Title & Chapter Number: Forbidden Bond 2/6
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: Legolas awakes in his father's arms and thinks it is a dream. Thranduil struggles with feelings of guilt, and desire for his son and makes love to him again. Legolas attracts the attention of Orophin. The illicit relationship between father and son deepens.
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.
He opened his young eyes to the late afternoon light that filtered through his window, long shadows reached across the floor and the sheer fabric covering the window fluttered in the breeze. He felt his father's warmth envelope him, his smooth, muscular body pressed to his, his warm, sweet breath upon his neck. He clasped his father's wrists and pulled his arms tighter around him, wanting, wishing he could crawl inside him and remain there for all time. He never wanted to wake from this beautiful dream; it was a place he could go and hide from the pain that wracked his soul, the all-consuming desire he had for the one he called Ada. He heard his father mumble something in his sleep and he realized it was not a dream. It was real. He finally had what he had wanted for so long.
He gently rolled over to face the one he loved more than any other and he stroked his face, "My Ada" he whispered. He placed a feather light kiss upon his father's lips and smiled when he heard him sigh. He softly ran a hand through his father's hair, relishing the silken feel of it in his hand, he nuzzled his ear and whispered quietly, "Ada, time to wake…"
Thranduil had been immersed in a strange and vivid dream, he dreamt he had made love to his son, that he lay naked in his bed, holding him in his arms. He heard Legolas' voice float into his ear and when he opened his eyes he expected to see his son leaning over him, hair braided, quiver strapped to his back, waking him from an afternoon nap. Instead, what his eyes beheld was the beautiful face of his son staring at him from the pillow, his hair unbraided and falling seductively about his face, his pink, slightly swollen lips parted, just beginning to reach for his. He felt his son's naked body press into him, and felt his own return the action, as if it had a will of its own. Legolas wrapped his long arms and legs around him; he pressed his body to his, and pressed his lips to his. Thranduil closed his eyes and softly moaned, he thought he must be going mad to be doing this, to be lying with his son in his arms as though they were lovers. But, that was what they had become, lovers. He had made love to his son, and he had enjoyed it. He took pleasure in his son's body, in his soft moans and sighs, in his silken flesh and young lips. He wanted to cry out, run from the room, gouge out his eyes and tear out his hair, do anything to make this stop, but instead, he kissed him. He melted into the sweet innocence of his son's kiss, into the unconditional love and devotion of his embrace. "Amin mela le, Legolas." He whispered, as if the words he spoke would excuse the theft of his son's innocence. A tear began to roll from his eye and Legolas kissed it away.
"Do not weep, Ada. This is what I want, more than anything. Amin mela le." Legolas pressed gentle, yet passionate kisses to his father's lips, softly entreating entrance with his tongue, quietly moaning at the honeyed silk that was his father's mouth. He pulled his father closer, feeling him return the embrace and the kiss, feeling his father's tongue caress his own and hearing his soft moans and sighs as the Prince pressed his burgeoning arousal into that of his father's.
"By Elbereth, what am I doing?" Thranduil whispered helplessly, "How can I do this?"
Legolas pulled his father on top of him, wrapping his long legs around him, drawing his tongue along his ear and sucking at the tip. He knew he had to convince him that this was right, it felt so right. He whispered hoarsely in his ear, "I want you, my Lord, I want you inside me, I want you to fill me."
Thranduil's heart almost stopped, he trembled and shook in his son's embrace. Legolas was relentless, the warm, wetness of his tongue and his mouth on his ear was driving him mad, his arousal was rigidly pressing into that of his son's; he wanted him so badly. How could this be possible? How could he be thinking these things about his own son? Legolas guided his father's hand down to his entrance, pressed his fingers against it and Thranduil thought he would go mad.
"Please, a'maelamin, please do not make me beg." Legolas whispered. He felt the hesitation in his father's body, but he knew it was what he wanted as well. He gasped at the intrusion and moaned as he felt his fingers slide inside him, he whispered breathless approval as he spread his legs further apart, ignoring the discomfort, his untried body reacting on instinct alone.
Even as he gently stroked his son's innermost places, he begged him not to make him continue. He wanted this, as much as Legolas did, but he was also horrified at what he was about to do, frightened as to how it would affect his son, and him. He whispered, "Please, Iôn, I am afraid, I am afraid as to what this will do to you, and to me."
Legolas moaned and purred, arching his back and wrapping his arms around his father, "Please, Ada. Do not be afraid, I want this, I want you, I need you. Please love me, Ada. You make me so happy, you give me such pleasure. I want to feel this way every day for the rest of my life."
