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tolkien_slashy_swapsTitle: A Year And A Day
Author: Esteliel
Email: esteliel@gmx.de
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Celeborn/Legolas/Elrond
Warnings: slash, kink, AU – just take a look at the request for what to expect
Beta: Kenaz; thank you so much! :)
Request: Rating = NC-17, Pairing = Celebron/Legolas/Elrond or Aragorn/Legolas/Celebron or Elrond/Legolas/Orophin, Plot = angst, Double Penetration, sex scene up on a tree, vision of blood, vision of being raped, fluff, horseback sex, and a lot of love and passion... Do Not Include= Humor, character death.
Summary: Ancient Silvan traditions allow a ruler to take consorts, and so Legolas finds himself promised to Celeborn.
Written for: Sivan
1. I have done you a grievous hurt
Legolas ran, feeling free as never before when he jumped a small brook, landing on ground that was springy with thick layers of golden leaves that clung to his leggings of fine, white doeskin. They had been embroidered all over with the tiniest emeralds forming garlands of leaves, yet now they were spattered with mud. It was an outrage, and Legolas laughed when he thought what his tutor and his brothers would say, feeling secure in the knowledge that they would not catch him to reprimand him.
It had taken them more than three weeks to reach the border of Lórien from Thranduil's caves – a journey a courier might make in less than ten days on a fast horse, yet they had been forced to nerve-wracking slowness by the multitude of warriors, diplomats, servants, cooks, seamstresses and Eru only knew whomever else his father had seen fit to send as his accompaniment. At least the King had not sent his mother; an elleth Legolas dearly loved, but even he who liked his clothes of silk and velvet, and long baths with at least four attendants to pamper him, had often grown fractious when forced to wait on her while it took her the entire morning and half of the afternoon to ready herself for a simple, informal outdoors fête.
Now, though, he had finally escaped the train of his retainers, and he smiled grimly when he jumped across a fallen tree, thinking of his half-brothers who had called him a spoiled child in a fit of anger only two hours past.
Let them see that he was no child to be talked to in such a way! His mother might not be Queen, as the Sindarin lady his father had wed, but as the fairest of all Silvan maidens, youngest of one of the noblest lines of the Great Wood and bred to a life as a King's consort from birth, she had instilled a great many qualities in him which his half-brothers lacked, right-born heirs of Mirkwood they might be.
He was no child; he was to be consort to the ruling Lord of Lothlórien, one of the most powerful elves still in Middle-earth, a Prince of the House of Thingol. He would show them that he was no child to be treated in such a way!
He would go to Caras Galadhon on his own; would arrive there faster than they did – mayhap he could find a way past the guards and seek out the Lord he was to belong to without anyone noticing! So surprised the Lord Celeborn would be, struck by his unsurpassed beauty as well as by his skills of stealth and woodsman-ship, and he would name him superior to the best of his Galadhrim in front of his brothers who would look so sheepish...
Legolas cried out when an arrow hit the tree next to him just a hand's breadth from where his shoulder had been.
Yrch – so close to the city?
He stumbled, crying out in fear when another arrow hit the ground in front of him, and would have fallen had not someone grabbed the back of his fine tunic to pull him back against a hard body – a sharp blade against his throat making him freeze in terrified shock.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a smooth voice murmured, laughing in throaty amusement when all Legolas managed was a terrified whimper. “Did you get lost?”
“Do you not know that none may enter this wood save by our Lord or Lady's leave?” another said, and the one who constrained him pushed him forward with a derogatory snort.
“I fail to see what a danger this whelp could be – I could have shot him a hundred times, even were my eyes bound, so loud was his flight through our forest. But let us take him to the commander, Rúmil; these things are for him to decide.”
Legolas opened his mouth to indignantly protest such treatment – he was a prince, and future consort of their Lord! - but one of the Galadhrim pushed him ungently forward.
“One word and we will gag you!” he threatened coldly, and Legolas bowed his head to hide the tears of rage and humiliation that were brimming in his eyes when he powerlessly allowed himself to be led away.
Half an hour later, when they finally entered the camp of the Galadhrim guards, his rage had vanished, and all that remained was weariness, and shame. His beautiful clothes were spattered with mud, the rich brocade destroyed by thorns and springy branches, and all his hopes of bedazzling the ruler of Lothlórien had been ruined – if the Lord Celeborn laid eyes on him now, certainly he would send him back in contempt.
How would he bear that? Being his consort was what he had been brought up for... and now he had ruined it all.
His two guards made him walk through the camp with the eyes of half a dozen grey-cloaked guards resting on him, curious, silently amused at his plight, and Legolas had to bite back a soft moan of shame. Trained since his birth for life at court, mastering etiquette, dance, the lyre and the harp, diplomacy and heraldry years before other children were even allowed to stay up for the beginning of a feast, this seemed to him the ultimate humiliation – to be stripped of all his finery, to have lost the beauty countless minstrels had praised, it seemed to be the end of all his dreams, of his young life even.
“Commander – we have brought you a gift!” one of his guards called out.
“Look at the little bird we found lost in the wood! What shall we do with him?”
Legolas' eyes widened when a tall elf seemed to appear in front of him all of a sudden, his cloak settling around his shoulders. He wore the same grey uniform the other guards were dressed in, yet his cloak was made from a fine, heavy wool dyed the exact golden hue of mallorn leaves, which was why Legolas had not seen him at first.
He stood taller than most of the Galadhrim, and his face was stern and noble, framed by silver hair held back from his face by warrior braids. He wore no other sign of his position but the cloak of gold, yet Legolas would have known him to be the leader of these guards by the air of command he exuded.
He was unmistakably Sindarin, his build akin to that of his father and half-brothers, and Legolas, who had always been grateful for the lightness and beauty his own Silvan blood had bequeathed on him, felt his blood heat his cheeks at the intensity of the gaze that came to rest on him. There was a strange power in the other's eyes – he was old, Legolas knew at once, an Elda who had seen the light of the Two Trees. Who could this be but the Lord Celeborn – his betrothed?
“I am Legolas Thranduilion, of Mirkwood,” he said bravely, mortified to find his voice tremble ever so slightly. “Forgive me for my appearance and the untimely interruption, my Lord.” He bowed, lowering his head deeply, then gasped at the outrage of being pushed to his knees at the Lord's feet, as if he were not the son of a King, but a criminal to be judged.
“So you say...” The enigmatic Lord's eyes rested on him for a moment. “Yet has it not been sung by every bard who ever passed through Mirkwood that Thranduil's son is the fairest child ever born to the Great Wood, and that he is skilled, and kind, compassionate and obedient, free with smile and laugh and ever-loyal?”
The Lord looking him over again and shook his head with a smile. “You see then, little forest bird, you cannot be he.”
“But I-”
“You will be silent when facing our Lord, and not talk back to him!” one of his guards said sternly, and when Legolas opened his mouth to protest once more at the indignation of being treated like a servant when he was the son of Mirkwood's rightful Ruler, the Sindarin Lord's lips narrowed with displeasure.
“If he cannot obey, gag him,” he said sharply and turned away, so that Legolas fell silent from the shock of being threatened in such a way.
He reeled from all that was happening to him, and so was still too dazed to protest when his two guards pulled him up and to a tree, where they continued to first bind his hands, and then bound his body to the tree's trunk as well.
Legolas was trembling now, afraid at last for he had never known such rough and hostile treatment before, and when he tried to beseech them once more, one of the guards threateningly raised a length of silk to his mouth, so that Legolas flinched back and lowered his head in beaten surrender to their rules.
He slumped against the tree, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, while the guards gathered around a fire and talked softly as they passed around a skin of wine and shared some meat they had roasted over the flames. The smell made Legolas' mouth water, and he thought despondently of how, if he had not run, he would now ride with his brothers and share jests about what would await him as Lord Celeborn's consort.
At last, the gold-cloaked Lord stood from his place by the fire and walked towards Legolas, holding in his hands a fine cup of gold brimming with strong, red Dorwinion.
“Thirsty, fileg eryn?” he asked, his voice warm now, and Legolas found himself eagerly nodding, so pathetically grateful for the kindness that he blushed at it. Yet when the golden cup was raised to his lips, he thirstily sipped, swallowing the rich vintage without complaint at his treatment.
“Enough for now,” the Lord murmured at last, his laughter so sudden and full that Legolas almost flinched in surprise. “We cannot have you asleep just yet, can we? 'tis not even noon yet!” His smile was warm, and Legolas found himself answering it with a smile of his own, bathing in the regard of the silver-grey eyes, so deep and unfathomable...
He swallowed, self-conscious all of a sudden when his cheeks began to heat at how close they were... how close the Lord's lips were to his own...
He thought suddenly of how his brothers had teased him that he had never even been kissed – and of how much he wished that his Lord – for it had to be he! - would claim his lips, take that first kiss right here and now, against every custom of their people, yes, but oh, how very much he wanted it!
The Lord closed his eyes, lowered his head so that his breath teased against Legolas' ear and the youth shivered deliciously. “It must be uncomfortable for you here, fileg... If you promise to behave, I will untie you, and you may accompany me onto the talan, where I can keep an eye on you, and where there are cushions for you to rest on.”
“I promise, Lord; thank you,” Legolas whispered, his voice trembling just the slightest bit, yet he was too captivated by this enigmatic Sindarin Lord for the answer to be any different. He should not have agreed, should not make himself vulnerable by being alone with him, and yet, with his heart beating so fast, his entire body flushed with heat and the yearning to be close to him, how could he have answered any differently?
He still did not know the Lord's name, yet there could be no other answer than that this was indeed the wise Lord of Lórien – his body, his heart seemed to know him, even if his mind did not. And he would not make a fool of himself by asking – would not Celeborn be terribly offended to be questioned so by his own betrothed?
But then the Lord's hands gently opened the knots that held him to the tree. He even undid the coarse rope that held his wrists bound, using instead a length of silk cloth to bind them, and Legolas felt his heart swell at the kindness of it. He followed him without complaint when he was being led through the camp, remembering that he was only supposed to speak when the Lord asked him a question, and did not even chafe at it, for he was too overwhelmed by all the new, confusing feelings that had sprung up in him.
The talan was small and well hidden in the boughs of a mallorn, offering only the small comforts necessary for the guards of the wood, yet as the Lord had promised, a part of it had indeed been made comfortable with bedrolls and cushions. Legolas felt relief that he would not have to meet his brothers bound to a tree, like a common criminal – though his wrists were still bound, at least it was done so with silk, and being allowed to rest here near to the Lord certainly was a sign of his favour.
