Title & Chapter Number: An Unbidden Desire: Part 1.5/7
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Dimensions_of_Dhvana
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: With the exception of Menelhen, the characters and places in this story are the creation of Tolkien.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Nope
Cast: Elrohir/Thranduil, Legolas/Elladan, Elrohir/Menelhen implied
Timeline: Pre LotR AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Though he is forced to foster in Mirkwood, Elrohir finds he may not be as eager to leave as he thought.
Notes: Having abandoned RPS for a while (needed a break), I thought I'd share with y'all the FPS story I'm working on. Hope you enjoy and feedback would be most welcome!
Part 1.5
Thranduil, having washed away the morning's practice in the baths, entered his room to find the Healer draped over one of the large chairs near the fireplace, a heavy book in his lap.
"Did you want something?" Thranduil said, dropping his robe to the floor.
Menelhen gave an appreciative glance over the lean body, then pouted as Thranduil pulled on a pair of breeches. Sighing, he returned to flipping through the pages.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself this morning."
"It's always a pleasure to see a Son of Imladris sprawled out on the ground."
"Especially when you're on top of him at the time," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, my Lord."
"Indeed," he said, giving the Elf a skeptical look as he shrugged into his tunic.
Menelhen smiled to himself. This was going to be easier than he though. "Elrohir is beautiful," he said, his voice full of detached observation, "even by Elven standards, don't you think? That long, thick black hair, nicely toned body, and those deep blue eyes that seem to grab onto your heart and refuse to let go."
Thranduil looked at the Healer, wondering where this was going. "If you're seeking my permission to court the Prince, you have it."
"My dear King," Menelhen said, slamming his book shut, "you know where my affections lie."
"Then why all this talk about our...guest?" Thranduil asked, sitting in the chair across from him.
"You didn't think you actions were hidden from us all, did you, my Lord?" Menelhen asked, gracefully pushing himself out of the chair and walking over to the King. "I saw you," he whispered in a pointed ear as he stood behind Thranduil, then moved over to the other ear. "The way you pressed your body to his, the way you tasted him." He moved back to the first ear. "Is he still there, lingering in your mouth?"
Thranduil reached up and grabbed Menelhen by the robes, pulling him around till they were face to face.
"What are you trying to say, Healer?" the King growled, the rumble carrying a threat of what would happen if the Elf didn't soon reach his point. Menelhen melted onto the King's lap, their faces so close he could rub noses with the Lord.
"He wants you, just as you want him" he said, running his fingers over an elegant cheek. "Would it be so wrong for you to call him to you?"
"Yes," Thranduil answered, growing impatient with the Healer's game.
Smiling, Menelhen closed the space between them and kissed the wintry Lord. "Then I will send him to you."
He stood up and fled from the room before the King could catch him, Thranduil's angry yell following him down the hall.
~*~*~*~
It took the Healer longer to find the Prince than he had expected, as Elrohir had sought the solitude of the woods after the morning's humiliation. He had bathed in a mountain stream, then fell asleep on a sun-warmed boulder. By the time he woke up, it was nearly dark. He returned to the castle with the sole intention of curling up by the fire with one of his books, but his intentions held little power in Mirkwood.
Menelhen knocked sharply on the door and entered. "Elrohir, I've been looking all over for you."
"Why?" the Prince asked, immediately alarmed by the urgency in the Healer's voice. "Is something wrong? Have you heard from Rivendell?"
"No, do not worry, it's nothing like that. The King wishes to see you."
Elrohir frowned, the blood rushing from his face at the thought of having to face him again. "The King? Do you know what he wants?"
"You'll have to ask him," Menelhen said, straightening the Elf's clothes and arranging the long dark hair over his shoulders. Standing back, he gave the Prince a nod of approval. "Not ideal, but a pleasure nonetheless."
Elrohir blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Nothing. You should go--now! He'll already be furious that it took me this long to find you."
"Oh, bother," Elrohir muttered under his breath as he headed towards the door. He paused, glancing back at the Healer, who nodded encouragingly.
"Go!"
Though he didn't want to risk rousing the King's impatience any further, Elrohir's feet were remarkably sluggish as he made his way to Thranduil's chambers. What could the King possibly want with him? he wondered, and then he remembered the feeling of Thranduil on top of him. He breathed in deep as a shiver ran through his body.
Impossible, he thought, scolding himself for even imagining it. They could barely tolerate the other's presence, much lest desire anything... physical.
