Title & Chapter Number: Forbidden Bond 1/6
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien with the exception of an original or two, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings, incest, and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Betas: Alex
Cast: Thranduil/Legolas, Legolas/Orophin, Thranduil/Erestor
Timeline: Third Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: A young Legolas reaches his majority and grapples with feelings he does not understand and Thranduil struggles to help his son.
Notes: This story is part of a larger arc and runs concurrently with the Tale of Two Brothers series. The entire arc is: Forbidden Bond, Tale of Two Brothers, Rock Stars, Elves, & Smut, All That You Can't Leave Behind, Farewells and New Beginnings.
It was his fiftieth birthday and it had been an elaborate celebration, his father never spared any effort to shower him with love and affection. He loved his father dearly; he was, in fact, the only one he had ever loved. Now that he had reached his majority, he was faced with feelings he had not really been prepared for. He noticed the way his fellow youths looked at him, male and female alike. He had also grown up around the steady stream of lovers his father had; he had noticed them no matter how discrete Thranduil had tried to be. He was trying to understand his awakening sexuality, grappling with feelings of loneliness and yearning, and he was afraid of what he yearned for.
The last of the guests had filed out and he sat in the chair next to his father's, his long, still delicate fingers folded in his lap. He shifted in his chair and looked up to see his father, bidding the last of the honored guests goodnight. Thranduil was dressed in forest green velvet robes; a crown of mithril adorned his head, and his hair was elaborately braided, with the foliage of the season entwined in his crown. He was an impressive figure; tall and muscular, with waist-long flaxen hair that fell in thick waves around his shoulders and chest. He had sparkling, sapphire blue eyes, and the most beautiful and warm smile Legolas had ever laid eyes upon. Legolas, by comparison, was lithe and elegant, much like his mother, he had often been told; but he had his father's eyes and his smile, and his charm, though he did not yet know it.
After the last of the guests filed out and the door to the great hall closed behind them, Thranduil turned to his beloved son. Legolas was the light of his life, his Greenleaf. Thranduil had devoted himself to the upbringing of his son, and prior to leaving for war and inheriting the throne of Mirkwood; he had spent virtually all his time with the boy. Legolas slept in his father's bed until he was six years of age, then he slept in his own bed, but still in his father's room until he was nine or ten. At that point Legolas was given his own room and his father went off to war. Thranduil never knew, but Legolas returned to sleeping in his bed and took to sleeping in his robes while he was gone; the King's musky scent comforted the boy.
Legolas looked up at his father and smiled weakly. Thranduil's brow was furrowed in concern and he approached his son. He noticed that Legolas had seemed full of melancholy that evening, but the Prince covered it well and the guests did not seem to notice. He was friendly and respectful to his guests and wore the appropriate expression for the evening, a friendly smile, but Thranduil knew it was an act. The King approached his son and knelt before him, taking his elegant hands in his own, "Legolas, why are you so sorrowful, Iôn? What is it that troubles your heart so?"
"I am fine, Ada, truly; I am tired, that is all." He was lying to his father, but he really did not know how to answer.
Thranduil rose to his feet, pulling his son to his feet as well. He pulled his son into an embrace, holding him tight and cradling his head against his chest, "I do not believe you, Iôn. I am worried about you, my Greenleaf."
Legolas clung to his father, and despite his best efforts to hold them back; tears began to fall from his eyes. He held his breath to prevent the sobs that began to shudder through his body and he clung tighter to his father, taking comfort in his strong embrace. Thranduil felt his son's body begin to tremble in his arms and he pulled back to see the tears run from his eyes. "Legolas? What is it? Please, tell me, let me help you." He whispered. He reached out and caressed his son's face, wiping the tears from his eyes with his thumbs. He watched his son's lips begin to quiver and he fought back his own tears when he saw his son begin to cry. He lifted him from the floor, carrying him back to his chamber. He kicked the door closed behind him and laid his son's lithe body on the bed.
He began to rise and Legolas gripped his robes, "Please, Ada, just stay with me a little while, hold me like you did when I was young."
