Title: The King's Bounty
Authors: Khylaren and Larien Elengasse
Contact: khylaren@yahoo.com and larienelengasse@yahoo.com
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: NC17
Warnings: graphic homoerotic (slash) content.
Beta: Larian Elensar
Cast: Haldir/Legolas/Thranduil; Rúmil/Legolas/Thranduil, Orophin/Legolas/Thranduil, Orophin/Rúmil, Thranduil/Celeborn. I think that about covers it.
Spoilers: None

Disclaimers:  We do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. We are not making money off this story; it was written for the pure pleasure of it (mainly ours!)

Summary: (Written as a sequel to Yielding, by Khylaren) The brothers of Lórien travel to Eryn Lasgalen as emissaries and the Sindar King decides to see for himself what his son’s fascination with them is.

Notes: This was written mostly in Yahoo chat and once again, it was a total blast to work with Larien Elengasse. Her mind is evil, and I love it!  Her Thranduil inspired me to reach well beyond my boundaries - and I thank her for it!  This is pretty much -  plot, what plot? What are you reading this for if you want plot?  All those yummy elves, so little time...

I enjoy working with Khylaren very much, we seem to bring out the evilness in one another.. hehe… this was a blast to write and I was really only in charge of the havoc that my beloved Sindar King wreaked…  The rest sort of wrote itself… Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – Schemes are Hatched

Thranduil observed his visitors through half-lidded eyes, his green gaze shrewd and assessing as he contemplated his three guests. The three elves from Lórien shifted slightly under his intense regard, as they awaited response to the missive he held in his hand. 

So these are the three infamous Galadhrim who seduced my son, he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. Seduced him, and left him craving their touch so badly he cannot seem to stay away from Lothlórien for more than a month since he returned from the quest.  He studied each of them closely, noting their graceful bearing, their golden beauty, and their lithe, yet strong bodies. I would very much like to know what it is about these three that has my Greenleaf so enthralled.  I do intend to find out.

He saw them shift once more, as if uneasy under his regard, and hid his smirk, dropping his eyes to the letter.  Celeborn’s politely worded request left him fuming. Without showing any hint of his displeasure, he folded the message and handed it to his secretary.

“I will need a few days to reply to your Lord’s message,” he said smoothly, looking back at the three marchwardens, a devilish idea forming in his mind.  He sauntered towards them, his movements graceful and predatory, full of elegance and intent.  He stopped mere inches from their captain, and saw Haldir’s eyes widen slightly at his closeness.  Licking his lips provocatively, he lifted one of the marchwarden’s braids, sliding it slowly through his fingertips as he leaned even closer.

“You will, of course, be my honored guests until such time,” he said, his meaning quite clear, and having the desired effect, if Haldir’s sudden and swift intake of breath was any indication. 

Haldir swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he felt those green eyes center on his mouth. “We… we will await your pleasure, my Lord,” he managed; silently wishing protocol would permit him to run away as fast as his legs would take him. He heard the king chuckle softly and felt the warm caress of his breath against his neck.

Thranduil watched them leave, and a slow but wicked smile curved his generous lips. “Oh yes, my dear marchwardens. You most certainly will.”

< > < > < >

Haldir and his brothers were housed in comfortable quarters in a separate wing from the King and his son, Legolas.  Haldir sat upon the edge of his bed, watching Rúmil pace nervously, and Orophin sat in the chair across from his bed, drumming his fingers upon the wooden arms.  He knew with unerring certainty that Thranduil had something up his sleeve.  He could not imagine why the King was upset, unless Legolas had said something to him.  Legolas was an adult elf, no longer a youngster, what business was it of his father’s what he did in his spare time?  

“Rúmil, you will wear a hole in the floor if you do not stop.” He grumbled.  His brothers were coming unhinged, and that was something they could not afford to do in front of the King.

“What do you think he is planning?” the youngest Lórien brother asked.

Orophin grumbled, “Perhaps he is planning to lock us in his dungeons and leave us there to rot.”

Rúmil wheeled around, his eyes wide with apprehension.  “You do not think he would really do that do you?”

Haldir waved his hand.  “Rúmil, you must really get a hold of yourself.  You are behaving like an elfling.  The King would not dare harm us or imprison us; Lord Celeborn would never tolerate it.  You cannot let Thranduil see you this way; he is like a lion, he can smell fear like you can smell untried flesh.”

Orophin snorted and relaxed back in his chair.  “Would it be so bad?  Bowing to the King’s will for a night or two?  I dare imagine that he is as demanding as his son is yielding.  I, for one, may be up to the challenge.”

Rúmil plopped on the bed next to Haldir and placed his hands over his face, slowly shaking his head and muttering, “Oh no…”

Haldir leapt to his feet and growled, “I submit to no one, no one masters me!”

Orophin laughed softly, “Really, gwanur.  You must learn to relax and take what comes, learn to enjoy opportunities as they present themselves… I have heard tell that Thranduil is a masterful lover, once you have experienced his bed, you yearn for no other.”

Haldir’s gaze narrowed.  “Then you play the pupil, I will not!  I will not be subjugated and made a plaything for a Sindar King!”

Orophin smiled wickedly.  “You were willing enough to turn a Sindar Prince into a plaything…”

Haldir crossed his arms over his chest.  “That was… different.  Legolas took great pleasure from his experience with us, and he has taken more since.”

Orophin crossed his legs and stretched his arms up, grasping the top of the chair he sat in.  “I would take that pleasure from his father as well, if he is as masterful as they say.”

Haldir grumbled under his breath.  Rúmil lay upon his back staring up at the ceiling contemplating their fate.  What torture would the King have in store for them? he wondered.

< > < > < >

Legolas entered his father’s chamber and smiled.  “You wished to see me, Ada?”

Thranduil smiled and motioned for his son to sit.  “I did, Iôn.  Please, sit.”  Legolas sat in a chair across from his father and looked at him kindly.  Thranduil smiled at his son and adjusted the rings on his fingers.  He took a deep breath and continued.  “There are three emissaries here from Lórien that you may be interested in.”

Legolas’ eyes widened and his smile broadened.  “Really?  When did they arrive?”

Thranduil tried to suppress a chuckle at his son’s heightened enthusiasm.  “This afternoon.  They have been escorted to their chambers, they will be staying with us for a few days.”  He leaned forward and held his son’s gaze, noting that he was anxious to see their guests.  “I want you to tell me something, Iôn.”