Legolas smiled shyly, still feeling that strange hesitancy whenever he felt the Lord's eyes resting on him, and then lowered himself to recline on the cushioned floor, wondering if at last the Lord would allow him to speak now.
Yet instead the Sinda sat down at a small table in a corner, reading dispatches and writing answers, and for a time Legolas was content to simply watch him, awed by his grace and nobility and the air of command he exuded even when away from his men. At last, though, the Lord laid down his parchments and came over to sit down next to Legolas, carefully tilting the cup once more so that the cool wine flowed into his mouth.
“Are you hungry as well, fileg?” he asked softly, and Legolas shook his head, trembling and speechless at the powerful feelings that coursed through him at the Lord's closeness. He had been provided with the best tutors at home, had been given a theoretical education in matters of the bedroom so thorough that he had often made his experienced brothers blush with the details of what he knew – and yet now that he sat next to the one whom he would serve and learn to pleasure in only a few days, he felt weak with apprehension, inexperienced and small.
“There, you spilled a little,” the Lord murmured, running a fingertip down Legolas' chin to gather a drop of the red wine. He licked it from his finger so that Legolas froze, wide-eyed and shocked when a jolt of arousal ran through his body at the gesture. Again the Lord laughed, the sound warm and a little amused, and raised his hand to Legolas' chin once again, tracing the wine-stained lips with a thumb.
Legolas was spellbound, imprisoned by the Lord's silver eyes, and he felt strangely breathless and weak, unable to resist when at last the Lord leaned forward and claimed his mouth, taking his first kiss as if it were his right.
And it was his right, Legolas thought dimly while at the same time a moan escaped him at the unbelievable pleasure of feeling soft lips against his own, a tongue invading his mouth – it was so intimate to be touched like this, to taste the Lord in his mouth! He knew that it was wrong, that such contact was not permitted them before he was bound to the Lord as his consort – and yet it felt so good, like everything he had ever wanted. He just could not stop this, even though he was aware that to have another see them like this would bring shame on his house, on his people. He truly should not even have come to the talan, for being alone with Celeborn without a chaperon could lead to speculation and would give the Lord a reason to break off the betrothal without repercussions, leaving Legolas shamed and unfit for another noble Lord – and yet he would never do that, Legolas thought with another soft moan. Celeborn wanted him, and the thought was electrifying, sweeping aside all fears and worries he should have had.
“Fileg eryn,” the Lord breathed against his lips, a hand slipping beneath Legolas' fine tunic, sliding up beneath the brocade so that Legolas trembled at the touch. They sank back onto the cushions, Celeborn half resting on Legolas' smaller body, and the youth felt as if in a dream, seduced by the fathomless silver eyes so that he could not bring himself to protest when his formerly so fine tunic was stripped from him, when a hand cupped him through his breeches so that he moaned in surprise at how good it felt to feel another's palm gently touch him at last.
Quickly the lacing was undone and he raised his hips when his breeches were pulled down, his mind now unable to focus on anything but the tongue in his mouth, so alien, so good. Celeborn's hand closed around his erection, stroked him so that he moaned into his mouth, and he shivered with delight at how right it felt to feel the Lord's skin against his own, hot and smooth. Dimly he realised that he could not even remember when he had undressed, but then there was a touch where he had never been touched before, a blunt pressure, slick with some liquid, and he closed his eyes and groaned, breached for the first time, knowing that it was wrong but unable to keep from wanting it. His brothers would chide him and so would his friends, his father would lecture him and his mother would write him disappointed letters for years - but ai, this was the Lord to whom he would be bound as consort in a week's time. It was wrong and against every custom and he should never have let this happen, but he could not help but respond to Celeborn's thorough possession of his body. There was pain, and yet he trembled with how good it felt, raising his lips to his Lord's again and again, feeling alive, feeling loved, an adult at last.
Pleasure crested over them like a thunderstorm breaking at last, so intense that Legolas had to bite back a cry, trembling for minutes in Celeborn's arms afterward. Yet at last the Lord moved away, and when Legolas opened his eyes, he found himself the recipient of a cold, distant look.
"You never even asked my name," the Lord stated dispassionately, and Legolas felt his world crash down around him.
"You are... not the Lord Celeborn?" he asked tonelessly, too shocked for tears while he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened, what he had done.
He had just thrown away his life. His hopes, his dreams, the countless years of striving to be the best pupil in every single lesson, desiring nothing but to make his father and mother proud, to do what was asked of him for the good of the realm... He had destroyed it all in one unthinking, reckless act.
He laughed, then buried his face in his hands, weeping bitterly as he imagined facing his parents now, his brothers. What was there left for him now? Who would take him as consort? Some minor noble, a captain of his father's army maybe, who would use him for nothing but pleasure and his connection to the court, disregarding all the political and diplomatic skills he had been taught.
"You will not take me as consort, will you?" he said despairingly. "And I am unfit for your Lord now. Maybe one of your guards might take me, spoiled though I am?" He could not return home, never again. Seeing his parents' disappointment would kill him - he could not bear even the thought of telling them what he had done. Better to remain in Lórien, consort to someone insignificant enough they would not mind how easily he had given his innocence away to someone else. Another sob broke free, and he blindly pulled at a piece of clothing, trying to cover himself now that it was too late.
Arms came around him then at last, and after a moment's reluctance he wearily leaned into the other's embrace, all too aware that if this one would now offer to take him as his, he would agree and be grateful for it, too, without even knowing his name - he knew that after this, he would get no better offers anymore.
"Legolas," the other murmured into his ear, "calm yourself. I am sorry, it was a cruel thing to do - yet how could I not have tested you when you were so innocent and trusting, so naive?" He sighed and took hold of Legolas' chin, gently turning his face to press a kiss to the tear-stained cheek. "I am Celeborn, your betrothed; forgive me for causing you such pain. You will indeed be my consort, I promise you that. And yet... you are truly very young still. You have seen nothing but your forest where you were well loved, yet Lórien is not like the Greenwood, Legolas, there are a few here who do not agree with Silvan customs, and I fear how that dislike shall affect you when you have never had reason to distrust someone before. In a week, you shall be bound to me as my consort, but for a year and a day, you shall stay with a tutor, learning much of love and life before you will return to my side. I will send you to Lord Elrond, fileg nín - among the Noldor you will learn when to trust, and when not, while being under the guardianship of Elrond. You will see Imladris and how they live there, form friendships maybe... and grow older and wiser until you will return to my side at last."
Legolas was silent, had been so during his speech, trembling still while he tried to understand what the Lord told him. Tears glistened on his cheeks once more when at last he raised his face again, but his voice was calm and almost without tremble when he spoke. "I have done you a grievous hurt, Lord, and betrayed my own people as well. I am well aware that you do me a great kindness now, and I swear that I shall never forget it. I shall go to Imladris as you command and be a good pupil to Lord Elrond there, and when I return, I will never again cause you shame in any way whatsoever again, I swear on the Valar and Eru himself, my Lord."
2. Watch yourself in the mirror
Legolas had settled into his new life in Imladris – more or less. For almost twelve full months now he had lived with Elrond, who to his great relief had proved to be less dour and rigid in his beliefs than most of the Noldor. Of course, given his age and experience, he had to have been aware of Silvan traditions for a long time. Rumour even had it that he had once thought of taking a consort or two himself, and with a guilty thrill Legolas imagined what might have been had he asked for Legolas from his father. No, as fearful as the prospect had seemed at first, Elrond had been a good choice; especially as after having been exposed to one of the guards' censure in the Lórien camp, a part of Legolas had wondered if Celeborn might not make him the ward of a strict and conservative master as fitting punishment.
Yet his Lord – his hervenn now, he thought with a thrill, yearning for the day when he would return to his Lord's side – was not so cruel. Legolas might be kept from the consort's suite in Lothlórien and from his Lord's company, yet Elrond made a formidable handler for a young, inexperienced consort. He was strict; no amount of needling or begging would change his mind about the decisions he made, Legolas had soon found out. And yet, unlike many others in Imladris who still held to the prudish Noldorin laws set down in Valinor, Elrond saw no shame in embracing the ancient ways of the wood elves. He saw the honour in being given the education of his charge - and the honour inherent in Legolas' position - just as it had been at Thranduil's court, where none would ever have dreamed of belittling the worth of the King's consort, or the children he had begotten with her.
Legolas still felt bewildered by the dislike shown on one of the guards' face after they had come down from the talan, Legolas still pale and uncharacteristically silent. When Legolas met that guard's eyes, his mouth had twisted into a sneer of disgust, for of course all the guards had seen them enter the talan together, and must certainly be aware of what they had done there. And yet this disgust was not for the fact that Legolas had lain with Celeborn before there was the legitimacy of the consort's bond, weak though that might be in the eyes of the guard. No, there had been a whisper, and Legolas had flinched at how he was called a disgrace that brought shame on the Lady of the Wood. There had been a sharp word from Celeborn then, and the guard had turned away and desisted from further comments, yet still, even a year later, Legolas could not fully comprehend how in a predominantly Silvan realm such as Lothlórien the old customs could have come to be viewed with such disgust.
Those Noldor or Sindar who came to the Silvan realms an age ago and thought to rule were forced to adapt to Silvan ways – it had always been so. Even the Lady of Light must have seen the wisdom in such, or she would not have agreed to the betrothal of her Lord to Legolas. After all, what better way to ensure tight bonds amid a realm than to make certain that the greatest houses were all bound to its ruler in such a way? For a ruler to choose a maid from one noble house only could certainly cause nothing but discontent among a realm's nobles.
Elrond at least treated him with all the respect his position deserved, for all that he was in charge of curbing the Prince's all too naïve trust, and of course further his experience and skills in what bed games pleased his hervenn.
This morning, Legolas had woken in the bright heat of the morning sun bathing the silken sheets in brilliance, curled around Elrond who answered his charge's hopeful tries at instigating more pleasurable activities with a laugh and a shake of his head.
Instead, Legolas got to get up and and help Elrond dress, as soon his hervenn might demand of him, then readied a bath for him and tried to be as pleasing as possible when he used a soft cloth to wash him. Later they broke their fast together and then took a walk, discussing poetry as well as the complex political machinations of the councillors of Imladris. Legolas did well in all these things, he was indeed as highly skilled as his tutors at home had proclaimed, and Elrond agreed with their assessment and found himself praising the Prince, too, for his quick understanding and the intelligent questions he asked about differences and similarities between the governance of their realms. Yet one difference there was: Legolas had lost the carefreeness of knowing himself beloved of his parents as well as the entire realm. The memory of how he had betrayed – almost betrayed! - his own people as well as his now husband still weighted heavily on his heart, and despite his praise, Elrond could see in his eyes that the Prince would not allow himself to forget the duty his position brought.