Thranduil smiled and lay beside his son, taking him in his arms, cradling his head against his chest, stroking his hair. He softly sung to him, feeling his tense young form begin to relax as he fell asleep. He lay quietly with him for a few hours before sliding free from his son's grip. He rose quietly and began to undress, changing from his ceremonial robes to a thinner sleeping robe. It had been his habit, as of late, to sleep naked, but seeing as his son was in his bed, he opted to sleep clothed that night. There was a soft rap at the door and he remembered he had one of his lovers coming to meet him. He opened the door and quietly whispered to the young Elf, apologizing and sending him away; his son needed him that night. He crossed back to the bed, softly sitting on the edge of it, removing his crown and unbraiding his hair. He ran his hands through his hair, loosening it from the braids and rubbing his scalp. He had the beginnings of a headache and it had been a tiring evening. He felt the bed shift and sink under the moving weight of his son, and he looked back over his shoulder.
Legolas sat up behind him, rubbing his face and smiling weakly at his father, "Can I sleep here with you, Ada? I know I am far too old, but I have been having nightmares, terrible nightmares, and I just do not think I can be alone this night."
Thranduil shifted and turned to face his son, "Nightmares? What sort of nightmares, Iôn?"
Legolas shook his head, "Awful, disjointed images that make no sense. Images of blackness and torment, ghosts, Orcs, terrible demons." Thranduil frowned as he felt his headache begin to flare and his son looked at him with concern, "What is it, Ada? Do you not feel well?"
Thranduil sighed, "A small headache, that is all. Of course you can sleep with me, Iôn. Do you wish to speak of these nightmares?"
Legolas rose from the bed, crossing the room to his father's bureau, retrieving a powder that was made from herbs to alleviate headache. He mixed it in a glass of clear water and brought it to him. He returned to the bed, moving to kneel behind his father and he ran his hands into his hair, massaging his scalp and rubbing his temples with his thumbs, "No, I do not wish to speak of them now. I feel foolish, actually, asking to sleep with my father because of nightmares, like I were an Elfling."
Thranduil drank the potion and set the glass down. He closed his eyes, relaxing to his son's healing touch. He sighed, "Do not worry, Iôn, we have all had nightmares from time to time."
After a few minutes of massage, Legolas whispered, "How is that? Does your head feel better now, Ada?"
Thranduil smiled, "Yes, thank you." The potion had begun its work and he felt sleepy and a bit disoriented.
Legolas pressed a soft kiss to the top of his father's head, "Amin mela le, Ada."
Thranduil whispered, "Amin mela le, my little Greenleaf," he chuckled, "I suppose I should stop calling you that, now that you are grown."
Legolas smiled, "I like it when you call me that." Thranduil lay back upon the bed and Legolas lay beside him, his hand tucked under his head, watching his father fall asleep.
Legolas watched him sleep for some time, wondering if he would ever be as beautiful or as strong as his father. Thranduil sighed in his sleep, turning his head to face his son, his eyes closed and his lips softly parted. Legolas swallowed, the feeling that had began to haunt him as of late, flared inside him again. He had always loved his father, always been close to him, but lately he was having thoughts and feelings about him he had never felt before. He had been watching him, staring at him when he did not think he would be caught. Vague, fleeting emotions had turned into stirrings of desire, thoughts and feelings he knew he should not be having. How could he tell his father he was thinking of him that way? Why was he thinking of him that way? Thranduil had never done anything to encourage this in him; he had never been inappropriate.