Legolas smiled.  “Of course, Ada.  Anything.”

Thranduil lowered his voice, “When you were in the Golden Wood with the members of the Fellowship, what exactly happened between you and the brothers of Lórien?”  

Legolas flushed at the memory.  He and his father had always been forthright with one another, always told each other the truth, but this… this was a bit… delicate.  

Thranduil reached out and placed a strong hand upon his son’s knee.  “I ask for one reason, and one reason only, Legolas.  I assure you, I would not do anything you did not wish me to do with this information.”

Legolas shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.  “Um, I… it… it is rather, personal, Ada.”

Thranduil sat up and narrowed his gaze slightly.  “Did they do anything to disgrace you or harm you, Legolas?”

Legolas’ eyes widened, “No!  No, Ada, they did not.  They…”

“They what, Greenleaf?”

Legolas squirmed again.  “Oh, Ada, must I really tell you this?”

Thranduil nodded slowly, “Yes, Iôn, I want you to tell me, and leave nothing out.”

He had not seen his son blush so in several hundred years, but when the tale was told, Legolas’ face was a rather becoming shade of rose. 

“Thank you, Iôn,” he said gently, tucking a stray braid behind his son’s ear. “That explains much of your behavior these past months.”

“You are not…” Legolas trailed off, searching for the right word. “Disappointed in me, are you, Ada?”

Thranduil chuckled, his smile turning slightly wicked. “Not at all, my Greenleaf. I find nothing in your behavior to be disappointed in.”  He leaned forward, his smile widening. “In fact, I have a proposition for you, if you would be willing to help me in a small, but gratifying task?” 

As he listened to his father’s words, Legolas began to smile.

Chapter 2, Seduction

Orophin held up his goblet and admired the fine deep red of the wine against the light of the candles.

“I would not imbibe too freely, gwanur,” Haldir warned, his voice pitched for Orophin’s ears alone. “The King’s wine is a potent and heady drink.”

Orophin’s eyes narrowed as he brought the goblet to his lips, inhaling the deep and spicy scent, his eyes straying to the King of Eryn Lasgalen as he took a cautious sip. “Mmm,” he murmured, watching Thranduil pluck a red strawberry from his plate and bite into it with obvious relish. “As is the King himself.”

Haldir snorted, glancing at Rúmil, who was struggling not to watch the seductive play of Thranduil’s mouth as he consumed the ripe berry, catching the tart juices that ran from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. Haldir’s breath caught and he found himself watching the King lick his lips slowly, his mind bombarded with images of that pink tongue licking something else entirely.

“Wine?” Legolas asked from his seat across from Haldir, hiding his smirk as he watched his father play his not too subtle game of seduction on the three lovely elves before him. 

Haldir cleared his throat, glancing away hastily and meeting Legolas’ gaze. “Yes, thank you.”  He watched the lean and strong fingers lift the decanter of wine and pour it smoothly, without spilling a drop, into the goblet he held. He resisted the urge to capture those fingers and take them into his mouth, to hear the sudden intake of breath and watch the desire well into those hazel eyes.

Beautiful and elaborate dishes were placed before them, and tantalizing smells wafted upwards, teasing their senses delightfully. 

Orophin broke his roll in half and glanced up the table at the King through lowered eyes. He had been surprised at the seating, for he had expected Haldir to sit at Thranduil’s right, with he and Rúmil seated next to Haldir. Instead, Legolas had ushered him into the chair beside the King’s, placing Haldir between himself and Rúmil, with Legolas sitting across from the three of them. He was not oblivious to the simmering looks being passed between the younger Prince and his oldest brother, and he inwardly smirked, before daring another glance at the King.

Thranduil smiled charmingly at the Silvan archer, well aware of Orophin’s furtive glances in his direction. This will almost be too easy, he thought smugly, reaching for a ripe peach and slicing it carefully. Placing the quartered fruit on his plate, he deliberately looked at Orophin and licked his fingers, seeing the lovely elf’s eyes widen and darken with desire.

Rúmil reddened and stared at his plate, picking at the assortment of greens and fresh vegetables without appetite.

“You should eat, meldir,” Legolas teased lightly. “You may need your strength.”

The young marchwarden looked up at the Prince and smiled at his teasing, flicking the tip of his tongue against the top of his lip. “As should you,” he replied smoothly, watching with satisfaction as Legolas’ eyes focused on the slow and deliberately seductive movements of his tongue. He knew Legolas was remembering the last time he had felt the touch of his tongue, and Rúmil smiled wider.

Orophin watched Thranduil lick the juice from his fingers and shifted, his leggings becoming suddenly uncomfortably tight against his groin. It was going to be a long and torturous meal at this rate.

Haldir felt his brother shift beside him and glanced away from Legolas, his own breath catching as he saw Thranduil slide a slice of peach between his lips.

“Ah,” Thranduil sighed, licking his lips. “Such succulent fruit.”  He turned his simmering green gaze to Orophin, who was looking a bit pale. “Would you care to try a slice?”

How dinner progressed beyond the fruit and salad dishes, Haldir was not certain. He was torn between watching Legolas and Thranduil, as father and son ate their food with such sensuousness that it was difficult to do anything else but stare. Had he realized that Legolas could make eating so erotic, he would have taken advantage of it long ago, and taken great delight in feeding him the juiciest and softest fruits he could lay hands on. Later, he decided, watching the strawberry pass between those soft lips. I can be patient until then.

The meal was finally finished, and despite the constant distractions, the three brothers found themselves quite full, if not more than a bit aroused.

The King watched the wine swirl in his goblet before taking a deep swallow, tilting his head back slightly, well aware of Orophin’s eyes watching the graceful display of muscles working in his throat. He set his goblet down beside his plate and gave the young warden a smoldering look.

“I think it is time for bed,” he purred, rising gracefully from his chair. 

The others rose from their chairs respectfully, although young Rúmil looked as if he was ready to bolt from the room. He gave Legolas a brief nod. “Good night, Iôn,” he said with a smile. “Sleep well.”

“And you, Ada,” Legolas replied, his eyes lowered to hide the mirth that danced within them. 

Thranduil turned his gaze to the elf who stood uncertainly next to him and gave him a slow smile. “Would you care to escort me to my room, Orophin?” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively.

Oh my, Orophin thought, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “Yes, my Lord. It would be my pleasure.”