And yet, despite those painful memories, this was a happy time for Legolas as well, for they would spend the evenings in their rooms, engaged in a multitude of pleasurable activities so that Legolas' education in matters of the bedroom would not be wholly theoretical anymore when at last he would meet his hervenn again. There were a great many things Legolas had learned already, and this afternoon, it seemed that once more he would have to endure a lesson in patience.
He was kneeling on the floor, naked, his skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat as he tried to hold still for Elrond's inspection. His... tutor had fitted gleaming rings of gold around his shaft and the heavy scrotum below which kept him hard and helped him not to find release until Elrond allowed it, and to heighten the erotic torment, Elrond had used a phallus of smooth, polished wood to spread him, fill him, so that it was all Legolas could do not to moan aloud with every breath he took.
"You yearn for Lord Celeborn now, do you not?" Elrond asked and laughed at the groan of pure misery that was his answer. "Ah, what a lovely vision you are... If he could see you now, I do not think he could keep resisting you. But as he is not here..."
He smiled at Legolas, a little wicked, yet as always there was kindness in his regard as well. Yet even for the friendship that now connected them, Legolas knew that for Elrond the duty of his position would always come first, and so he groaned again because he knew the Lord might torment him in millions of pleasurable ways before allowing him to find his pleasure - if he did at all.
"You have come a long way already, but it is best to keep up practise," Elrond said and gestured towards his feet. "Come here and let me see once more if your performance is indeed up to your Lord's exacting standards."
Legolas bit back another moan at the thought of doing this to Celeborn, the enigmatic Lord he still dreamed about almost every single night, but obediently he slowly moved forward until he knelt between Elrond's spread thighs, his breath hitching at every movement that drove the wooden phallus against the small gland inside himself. He parted Elrond's robe with gentle hands, licking his lips at the vision that awaited him - his tutor's hardened shaft, dark and hot, and beneath the tight sac. He pressed a gentle kiss to it first, then moved up, savouring the taste, the feel as he pressed small kisses to Elrond's erection from root to tip. There was a drop of clear liquid at the crown, and he licked it up with a sigh of relish before he took him into his mouth, skilled enough by now to relax his throat so that soon he had taken him in to the root, his nose brushing the wiry black curls before he moved back again.
"Very good, Legolas!" Elrond groaned and gently cradled his head in his hands, encouraging him to move back down and take him in completely once more. Legolas closed his eyes, wanting to groan in pleasure at the way Elrond felt in his mouth, at the praise he had earned... and then there was a sound behind him, silk brushing against the wooden floor, and two hands came to rest on his hips. His eyes widened and he tried to move back, unable even to make a sound of protest with Elrond's shaft filling his throat, but the Lord's hands did not allow him to retreat.
"Hush, Legolas... please me like I taught you!" he said sternly, and after a moment Legolas gave in, unsettled by this new test - if that was indeed what this was - yet unable to rebel, for it was of course still up to Elrond to decide how to educate or test his charge.
He served Elrond as well as he could, yet the pleasure of pleasing him in such a way was gone now, replaced by the unease the stranger's touches brought. His hands stroked up and down his flanks as if to calm him, then slipped lower to cup his buttocks, slowly massaging the rounded muscles. Legs moved in between his own, forcing him to spread his thighs even further to allow the stranger a good view of where the tight muscle was stretched around the phallus, and then a finger slowly but insistently penetrated him as well alongside the wooden implement. Elrond allowed him to draw back at last and Legolas gasped, desperately trying to suppress a sound of pain at the burn of being stretched so but the elf behind him did not relent, his other hand coming to tightly close around his scrotum as if in a warning to remain still.
At last he finally drew back, and when he spoke, Legolas wanted to weep at once more hearing the beloved voice he had so missed.
"You are so beautiful, Legolas," Celeborn said softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. "I missed you so..."
Elrond's hands still held him in place, encouraging him to go on, and so he concentrated on doing his best, wanting to show his hervenn that he had indeed been a most attentive pupil of the tutor his Lord had chosen for him. He closed his eyes in bliss when he felt Celeborn press a loving kiss to the small of his back, but then almost choked on Elrond's length at the next question.
"Is this all he can take? Or have you worked up to more already?"
Elrond chuckled breathlessly at the question, and Legolas knew that he had pointed towards the box where he kept most of his toys when he heard Celeborn get up.
"The ebony one?" Celeborn asked and returned to them, and Legolas wanted to groan when Elrond encouraged him to try it. It was the biggest in Elrond's selection, made from a dark, smooth wood found only in countries far south of the Harad, and Legolas had secretly named it the orc cock, because that was what it felt like. For a moment he even contemplated begging his hervenn not to use it - it had left him so sore he had been unable to ride for two days the last time Elrond had used it, and now that his Lord had returned, the thought of losing even a single hour of his company was unbearable.
And yet, how could he show disobedience when Celeborn had only just returned to him? The thought was even worse, and so he tried to keep silent, focusing all of his attention on Elrond's hard length in his mouth, using all he had ever been taught to bring the Lord pleasure with his lips and tongue and throat while fingers first worked the phallus loose and then applied more oil when it had at last been pulled out of him.
At the first touch of the cool, smooth wood against his entrance, Legolas took a deep breath and then, resolved not to shame himself by showing reluctance, swallowed around Elrond's shaft once more until his throat was filled and he could not have made a sound even had he wanted. At the same time, Celeborn had forced him to take in the crown of the hated black phallus, and it felt just as impossibly huge as he remembered. Tears sprang up in his eyes when his hervenn began to push it deeper inside, stretching him so much that he knew he would have cried out had Elrond's shaft not blocked his throat. He remembered now why he had dubbed it the orc cock - this was what it must feel like to be raped by one, he thought helplessly, holding still so that Elrond could use his throat as he liked while Celeborn showed him no mercy and made him take the huge phallus until it felt as if it would split him apart. One of Celeborn's hands began to stroke his back as if to coax him to relax, but only when that hand eventually moved down to instead close around his swollen length did he finally accept the painful intrusion. He concentrated on the pleasure his hervenn gave him until at last the thought of having Celeborn watch him impaled on the hated orc cock aroused him so much that he moved back against it when his Lord next moved the phallus, forcing himself to take it in up to the widened base when he heard Celeborn groan in arousal at the view.
"Valar!" Celeborn breathed, "you have done amazing work with him, Elrond! But let him stop for a moment and relax that sweet mouth - believe me, you want this to last a little longer."
The two Lords looked at each other above Legolas' arched back and laughed softly, so that Legolas wondered what more they could be planning - certainly there was nothing worse than what he was enduring already? He moaned softly when at last Elrond's erection slipped from his mouth, his jaw sore now and his lips swollen and tingling from the service he had given. Elrond's shaft was a dark red, harder and bigger than he had ever seen him, and with a whimper he pressed his lips to him again, breathing in the scent of arousal, musk and heat, unable to think of anything now but the pleasure the cruel golden rings had denied him for so long.
"Come, mellon, tilt that mirror there so he can watch... and then return to us," Celeborn bade Elrond, slowly stroking Legolas' length until his consort gasped his name in a breathless plea.
"There, watch yourself in the mirror, fileg nín," Celeborn commanded, his voice thick with amusement and desire alike. "See what you look like... Can you even imagine the things I want to do to you right now?"
"Missed you," Legolas breathed, too far gone to form complete sentences. "Would do... anything for you, h-hervenn!" His breath hitched at the view that waited for him in the mirror. He had indeed taken the huge phallus completely in, stretched open so wide around the black wood that he would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There at the base the phallus was almost twice as wide as the ones Elrond usually used in his lessons and his shaft twitched against his belly, a flush heating his cheeks when he realised that the two Lords must know that the almost obscene vision of seeing himself stretched open so completely for their amusement had only heightened his arousal.
"Ai, Valar!" With a groan Elrond knelt down next to Celeborn, taking hold of the phallus in fascination. "I've never made him take so much before..." He began to gently pump it in and out, forcing loud moans from Legolas now that at last he could no longer muffle his sounds. The Prince watched through half-closed eyes how the mirror showed him his hervenn disrobing, the embroidered silken robes sliding from his broad shoulders, his engorged shaft springing free as soon as he had started to unlace his breeches. Elrond pulled the phallus out at last and Celeborn gripped Legolas' hips in his hands, sliding inside in one easy thrust. Legolas made a soft sound of regret - his Lord was well-endowed, but after taking in the huge phallus as they had wanted him to, it just was not enough now.
"Ah, fileg eryn, do not be so disappointed... we are not finished with you yet." Celeborn pressed a loving kiss to his nape, then gently encouraged him to straighten, wrapping one arm around his young consort's waist as he manoeuvred them both to rest on the floor, Celeborn coming to lie on the thick rug with Legolas stretched atop his body, his back against Celeborn's chest. Then Elrond came forward to kneel between their legs, his hands on Legolas' knees forcing the Prince's thighs to spread even wider, and he grasped his own shaft to align it with Celeborn's erection. Legolas' eyes widened as he watched in the mirror, but then Elrond pushed forward, into him, and Legolas moaned in surprise, trembling when his hervenn's arms came around him to play with his nipples as he was filled and stretched like never before. He could not take his eyes from the mirror, moaning low in his throat at the vision of the two swollen shafts penetrating him at the same time, Elrond's a dark, angry red after being kept from fulfilment for so long, his hervenn's a shade paler. Neither of them was small, yet after the huge wooden phallus, they felt impossibly good in him, smooth and hot where Elrond's toy had been unyielding cold wood.
Celeborn groaned and turned his head to press a kiss to Legolas's ear when Elrond began to move, slow thrusts that forced a moan from the Prince's lips every time he could feel them both fully inside himself. "I feel him, fileg eryn... You cannot imagine how good it feels to feel him rub against me inside yourself! And you are so tight around us... tighter than when I took your innocence a year ago." He chuckled at Legolas' whimper, then gasped himself when Elrond's thrusts picked up in force, taking Legolas so hard now that the Prince's cries and moans drowned out their own sounds of pleasure as the painful stretching became an ecstasy of its own. When both Lords finally found release inside him he shuddered violently as well - spilling not a drop of his seed himself, for the cruel golden rings still denied him climax, and yet what he found there at the pinnacle was something deeper, more profound even, at the unbearable intensity of feeling those two Lords he loved most in the world deep inside his body at the same time.
When at last with sated groans they slipped out of his sore body, he sighed in tired pleasure at the kisses and caresses they bestowed on him. He was still drowning in pleasure and emotions so intense he could not name them, and though his erection truly hurt now from having been neglected for so long, he made not a single sound of complaint as his hervenn turned him so he could rest in his arms. Contentedly he breathed in the long-missed scent that was unique to his hervenn only - and then an undignified sound of pained surprise was forced from his lips when skilled hands deftly slid the huge phallus into his well-used body once more.