Thranduil relented. He looked up and saw the bottle of sweet oil that every archer in Mirkwood had by their bed; it was normally used for sore muscles and to soothe aching hands. He poured the oil from the bottle onto his hand, coating his fingers and his arousal with it before returning his fingers to Legolas' entrance. He softly slid his fingers inside him again, gently twisting, carefully probing, and finally stroking the small spot deep inside.
Legolas gasped and cried out, arching his elegant back and grasping his father's shoulders in his delicate hands. He whimpered and moaned, writhing against him, begging him to enter him.
Thranduil gently removed his fingers and lovingly rolled his son over, beckoning him to rise to his hands and knees and positioning himself at his entrance. His eyes had gone almost black with passion, his aching, throbbing arousal wept heavily and he slowly entered his son's carefully prepared body. As he slid in, very slowly, by inches, he moaned, slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscle that endeavored to keep him out; he groaned deeply as he sheathed himself in Legolas' body. Holding absolutely still until he was sure his son was ready, he stroked his hip and his back, whispering loving words to him. He felt his son's breathing grow more regular, felt him begin to rock back against him, heard him plead with him to move.
And he did, slowly thrusting in and out, only partially at first, but eventually establishing a rhythm. Withdrawing and entering, each time striking his mark, each time sending shudders of desire through both his son and himself. He reached down and placed his hand on Legolas' chest, scooping him up and pulling him back so that his head rested on his shoulder. He stroked his son's chest with one hand and his arousal with the other, now completely lost in him, in his moans and cries, in his beautiful, soft body. He whispered to him over and over, how much he loved him, how much he treasured him and Legolas smiled and cried tears of love and joy.
The Prince felt as though his heart would burst with love for his father, for his lover. He reached up and clasped a hand behind his father's head, drawing his lips to his mouth as he traced them with his tongue. He swayed and rocked in his father's arms, as soft and pliable as a willow branch. He collapsed back upon him as he came to completion, and the tightening of his body caused Thranduil to spill inside him. Thranduil cradled him in his arms, blinking and kissing him through his tears, stroking his hair and listening to the soft, rhythmic breathing of the one who was his life. "Amin mela le, Legolas." He whispered.
"Oh, Ada…" Legolas whispered breathlessly, "that was… oh, I cannot think of the words. It was, so… beautiful."
Thranduil gently withdrew and laid his son upon the bed, laying beside him and taking him in his arms, drawing the covers up about them. Legolas wrapped his arms around his father, "Amin mela le, Ada." He whispered, he gently kissed his father's chest and stroked his arms, falling into a deep sleep.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil stood with his powerful arms crossed over his chest, watching his son, the light of his life, fire arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy at his target. They flew almost faster than his eye could follow and he was amazed. Legolas was indeed the best archer he had ever seen, and most likely, the best in all of Arda, and he was so proud. A memory came to him from long ago, his small son, holding his bow, pulling with all his might to bend the string, and falling backward into the grass. He had known then that Legolas would take to the instrument as he had taken to nothing else, well almost nothing. He was returned from his reverie as he heard his son's coach praise him and he looked up to see his sparkling blue eyes meet his. His son approached with the grace of a gazelle, he seemed to float above the ground, gliding, not walking, toward his father.
"Did you see? I have been practicing." Legolas flashed his gentle smile at his father and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
"Yes, Iôn, I did see. Excellent, well done." He smiled warmly at his beautiful son. Legolas' flaxen hair glowed in the late afternoon sun; his eyes sparkled like the finest sapphires in all of Arda. He was remarkable, so beautiful and so elegant, so like his mother.
"Ai! How am I supposed to best that?" Orophin grumbled, shaking his head.
Legolas laughed, "I suppose you are not, meldir. But do not feel bad, after all, archery is in my blood."
Orophin raised an eyebrow, "By Elbereth, I am a March Warden of the Galadhrim, I will not be bested by a young woodland Elf!"
Legolas laughed, "Then prove it, meldir. Best me."
Orophin furrowed his brow and took aim. While his skill was extraordinary, it was not better than Legolas' and he shook his head, resigning himself to second place.
Legolas, always gracious, approached and extended his hand, "Excellent effort, Orophin."
Orophin took his hand and stared into his eyes, `He is very beautiful…' he thought, `I am sure there is something I can best him in…' he smiled wickedly.
Legolas cocked an eyebrow, "What is that?"