He stood before the massive wooden door and stared at it, wondering about the Elf inside. Lifting his hand, he reached out to knock, then lowered his hand back down to his side. If his twin could see him now, Elladan would be rolling on the floor, laughing till tears streamed from his eyes. But then, if Elladan knew what his brother had been thinking about Mirkwood's Lord, he would be hunting Elrohir instead of Orcs.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, and rapped quickly on the door.
"Enter!"
The door creaked open and he stepped inside.
~*~*~*~
The Elf King's eyes flared as he caught sight of the young Prince. Damn that Healer! He would see to it that Menelhen suffered dearly for this. Still, look at the way he hesitated, the way those magnificent blue eyes kept darting towards the door. There could be amusement to be found in this after all.
"Menelhen said you wished to see me."
"Close the door and come in."
Though he only gave it the slightest nudge, the door swung smoothly on its hinges and shut with an ominous click that made Elrohir jump. He quickly looked to see if Thranduil had noticed, but the Elven Lord's icy stare was focused on the fire. He was sitting in a large armchair near the blaze, for even in summer, the air of Mirkwood turned cold at night. He was...beautiful. The golden glow of the flames gave him a warmth that was lacking in life, deepening his hair to a dark gold, lighting up his eyes.
"Sit down," the King commanded, and Elrohir walked over to the chair across from him, casting only a brief uneasy glance at the large bed as he passed by.
"You have potential."
"My Lord?" Elrohir frowned as he sat down.
"Your skills as an archer are reprehensible, but your swordplay is impressive and your hand-to-hand combat, though it could do with some correction, is not terrible."
"Thank you, my Lord," Elrohir said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Thranduil gave him a dark look, but chose to let it slide.
"You have learned much during your stay here. I have seen definite signs of improvement."
Elrohir's eyes narrowed. "The Orcs never seemed to complain about my technique before. But then, there were never any of them left to complain."
"That doesn't mean you couldn't be better. You never know when the extra training might be what turns the tide of a battle. I'm simply thankful my son has become the warrior he is--and you should be too, considering your brother is with him."
"I'm sure they won't encounter any trouble, my Lord," he answered, looking closer at the Elf's regal features--did he know? Did he suspect what was going on between the two? "And if they do, my brother is a skilled warrior himself."
"Yes, his skills are widely known. It still surprises me that he chose your twin over you. I would have thought he was a bit too wild for Legolas, but they seem to suit each other."
Elrohir stared at the King, who was watching him with glittering eyes. "You know."
"My son has grown less careful about hiding the details of his life from me since he ceased to spend every moment seeking for my approval. It wasn't difficult to discern the true depth of his emotions when he spoke of Elladan."
He immediately began to fear for the lovers--from what he'd heard, Thranduil wasn't known for his tolerance. "You... you will not try to hurt them, will you?"
"My son's heart is his own to give. I may not like his choice, but I will not try to change it."
No matter how hard he tried, Thranduil could not have said anything more shocking to the Prince. He was silent for a moment, then started to chuckle. "I'm glad you know. Relieved, actually. Now they no longer have an excuse to stay away."
"And you can return home."
"Exactly. Or I would, if I knew where they were so we could trade places."
Thranduil looked at the young Elf, then nodded. "If you are truly so miserable here, I have no desire to hold you against your will."
"My Lord?" Elrohir asked, his eyes widening. The King seemed to be full of surprises that night, he thought, the gloom on his heart lifting at the possibility of going back to his family.
"Return home, Princeling. Return to your family. And, if you should happen to run across my son, please let him know I'd like to see him."
"What about Celeborn and Galadriel?"
"I will deal with them, though I doubt they will have little reason to object, seeing as how our houses have joined in a rather unexpected manner," he said with a wry smile. As the young Elf rose to his feet, Thranduil felt a twinge of regret. Though he had meant his words, he found he had grown accustomed to seeing the thick black hair and endless violet blue eyes, the play of muscles beneath the pale skin. Perhaps it was better that he left, or he might become a distraction Thranduil wasn't prepared to handle.
"Thank you, my Lord," Elrohir bowed, then walked towards the door, his mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. He was beginning to doubt all of the stories he'd heard about the King, or at least, he was beginning to wonder whether or not there was more to them than what had reached his ears. What if there was an entirely different Thranduil hidden beneath the wintry demeanor? What would he be like if Elrohir could reach that part? Did he want to find out? Closing his eyes, he remembered once more the feeling of the King lying on top of him, and his body's reaction was all the response he needed. He turned back to Thranduil.
"What if I choose not to leave?"
Arching an eyebrow, the King faced the Prince. Had he heard him correctly? Why would Elrohir want to remain? Unless... Thranduil did his best to keep from revealing his thoughts, remaining distant as he answered. "It is your choice. You may do as you please."