"Elrond!" he complained in dismayed betrayal, turning his head to glare at his tutor, both Lords laughing at his protest.
"You did not think I was finished with you already, fileg nín, did you?" Celeborn asked in amusement. "I thought that looking like this," his fingers brushed Legolas painfully constrained erection, "you would be only too willing to wait for me to recuperate. It will not take long, I promise you that... A year and a day, Legolas. You have no idea how dearly missed you were."
"Then... you are no longer angry at me?" Legolas asked, his voice soft and insecure for the first time.
"Angry? I was never angry with you, my beautiful consort." Celeborn's smile was warm and full of love, and when he kissed him, Legolas readily relaxed against him once more. "I was angry with myself, for causing you hurt - I need not have tested you in such a way. Ai, I did not punish you, Legolas, I punished myself. Do you have any idea how very much I missed you during the last year?"
Legolas gave him a brilliant smile, reassured now at last that he truly held his hervenn's love, burying deeper into his embrace until the movement jarred the phallus and made him groan with pained lust.
"But why that... that horrible orc cock again?" he complained a little petulantly, arranging himself just so against his hervenn's body, so that his swollen length brushed deliciously against Celeborn's slowly reawakening one.
The two Lords looked at each other over his head, then broke into laughter. "Ah, Legolas," Celeborn gasped in mirth, "you named it? I will have to ensure that one of our artisans will make you a similar one then..."
Legolas groaned and buried his head against his hervenn's chest to hide from their knowing chuckles, feeling stretched and sore and used and so unimaginably happy to be at Celeborn's side once more that even his teasing was something he knew he did not want to miss anymore.
3. Who knew that a Prince of the Greenwood would have such interesting fantasies?
Legolas fled, his breath coming in loud gasps at the exertion, yet still he knew that he would not be able to escape the beast. It had gained so much on him that he could hear its coarse grunts, could almost feel the foul breath on his neck, and when he felt a large hand grab his shoulder he cried out in panic, wrenching himself free only to be thrown to the ground a moment later. The thin shirt of embroidered cambric was torn from his chest, a knife slicing through the belt and the lacing that kept his breeches closed, and with one last surge of strength he managed to throw the orc off, vaulting onto the lowest branch of a near-by tree.
Yet there his luck left him - there were no other trees close enough to try and flee over their branches, so in despair he climbed higher, hoping that when the branches got thinner they would not carry the monster's weight anymore. His breeches slid down his legs, though, making his attempts clumsy, and before he had reached the safety of the highest branches, a hand closed around his leg and pulled him down. He cried out once more in helpless despair when he was savagely pushed against the tree's trunk, hands scrambling at the rough bark for purchase, but there was nothing he could do faced with the overbearing strength of the orc. A hard, blunt protrusion nudged against his thigh, slick with some vile secretion, and then without further warning he was entered, speared by one hard thrust that pierced him to the core and forced a scream from him. There was nothing but his own blood to ease the beast's rutting, and each agonising thrust forced pained whimpers from him. He bled from the myriad scratches the orc's claws had left on his body, and when the beast began to lick his blood from his skin, growling with savage lust, for a moment he felt as if he would faint.
Yet then, at another hard thrust, a hideous pleasure bloomed within him, and he moaned with wretched shame when he hardened. "Like that, little elf?" the orc growled, moving faster now, and Legolas gasped in helpless pleasure, giving in to what was being done to him even though it felt as if the creature's revolting cock was rubbing him raw inside. Each thrust forced tears of pain from his eyes, and yet, in a vile, dirty way, it was so good to be used like this...
He climaxed with a cry of pleasure that sounded strangely lost, clenching around the shaft that filled him with heat at the same time, gasping for breath while possessive arms slid around him to hold him close.
"You gave me quite a chase, fileg nín," Celeborn murmured, breathless himself after their play. "Who knew that a Prince of the Greenwood would have such interesting fantasies?"
"It was your idea!" Legolas protested, blushing a little for it was obvious that he had indeed enjoyed it quite a lot.
"Ah, but you are the one who nicknamed his favourite phallus orc cock," Celeborn smugly pointed out. "I think that reveals rather a lot."
"I hate that thing!" Legolas sighed, though their game had left him too tired to argue now.
"Truly? Elrond gave it to me as a present as you liked it so much - it is trussed up with my other things in one of the boxes. Make certain to thank him for his thoughtful present before he rides back to Imladris, fileg!" Celeborn's smile was wicked as he watched his consort squirm and blush, trying to deny that he had indeed enjoyed what they had done that day a week ago.
"Ai, I find I quite enjoyed that new game, beloved," he then sighed, contentedly nuzzling Legolas' disheveled hair. "Although we will have to make certain that we are far from crowded areas when we want to repeat that at home. It just will not do to have the guards overhear you calling me ugly orc, or vile monster."
They laughed at the thought, then Legolas turned in his hervenn's arms to face him, kissing him languorously until at last the sound of hoof-beats and jingling harness disturbed them. Below their tree, Elrond had come to a halt, watching them with fond amusement.
"Ah, Silvans... Of course you would prefer a tree even for that."
"How would you Noldor do it then?" Legolas asked, lightly jumping back down only to scowl when he picked up his ruined garments. "Ai, did you have to destroy them so completely, hervenn? Shall I ride back naked to ask my valet for new clothes?"
Celeborn chuckled and jumped down from the branch himself after he had laced up his breeches again. Their horses were patiently waiting where they had left them in the distance, and after a whistle, obediently trotted towards them.
"They can't be far behind us; we have tarried here for a good while," Celeborn pointed out. "Stay with Elrond, fileg - maybe he will consent to teach you how the Noldor do such things while on a journey? I will ride back and get you a set of new clothes meanwhile."
"I knew there had to be a reason for my father insisting on sending three seamstresses with me - he must have known that you would be set on destroying every single garment I own," Legolas muttered, then shrugged at his nudity and mounted his horse, steering it alongside the dappled silver charger Elrond was sitting while his Lord turned his horse and cantered towards where their retinue would soon appear.
"My Lord wants me to thank you for the... thoughtful present you have made him," Legolas murmured at last, fighting down a blush when Elrond chuckled.
"I am going to spend quite a few nights imagining him using it on you," Elrond admitted, then gave Legolas a quick grin. "If that performance just now was anything to go by, you will enjoy it, too..."
Legolas groaned, though a part of him thrilled at the thought that Elrond had watched them in the tree. "What would you have done in his place, then? How would you Noldor do it?" he asked seductively, hoping to bring the conversation to a less embarrassing topic.
Elrond looked him up and down, then smiled slowly, bringing his horse to a halt. "Come here and I'll show you," he said, moving back a little so that there was space for Legolas in front of him. Suggestively, he untied his breeches, smiling again when Legolas bit his lip at finding him hard, moving uncomfortably in the saddle of his own horse.
"Do not tell me that you are less adventurous than a Noldo?" Elrond teased, and that decided it for Legolas. He dropped his horse's reins and gracefully joined Elrond, facing him with his own legs splayed over the Noldo's thighs. Elrond leaned back, his hands on the horse's hindquarters to hold himself up, and with a still somewhat doubtful look, Legolas raised himself, slowly impaling himself on his erstwhile tutor's length while he tried to stabilise himself with one hand on Elrond's shoulder and the other wrapped in the horse's mane.
"I am... still not quite certain about this," he gasped, feeling strangely vulnerable in this position. What would they do if the horse spooked? What if he lost his balance? But then Elrond pushed his hips up and he gasped again, this time from pleasure. He wanted to touch himself but did not dare to move one of his hands lest he fall, and so their lovemaking was slow and somewhat awkward with Elrond the only one who dared to move.
"Please... this is torment!" Legolas groaned at last, clenching around the hot shaft inside him that teased him with shallow thrusts. Elrond chuckled at his plight but did not stop, finding his pleasure after what seemed to Legolas like a torturous eternity. The prince groaned in dismay, still hard himself and certain that he would not repeat this experience as it seemed to have given Elrond an unfair advantage - but then the Lord slowly sat up again and carefully pulled Legolas into his arms, pressing a grateful kiss to his brow even while he wrapped a hand around the Prince's neglected length.
"I thought it was quite lovely," he whispered into Legolas' ear and smiled when he sighed at the sensation. Legolas wrapped his arms around him to hold on while Elrond's hand slowly stroked up and down his length, having come to know the Prince's desires and needs better than he himself during the year he had tutored him. "I will miss you, Legolas," he breathed and took the tip of his ear into his mouth to gently suck on it, the Prince melting against him at the erotic sensation even while he found release at last, coating Elrond's hand with wet heat. Still dazed and trembling with pleasure, Legolas moaned his name with such love and longing that Elrond pulled the youth's face to his with both hands for a passionate kiss, not caring that he smeared his seed all over his hair and cheeks.
"Don't leave," Legolas begged at last, sounding young and forlorn despite the many ways in which he had grown during his time in Imladris. "I will miss you so... Can you not come with us? Just for a short while?"
Elrond pressed another kiss to his mouth, tender this time, soothing. "You are his consort, Legolas, and though you might miss me, I promise it will not be for long. Another life waits for you in Lothlórien, one I know you will very much enjoy. You will find friends and confidantes there, and many things to keep you busy."
"But you will not be there," Legolas said softly and Elrond smiled, grasping the Prince's chin to gently raise his eyes.
"Not now, that is true. A year and a day, Legolas... I will come to visit you and Celeborn in Lothlórien in a year's time. You can show me what you have learned during my absence - and we can decide whether you need more lessons then."
Elrond laughed at the way Legolas flushed, and then the Prince silenced him in the only way he knew - the best way; with another kiss, as loving and as passionate as what had grown between them during their year as tutor and pupil: a great friendship, utter trust, and a love that was unlike what he felt for Celeborn, his hervenn, yet just as true and right.
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hervenn - husband
fileg - little bird
fileg eryn - little forest bird
fileg nín - my little bird
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Author: Esteliel
Email: esteliel@gmx.de
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Celeborn/Legolas/Elrond
Warnings: slash, kink, AU – just take a look at the request for what to expect
Beta: Kenaz; thank you so much! :)
Request: Rating = NC-17, Pairing = Celebron/Legolas/Elrond or Aragorn/Legolas/Celebron or Elrond/Legolas/Orophin, Plot = angst, Double Penetration, sex scene up on a tree, vision of blood, vision of being raped, fluff, horseback sex, and a lot of love and passion... Do Not Include= Humor, character death.