His hand trembled as he reached out and brushed a piece of hair from his father's cheek and tears began to flow from his eyes again. Thranduil's eyes blinked open and he looked at his son, sadness crept across his face when he saw his pained expression. He reached out and pulled his son to him, cradling his head against his shoulder, whispering to him. At first the Prince tensed against his father, fearing his own reaction to his touch, but then he melted into him, wrapping his arms around him and breathing in his musky scent. Thranduil sighed and drifted back into reverie, the powder he had taken for his headache, dragging him back into a deep sleep. Legolas softly stroked his father's chest and drew a circle around the outline of the ring that pierced Thranduil's left nipple; it was just visible under the thin cloth of his robe. His fingertip danced around it without touching it. He sighed; he wanted so badly to caress it with his lips, to fondle it against his tongue. He wanted to know what his father tasted like. He lost himself in these thoughts, as he aimlessly drew his fingertip across his father's broad chest. He snuggled in closer, draping one leg over his and pressing his lips against his thin, soft robe. His long, delicate fingers slid inside the opening of the robe, sliding under the fabric and feeling his father's warm skin beneath his palm. His hand came to rest over Thranduil's heart, feeling it beat within his chest, its slow, powerful rhythm pulsing against the young Elf's hand. "Amin mela le, Ada…" he whispered. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to hold and kiss him like a lover, his burgeoning arousal began to press into Thranduil's thigh but the elder Elf did not wake from his deep sleep. Legolas drifted off to sleep dreaming of his father.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil woke groggily, he felt the lithe form wrapped around him and, for a fleeting moment, forgot who it was. His hand slid down his son's back and came to rest at the small hollow at its lowest point. He pulled him closer, pressing his lips into the younger Elf's forehead and then woke with a start. He looked down and saw his son, wrapped around him, one arm and one leg slung across him, his head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. He remembered Legolas being upset the night before and remembered his request to stay the night. He yawned and kissed the top of his head, sliding his hand back up to caress his hair. It was then that he felt it; he felt his son's soft hand against his bare chest. He looked down to see it tucked inside his robe, resting over his heart. It all seemed quite innocent, yet his intuition told him something was amiss. He reached down and carefully removed it, taking care not to wake him. He held his son's hand in his, turning it over and looking at his slender fingers that had so elegantly mastered his bow. Legolas was changing, he was coming into adulthood and his body was showing the signs. He was slightly larger this year than last, slightly more muscular, slightly harder; but he still resembled his mother, his elegant limbs and open, soulful expression. He felt things more acutely than Thranduil ever did, that too, he had inherited from his mother. He lay quietly with him for a few moments before waking him gently.
Legolas softly moaned in his sleep and clung tighter to his father, pressing his body and his soft mouth to him as he whispered, almost imperceptibly, "Ada..." He opened his eyes and immediately realized what he had done, he sat up quickly, turning away from his father, hoping to hide his flushed cheeks and awakening arousal. He was frightened, humiliated, and ashamed. How could he hide what he felt now? Surely his father recognized it in him.
Thranduil's eyes widened when he realized the full extent of what had just happened… He struggled to maintain his emotions, not to give what he knew away to his son. He sat up beside him, groping for the right words, struggling to find what he should say, but could not. Instead he placed a hand upon his son's back and said nothing. Legolas quickly rose from the bed and fled the room, Thranduil remained behind as he wracked his brain for what he should say or do. His son had feelings for him, feelings that were outside the natural order, and he was at a complete loss as to what to do about it.
He rose from his bed and followed his son, finding him face down upon his bed. His shoulders shook as he quietly wept, his forehead pressed into his arms. Thranduil sighed as he sat beside his son, placing his hand upon his back. "Legolas," he quietly began, "please, Iôn, sit up, talk to me."
"I… I… I cannot," he hoarsely whispered, "I am ashamed. I am so sorry, Ada."
Thranduil continued in a slightly firmer tone of voice, "Legolas, sit up and look at me."
The young Elf shook his head, refusing to face his father. Thranduil took him by the shoulder and tried to turn him over and he struggled to escape. The elder Elf's hand clamped down hard upon his arm, holding him on the bed as he tried to turn him around, "Do not run from me, Iôn, look at me."
Legolas turned his frightened gaze to his father; his face was flushed from crying and humiliation. His father's approval meant so much to him; he wanted so badly to make him proud, and now this. His father knew how he felt about him. Thranduil stroked his face, "Oh, my beloved Greenleaf… such pain in your eyes, what I would not give to take that pain away."
Legolas was desperate, he loved his father so much, he wanted to please him and make him proud, but he also wanted him, he ached for him. He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he could muster, and whispered, "I love you, Ada, only you. I do not want to love another, I only want you."