Elrohir was quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath before he answered. "Then I will stay till the end of summer."
"I should warn you," Thranduil said, his eyes sliding over to the Elf, choosing to give him one last chance to escape, "if you do stay, you will no longer be treated as a foster child. You will be as one of my own warriors, and I will expect you to behave as such."
"I shall do my best. As you have said, I have much to learn."
"You do realize this means you will have to obey my orders."
"I understand."
"Without question."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Starting now."
"I am yours to command."
"Good. Remove your clothes."
Elrohir started, his heart practically leaping from his chest. "My Lord?"
"Are you disobeying me already?"
Swallowing hard, his mouth completely dry, the Prince shook his head. "No, my Lord."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he slowly repeated his words. "Remove your clothes."
His hands shaking, Elrohir began to unlace his tunic. He was once more a prisoner of the cold blue of Thranduil's eyes, which watched his every move. They followed him as he let the tunic fall to the floor, quickly joined by his undershirt. Pulling his boots off, he let his hair fall over his face to hide the confusion of emotions from the observing King. His stomach quivered with excitement and he could feel the embers lighting in his groin, but his mind wasn't quite sure if this was what he wanted. He didn't love Thranduil, or at least, he didn't think he did. He wasn't even sure if it was possible to love the icy King. Was it simply a matter of lust? But he'd felt lust before, and it had never been as powerful as this.
Closing his eyes, he pushed the doubts from his mind. There was too much for him to sort through, and the King was waiting.
Standing tall, he let his leggings fall to the floor and gracefully stepped out of them.
"Come here."
Elrohir walked back over to the King, stopping next to the arm of his chair. He stared straight ahead as Thranduil reached up and placed a hand over his heart, his thumb lightly brushing the stiffening nipple.
"Your heart is pounding, Princeling. I can feel its quick beat throughout my entire body. Are you afraid?"
Elrohir tried to speak but found his voice had escaped him. Wetting his lips, he nodded. "A little," he whispered, his voice harsh in his ears.
"But that is not all, is it?" Thranduil said, slowly gliding his open palm down the muscled stomach to the soft hairs growing between the Elf's legs. He allowed the natural arc of Elrohir's erect member to guide his hand until he had the Elf's considerable length in his grasp.
"You were correct," he mused, the icy blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "There is truly nothing little about you."
Elrohir's already reddened complexion deepened as the King began to stroke him into further hardness. This felt far too good, he thought.
"It is strange to think I hold the Son of Elrond in the palm of my hand. What would your father think?"
As the last thing he wanted to be thinking about at that moment was the Lord of Imladris, Elrohir smiled grimly down at the King. "I don't know. Tell me, what would yours?"
The King gave him a cold smile, and Elrohir gasped as the hand on his cock tightened. "There is boldness in you yet, Princeling. I was beginning to worry all the courage had fallen upon your brother."
"I have my moments of impulse," he replied, clenching his eyes shut. Thranduil had removed all of his hand except his forefinger, which was rubbing against the slit at the tip of the Prince's Elfhood. Slick with the drops of precum, the King continued his steady pace with that single finger. Elrohir's fingernails bit into his hands as he strained not to push himself into the torturous touch.
Thranduil smiled at the Elf's suffering, the beautiful face contorted with the odd combination of sensuality and restraint. For the first time in a long time, he enjoyed being the cause of pleasure in another, and welcomed the answering blaze in his loins. Even as he gazed at Elrohir, he discovered he looked forward to forcing the moans and cries of ecstasy from between those reluctant lips for many nights to come.
Elrohir's body began to tighten with the onslaught of orgasm, and just as he neared the edge, the touch disappeared. His eyes flew open in protest as the King rose to his feet. Their gazes locked as the Elf Lord undid the clasps on his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Taking Elrohir's face between his hands, Thranduil kissed him.
Much to his delight, the wintry King's lips were full of fire and Elrohir welcomed the demanding tongue into his mouth. He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around the golden waist, drawing himself into the King's embrace. Thranduil slid his hands down the length of the Prince's body and clasped the tight buttocks, pushing the young Elf's groin against his own. A whimper escaped Elrohir's lips as the King's hardness met his.
Their mouths still entwined, Thranduil began guiding the Elf backwards until Elrohir's legs hit a solid mass and he fell back onto the bed. His eyes hazy with desire, he leaned up on his forearms and watched as the King unlaced his breeches, pushing them to the floor. He moaned softly with anticipation at the sight of Thranduil's pulsing cock, the King chuckling at his reaction.
Disapproving of the smugness in the sound, Elrohir smiled wickedly at him. "I had always wondered where Legolas got his generous inheritance."