Summary: Ancient Silvan traditions allow a ruler to take consorts, and so Legolas finds himself promised to Celeborn.
Written for: Sivan
1. I have done you a grievous hurt
Legolas ran, feeling free as never before when he jumped a small brook, landing on ground that was springy with thick layers of golden leaves that clung to his leggings of fine, white doeskin. They had been embroidered all over with the tiniest emeralds forming garlands of leaves, yet now they were spattered with mud. It was an outrage, and Legolas laughed when he thought what his tutor and his brothers would say, feeling secure in the knowledge that they would not catch him to reprimand him.
It had taken them more than three weeks to reach the border of Lórien from Thranduil's caves – a journey a courier might make in less than ten days on a fast horse, yet they had been forced to nerve-wracking slowness by the multitude of warriors, diplomats, servants, cooks, seamstresses and Eru only knew whomever else his father had seen fit to send as his accompaniment. At least the King had not sent his mother; an elleth Legolas dearly loved, but even he who liked his clothes of silk and velvet, and long baths with at least four attendants to pamper him, had often grown fractious when forced to wait on her while it took her the entire morning and half of the afternoon to ready herself for a simple, informal outdoors fête.
Now, though, he had finally escaped the train of his retainers, and he smiled grimly when he jumped across a fallen tree, thinking of his half-brothers who had called him a spoiled child in a fit of anger only two hours past.
Let them see that he was no child to be talked to in such a way! His mother might not be Queen, as the Sindarin lady his father had wed, but as the fairest of all Silvan maidens, youngest of one of the noblest lines of the Great Wood and bred to a life as a King's consort from birth, she had instilled a great many qualities in him which his half-brothers lacked, right-born heirs of Mirkwood they might be.
He was no child; he was to be consort to the ruling Lord of Lothlórien, one of the most powerful elves still in Middle-earth, a Prince of the House of Thingol. He would show them that he was no child to be treated in such a way!
He would go to Caras Galadhon on his own; would arrive there faster than they did – mayhap he could find a way past the guards and seek out the Lord he was to belong to without anyone noticing! So surprised the Lord Celeborn would be, struck by his unsurpassed beauty as well as by his skills of stealth and woodsman-ship, and he would name him superior to the best of his Galadhrim in front of his brothers who would look so sheepish...
Legolas cried out when an arrow hit the tree next to him just a hand's breadth from where his shoulder had been.
Yrch – so close to the city?
He stumbled, crying out in fear when another arrow hit the ground in front of him, and would have fallen had not someone grabbed the back of his fine tunic to pull him back against a hard body – a sharp blade against his throat making him freeze in terrified shock.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a smooth voice murmured, laughing in throaty amusement when all Legolas managed was a terrified whimper. “Did you get lost?”
“Do you not know that none may enter this wood save by our Lord or Lady's leave?” another said, and the one who constrained him pushed him forward with a derogatory snort.
“I fail to see what a danger this whelp could be – I could have shot him a hundred times, even were my eyes bound, so loud was his flight through our forest. But let us take him to the commander, Rúmil; these things are for him to decide.”
Legolas opened his mouth to indignantly protest such treatment – he was a prince, and future consort of their Lord! - but one of the Galadhrim pushed him ungently forward.
“One word and we will gag you!” he threatened coldly, and Legolas bowed his head to hide the tears of rage and humiliation that were brimming in his eyes when he powerlessly allowed himself to be led away.
Half an hour later, when they finally entered the camp of the Galadhrim guards, his rage had vanished, and all that remained was weariness, and shame. His beautiful clothes were spattered with mud, the rich brocade destroyed by thorns and springy branches, and all his hopes of bedazzling the ruler of Lothlórien had been ruined – if the Lord Celeborn laid eyes on him now, certainly he would send him back in contempt.
How would he bear that? Being his consort was what he had been brought up for... and now he had ruined it all.
His two guards made him walk through the camp with the eyes of half a dozen grey-cloaked guards resting on him, curious, silently amused at his plight, and Legolas had to bite back a soft moan of shame. Trained since his birth for life at court, mastering etiquette, dance, the lyre and the harp, diplomacy and heraldry years before other children were even allowed to stay up for the beginning of a feast, this seemed to him the ultimate humiliation – to be stripped of all his finery, to have lost the beauty countless minstrels had praised, it seemed to be the end of all his dreams, of his young life even.
“Commander – we have brought you a gift!” one of his guards called out.
“Look at the little bird we found lost in the wood! What shall we do with him?”
Legolas' eyes widened when a tall elf seemed to appear in front of him all of a sudden, his cloak settling around his shoulders. He wore the same grey uniform the other guards were dressed in, yet his cloak was made from a fine, heavy wool dyed the exact golden hue of mallorn leaves, which was why Legolas had not seen him at first.
He stood taller than most of the Galadhrim, and his face was stern and noble, framed by silver hair held back from his face by warrior braids. He wore no other sign of his position but the cloak of gold, yet Legolas would have known him to be the leader of these guards by the air of command he exuded.
He was unmistakably Sindarin, his build akin to that of his father and half-brothers, and Legolas, who had always been grateful for the lightness and beauty his own Silvan blood had bequeathed on him, felt his blood heat his cheeks at the intensity of the gaze that came to rest on him. There was a strange power in the other's eyes – he was old, Legolas knew at once, an Elda who had seen the light of the Two Trees. Who could this be but the Lord Celeborn – his betrothed?
“I am Legolas Thranduilion, of Mirkwood,” he said bravely, mortified to find his voice tremble ever so slightly. “Forgive me for my appearance and the untimely interruption, my Lord.” He bowed, lowering his head deeply, then gasped at the outrage of being pushed to his knees at the Lord's feet, as if he were not the son of a King, but a criminal to be judged.
“So you say...” The enigmatic Lord's eyes rested on him for a moment. “Yet has it not been sung by every bard who ever passed through Mirkwood that Thranduil's son is the fairest child ever born to the Great Wood, and that he is skilled, and kind, compassionate and obedient, free with smile and laugh and ever-loyal?”
The Lord looking him over again and shook his head with a smile. “You see then, little forest bird, you cannot be he.”
“But I-”
“You will be silent when facing our Lord, and not talk back to him!” one of his guards said sternly, and when Legolas opened his mouth to protest once more at the indignation of being treated like a servant when he was the son of Mirkwood's rightful Ruler, the Sindarin Lord's lips narrowed with displeasure.
“If he cannot obey, gag him,” he said sharply and turned away, so that Legolas fell silent from the shock of being threatened in such a way.
He reeled from all that was happening to him, and so was still too dazed to protest when his two guards pulled him up and to a tree, where they continued to first bind his hands, and then bound his body to the tree's trunk as well.
Legolas was trembling now, afraid at last for he had never known such rough and hostile treatment before, and when he tried to beseech them once more, one of the guards threateningly raised a length of silk to his mouth, so that Legolas flinched back and lowered his head in beaten surrender to their rules.
He slumped against the tree, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, while the guards gathered around a fire and talked softly as they passed around a skin of wine and shared some meat they had roasted over the flames. The smell made Legolas' mouth water, and he thought despondently of how, if he had not run, he would now ride with his brothers and share jests about what would await him as Lord Celeborn's consort.
At last, the gold-cloaked Lord stood from his place by the fire and walked towards Legolas, holding in his hands a fine cup of gold brimming with strong, red Dorwinion.
“Thirsty, fileg eryn?” he asked, his voice warm now, and Legolas found himself eagerly nodding, so pathetically grateful for the kindness that he blushed at it. Yet when the golden cup was raised to his lips, he thirstily sipped, swallowing the rich vintage without complaint at his treatment.
“Enough for now,” the Lord murmured at last, his laughter so sudden and full that Legolas almost flinched in surprise. “We cannot have you asleep just yet, can we? 'tis not even noon yet!” His smile was warm, and Legolas found himself answering it with a smile of his own, bathing in the regard of the silver-grey eyes, so deep and unfathomable...
He swallowed, self-conscious all of a sudden when his cheeks began to heat at how close they were... how close the Lord's lips were to his own...
He thought suddenly of how his brothers had teased him that he had never even been kissed – and of how much he wished that his Lord – for it had to be he! - would claim his lips, take that first kiss right here and now, against every custom of their people, yes, but oh, how very much he wanted it!
The Lord closed his eyes, lowered his head so that his breath teased against Legolas' ear and the youth shivered deliciously. “It must be uncomfortable for you here, fileg... If you promise to behave, I will untie you, and you may accompany me onto the talan, where I can keep an eye on you, and where there are cushions for you to rest on.”
“I promise, Lord; thank you,” Legolas whispered, his voice trembling just the slightest bit, yet he was too captivated by this enigmatic Sindarin Lord for the answer to be any different. He should not have agreed, should not make himself vulnerable by being alone with him, and yet, with his heart beating so fast, his entire body flushed with heat and the yearning to be close to him, how could he have answered any differently?
He still did not know the Lord's name, yet there could be no other answer than that this was indeed the wise Lord of Lórien – his body, his heart seemed to know him, even if his mind did not. And he would not make a fool of himself by asking – would not Celeborn be terribly offended to be questioned so by his own betrothed?
But then the Lord's hands gently opened the knots that held him to the tree. He even undid the coarse rope that held his wrists bound, using instead a length of silk cloth to bind them, and Legolas felt his heart swell at the kindness of it. He followed him without complaint when he was being led through the camp, remembering that he was only supposed to speak when the Lord asked him a question, and did not even chafe at it, for he was too overwhelmed by all the new, confusing feelings that had sprung up in him.
The talan was small and well hidden in the boughs of a mallorn, offering only the small comforts necessary for the guards of the wood, yet as the Lord had promised, a part of it had indeed been made comfortable with bedrolls and cushions. Legolas felt relief that he would not have to meet his brothers bound to a tree, like a common criminal – though his wrists were still bound, at least it was done so with silk, and being allowed to rest here near to the Lord certainly was a sign of his favour.
Legolas smiled shyly, still feeling that strange hesitancy whenever he felt the Lord's eyes resting on him, and then lowered himself to recline on the cushioned floor, wondering if at last the Lord would allow him to speak now.
Yet instead the Sinda sat down at a small table in a corner, reading dispatches and writing answers, and for a time Legolas was content to simply watch him, awed by his grace and nobility and the air of command he exuded even when away from his men. At last, though, the Lord laid down his parchments and came over to sit down next to Legolas, carefully tilting the cup once more so that the cool wine flowed into his mouth.
