaned forwards to the oil bottle. He had only just washed his hands, but he did not mind continuing to coddle his young partner.

“In the drawer of the night table,” Legolas directed him, and when Elrond opened said drawer, he found a collection of wooden toys. At least in the first moment they looked like simple toys. Most of them were long, thick, carved wooden sticks. There was one with a tip like an arrow but softened. It was this one that he picked up, together with the round marbles on a string.

He dripped some of the oil directly onto Legolas’ already shimmering skin. “Work slowly,” the blonde elf begged.

“I will not hurt you, my dear,” Elrond said and added, “I am not your father.”

He massaged Legolas’ asshole again. First with one finger, then with two, and he rubbed them gently against the inside walls of his rectum. He exited his fingers and started to rub the marble balls against Legolas’ cheeks to get them wet and to make the elf know what he was up to.

“Oh yes,” Legolas moaned and closed his eyes. He wanted to focus his concentration on the feeling of his bottom. Very carefully, Elrond started to push one bead after another into his anus. Legolas felt like making noises, but he kept still. When the last beads was in, Elrond massaged his cheeks again.

“It feels so good,” Legolas said, and his father’s punishment was completely forgotten in that moment. He had opened his eyes again, but instead of looking backwards to Elrond, he focused on the drapes of the window. They were flattering in a soft afternoon breeze and the golden light was now enlightening his private room. The warm sun rays met his face and he felt truly blessed by this moment of physical affection. Elrond now bent forward and gave his stressed anus a quick kiss. Legolas closed his eyes again and expected a pull-out just like his father had been doing ever since he had given him those beads for a birthday decades ago.

But instead, the beads slipped out slowly and smoothly, wetted enough with the lubricating oil and without pain for Legolas but with a very relaxing feeling. He breathed deeply in and out, taking this rare moment of absolute pleasure for anything but granted. When the last marble bead had been pulled out, he felt Elrond’s fingers again, after-massaging to make sure Legolas was surely wide enough.

But instead of entering him himself, Elrond picked up the long wooden toy with the pointy tip that had the shape of an arrow. It had been the first present by his father, and he had been quite keen of using it many times. But again, unlike the king, Lord Elrond proved himself gentler and compassionate and took a long time to explore the anal orifice before completely inserting not only the tip but the whole toy. Legolas winced at the length, and Elrond pulled it a few millimetres back and stroked his cheek.

“It’s okay,” Legolas said, “I was just surprised by the length,” he added and felt the wood finding its way deeper into his rectum again. Elrond performed circular movements and pulled it out until he saw the tip and worked with pushing and pulling just half a palm wide of the toy. It pleased Legolas and he was in an ecstasy of joy that he already thought perfect. But then Elrond carefully rolled him over to his side, and while using his left to continue the anal satisfaction, his right, oily hand caressed Legolas’ balls at first, squishing them gently, letting all his fingers circle the testicles again and again with such finesse that Legolas was sure he had more than just five fingers on his hand.

After a while, Elrond worked his way up along the root and the shaft to the neck, and when he touched the glans, Legolas could not hold back his moans. The Lord’s touch felt so well and in harmony with the work he performed in his anus. He thought already that he could stand the pleasurable torture no longer as his body started to tremble, but suddenly he felt Elrond’s warm breath on his skin. He had bent down and was now kissing Legolas’ rips, waist and the side of his butt cheeks and thighs. Legolas’ mourns became louder and louder. He pressed his eyes together as he could no longer hold back.

“Elrond,” he breathed desperately.

“Yes, Legolas, yes,” Elrond murmured in his deep, smoky voice.

It was too much for Legolas. He released at once into Elrond’s hand, his body relaxing, though still slightly twitching. He leaned onto his back as Elrond had gotten onto his knees. He bent one leg around Legolas and lay down beneath him again, this time placing his head on the young elf’s chest. Elrond wiped his hand in the bed cloth, which got was stained with Legolas’ ejaculate and oil, but they did not care. He felt the half-elves warm breath on his chest. It felt comfortable and he wished they would never part again.



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