Tears welled in Thranduil's eyes; he did not know what to do or what to say. How does a father deal with a son who thinks he is in love with him? He wanted to make Legolas happy; he wanted to ease his breaking heart. But, how could he give him what he asked for? This was his son, his life, the center of his world, and root of all his joy. He watched helplessly as Legolas leaned into him, he sat frozen in disbelief as his son reached for him, sliding his elegant hand to the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
Legolas pressed his soft, untouched lips to those of his father, closing his eyes and quietly sighing. At first the lips, he sought were immobile, impassive, but he did not give up. He slowly parted his lips, opening his mouth and softly tracing his father's lips with his tongue. He scooted closer, placing his other hand upon Thranduil's thigh as he bravely pressed forward, gently pressing his tongue between his father's lips, scraping past his teeth into his slightly open mouth. He quietly moaned at the sweet warmth of it; he felt a surge of desire flare between his legs as he leaned sideways, feeling his father's strong arms cradle him. He stretched his feline body out on the bed, pulling his father down with him with a gentle persistence. Feeling him slowly comply, not fully yielding, yet not fully resisting.
Thranduil's mind reeled; he seemed unable to do anything about what was happening. A voice, that seemed to be growing quieter with each passing minute, was screaming in his head to stop, but he seemed unable to comply. He felt his son's tongue enter his mouth, softly caress his own tongue and gently probe and taste him. He felt his strong archer's arms tugging at him, pulling him down, guiding him to lie atop him. He felt as if he were going mad, as if he were watching himself in a strangely erotic and terrifying dream. Legolas' hands slid up his back, clutching at him, caressing him, tangling in his hair; his beautiful voice was moaning in his ear. He was balanced precariously between pulling away and falling over the edge into this frightening, yet mesmerizing abyss. If he could only see him as another one of his lovers, he could give him what he wanted, he could take his pain away and make him happy. But would he? Or would it destroy him? But this was not one of his lovers, this was his heart and his soul, this was his reason for being, this was his life… this was his son.
Legolas gently pulled his father down; he felt him begin to return his kiss and the young Elf was becoming impossibly aroused. He ran one hand up into his hair, the other down his back, gently, tentatively coming to rest upon his buttocks. He heard a small, quiet moan issue from his father and he wrapped one leg around him, continuing to kiss him and taste him. He arched his back and pressed into him. Thranduil broke from the kiss, his arms straining to hold himself up as Legolas pulled him down. The young Elf whispered, "Please, do not leave me," he caressed his ear with his lips, still whispering, "Please, I want you, let me love you, Ada."
Thranduil trembled in his son's embrace; tears flowed from his eyes. He took a deep breath, and lay down against him, relenting, surrendering to his son's pleas, "Legolas, I do not want to hurt you, I want to give you what you want, but…"
Legolas pressed his fingers to his father's lips, "You will not hurt me. I know what I am asking you to do, I know what I want." He reached up and caressed his father's face, "Please, Ada, I love you."
Thranduil looked into his son's eyes, he knew what others would say if they found out, he knew what they would think. He loved his son, more than anyone in his life and he loved him enough to give him what he needed. He caressed his face and traced his lips with his fingers; he swallowed as Legolas took his fingers in his mouth, hungrily sucking at them. His heart stopped and he felt a spark deep within him as he watched his light, his love, fall into the slow, sweet rhythm of seduction and passion. He watched his eyelids flutter, he heard the soft, heart rendering moans and sighs that issued from his beautiful mouth. He leaned down and whispered, "Amin mela le, Greenleaf," he pressed a kiss to his cheek, "mir nín." His fingers slid from his son's mouth, travelling to his robe, and slowly undoing the buttons.
Legolas moaned softly, closing his eyes, running his fingers through his father's hair. "Thank you, Ada," he whispered. He arched his back, pressing his chest against his father's hands as they caressed him. His breath caught in his throat as he felt his father's lips on his bare flesh. The Prince opened his eyes and unbuttoned his father's robe, sliding it from his shoulders and pressing his lips to his ear. Thranduil softly moaned as he felt his son's lips and tongue caress his ear and felt him suck at the tip. The King was afraid, afraid of what would come of this, afraid of how it would change their lives; but it was what his son needed, and on some level, it was what he wanted as well. Legolas sat up as his father slid his robe away from his body, he caressed his father's face with his hands, "Amin mela le, my Lord," he whispered.