“Are you hungry as well, fileg?” he asked softly, and Legolas shook his head, trembling and speechless at the powerful feelings that coursed through him at the Lord's closeness. He had been provided with the best tutors at home, had been given a theoretical education in matters of the bedroom so thorough that he had often made his experienced brothers blush with the details of what he knew – and yet now that he sat next to the one whom he would serve and learn to pleasure in only a few days, he felt weak with apprehension, inexperienced and small.
“There, you spilled a little,” the Lord murmured, running a fingertip down Legolas' chin to gather a drop of the red wine. He licked it from his finger so that Legolas froze, wide-eyed and shocked when a jolt of arousal ran through his body at the gesture. Again the Lord laughed, the sound warm and a little amused, and raised his hand to Legolas' chin once again, tracing the wine-stained lips with a thumb.
Legolas was spellbound, imprisoned by the Lord's silver eyes, and he felt strangely breathless and weak, unable to resist when at last the Lord leaned forward and claimed his mouth, taking his first kiss as if it were his right.
And it was his right, Legolas thought dimly while at the same time a moan escaped him at the unbelievable pleasure of feeling soft lips against his own, a tongue invading his mouth – it was so intimate to be touched like this, to taste the Lord in his mouth! He knew that it was wrong, that such contact was not permitted them before he was bound to the Lord as his consort – and yet it felt so good, like everything he had ever wanted. He just could not stop this, even though he was aware that to have another see them like this would bring shame on his house, on his people. He truly should not even have come to the talan, for being alone with Celeborn without a chaperon could lead to speculation and would give the Lord a reason to break off the betrothal without repercussions, leaving Legolas shamed and unfit for another noble Lord – and yet he would never do that, Legolas thought with another soft moan. Celeborn wanted him, and the thought was electrifying, sweeping aside all fears and worries he should have had.
“Fileg eryn,” the Lord breathed against his lips, a hand slipping beneath Legolas' fine tunic, sliding up beneath the brocade so that Legolas trembled at the touch. They sank back onto the cushions, Celeborn half resting on Legolas' smaller body, and the youth felt as if in a dream, seduced by the fathomless silver eyes so that he could not bring himself to protest when his formerly so fine tunic was stripped from him, when a hand cupped him through his breeches so that he moaned in surprise at how good it felt to feel another's palm gently touch him at last.
Quickly the lacing was undone and he raised his hips when his breeches were pulled down, his mind now unable to focus on anything but the tongue in his mouth, so alien, so good. Celeborn's hand closed around his erection, stroked him so that he moaned into his mouth, and he shivered with delight at how right it felt to feel the Lord's skin against his own, hot and smooth. Dimly he realised that he could not even remember when he had undressed, but then there was a touch where he had never been touched before, a blunt pressure, slick with some liquid, and he closed his eyes and groaned, breached for the first time, knowing that it was wrong but unable to keep from wanting it. His brothers would chide him and so would his friends, his father would lecture him and his mother would write him disappointed letters for years - but ai, this was the Lord to whom he would be bound as consort in a week's time. It was wrong and against every custom and he should never have let this happen, but he could not help but respond to Celeborn's thorough possession of his body. There was pain, and yet he trembled with how good it felt, raising his lips to his Lord's again and again, feeling alive, feeling loved, an adult at last.
Pleasure crested over them like a thunderstorm breaking at last, so intense that Legolas had to bite back a cry, trembling for minutes in Celeborn's arms afterward. Yet at last the Lord moved away, and when Legolas opened his eyes, he found himself the recipient of a cold, distant look.
"You never even asked my name," the Lord stated dispassionately, and Legolas felt his world crash down around him.
"You are... not the Lord Celeborn?" he asked tonelessly, too shocked for tears while he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened, what he had done.
He had just thrown away his life. His hopes, his dreams, the countless years of striving to be the best pupil in every single lesson, desiring nothing but to make his father and mother proud, to do what was asked of him for the good of the realm... He had destroyed it all in one unthinking, reckless act.
He laughed, then buried his face in his hands, weeping bitterly as he imagined facing his parents now, his brothers. What was there left for him now? Who would take him as consort? Some minor noble, a captain of his father's army maybe, who would use him for nothing but pleasure and his connection to the court, disregarding all the political and diplomatic skills he had been taught.
"You will not take me as consort, will you?" he said despairingly. "And I am unfit for your Lord now. Maybe one of your guards might take me, spoiled though I am?" He could not return home, never again. Seeing his parents' disappointment would kill him - he could not bear even the thought of telling them what he had done. Better to remain in Lórien, consort to someone insignificant enough they would not mind how easily he had given his innocence away to someone else. Another sob broke free, and he blindly pulled at a piece of clothing, trying to cover himself now that it was too late.
Arms came around him then at last, and after a moment's reluctance he wearily leaned into the other's embrace, all too aware that if this one would now offer to take him as his, he would agree and be grateful for it, too, without even knowing his name - he knew that after this, he would get no better offers anymore.
"Legolas," the other murmured into his ear, "calm yourself. I am sorry, it was a cruel thing to do - yet how could I not have tested you when you were so innocent and trusting, so naive?" He sighed and took hold of Legolas' chin, gently turning his face to press a kiss to the tear-stained cheek. "I am Celeborn, your betrothed; forgive me for causing you such pain. You will indeed be my consort, I promise you that. And yet... you are truly very young still. You have seen nothing but your forest where you were well loved, yet Lórien is not like the Greenwood, Legolas, there are a few here who do not agree with Silvan customs, and I fear how that dislike shall affect you when you have never had reason to distrust someone before. In a week, you shall be bound to me as my consort, but for a year and a day, you shall stay with a tutor, learning much of love and life before you will return to my side. I will send you to Lord Elrond, fileg nín - among the Noldor you will learn when to trust, and when not, while being under the guardianship of Elrond. You will see Imladris and how they live there, form friendships maybe... and grow older and wiser until you will return to my side at last."
Legolas was silent, had been so during his speech, trembling still while he tried to understand what the Lord told him. Tears glistened on his cheeks once more when at last he raised his face again, but his voice was calm and almost without tremble when he spoke. "I have done you a grievous hurt, Lord, and betrayed my own people as well. I am well aware that you do me a great kindness now, and I swear that I shall never forget it. I shall go to Imladris as you command and be a good pupil to Lord Elrond there, and when I return, I will never again cause you shame in any way whatsoever again, I swear on the Valar and Eru himself, my Lord."
2. Watch yourself in the mirror
Legolas had settled into his new life in Imladris – more or less. For almost twelve full months now he had lived with Elrond, who to his great relief had proved to be less dour and rigid in his beliefs than most of the Noldor. Of course, given his age and experience, he had to have been aware of Silvan traditions for a long time. Rumour even had it that he had once thought of taking a consort or two himself, and with a guilty thrill Legolas imagined what might have been had he asked for Legolas from his father. No, as fearful as the prospect had seemed at first, Elrond had been a good choice; especially as after having been exposed to one of the guards' censure in the Lórien camp, a part of Legolas had wondered if Celeborn might not make him the ward of a strict and conservative master as fitting punishment.
Yet his Lord – his hervenn now, he thought with a thrill, yearning for the day when he would return to his Lord's side – was not so cruel. Legolas might be kept from the consort's suite in Lothlórien and from his Lord's company, yet Elrond made a formidable handler for a young, inexperienced consort. He was strict; no amount of needling or begging would change his mind about the decisions he made, Legolas had soon found out. And yet, unlike many others in Imladris who still held to the prudish Noldorin laws set down in Valinor, Elrond saw no shame in embracing the ancient ways of the wood elves. He saw the honour in being given the education of his charge - and the honour inherent in Legolas' position - just as it had been at Thranduil's court, where none would ever have dreamed of belittling the worth of the King's consort, or the children he had begotten with her.
Legolas still felt bewildered by the dislike shown on one of the guards' face after they had come down from the talan, Legolas still pale and uncharacteristically silent. When Legolas met that guard's eyes, his mouth had twisted into a sneer of disgust, for of course all the guards had seen them enter the talan together, and must certainly be aware of what they had done there. And yet this disgust was not for the fact that Legolas had lain with Celeborn before there was the legitimacy of the consort's bond, weak though that might be in the eyes of the guard. No, there had been a whisper, and Legolas had flinched at how he was called a disgrace that brought shame on the Lady of the Wood. There had been a sharp word from Celeborn then, and the guard had turned away and desisted from further comments, yet still, even a year later, Legolas could not fully comprehend how in a predominantly Silvan realm such as Lothlórien the old customs could have come to be viewed with such disgust.
Those Noldor or Sindar who came to the Silvan realms an age ago and thought to rule were forced to adapt to Silvan ways – it had always been so. Even the Lady of Light must have seen the wisdom in such, or she would not have agreed to the betrothal of her Lord to Legolas. After all, what better way to ensure tight bonds amid a realm than to make certain that the greatest houses were all bound to its ruler in such a way? For a ruler to choose a maid from one noble house only could certainly cause nothing but discontent among a realm's nobles.
Elrond at least treated him with all the respect his position deserved, for all that he was in charge of curbing the Prince's all too naïve trust, and of course further his experience and skills in what bed games pleased his hervenn.
This morning, Legolas had woken in the bright heat of the morning sun bathing the silken sheets in brilliance, curled around Elrond who answered his charge's hopeful tries at instigating more pleasurable activities with a laugh and a shake of his head.
Instead, Legolas got to get up and and help Elrond dress, as soon his hervenn might demand of him, then readied a bath for him and tried to be as pleasing as possible when he used a soft cloth to wash him. Later they broke their fast together and then took a walk, discussing poetry as well as the complex political machinations of the councillors of Imladris. Legolas did well in all these things, he was indeed as highly skilled as his tutors at home had proclaimed, and Elrond agreed with their assessment and found himself praising the Prince, too, for his quick understanding and the intelligent questions he asked about differences and similarities between the governance of their realms. Yet one difference there was: Legolas had lost the carefreeness of knowing himself beloved of his parents as well as the entire realm. The memory of how he had betrayed – almost betrayed! - his own people as well as his now husband still weighted heavily on his heart, and despite his praise, Elrond could see in his eyes that the Prince would not allow himself to forget the duty his position brought.
And yet, despite those painful memories, this was a happy time for Legolas as well, for they would spend the evenings in their rooms, engaged in a multitude of pleasurable activities so that Legolas' education in matters of the bedroom would not be wholly theoretical anymore when at last he would meet his hervenn again. There were a great many things Legolas had learned already, and this afternoon, it seemed that once more he would have to endure a lesson in patience.