Thranduil's eyes flashed as he leaned over the Elf. "You've bedded my son?"
"I don't believe that's any of your concern," he said loftily, enjoying the Elf Lord's jealousy. The King shook his head, his hair a pale fountain of gold as it tickled across Elrohir's chest while he took hold of the Elf's chin. Arching the Prince's head back, he began nibbling on the lovely neck.
"Have you bedded my son?"
"I'll never tell."
"Hmph." Thranduil ran his tongue along the entire length of the pale throat up to the tip of his chin and Elrohir drew in his breath sharply. "Have you bedded my son?"
"You'll have to ask him," he replied, his voice growing increasingly unsteady.
"Indeed." Thranduil said, then kissed his way down Elrohir's chest to the right nipple. He lapped at the nub, sucking at it until he could feel the Elf's pounding heart through his tongue. Smiling, he took the darkened peak between his teeth, gently pulling at it as Elrohir writhed in misery. He flicked at the bit of skin in his mouth with his tongue until Elrohir was forced to relent.
"No, never!" he cried out. "I've never bedded your son!"
"Did he bed you?"
"No, by the gods, no! Please, stop!"
"Poor little Princeling," Thranduil said, lifting a long leg over his shoulder, "how it thrills my heart to see you suffer."
"It is my hope to see you suffer so one day," Elrohir said, grabbing hold of the King by the neck and pulling him down on top of him.
As his own need was growing more difficult to ignore, the King decided to overlook the Elf's impertinence and busied himself with their tongue play. Rubbing the fluid from their weeping cocks over his fingers, he reached down between the Elf's legs, pausing at the puckered opening. Elrohir raised his hips as he felt the King's fingertip brush against him and Thranduil slipped a finger inside. The Prince was tighter than he had expected and he shivered at the thought of soon embedding himself in that heat. He withdrew a little, then pushed his finger in again, Elrohir pleading below him with wordless cries. He knew that Elrohir wasn't ready yet, that he wasn't stretched wide enough, but he couldn't wait.
Pressing his throbbing hardness against the taut opening, he told himself to move slowly, but Elrohir had other ideas. Bucking his hips against the King, the young Elf practically impaled himself upon his cock, crying out as he did so. Thranduil would have paused, but Elrohir continued writhing with such pleasure, he wasn't about to object. Matching the Prince's enthusiasm, he thrust inside Elrohir again and again, completely enveloped by the powerful heat. He moved deeper into the Elf, angling against him until he brushed the sensitive gland that made Elrohir shout with pleasure.
"By the gods, I could love you," Thranduil said breathlessly, reaching that joyous spot repeatedly till Elrohir was mad with rapture. As he felt himself nearing orgasm, Thranduil leaned over and captured the Elf's mouth. He wanted to be kissing this exquisite creature when they came, to have Elrohir cry out his pleasure into him. He moved faster till the Prince's body contracted around him, the heat of his orgasm spilling between them. As he had desired, the sound of Elrohir's bliss filled him from he inside, and he also came, shouting out his own joy into the young Elf.
As their release ebbed and flowed through their bodies, they held each other, their breath coming in pants. Thranduil didn't want to move, he wanted to stay inside the Prince, to forever feel the Elf's warmth wrapped around him.
Elrohir clutched at the King, not wanting him to let go. In all his years, despite all his partners, he had never felt a culmination quite like this one. It still continued to send sparks to his brain and through his body. He didn't know what the intensity of the sensations meant, but he couldn't wait to experience them all again.
Finally, the King withdrew, rolling over onto the bed and pulling Elrohir with him. He held him close, nuzzling the soft neck as the Prince's eyes glazed over with drowsiness.
"You are mine now, Princeling," he whispered, Elrohir's answer only a murmur in the back of his throat. Thranduil kissed the young Elf softly and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
~ Next Chapter ~
~ Previous Chapter ~
~ Library Main ~
~ Author Index ~ Character Index ~ Title Index ~
~ Hall Of Fire ~ Gallery ~
~ Links ~ Shops ~ Map ~ News ~ Rules ~ Lists ~ ~
This page is in no way affiliated with New Line Cinema or Tolkien Enterprises, and no profit is being made.
The information contained herein is NOT to be used to spam or in any other way harrass its members. Be advised that abuse of this site will not be tolerated, and the appropriate legal action will be taken.
Hall-Of-Fire.Com v.4.0, Copyright © 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 by Cristine Cook-Fireheart. All rights reserved. This web site may not be reproduced in any form, except as occurs in normal browser caching, without express written permission from the author.
Website by Infinite Connections Design.