Haldir winced at Orophin’s choice of words, knowing undoubtedly where his brother would be spending the night. It was just as well, he thought, looking sidelong at Legolas and seeing the younger elf give him a milder version of his father’s smoldering look. He had definite plans for the evening as well, it seemed.

Legolas watched Orophin ‘guide’ his father away and hid his smile, turning his attention to Rúmil and Haldir. 

“I am tired as well,” he said. “Yet I must make the rounds before I turn in.” He turned the full force of his charm on the youngest marchwarden. “Rúmil, would you care to accompany me?”

Haldir bit back his disappointment as he said his farewells to the Prince, watching Rúmil’s eager face with a slight twinge of envy. As Legolas embraced him, his lips touched the marchwarden’s ear.

“I will come to you later this evening, melethron, if you wish. Perhaps a walk beneath the trees would help you to sleep better,” he whispered, the tip of his tongue flicking against the point of Haldir’s ear.

Haldir felt the answering pull in his groin and nodded, his lips to Legolas’ ear. “I would like that, very much.”  He watched his youngest brother walk away with the Prince with a slow and anticipatory smile.

< > < > < >

As they drew nearer to the King’s chambers, Orophin felt a nervous fluttering in his midsection, his palms sweating lightly as he walked beside the beautiful and graceful elf. He had heard countless stories of Thranduil’s prowess in bed, and now, it appeared he was about to find out if there was any truth to them firsthand. The thought of it left him breathless with anticipation.

They stopped before a large and beautifully ornate door, and Orophin reached to open it. Thranduil’s hand on his arm stopped him in mid-motion, and he turned his head to look at the King.

Green eyes glittered in the torchlight of the hall as Thranduil closed the distance between them, pressing the younger elf against the hard wood of the door, his hands on either side of Orophin’s head, effectively trapping him between the door and his body. Slowly the King bent his head, brushing Orophin’s lips lightly with his own, and the archer felt his knees go weak at their touch.

“Do you want me?” Thranduil murmured against Orophin’s mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste their sweetness; he chuckled at marchwarden’s groaning response. 

“Aye, my Lord, so much so I can barely stand.” came the breathless and eager reply, eliciting another chuckle from the Sindar. 

“Then you shall have me,” Thranduil replied, pressing his lips against the Orophin’s once more in a heated kiss, claiming the mouth that opened so responsively under his. He kissed him deeply, his tongue plundering the warm depths of the archer’s mouth, dancing and teasing in velvety brushes against Orophin’s own. He heard Orophin’s soft groans and felt his hardness press against his thigh. Reluctantly, he released that kissable mouth, pressing his hips against the marchwarden so there would be no doubt in his guest’s mind of his own desire.

“Go inside then, rwalaer,” Thranduil purred throatily, his fingers trailing softly against Orophin’s lips. “I will follow.”

Orophin turned shakily, his hands trembling as he reached for the latch and opened the door to the King’s bedchamber. 

< > < > < >

Rúmil glanced at his companion, admiring the way the torches flickered over the fine gold of Legolas’ hair, casting shadows across his beautiful features.  His eyes traveled down the Prince’s strong, graceful back, over the swell of his round buttocks and his powerful, long thighs.  He had to remind himself that the Prince was an accomplished warrior; his grace and gentle nature belied the fierceness that he had often displayed in battle.  Legolas was an enigma, gentle and kind, yet strong and powerful beyond measure.  

He reached out and traced the line of the Sindar’s spine with his finger through the soft suede of his doublet, smiling when Legolas gently arched in response and glanced over his shoulder, casting a alluring smile Rúmil’s way.  Upon completion of their rounds, Rúmil was delivered to his room and frowned when he saw the door to Orophin’s chamber still open and the room still dark inside.

“Is my brother still with your father, meldir?” he asked tentatively.

Legolas leaned back against the doorway and smiled, “Aye, most likely.  He will not return any time soon.  My father has, shall we say, a voracious appetite.”  

Rúmil swallowed and his expression clouded over with concern.

The Prince leaned in and traced the line of Rúmil’s jaw with his fingers.  “Do not worry, lovely one, my father will demand no more than Orophin is capable of giving.”  He smiled wickedly.  “I would ask the same of you, given the opportunity.”

Rúmil’s breath caught as he stared into the darkening hazel eyes of the Prince.  He had never been alone with Legolas, and he had always been in a dominant role in the experiences he shared with the Prince and his brothers.  He stammered a reply, “Would you?”  He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure.  “Do you think you are up to such a challenge, my Prince?  I find it hard to see you doing anything other than sweetly yielding; you do so quite beautifully.”

Legolas blinked slowly and smiled coyly at the Silvan archer.  “You would be surprised, meldir, what other things I can do sweetly.”

The sound of footsteps marching down the hall broke the seductive flirtation between the two lovers, and they turned to see Thranduil’s guard coming down the corridor toward them.  The guard paused at Haldir’s door and rapped sharply upon it.  The marchwarden opened the door and barked as it was shoved open and he was roughly pushed to the wall.

“My Lord Thranduil requests you presence in his chamber, immediately,” one of them said, his tone brooking no argument.

Haldir cursed, “What is the meaning of this?  I will not be treated as a criminal and hauled out of my chamber in the middle of the night, no matter who wants to see me!”

“Very well,” the guard replied with a quick glance at his companion. “If you will not come peaceably, we will take you by force.”  

Rúmil watched in horror as, swifter than Haldir could anticipate, the guards pinned him to the wall and bound his wrists behind his back.   Legolas put a restraining arm across Rúmil’s shoulders to keep him from coming to his brother’s aid, and feigned confusion, fighting to conceal the smile that was threatening to cross his lips.  The guards hauled the disgruntled marchwarden from his chamber, with him wearing nothing but a thin sleeping robe, and dragged him down the hall.  Rúmil struggled to follow them, but Legolas held him back.

“Peace, meldir… let me find out what is happening.  Please, Rúmil, do not make matters worse for yourself or Haldir.  I will go to my father and discern the problem.  Wait here for me, I will return.”

Rúmil reluctantly went inside his chamber and waited for the Prince to return, his fair face a mask of worry.

< > < > < >

Orophin swallowed as the silk blindfold was slipped over his eyes, a delicious feeling of helplessness and vulnerability washing over him.  The King’s hands roamed freely over his strong figure; silk sliding against skin in a maddening dance of seduction.  He trembled as Thranduil’s hands slid over his shoulders, down his arms and back up, gasping softly as the King gently pulled his hair aside and caressed the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

“You are lovely, Orophin. You are quite a prize,” he whispered huskily, his tongue flicking out to taste the smooth skin of his neck. “ I hope you are well rested,” Thranduil continued with a soft chuckle. “For you will need your strength.”  