He was kneeling on the floor, naked, his skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat as he tried to hold still for Elrond's inspection. His... tutor had fitted gleaming rings of gold around his shaft and the heavy scrotum below which kept him hard and helped him not to find release until Elrond allowed it, and to heighten the erotic torment, Elrond had used a phallus of smooth, polished wood to spread him, fill him, so that it was all Legolas could do not to moan aloud with every breath he took.
"You yearn for Lord Celeborn now, do you not?" Elrond asked and laughed at the groan of pure misery that was his answer. "Ah, what a lovely vision you are... If he could see you now, I do not think he could keep resisting you. But as he is not here..."
He smiled at Legolas, a little wicked, yet as always there was kindness in his regard as well. Yet even for the friendship that now connected them, Legolas knew that for Elrond the duty of his position would always come first, and so he groaned again because he knew the Lord might torment him in millions of pleasurable ways before allowing him to find his pleasure - if he did at all.
"You have come a long way already, but it is best to keep up practise," Elrond said and gestured towards his feet. "Come here and let me see once more if your performance is indeed up to your Lord's exacting standards."
Legolas bit back another moan at the thought of doing this to Celeborn, the enigmatic Lord he still dreamed about almost every single night, but obediently he slowly moved forward until he knelt between Elrond's spread thighs, his breath hitching at every movement that drove the wooden phallus against the small gland inside himself. He parted Elrond's robe with gentle hands, licking his lips at the vision that awaited him - his tutor's hardened shaft, dark and hot, and beneath the tight sac. He pressed a gentle kiss to it first, then moved up, savouring the taste, the feel as he pressed small kisses to Elrond's erection from root to tip. There was a drop of clear liquid at the crown, and he licked it up with a sigh of relish before he took him into his mouth, skilled enough by now to relax his throat so that soon he had taken him in to the root, his nose brushing the wiry black curls before he moved back again.
"Very good, Legolas!" Elrond groaned and gently cradled his head in his hands, encouraging him to move back down and take him in completely once more. Legolas closed his eyes, wanting to groan in pleasure at the way Elrond felt in his mouth, at the praise he had earned... and then there was a sound behind him, silk brushing against the wooden floor, and two hands came to rest on his hips. His eyes widened and he tried to move back, unable even to make a sound of protest with Elrond's shaft filling his throat, but the Lord's hands did not allow him to retreat.
"Hush, Legolas... please me like I taught you!" he said sternly, and after a moment Legolas gave in, unsettled by this new test - if that was indeed what this was - yet unable to rebel, for it was of course still up to Elrond to decide how to educate or test his charge.
He served Elrond as well as he could, yet the pleasure of pleasing him in such a way was gone now, replaced by the unease the stranger's touches brought. His hands stroked up and down his flanks as if to calm him, then slipped lower to cup his buttocks, slowly massaging the rounded muscles. Legs moved in between his own, forcing him to spread his thighs even further to allow the stranger a good view of where the tight muscle was stretched around the phallus, and then a finger slowly but insistently penetrated him as well alongside the wooden implement. Elrond allowed him to draw back at last and Legolas gasped, desperately trying to suppress a sound of pain at the burn of being stretched so but the elf behind him did not relent, his other hand coming to tightly close around his scrotum as if in a warning to remain still.
At last he finally drew back, and when he spoke, Legolas wanted to weep at once more hearing the beloved voice he had so missed.
"You are so beautiful, Legolas," Celeborn said softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. "I missed you so..."
Elrond's hands still held him in place, encouraging him to go on, and so he concentrated on doing his best, wanting to show his hervenn that he had indeed been a most attentive pupil of the tutor his Lord had chosen for him. He closed his eyes in bliss when he felt Celeborn press a loving kiss to the small of his back, but then almost choked on Elrond's length at the next question.
"Is this all he can take? Or have you worked up to more already?"
Elrond chuckled breathlessly at the question, and Legolas knew that he had pointed towards the box where he kept most of his toys when he heard Celeborn get up.
"The ebony one?" Celeborn asked and returned to them, and Legolas wanted to groan when Elrond encouraged him to try it. It was the biggest in Elrond's selection, made from a dark, smooth wood found only in countries far south of the Harad, and Legolas had secretly named it the orc cock, because that was what it felt like. For a moment he even contemplated begging his hervenn not to use it - it had left him so sore he had been unable to ride for two days the last time Elrond had used it, and now that his Lord had returned, the thought of losing even a single hour of his company was unbearable.
And yet, how could he show disobedience when Celeborn had only just returned to him? The thought was even worse, and so he tried to keep silent, focusing all of his attention on Elrond's hard length in his mouth, using all he had ever been taught to bring the Lord pleasure with his lips and tongue and throat while fingers first worked the phallus loose and then applied more oil when it had at last been pulled out of him.
At the first touch of the cool, smooth wood against his entrance, Legolas took a deep breath and then, resolved not to shame himself by showing reluctance, swallowed around Elrond's shaft once more until his throat was filled and he could not have made a sound even had he wanted. At the same time, Celeborn had forced him to take in the crown of the hated black phallus, and it felt just as impossibly huge as he remembered. Tears sprang up in his eyes when his hervenn began to push it deeper inside, stretching him so much that he knew he would have cried out had Elrond's shaft not blocked his throat. He remembered now why he had dubbed it the orc cock - this was what it must feel like to be raped by one, he thought helplessly, holding still so that Elrond could use his throat as he liked while Celeborn showed him no mercy and made him take the huge phallus until it felt as if it would split him apart. One of Celeborn's hands began to stroke his back as if to coax him to relax, but only when that hand eventually moved down to instead close around his swollen length did he finally accept the painful intrusion. He concentrated on the pleasure his hervenn gave him until at last the thought of having Celeborn watch him impaled on the hated orc cock aroused him so much that he moved back against it when his Lord next moved the phallus, forcing himself to take it in up to the widened base when he heard Celeborn groan in arousal at the view.
"Valar!" Celeborn breathed, "you have done amazing work with him, Elrond! But let him stop for a moment and relax that sweet mouth - believe me, you want this to last a little longer."
The two Lords looked at each other above Legolas' arched back and laughed softly, so that Legolas wondered what more they could be planning - certainly there was nothing worse than what he was enduring already? He moaned softly when at last Elrond's erection slipped from his mouth, his jaw sore now and his lips swollen and tingling from the service he had given. Elrond's shaft was a dark red, harder and bigger than he had ever seen him, and with a whimper he pressed his lips to him again, breathing in the scent of arousal, musk and heat, unable to think of anything now but the pleasure the cruel golden rings had denied him for so long.
"Come, mellon, tilt that mirror there so he can watch... and then return to us," Celeborn bade Elrond, slowly stroking Legolas' length until his consort gasped his name in a breathless plea.
"There, watch yourself in the mirror, fileg nín," Celeborn commanded, his voice thick with amusement and desire alike. "See what you look like... Can you even imagine the things I want to do to you right now?"
"Missed you," Legolas breathed, too far gone to form complete sentences. "Would do... anything for you, h-hervenn!" His breath hitched at the view that waited for him in the mirror. He had indeed taken the huge phallus completely in, stretched open so wide around the black wood that he would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There at the base the phallus was almost twice as wide as the ones Elrond usually used in his lessons and his shaft twitched against his belly, a flush heating his cheeks when he realised that the two Lords must know that the almost obscene vision of seeing himself stretched open so completely for their amusement had only heightened his arousal.
"Ai, Valar!" With a groan Elrond knelt down next to Celeborn, taking hold of the phallus in fascination. "I've never made him take so much before..." He began to gently pump it in and out, forcing loud moans from Legolas now that at last he could no longer muffle his sounds. The Prince watched through half-closed eyes how the mirror showed him his hervenn disrobing, the embroidered silken robes sliding from his broad shoulders, his engorged shaft springing free as soon as he had started to unlace his breeches. Elrond pulled the phallus out at last and Celeborn gripped Legolas' hips in his hands, sliding inside in one easy thrust. Legolas made a soft sound of regret - his Lord was well-endowed, but after taking in the huge phallus as they had wanted him to, it just was not enough now.
"Ah, fileg eryn, do not be so disappointed... we are not finished with you yet." Celeborn pressed a loving kiss to his nape, then gently encouraged him to straighten, wrapping one arm around his young consort's waist as he manoeuvred them both to rest on the floor, Celeborn coming to lie on the thick rug with Legolas stretched atop his body, his back against Celeborn's chest. Then Elrond came forward to kneel between their legs, his hands on Legolas' knees forcing the Prince's thighs to spread even wider, and he grasped his own shaft to align it with Celeborn's erection. Legolas' eyes widened as he watched in the mirror, but then Elrond pushed forward, into him, and Legolas moaned in surprise, trembling when his hervenn's arms came around him to play with his nipples as he was filled and stretched like never before. He could not take his eyes from the mirror, moaning low in his throat at the vision of the two swollen shafts penetrating him at the same time, Elrond's a dark, angry red after being kept from fulfilment for so long, his hervenn's a shade paler. Neither of them was small, yet after the huge wooden phallus, they felt impossibly good in him, smooth and hot where Elrond's toy had been unyielding cold wood.
Celeborn groaned and turned his head to press a kiss to Legolas's ear when Elrond began to move, slow thrusts that forced a moan from the Prince's lips every time he could feel them both fully inside himself. "I feel him, fileg eryn... You cannot imagine how good it feels to feel him rub against me inside yourself! And you are so tight around us... tighter than when I took your innocence a year ago." He chuckled at Legolas' whimper, then gasped himself when Elrond's thrusts picked up in force, taking Legolas so hard now that the Prince's cries and moans drowned out their own sounds of pleasure as the painful stretching became an ecstasy of its own. When both Lords finally found release inside him he shuddered violently as well - spilling not a drop of his seed himself, for the cruel golden rings still denied him climax, and yet what he found there at the pinnacle was something deeper, more profound even, at the unbearable intensity of feeling those two Lords he loved most in the world deep inside his body at the same time.
When at last with sated groans they slipped out of his sore body, he sighed in tired pleasure at the kisses and caresses they bestowed on him. He was still drowning in pleasure and emotions so intense he could not name them, and though his erection truly hurt now from having been neglected for so long, he made not a single sound of complaint as his hervenn turned him so he could rest in his arms. Contentedly he breathed in the long-missed scent that was unique to his hervenn only - and then an undignified sound of pained surprise was forced from his lips when skilled hands deftly slid the huge phallus into his well-used body once more.
"Elrond!" he complained in dismayed betrayal, turning his head to glare at his tutor, both Lords laughing at his protest.
"You did not think I was finished with you already, fileg nín, did you?" Celeborn asked in amusement. "I thought that looking like this," his fingers brushed Legolas painfully constrained erection, "you would be only too willing to wait for me to recuperate. It will not take long, I promise you that... A year and a day, Legolas. You have no idea how dearly missed you were."