Orophin blinked from his reverie, "What?"
Legolas frowned, "That look in your eye."
Orophin smiled, "I am sure I do not know what you are referring to." He said innocently.
Legolas nodded half-heartedly, "Yes, I am sure you do not…" He turned to Thranduil, "Shall we go, Ada? I have to get cleaned up before dinner."
Thranduil smiled, watching the exchange between the two. He recognized interest when he saw it. "You go along, Iôn, I will follow shortly."
Legolas smiled at his father, then at Orophin and left the training ground. Thranduil reached out and caught the Silvan Elf by the shoulder as he passed by, "Orophin, a word please…"
Orophin swallowed and his mind raced, had he committed some offense? He was not normally easily intimidated, but he had to admit, the King of Mirkwood scared the wits out of him. He stammered slightly, "Y.. Yes, my Lord?"
Thranduil motioned for Orophin to walk beside him, "I gather you have more than a friendly interest in my son, Orophin."
Orophin's eyes almost popped out of his head. He stammered again… "Mmm… my Lord?"
Thranduil waived his hand, "Come now, Orophin. Can we dispense with the feigned innocence? I know interest when I see it. All I ask is that you do not tarry with my son's heart; he does not give it away lightly. If you are not sincere, then please do not proceed; if you are, then you have my blessing." He grasped the younger Elf by the shoulder, "But I warn you, harm my son, and you will answer to me, is that understood?"
Orophin silently nodded and watched as the King walked away.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil entered his chamber and threw his cloak upon the bed. He removed his crown and his boots, and fell to his back on the bed with a heavy thud. It had been a long and strange year; Legolas had grown to adulthood, in more ways than one, yet he still retained part of that innocent openness that was so endearing. Thranduil lay on his back with his eyes closed thinking of his son when he felt the body of his lover come to rest upon him. Without opening his eyes he whispered, "Is the door latched?"
"Yes," the smooth voice whispered back. He felt soft lips caressing his neck, strong hands roaming his body, slowly removing his garments, "I could hardly contain myself this afternoon, my Lord. You are particularly beautiful today, but then, you always take my breath away."
He moaned softly, wanton desire flaring inside him as his lover rocked his hips against him. "I burn for you, melethron, you have turned me into a wanton boy…" he whispered raggedly.
"Nay, it is I that is wanton, my Lord. Your beauty has enslaved me, I yearn for your touch, for your soft kiss and sweet tongue upon my flesh." Thranduil felt his lover's soft lips and warm tongue upon his ear and he groaned, sliding his hands down his back and resting them on his hips. The soft voice continued, "Consume me, my Lord. Take me and ravage me, I ache for you, my beauty."
Thranduil rolled over and opened his eyes, staring down into the deepening blue pools of his son's, he pressed his lips to his neck and whispered, "I ache for you as well, cuiamin, it is so hard not to touch you, not to kiss you day after day. I am sorry if I seem distant, but I am trying so hard to hide how I feel to the outside world."
Legolas arched his back, pressing his body up into that of his father's, "Ai, my Lord, I want you so badly, you feel so good." He fumbled with the buttons of his father's tunic, struggling against them, finally tearing it open and running his hands across his chest. Thranduil moaned as his son took the ring that pierced his nipple in his mouth, arching his back and pressing his chest to his son's mouth. "Now, melethron nín, I want you now…" Legolas growled.
Thranduil rose to his knees and Legolas stripped his leggings, exposing his rigid desire. The King lay back down on the bed, on his back, his son kneeling over him, staring down at him as he stripped his own clothing and fell upon his neck and shoulders with his mouth. He tangled his hands in his son's hair, as he moaned and purred against him, he craved him always, wanted him always, the line between son and lover, now forever blurred in his mind and his heart.
Legolas stroked his father's desire against his own, sucking and nibbling on his ear, whispering erotic words to him as he purred and undulated against him. Thranduil's eyelids began to flutter, his arousal wept heavily and his heart raced in his chest. His son was an amazing lover, the best he had ever had, wholly committed to giving him pleasure and showing him unconditional love. Legolas had taken to making love to Thranduil the way he had taken to archery, with an unwavering commitment to excellence. Thranduil relished making love to his son, kissing him and holding him, bringing him to the brink of release over and over; he could make love to Legolas for hours; his soft moans and sighs, his plaintive groans and whimpers were intoxicating.
Legolas rubbed his weeping arousal between his father's legs and whispered deeply, "I want to be inside you, Ada, I want to fill you as you have filled me so many times before."