The King’s fingers raked across the silk of his tunic and down his back and Orophin arched in response.  He raised his hands; blindly searching for the Sindar, only to have them batted away.  

“Do not move, and do not speak unless I instruct you to do so.  Understood?”  Orophin nodded and swallowed again, his arousal now straining painfully against his leggings.  

He heard the King’s low and throaty laugh and felt his strong fingers grip his chin lightly. “Do you know what it is to be dominated, Orophin?  Do you know how to submit?”

The Silvan archer gasped, struggling to speak, “I… I have not…”

He felt the King’s lips brush his ear and his warm breath flutter against it.  “You will, melethron,” he growled, nipping the tip of his ear. “You will.”

Thranduil took him by the shoulders and led him backward towards the bed, stopping him as the backs of his knees struck the mattress.  Before he could discern what was happening, the warm air of the King’s chamber brushed his skin as his tunic fell away.  The Sindar’s hungry mouth assaulted his chest and he cried out as the King’s mouth latched onto an overly sensitive nipple, sucking and nibbling on it until Orophin felt his knees began to buckle.

“Ai! My Lord!” Orophin gasped.

Thranduil chuckled softly against the Galadhrim’s chest and drew his tongue in a wet line down the middle of the elf’s torso.  His strong hands cupped the archer’s firm buttocks and kneaded them as he took the lacing to Orophin’s leggings in his teeth, tugging at the ends to loosen them.  The marchwarden gasped as he felt the string pop loose and moaned openly as he felt the King strip him of his last piece of clothing, his heavy length springing free.  

“My, what a lovely body you have, young Orophin,” Thranduil purred, his hands brushing lightly over the newly revealed flesh. “Did my son tremble thus when you took him?”

“Wh… What?” the archer croaked as the King teased his heated length with his lips.

“My son.  Surely you have not forgotten him already?” He licked the tip of Orophin’s arousal, tasting his salty sweetness. “I would hate to think you would use him thus and forget you had done so.”

Orophin’s eyes widened beneath the blindfold; suddenly it all made perfect sense.  “I… I have not forgotten him, my Lord, I swear it.”

Thranduil rose and pressed his lips to the younger elf’s ear.  “I should hope not, though I venture to guess you will find me slightly more demanding than he is.” His husky voice lowered as he breathed softly into Orophin’s ear. “I do demand complete submission, Orophin. I will accept nothing less.”  He grasped the younger elf’s length in his hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling as a whimpering cry slipped from the archer’s lips.  “Lay down on your back, rwalaer.”  

Orophin fumbled for the bed, lying down upon his back as the King instructed.  His body hummed with desire and his arousal throbbed and wept ceaselessly.  

“Hands over your head,” the King ordered, smiling when he saw his willing captive comply.

Breathless in anticipation, Orophin waited for his next command.  He jumped as he felt leather straps bind his wrists and felt his arms spread wide, the straps secured to the iron headboard of the bed.   He heard rustling, as if Thranduil were rifling through a drawer, then he felt the mattress sink beneath him, the King’s strong hands caressing his chest and stomach.  He drew a ragged breath and sighed; Thranduil’s hands were magic and his touch set his body afire.  He felt the King’s lips caress his own and he reached for him with his mouth.  The Sindar’s warm wet tongue flicked teasingly across his lower lip and he whimpered in frustration, that wonderful mouth dancing just out of his reach.  

“You hunger for me, yes?” the King murmured, his fingers stroking the soft hairs at the base of Orophin’s arousal.

“Yes, my Lord, so much, so very much.” Orophin whispered in reply.  The next sensation he felt was cold metal slightly biting into the sensitive skin of his heated length.  “Ai!” he cried as his engorged arousal began to throb mercilessly.

“You will have to learn patience to be my lover, rwalaer.” The King purred, his fingers sliding teasingly over the metal cuff that encircled Orophin’s length.  “It will not be much longer now.”

A soft rap upon the door caused the King to rise from the bed and Orophin heard his soft footfalls crossing the floor.  The next sound he heard was his elder brother’s voice, and what sounded like two more elves entering the room.  He became suddenly and embarrassingly aware of the position he lay in; naked, wrists bound to the bed, blindfolded, and painfully, excruciatingly erect.  He could not roll over; he had nothing covering his nude and vulnerable form, so he tried to cross his legs to conceal at least a little of himself from view.

“Orophin!” Haldir barked, increasing his struggles. “Unhand me you miscreant!  What are you doing to my brother?”

Thranduil chuckled, “Just entertaining him, my dear marchwarden.  I was concerned that you might be lonely, what with my son off with your youngest brother and your middle brother with me.”

Haldir glowered at the King, tugging futilely at the strong hands that held him captive.  “Forgive me if I find your motivations less than honorable, my Lord.  I doubt your concern is for me.”

Thranduil glanced at his perfectly manicured fingernails and smiled mildly.  “Perhaps not.”  He turned to his guard.  “Bind him to the chair, wrists and ankles, and gag him.”  

Haldir fought, cursing and struggling to no avail as the guards stuffed a gag into his mouth and forced him down into the wide oak chair, binding his wrists to the arms and his ankles to the legs.

“Haldir!” Orophin cried upon hearing the King’s command, hearing the scuffling sounds as the guards forced his brother into the chair and bound him.  He felt the bed sink beneath him again and felt the soft silk of the King’s robe press against him.  

“Do not fear, young Orophin.  I will not harm your brother; he needs to learn to relax, to appreciate all that life has to offer.” His fingers trailed teasingly across Orophin’s lips and he smiled, glancing at the red-faced elf bound and gagged in the chair. “He could learn much from you, my pet.”

Orophin whimpered as the King’s fingers danced over his painfully erect arousal and he moaned shamelessly as Thranduil pressed a heated kiss to his mouth.  The Sindar straddled the helpless marchwarden, rocking slowly against his lithe body, as his lips moved to the Silvan elf’s ear. 

Orophin arched his back and spread his legs, shamelessly offering himself to the King, desire flooding him and making him forget all about his brother in the chair.  A string of erotic words spilled from his lips as the Sindar’s tongue caressed his ear, arching his hips as the King rocked his desire against his own aching and weeping arousal.