"Then... you are no longer angry at me?" Legolas asked, his voice soft and insecure for the first time.
"Angry? I was never angry with you, my beautiful consort." Celeborn's smile was warm and full of love, and when he kissed him, Legolas readily relaxed against him once more. "I was angry with myself, for causing you hurt - I need not have tested you in such a way. Ai, I did not punish you, Legolas, I punished myself. Do you have any idea how very much I missed you during the last year?"
Legolas gave him a brilliant smile, reassured now at last that he truly held his hervenn's love, burying deeper into his embrace until the movement jarred the phallus and made him groan with pained lust.
"But why that... that horrible orc cock again?" he complained a little petulantly, arranging himself just so against his hervenn's body, so that his swollen length brushed deliciously against Celeborn's slowly reawakening one.
The two Lords looked at each other over his head, then broke into laughter. "Ah, Legolas," Celeborn gasped in mirth, "you named it? I will have to ensure that one of our artisans will make you a similar one then..."
Legolas groaned and buried his head against his hervenn's chest to hide from their knowing chuckles, feeling stretched and sore and used and so unimaginably happy to be at Celeborn's side once more that even his teasing was something he knew he did not want to miss anymore.
3. Who knew that a Prince of the Greenwood would have such interesting fantasies?
Legolas fled, his breath coming in loud gasps at the exertion, yet still he knew that he would not be able to escape the beast. It had gained so much on him that he could hear its coarse grunts, could almost feel the foul breath on his neck, and when he felt a large hand grab his shoulder he cried out in panic, wrenching himself free only to be thrown to the ground a moment later. The thin shirt of embroidered cambric was torn from his chest, a knife slicing through the belt and the lacing that kept his breeches closed, and with one last surge of strength he managed to throw the orc off, vaulting onto the lowest branch of a near-by tree.
Yet there his luck left him - there were no other trees close enough to try and flee over their branches, so in despair he climbed higher, hoping that when the branches got thinner they would not carry the monster's weight anymore. His breeches slid down his legs, though, making his attempts clumsy, and before he had reached the safety of the highest branches, a hand closed around his leg and pulled him down. He cried out once more in helpless despair when he was savagely pushed against the tree's trunk, hands scrambling at the rough bark for purchase, but there was nothing he could do faced with the overbearing strength of the orc. A hard, blunt protrusion nudged against his thigh, slick with some vile secretion, and then without further warning he was entered, speared by one hard thrust that pierced him to the core and forced a scream from him. There was nothing but his own blood to ease the beast's rutting, and each agonising thrust forced pained whimpers from him. He bled from the myriad scratches the orc's claws had left on his body, and when the beast began to lick his blood from his skin, growling with savage lust, for a moment he felt as if he would faint.
Yet then, at another hard thrust, a hideous pleasure bloomed within him, and he moaned with wretched shame when he hardened. "Like that, little elf?" the orc growled, moving faster now, and Legolas gasped in helpless pleasure, giving in to what was being done to him even though it felt as if the creature's revolting cock was rubbing him raw inside. Each thrust forced tears of pain from his eyes, and yet, in a vile, dirty way, it was so good to be used like this...
He climaxed with a cry of pleasure that sounded strangely lost, clenching around the shaft that filled him with heat at the same time, gasping for breath while possessive arms slid around him to hold him close.
"You gave me quite a chase, fileg nín," Celeborn murmured, breathless himself after their play. "Who knew that a Prince of the Greenwood would have such interesting fantasies?"
"It was your idea!" Legolas protested, blushing a little for it was obvious that he had indeed enjoyed it quite a lot.
"Ah, but you are the one who nicknamed his favourite phallus orc cock," Celeborn smugly pointed out. "I think that reveals rather a lot."
"I hate that thing!" Legolas sighed, though their game had left him too tired to argue now.
"Truly? Elrond gave it to me as a present as you liked it so much - it is trussed up with my other things in one of the boxes. Make certain to thank him for his thoughtful present before he rides back to Imladris, fileg!" Celeborn's smile was wicked as he watched his consort squirm and blush, trying to deny that he had indeed enjoyed what they had done that day a week ago.
"Ai, I find I quite enjoyed that new game, beloved," he then sighed, contentedly nuzzling Legolas' disheveled hair. "Although we will have to make certain that we are far from crowded areas when we want to repeat that at home. It just will not do to have the guards overhear you calling me ugly orc, or vile monster."
They laughed at the thought, then Legolas turned in his hervenn's arms to face him, kissing him languorously until at last the sound of hoof-beats and jingling harness disturbed them. Below their tree, Elrond had come to a halt, watching them with fond amusement.
"Ah, Silvans... Of course you would prefer a tree even for that."
"How would you Noldor do it then?" Legolas asked, lightly jumping back down only to scowl when he picked up his ruined garments. "Ai, did you have to destroy them so completely, hervenn? Shall I ride back naked to ask my valet for new clothes?"
Celeborn chuckled and jumped down from the branch himself after he had laced up his breeches again. Their horses were patiently waiting where they had left them in the distance, and after a whistle, obediently trotted towards them.
"They can't be far behind us; we have tarried here for a good while," Celeborn pointed out. "Stay with Elrond, fileg - maybe he will consent to teach you how the Noldor do such things while on a journey? I will ride back and get you a set of new clothes meanwhile."
"I knew there had to be a reason for my father insisting on sending three seamstresses with me - he must have known that you would be set on destroying every single garment I own," Legolas muttered, then shrugged at his nudity and mounted his horse, steering it alongside the dappled silver charger Elrond was sitting while his Lord turned his horse and cantered towards where their retinue would soon appear.
"My Lord wants me to thank you for the... thoughtful present you have made him," Legolas murmured at last, fighting down a blush when Elrond chuckled.
"I am going to spend quite a few nights imagining him using it on you," Elrond admitted, then gave Legolas a quick grin. "If that performance just now was anything to go by, you will enjoy it, too..."
Legolas groaned, though a part of him thrilled at the thought that Elrond had watched them in the tree. "What would you have done in his place, then? How would you Noldor do it?" he asked seductively, hoping to bring the conversation to a less embarrassing topic.
Elrond looked him up and down, then smiled slowly, bringing his horse to a halt. "Come here and I'll show you," he said, moving back a little so that there was space for Legolas in front of him. Suggestively, he untied his breeches, smiling again when Legolas bit his lip at finding him hard, moving uncomfortably in the saddle of his own horse.
"Do not tell me that you are less adventurous than a Noldo?" Elrond teased, and that decided it for Legolas. He dropped his horse's reins and gracefully joined Elrond, facing him with his own legs splayed over the Noldo's thighs. Elrond leaned back, his hands on the horse's hindquarters to hold himself up, and with a still somewhat doubtful look, Legolas raised himself, slowly impaling himself on his erstwhile tutor's length while he tried to stabilise himself with one hand on Elrond's shoulder and the other wrapped in the horse's mane.
"I am... still not quite certain about this," he gasped, feeling strangely vulnerable in this position. What would they do if the horse spooked? What if he lost his balance? But then Elrond pushed his hips up and he gasped again, this time from pleasure. He wanted to touch himself but did not dare to move one of his hands lest he fall, and so their lovemaking was slow and somewhat awkward with Elrond the only one who dared to move.
"Please... this is torment!" Legolas groaned at last, clenching around the hot shaft inside him that teased him with shallow thrusts. Elrond chuckled at his plight but did not stop, finding his pleasure after what seemed to Legolas like a torturous eternity. The prince groaned in dismay, still hard himself and certain that he would not repeat this experience as it seemed to have given Elrond an unfair advantage - but then the Lord slowly sat up again and carefully pulled Legolas into his arms, pressing a grateful kiss to his brow even while he wrapped a hand around the Prince's neglected length.
"I thought it was quite lovely," he whispered into Legolas' ear and smiled when he sighed at the sensation. Legolas wrapped his arms around him to hold on while Elrond's hand slowly stroked up and down his length, having come to know the Prince's desires and needs better than he himself during the year he had tutored him. "I will miss you, Legolas," he breathed and took the tip of his ear into his mouth to gently suck on it, the Prince melting against him at the erotic sensation even while he found release at last, coating Elrond's hand with wet heat. Still dazed and trembling with pleasure, Legolas moaned his name with such love and longing that Elrond pulled the youth's face to his with both hands for a passionate kiss, not caring that he smeared his seed all over his hair and cheeks.
"Don't leave," Legolas begged at last, sounding young and forlorn despite the many ways in which he had grown during his time in Imladris. "I will miss you so... Can you not come with us? Just for a short while?"
Elrond pressed another kiss to his mouth, tender this time, soothing. "You are his consort, Legolas, and though you might miss me, I promise it will not be for long. Another life waits for you in Lothlórien, one I know you will very much enjoy. You will find friends and confidantes there, and many things to keep you busy."
"But you will not be there," Legolas said softly and Elrond smiled, grasping the Prince's chin to gently raise his eyes.
"Not now, that is true. A year and a day, Legolas... I will come to visit you and Celeborn in Lothlórien in a year's time. You can show me what you have learned during my absence - and we can decide whether you need more lessons then."
Elrond laughed at the way Legolas flushed, and then the Prince silenced him in the only way he knew - the best way; with another kiss, as loving and as passionate as what had grown between them during their year as tutor and pupil: a great friendship, utter trust, and a love that was unlike what he felt for Celeborn, his hervenn, yet just as true and right.
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hervenn - husband
fileg - little bird
fileg eryn - little forest bird
fileg nín - my little bird
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Date: 2008-08-18 09:26 am (UTC)Loved it!
Hugs binky xxxx
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Date: 2008-08-18 10:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-18 11:38 am (UTC)Erfan
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Date: 2008-08-18 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-18 12:12 pm (UTC)That was hot! I think Galadriel won't be seeing so much of Celeborn from now on. *grin*
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Date: 2008-08-18 04:36 pm (UTC)Yes, I think you are right - I'm certain I know where Celeborn is going to spend most of his nights. ;)
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Date: 2008-08-18 06:31 pm (UTC)I don't usually go for Elrond or Celeborn because I can't get my head around the extramarital aspect, but the whole 'Silvan custom' thing was completely brilliant.
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Date: 2008-08-19 09:08 pm (UTC)Yes, I didn't want to go the usual way of having Galadriel play the role of the villain; I like her too much for that. And wood elves are always good for strange customs... ;)
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Date: 2008-08-19 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 04:50 pm (UTC)loved it..
*hugs*
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Date: 2008-08-19 09:10 pm (UTC)