Thranduil shivered, he could almost pretend that Legolas was not his son, as long as he did not call him `father'. But then, what did it really matter? Pretense was no longer important, he loved his son deeply and wanted him more than any other, and he would give him anything. "Anything, Iôn, anything for you." He whispered.
Legolas stroked his heavily weeping arousal and placed it at his father's entrance, and with no preparation, slowly, but gently slid inside him. He knew his father was no novice, his father had scores of lovers before him and there was nothing he could do that had not already been done, at least not physically. Thranduil groaned deeply, closing his eyes and willing himself to relax, accepting his son inside him. Legolas caressed his lips with his own, teased his mouth with his tongue as he thrust inside him, brushing his mark with ever-increasing regularity as he moaned and whispered to him.
Thranduil was possessed with his son's beauty, with his alluring charm and unfathomable devotion. Legolas stroked his father's desire, the rhythm of his hand matching the rhythm of his hips; he drove his father on, faster and faster, in an unending upward spiral of ecstasy, until they climaxed together, moaning into each other's mouths. Legolas came to rest upon the strong chest of his father, stroking his arms and sliding against him, rubbing his father's essence between them, smearing it across both their bodies. He purred and whispered to his lover, to his father, dropping soft kisses to his chest and neck. "Amin mela le, Ada."
Thranduil wrapped his strong arms around his son, his lover, and whispered in return, "Amin mela le, Iôn."
They lay quietly in one another's arms before bathing together and retiring to their separate chambers.
~*~*~*~
Orophin sat at the table trying not to stare at the enchanting, flaxen haired Elf that sat opposite him. `By Elbereth, he is beautiful, truly beautiful…' the young Galadhrim thought. He grasped the heavy pewter goblet in his hand and winced, setting it down quickly. Legolas shifted his gaze from his father's empty chair to Orophin. He cocked his head and frowned, "What is it, meldir?"
Orophin shook his hand in embarrassment; he had been plagued by cramps in his hands all day and could not understand it. The impromptu tournament he and Legolas participated in was no more strenuous than his daily duties in Lóthlorien. "Ai, nothing, just a slight cramp in my hand that is all."
Legolas rose from his chair and rounded the table, kneeling beside his chair and taking his hand, "Let me see." He said softly. He took Orophin's hand in his and began massaging it, occasionally glancing at his father's empty chair and frowning. It was not like Thranduil to not perform his duties as host when they had guests.
Orophin stared at Legolas, he feared he was becoming slightly aroused at the Prince's touch and Thranduil's words returned to him, `Do not tarry with my son's heart… you will answer to me…' the young Elf swallowed. He feared it would be a long summer in the wood.
Legolas released his hand and looked back at him, "There, how is that?"
Orophin swallowed again, "Much better, thank you."
Legolas returned to his seat and softly replied, "You should come with me to my quarters after dinner, I have some oil that would make you feel much better."
Orophin blinked again, `Come to your quarters? Love to.' he thought wickedly, but then the vision of Thranduil throttling him popped into his head and he quickly dismissed the thought.
The two young Elves finished their meal and spent a few hours talking by the fire in Thranduil's study before retiring to bed. As Orophin said goodnight, Legolas caught him by the arm, "Wait, I want to give you something. Come…" he motioned for him to enter his quarters. Orophin took a deep breath and followed the young Prince inside. He followed him to the bed where Legolas turned to give him the vial of massage oil, "Here, rub this into your hands, it will help alleviate the pain." He smiled.
Orophin took the vial, and looked up at the Prince, the urge to kiss him was becoming overwhelming and he unconsciously licked his lips. Legolas cocked his head; he recognized desire in another when he saw it. "Would you like to kiss me, meldir?" he quietly asked.
Orophin nodded and Legolas slowly began to close the distance between them when Orophin quickly backed away, "I… I am sorry, I… I have to go." He stammered and he quickly left the room.
Legolas smiled and chuckled quietly to himself, "Youth…" he laughed. He began slowly disrobing and looked across the garden to see light coming from his father's room. He pulled on a thin sleeping robe and crossed the garden to his father's chamber. He pulled the curtain aside and entered, finding his father sitting in the chair by window, reading. He crossed the room and knelt before him, sliding his hands up his thighs and smiling. "We missed you at dinner, Ada." He whispered.
Thranduil put his book down and caressed his son's hair, "I had business to attend to, I am sorry, Iôn. Did you extend my apologies?"