<> <> <>

Legolas knocked upon Rúmil’s door, trying to compose himself so that he would be believable.  The young marchwarden opened it; half-fearing he would find the same guards that had taken his brother away but a few moments ago.

“I have found him, meldir,” Legolas whispered. “Come with me.”  He took Rúmil’s hand and led him from his chamber down the hall toward his father’s room.

“Is he alright?” Rúmil asked hesitantly.

Legolas nodded.  “Aye, he is fine.  Come, you will see.” He tugged him gently along and paused before reaching his father’s door.  The Prince smiled and opened the door to his father’s chamber, and shoved the unwitting Rúmil inside.

Rúmil gasped at the sight before him.  Haldir was bound to a large oak chair and gagged, like one waiting for his execution; Orophin was in the midst of his own, strapped down to the bed as Thranduil straddled his nude form.  

He turned to bolt out of the room and Legolas caught him before he could flee.  The young Prince held him tight from behind, pinning his arms to his sides as he pressed his lithe form into Rúmil’s back.  Rúmil did not remember Legolas being so strong, but as he struggled, he found himself helpless in the Prince’s strong grasp.

Orophin groaned as he heard his younger brother enter the room, accompanied by the Prince.  It seemed he was to have an audience as he fell victim to the King’s charms.

“Sshh, Rúmil, lirimaer, there is no need to run,” Legolas purred, pulling him tighter against his chest. “We only wish to show you pleasure.” Rúmil watched in rapt and helpless fascination as the King went about his seduction of his older brother.

Thranduil pulled his robes over his head in a graceful, fluid motion, exposing his naked body to Haldir and Rúmil’s view.  The angered marchwarden gasped quietly behind the gag, upon viewing what was in his estimation, the most beautiful body he had ever seen.  The King cast a glance over his shoulder at his captive audience, his flaxen mane falling down to the swell just over his perfectly sculpted buttocks, and smiled wickedly.  Haldir felt his sex twitch upon seeing that smile; so seductive yet slightly menacing, promising wonderful deeds best done in darkness.

Haldir knew Orophin was lost now; his plaintive whimpers and moans intensifying under the skillful hands of the older elf.  His younger brother writhed shamelessly beneath the King, and he knew, although he could not see his face, that his eyes would be nearly black with desire, his lips parted as soft moans escaped him.  Orophin was transformed by love making, from a haughty warrior to a beautiful, desirous, wanton; it was a transformation that Haldir had been witness to many, many times.

Rúmil whimpered quietly as Legolas’ grip loosened, his hands sliding over the young marchwarden’s chest as he caressed his neck with his soft lips, licking the sensitive skin just beneath Rúmil’s ear.  He moaned softly, feeling his sex swell against the tightness of his leggings as the Prince rocked his hips against him, unable to look away from the scene of the elder beauty ravishing his brother.

Thranduil slid down the archer’s lean body and brushed his lips over his quivering arousal, causing Orophin to cry out and nearly lift off the bed.  He stroked the rippled muscles in his abdomen as his lips made their way from the archer’s arousal to the soft pouch of skin beneath it. He lapped at it like a cat, sending fresh tremors through his captive’s body, and smiled against the warm skin, working and licking his way further down. Thranduil flicked his tongue against the Silvan’s puckered entrance, and Orophin whimpered again, shamelessly spreading his legs to give the King better access.  

By the Valar, I am going to die in this bed, Orophin thought, shuddering at the wet touch of Thranduil’s tongue against his opening. He would have climaxed twice by now if the ring that bound the base of his arousal were not there.  His body tensed, and he cried out as he felt the King’s tongue breach his opening and slide inside his writhing body.  Gods, he is wicked.   He moaned when the King’s tongue delved deep within him, sending tremors of desire through his frame. The magic touch of Thranduil’s tongue withdrew briefly, before being replaced by the touch of his strong fingers.  Oh yes, more, love… that’s it, I am almost ready, almost there… Ai! He cried out in delirious pleasure, his arousal throbbing in response when the King found his mark with his fingers.  He thrashed upon the bed, his body on fire, as those fingers slid in and out of him, scissoring, stretching, and preparing him for what would surely be his demise. 

Orophin felt the King’s fingers leave his willing heat and he whimpered in response.  Those strong hands made their way up his chest, then to his face, and slid the blindfold off his eyes.  He blinked to adjust to the dim firelight that lit the room.  Somewhere in the back of his desire-addled mind, he heard his elder brother’s protestations and Rúmil’s plaintive whimpers, but they were of little consequence now; Thranduil owned him, mind, body, and spirit.  He gazed into those emerald eyes, and was lost; the Sindar King was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.  

“I am going to lay claim to you now, young Orophin.” Thranduil whispered as he caressed his face.  “I may not be the first to do so, but I dare say, I will be the best.”

Orophin moaned softly, the King’s honeyed voice wafting into his ears.  “Yes, my Lord,” he whispered. “Take me, use me as you will. I am yours to command.”

Thranduil gathered the archer’s lean legs in his arms as he lifted his hips from the bed, bringing them to rest upon the tops of his thighs, his eyes glittering darkly with heat in the dim lighting of the room. “Beg for me, Orophin,” he demanded softly. “I want to hear you beg.”  The tip of his arousal pressed teasingly against the young warrior’s opening.

Orophin groaned. “Saes, my Lord,” he begged, desperate to feel the other take him and claim him utterly, to quench the fire that Thranduil had built within him. “Saes!  Fill me, use me, I beg you!”

Thranduil smiled his victory and buried himself to the hilt in the archer’s briefly prepared body in one smooth thrust, hissing with pleasure as Orophin clenched against him and cried out.  Over and over the King drove into his willing heat, stretching him, filling him, claiming his body as his own.  Orophin pulled against the bonds that held his wrists and arched his back, riding his lover’s motion as he cried out in ecstasy. 

“Say my name, Orophin,” the King growled breathlessly, his strokes coming faster, harder than before. “I want to hear my name on your lips when you come for me.”

Orophin moaned urgently and cried out the King’s name, not caring if all of Arda heard him, “Thranduil!”

Thranduil groaned deeply as he spilled himself in Orophin’s tight young body, dropping his head to rest upon the archer’s chest as the aftermath of his release sent tremors through his body.  He felt the Silvan’s engorged arousal twitch beneath his stomach and he smiled, glancing over his shoulder at his son, who held the youngest of their captives in his grasp.  He slowly withdrew from Orophin’s body and rose from the bed, crossing the distance to where his son stood, holding a trembling Rúmil in his strong arms.  He gave his son a gentle smile and caressed his face, placing a soft kiss upon Legolas’ forehead.  