Thranduil brushed his lips across his son's forehead, "A'maelamin, you are my reason for being, I would do anything for you, anything." He placed soft, gentle kisses upon his face, holding him in his arms, "meleth nín, cuiamin", he whispered. He laid his son upon the bed, softly kissing his lips, pressing his tongue inside his son's mouth, tasting him as he had tasted so many before him. When he finally let go of his fear, he found that his son was sweet, like nectar and lavender, and he was intoxicating. He slowly began to make his way from his lips to his neck, tasting and savoring him. He continued lower, taking one golden nipple in his mouth, running his hands across his chest, feeling his smooth ivory skin, his gentle, rolling muscles. He listened to his beautiful, musical voice repeating over and over again, words of love, words of reverence and worship. His mouth continued lower, into the small valley of his stomach, brushing his lips through the golden dusting of down-like hair. He heard his son's gasps and soft moans as he brushed his lips along his length, tasting his silken, untried flesh against his tongue. He had completely silenced that voice in his head, he was ignoring its cries as he took his son in his mouth and began sliding up and down, swirling his tongue around him, taking him in and withdrawing, slowly at first but gradually increasing the pace. Legolas moaned, running his hands through his father's hair, arching his back, feeling the urge to thrust into his mouth. He began to rock upwards slowly, struggling to maintain control, feeling white-hot fire burn his blood. He cried out as he spilled himself down his father's throat and trembled as he felt him swallow his essence, slowly withdrawing his mouth and lapping up the opalescent drops from his body. Thranduil slid back up to lie beside his son and took him in his arms cradling his head against his chest, feeling his own arousal arch up and press into his belly.
Legolas ran his trembling hands over his father's body, softly kissing him and whispering to him. He ran his hands down his abdomen, feeling his stomach shrink away from his touch, hearing his soft moans as he pressed his lips to his ear. His fingers slowly and tentatively reached for his father's arousal, caressing it gently. Thranduil began to arch his back, pressing his body into that of his son, running his hands over his smooth skin, whispering words of love into his ear. Legolas slid down, caressing him, drawing a trail with his tongue from his ear to his nipple. He fondled the ring that pierced it against his tongue, gently sucking and lapping at it. Thranduil moaned and his breath shuddered as he stroked his son's hair. The Prince looked up at his father, "Do I please you, Ada? I want to make you feel as you have made me feel. I want to give you what you gave me."
Thranduil softly whispered, "Yes, Iôn, you please me very much; you always have."
Legolas moved lower, exploring his father's body, caressing the rolling muscles beneath his smooth alabaster skin, savoring the taste of his flesh. The King trembled and moaned as his son's tongue dipped into his navel and his chin grazed the tip of his arousal. The Prince tightened his hold on his father's arousal, slowly pumping it, brushing his lips through his hair and lapping at the soft pouch of skin just beneath its base. He felt his father tremble and moan as he explored his body, slowly tasting each inch, caressing his thighs with his elegant hand. His tongue moved further back, softly lapping at his entrance. He felt his father's hand on the back of his head, and heard him whisper, "Wait, Legolas, please… please stop." He stopped and looked up at him, Thranduil guided him up to face him, stroking his cheek. "Did I do something wrong, Ada?"
Thranduil softly kissed him, "I love you, Iôn, but I do not think I am ready for that, I…"
Legolas smiled, "I understand, Ada. Amin mela le," he whispered.
Thranduil pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling his son's tongue slide back into his mouth. He carefully removed the braids from his hair and he ran his fingers through its silken length. Legolas slid back down his father's body and took him into his mouth, hearing him moan and feeling him lift up to meet his slow, tentative strokes. He tasted good, like honey and caramelized nuts, deliciously sweet and silky soft on his tongue. He began to fall into a rhythm, taking him in and withdrawing, a little further each time, he began swallowing as he took him in and heard him moan in response, feeling his legs fall further apart. He increased his rhythm, and depth and felt his father arch his back and moan a little louder, then began to swallow quickly as he felt him twitch in his mouth and tasted the salty-sweet essence as it spilled down his throat. He withdrew slowly; gently lapping at him and feeling him tremble against him. Thranduil guided him back up so that their lips met, wrapping his arms around him and pulling the covers about them. Legolas curled up against his father's warm body, pressing his lips into his neck and snuggling against him. "Thank you, Ada." He whispered.
"Amin mela le, Legolas, melethron nín." He whispered.
Legolas smiled, `melethron nín', it made him happy to be called that, and it made him happy to be his father's lover. He closed his eyes and smiled, holding him tight and drifting off to sleep.
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