Legolas laid his head upon his father's knee, "Yes, when I realized you were not coming." He rubbed his cheek against the thin gossamer of his father's gown feeling the heat of his body underneath.
It was a warm evening and Thranduil left his robe open, loosely held closed by a thin rope of silk. He looked down at the muscular form of his son, at his strong archer's hands sliding across his thighs. He was dressed in nothing but a pale silver shift, his smooth, strong chest visible at the opening. His soft flaxen hair fell about his shoulders and Thranduil thought he was the most beautiful being he had ever seen in all his long life.
Legolas rose to his knees, stepping in between his father's legs and reaching up to his chest. He traced his right nipple with his finger, "Why only the one?" he asked.
Thranduil looked down, "No reason, I have not gotten around to doing the other." His hand covered his son's softly squeezing it.
Legolas looked up at him, his sapphire blue gaze beginning to turn midnight, "I would like to do that one, if you would allow me."
Thranduil smiled, "Of course, Iôn, if that is your wish." He lifted his son's hands to his lips as Legolas pressed his mouth to his un-pierced nipple, he hissed through his clenched jaw and arched his back slightly, pressing his chest to his son's mouth.
Legolas sucked and nibbled at his nipple, lapping at it with his tongue and softly moaning. His hands slid from his father's grasp and slid around his waist, pulling him closer. He felt his father's hands slide into his hair, deftly undoing his braids and shaking his hair free. His father cradled his head in his hands as he worked the nipple into a hard pebble, then moving his mouth to the other, fondling the ring against his tongue.
"Ai, lirimaer, you have such a talented mouth." Thranduil tilted his head back, relishing in his son's touch, feeling desire flare hot between his legs. He moaned and sighed, softly stroking his son's hair.
Legolas smiled against his chest, pulling his mouth free and looking up at his father, "I love the way you taste, Ada."
Thranduil looked down at him and was met by his son's mouth. Legolas pressed a heated kiss to him, plundering the deepest recesses of his mouth with his tongue. He moaned into his son's kiss, nipping his lips as he pulled away.
Legolas smiled innocently, "Can we do it now, Ada?" his fingers trailed down to his father's unadorned nipple.
Thranduil smiled and breathed, "Yes." His arousal arched toward his belly, softly pressing against the thin silk of his robe and he longed to be inside his son.
Legolas rose to his feet, pouring a tall glass of potent brandy and removing a small, mithril ring from his ear, dropping it into the glass and stirring it with his finger. He reached into his father's bureau drawer, withdrawing a long, sharp needle, scratching the pad of his finger with it to test its sharpness. He returned to his father, who was now sitting on the bed, with the glass and the needle, stirring the liquid and coating the needle with it. He straddled his father; sliding his robe from his shoulders, feeling his arousal press against his own and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them he looked into the eyes of his beloved, stroking his face before taking his right nipple in his mouth again. He sucked and nibbled at it as Thranduil leaned back against his hands, arching his back and pressing his groin into his son. He leaned his head back and quietly moaned as Legolas took the hard pebble of his nipple in his teeth and bit down. A jolt of electric desire shot through him and his arousal became ever harder, beginning to weep. Legolas removed the needle from the glass, "Are you ready, Ada?" he whispered.
Thranduil nodded and took a deep breath. Legolas pressed the needle to his father's nipple with a steady hand, holding the cork from the brandy bottle in the other. He quickly jabbed the needle through, sticking it in the cork as it came out the other side. Thranduil hissed through his clenched jaw and groaned, feeling his arousal twitch at the sensation. Legolas dipped his mouth to lap up the blood that trickled from the wounded flesh, drizzling brandy across it and removing the ring from the glass. He quickly, but gently removed the needle replacing it with the ring that came from his ear. He gently lapped at it, drawing slow soft circles around it with his tongue, lapping at the brandy that had drizzled down his father's bare chest.
He turned his deep blue gaze to that of his father's, slowly cocking his head and smiling gently, "Did it hurt bad, Ada?"
Thranduil smiled, "No, Iôn, not too bad. You did well, Greenleaf." He looked down at the new piece of jewelry that adorned his chest, "It will be sore for a few days, you need to be gentle with it, meleth nín."
Legolas smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to it, "I will, a'maelamin."
Thranduil pulled his son to him and rolled on top of him, "I want to make love to you, melethron. I want you to sleep with me tonight."
Legolas smiled, "Yes, Ada. I want that too." He reached for his father with his mouth and wrapped his long, strong legs around him.
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