“He is ready for you, Iôn,” he said, glancing back at Orophin, who lay as if boneless on the bed, his arousal jutting painfully against his stomach. He smiled with delight and looked back at his son.  “Do what you will with him, my Greenleaf.  For I do believe he is in need of relief.”

Legolas smiled at his father, and released his hold on Rúmil, stepping towards the bed with graceful and predatory intent. His clothing fell carelessly to the floor as he stripped himself of his garments, his hazel eyes dark with anticipation as he finally came to a halt beside the bed, looking down at Orophin with a pleased and hungry smile.  

Rúmil nearly collapsed when Legolas released him and he fell forward onto the King, feeling his strong arms reach out and embrace him. Ringed fingers gripped his chin lightly, raising his head to meet the smoldering green gaze of the Sindar, and Thranduil smiled down at him. The younger elf shivered at the intensity of the gaze, feeling as if all his clothing had already been stripped away.

Thranduil contemplated the slightly smaller elf he held in his arms and felt the fine tremble wrack the lithe body that pressed against his. He knew from Legolas, that while Rúmil had not been the instigator of their activities, like Orophin, he had never known submission. A slow and delicious smile of anticipation curled the King’s lips as he considered the lovely and trembling elf before him, knowing what a pleasure it would be to bend young Rúmil to his will.

Haldir saw the predatory look the King was giving his youngest brother and growled through his gag, struggling helplessly against his bindings. His protests caught the King’s attention, and Thranduil looked up at him, his smile knowingly wicked.
 
“Tsk, tsk… patience, my good marchwarden.  Your time will come soon enough.”

< > < > < >

Orophin felt the mattress dip beneath Legolas’ weight and closed his eyes, whimpering softly when he felt the first light and feathery touches against his arousal. 

“I begin to see what it is you three see in me, when I am helpless, wanton, and so full of need.” Legolas murmured, his fingers lightly stroking the throbbing length of flesh that strained between Orophin’s muscular thighs. “You are lovely, rwalaer.”

Orophin bit back a sob as those lean and clever fingers continued to softly torment his length. “Saes, Legolas,” he pleaded, opening his eyes beseechingly at the young Sindar. “Do not tease me so.”

“You ask for mercy, meldir?” Legolas asked, his eyes gleaming in the half-light of the room. “Should I give it to you?” His fingers stroked lower, squeezing the warm handful of flesh just below Orophin’s jutting arousal. 

“Uma!” Orophin groaned, his body shuddering with his need as the Prince gave his flesh another firm squeeze. “Saes, melethron, n’uma ner.”

Legolas chuckled softly, releasing his hold on Orophin’s flesh to slide his body upward, rubbing his bare skin against his captive’s in delicious friction. He bent his head, pressing a kiss against Orophin’s mouth, grinding his hips against the other elf’s slowly.

Orophin sighed into the Prince’s mouth, lifting his hips in supplication as he felt the warm and velvety brush of Legolas’ tongue against his. 

Thranduil watched with approval as his son worked his magic on the shuddering elf beneath him, and turned his attention to his own captive, running his fingers over Rúmil’s slightly parted lips. The young Silvan’s eyes were glazed with desire, watching the two golden forms on the King’s bed and hearing the throaty groans from Orophin’s mouth. He could feel the hardened length of Rúmil’s arousal pressing against his thigh and his hand lowered to lightly stroke it through the thin fabric of his leggings.

Rúmil felt the caress and groaned softly, pressing harder into the King’s hand. He uttered a small cry of protest when the hand was removed, and felt Thranduil’s fingers grip his chin once more. His eyes widened and his heart fluttered wildly in his chest when the beautiful face moved closer to his and the King covered his mouth with his own.

Haldir watched with dismay and growing desire as his brother lost himself to Thranduil’s kiss, his lithe body swaying slightly in the King’s embrace as he willingly opened to the assault on his senses. His attention was torn between watching the Prince torment Orophin, and watching Thranduil seduce Rúmil. He found himself growing impossibly hard against his leggings as he envisioned his own seduction, and struggled against the thought. He would not be made wanton by his needs. He would never beg to be taken. He would never plead for his release.

The warm air of the chamber kissed his skin and Rúmil realized dazedly that somehow the King had managed to divest him of his tunic.  The thought was lost as he felt Thranduil’s hands slide slowly up his back, pulling him closer as he deepened his kiss. A low moan escaped him when he felt those hands slide to the lacing of his leggings, tugging at them and loosening them with ease.

Thranduil’s fingers explored greedily, dipping below the waistline of Rúmil’s leggings to brush the tip of his arousal, and he heard the young elf gasp, the sound muffled by the press of his lips against his. He felt the lithe body relax in his hold and raised his head, releasing Rúmil’s mouth with a smile of satisfaction. 

“On your knees, lirimaer,” he ordered huskily. “I have a better use for that lovely mouth.”

Shuddering and aching with need, Rúmil complied, dropping gracefully to his knees before the King. Without being told, he opened his mouth, reaching for the weeping length of flesh that jutted proudly from Thranduil’s hips, only to have his hands slapped away.

“You may not use your hands,” the golden beauty admonished him. “Keep them behind your back until I tell you otherwise.”

Swallowing, Rúmil complied, gripping his wrist with the opposite hand. He felt Thranduil’s fingers slide beneath his hair to cup the back of his neck, and felt the elf guide him towards his task. He opened his mouth once more and felt the smooth and velvet flesh of Thranduil’s arousal slide past his lips.

Thranduil groaned softly, watching his length disappear between Rúmil’s soft lips, feeling the moist warmth enclose his shaft in delicious strokes. Holding the younger elf steady by the back of his neck, Thranduil flexed his hips, thrusting slowly into that open mouth, pushing his length deeper into his throat.

Legolas lifted his head and glanced behind him, watching his father take Rúmil’s sweet mouth with interest. It gave him a delicious idea. He shifted his body over Orophin’s, sliding upward until he straddled the Silvan’s chest, tilting his hips forward so that his hardened length was within easy reach.  He saw Orophin’s gray eyes widen and he chuckled. 

Without being asked, Orophin took the Prince’s length between his lips, sliding it between them and into his mouth with a low groan, hearing Legolas’ sigh of pleasure as he moved forward slightly, pushing deeper into Orophin’s mouth. 

Legolas’ eyes narrowed into slits as he watched Orophin take him in his mouth, feeling the delicious heat surround his length as he worked it slowly between his lips. Orophin’s eyes were closed, and soft moans escaped him, the sound vibrating against his arousal and sending delightful tremors up his spine.

Haldir closed his eyes, shaking with desire and anger, the wet, sucking sounds and accompanying groans of pleasure filling his ears. 

Thranduil felt his release rising close at hand and pulled back, sliding reluctantly from the warmth of Rúmil’s mouth. The young elf’s eyes were closed, and his breath was coming in short gasps through his open mouth. As tempting as it was to find his release between those lovely lips, the King had other plans.

Rúmil felt himself being lifted and opened his eyes, gasping in surprise when his leggings were stripped from him in a swift movement, leaving him completely naked, his newly freed arousal throbbing against his stomach. Without a word, Thranduil gently pushed him to his knees once more, his green eyes dark with heated desire. 

“Sedho, lirimaer,” Thranduil told him. “Stay just as you are.”  

Rúmil watched with dread and helpless need as the King left him for a moment, struggling to hold his arms behind his back. His eyes widened with apprehension when Thranduil returned and he eyed the items the older elf held with fearful fascination.

Chuckling softly, Thranduil stepped behind his captive, admiring the smooth curve of his buttocks and the fine muscles of his smooth back, before reaching for Rúmil’s wrists. In a quick and well-practiced movement, he slid the leather cuffs over the young elf’s wrists and bound them together, patting the silky flesh of Rúmil’s bottom with approval.

“There, lirimaer. That is better, is it not?” He stepped in front of his captive once more, his finger’s lifting Rúmil’s chin. He could see the young elf struggle with being bound, and hid his smile. “Answer me, mir nín.”

Rúmil swallowed, licking his lips. “Yes, my Lord.” His voice was a husky whisper.

Thranduil smiled and opened his hand to show the elf what he held.  “Do you know what this is, my lovely?” he crooned, brushing the soft hair way from Rúmil’s face.

He eyed the thick metal ring in the King’s hand and shook his head.

“Answer me, Rúmil,” Thranduil admonished softly.

He struggled, feeling lost under that penetrating gaze. “No, my Lord.”

Thranduil smiled, pulling Rúmil to his feet. “Then I will show you, lirimaer.”  

Rúmil gasped, pleasure flooding him as Thranduil gripped his length with strong and sure fingers, stroking it deftly until it was achingly hard. He cried out in surprise when the King slid the ring over his flesh, closing it snugly against the base of his arousal. His eyes flew to the Sindar’s in dismay, and he shuddered at the wicked smile the King gave him.

“You are mine, my lovely,” Thranduil purred, stroking the trembling shoulders and placing a soft kiss against the pulse of his captive’s throat, feeling it beat wildly under his lips. “I will stake my claim on your lovely flesh, and you will yearn for no other.”

Legolas reached up and unlocked the cuffs that held Orophin’s arms imprisoned above his head, pulling his length from the heat of his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. He saw the need in the gray eyes that met his pleadingly and he smiled, dropping a light kiss against Orophin’s mouth.

“On your knees, rwalaer,” he ordered softly, moving back so Orophin could comply. “I will give you what you seek.”

He felt the Prince’s clever fingers unlock the ring at the base of his arousal and was nearly undone by their touch and the sudden loss of pressure on his length. He shuddered, and felt Legolas’ hands stroke his back soothingly until his tremors subsided.  

“Shh, meldir, You have been most patient,” Legolas whispered, his hands sliding lower to grip Orophin’s hips. “You deserve your reward.”

Orophin felt the tip of the Prince’s arousal press against his entrance and flexed his hips, opening his body and groaning with helpless pleasure as he felt himself impaled by Legolas’ hard length. In all their couplings, never had had the Prince taken him this way, and he found himself shaking from the sensation of it. 

Legolas groaned softly as he began to move, thrusting his length slowly into the tight and welcome heat of Orophin’s body. The Silvan arched his back, his body swaying with the force of his thrusts, his mouth open as he gave voice to his pleasure. He took what Orophin freely gave him, pushing deeper into the tight warmth with increasing force, their bodies rocking together in a passionate rhythm. Legolas felt his desire near the edge of its peak and leaned forward, pulling Orophin’s body upward so that he was kneeling, his back pressed against his chest.  His body straining, he reached forward and grasped his lover’s length in his hand, stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts.

He heard Orophin’s throaty cry as he came, shuddering and moaning, his passage constricting almost painfully against Legolas’ length. With a final driving thrust, he reached his own completion, spilling his seed deep into Orophin’s quivering body with a growl of pure ecstasy. 

Orophin shook with the intensity of his release. Never before had he felt anything like it and it left him feeling weak in its aftermath. He leaned gratefully against the strong arms that held him, his head dropping to his chest as he struggled to breathe.

Legolas placed a soft kiss against the lightly sweating temple and slid his softening length from Orophin’s body, smiling at the other elf’s soft gasp. He gently pushed Orophin down onto the bed, rolling his pliant form onto his side, before curling his own body next to it. From this position, he could easily see both his father and Rúmil, and saw that, though exhausted and obviously sated, Orophin watched as well.

< > < > < >

“You are lovely when you tremble, sweet one,” Thranduil purred, stalking with predatory grace around his captive, his eyes roaming appreciatively over his lithe form. “I could enjoy making you tremble so for quite a long time, I think.”  He ran his fingers lightly over Rúmil’s throbbing arousal, gathering the moisture that wept freely from its tip with his fingers, watching the fine trembling that wracked his captive’s limbs at his caress. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked them slowly, holding Rúmil’s gaze with his own.

“Sweet,” he murmured, licking his fingers clean. “As you are when you yield thus.”

Rúmil’s arms strained behind him when Thranduil’s fingers brushed his nipples, pinching them slowly between his fingers, and he heard himself moan softly in response. He turned his head, watching the King circle him once more.  He felt like a mouse being played with by a great cat, helpless to escape.  He found as he watched the King slowly circle him he did not want to escape; part of him longed to be a slave to the King’s will.  His legs trembled and felt as if they would fail him at any moment.  He struggled to control his breathing as his new master looked at him.

Thranduil threaded his fingers through the silky length of the archer’s hair and knotted it in his hand, slowly but forcefully pulling Rúmil’s head back to expose his neck.  He traced his captive’s jugular with his tongue, smiling as the younger elf whimpered in response.  His lips made their way to the marchwarden’s ear and he drew his tongue along the curved edge and encircled the point.  Rúmil shuddered and nearly collapsed against the King, causing Thranduil to laugh softly in his ear.  He stepped behind the bound elf, turning his trembling body to face Haldir and gazed at the elder marchwarden over Rúmil’s pale shoulder.

“He is beautiful, is he not?  Soft and supple…” He ran his hands over Rúmil’s chest as the younger elf arched his back, pressing his chest into the King’s hands. “…so eager to please.  Such a fine young elf. I only wish I had been the one to strip him of his innocence.”  The King’s gaze leveled on Haldir, and his dark blonde eyebrow arched gracefully.  “I wonder who the lucky one was?”  A plaintive whimper escaped Rúmil’s lips and the King turned his attention back to his captive.  “Would you tell me if I asked you, lirimaer?”  

Rúmil whimpered again, the name just forming on his lips.  Haldir growled beneath his gag and resumed his struggle with renewed intensity, thrashing futilely against the strong ropes that held him captive.  Thranduil smiled at his struggling, and covered Rúmil’s lips with his fingers, purring as the youngest marchwarden hungrily drew them into his mouth with his tongue.  The King returned his gaze to Haldir and whispered in Rúmil’s ear.  “’Tis alright little one, some things are better left untold.”

He drew a deep breath as Rúmil sensuously sucked upon his fingers, thoughts of that tongue caressing his own consumed him as he turned the younger elf to face him once again.  

Rúmil looked into the King’s emerald eyes and sighed, utterly lost beneath his captivating gaze.  

“Do you want me, nín bain?” Thranduil asked softly, running his wet fingers over his captive’s tender lips.

Rúmil nodded, his eyes never leaving the King’s  “Uma,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Saes.” 

Thranduil smiled and covered those sweet lips with his own, tasting the deepest recesses of the young marchwarden’s mouth.  Rúmil moaned into the kiss and rose to the balls of his feet, endeavoring to press his groin against the King.  Thranduil withdrew from the kiss and laughed softly, teasing Rúmil’s swollen lips with his tongue.

“Saes, aran nín, im baur…” he whispered breathlessly, his body shuddering with his need.

Thranduil smiled and caressed Rúmil’s face.  “I would not deny one who begs so sweetly.  Is that how you made my son beg, Rúmil?  Did his pleading cries arouse you as yours do me?”

Gray eyes blinked slowly, trying to focus as he struggled to answer. “We only wanted to show him pleasure, my Lord.  We did not…”

Thranduil covered the young marchwarden’s lips with his fingers.  “Ssshh… lirimaer.  I know you did not harm him.  Legolas and I only wish to show you the pleasure you and your brothers bestowed upon him.”  He leveled his gaze upon the young trembling elf in his arms.  “On your knees, Rúmil.”

Rúmil sank to his knees with fluid grace and knelt before the King, his blonde head bowed in submission.  “Anything, my Lord,” he whispered, his voice low and uneven. “Anything you wish I would happily give.”

Thranduil smiled wickedly; he almost did not have the heart to torment so gentle and sweet an elf.  He gazed at Haldir, watching his struggle against his bonds decrease, seeing the obvious state of arousal he was in and how much he hated it.  Now that one, on the other hand, that one I could torment for an age, the King thought wickedly to himself.  But, I will leave him to my son.

Rúmil trembled before the elf who had mastered him so easily, his legs straining, his arms and shoulders aching, and his arousal throbbing mercilessly as he awaited his next command.  

“Legolas, would you join me please?”

Legolas languidly rose from the bed as Orophin whimpered at the loss of his warm, soft body.  He took a place in front of his father and smiled sweetly.  “Yes, Ada?”

Thranduil smiled and caressed his cheek with the back of his hand.  “Share this one with me.”

Legolas smiled broadly, his dark eyes gleaming with delight.  “Of course, Ada.”

Thranduil crossed behind Rúmil, placing his hand on the young marchwarden’s shoulders as Legolas knelt in front of him.

 “Look at me, meldir,” the Prince whispered.

Rúmil turned his flushed face and smiled timidly at Legolas when he saw the look in the Prince’s eyes.  He felt the King’s soft, warm breath upon his ear as he heard him whisper, “We will not hurt you, little one.”  He felt a warm, oiled finger slide between the round curves of his buttocks and he gasped, a soft moan escaping him as that finger slid inside his tight body.  

The King sat back upon his heels and gently probed the younger elf’s entrance, smiling in satisfaction as his captive cried out and bucked back against him.  Rúmil’s head fell back against his shoulder as his back formed an exaggerated arch, writhing in pleasure against Thranduil’s body.

Legolas’ mouth fell to Rúmil’s chest and hungrily consumed the writhing marchwarden’s silky flesh as his father took the young archer to greater and greater heights of pleasure.  He took a pebbled nipple between his teeth and nipped it as he encircled Rúmil’s throbbing length with his strong fingers, his hand sliding and squeezing the weeping shaft.  

“Ai!” Rúmil cried, his body shuddering with his need. “Saes!  Aníron! Im baur!”

Legolas took his own reawakened arousal in his hand and thrust it against Rúmil’s pulsating length, a low hiss of pleasure escaping his lips as he felt the rigid and silken shaft slide against his own.

The young archer sobbed breathlessly as his need consumed him, rocking between the King’s hand and Legolas’ sure grip.  He moaned helplessly, blissfully tormented between the two elves as he gave himself to their pleasure and his own. He felt Thranduil withdraw his fingers and whimpered softly, feeling their loss keenly for a moment. His whimpers turned to low keening moans as the King replaced them with his rigid length.  Rúmil arched, his body a tight bow as he bucked his hips and impaled himself upon the King’s arousal, crying out his name as he felt the King fill him, stretching him impossibly on his hard length.

Thranduil reached up and caressed the archer’s silver hair and pressed his lips to his ear.  “Ah, but you plead so beautifully, Rúmil, ‘tis music to my ears to hear you cry my name thus.  I could listen to your pleading cries until the end of days.”

Legolas gazed up at Haldir from under weighted lids, his eyes dark with passion as he continued thrusting against Rúmil’s engorged length.  Haldir returned his gaze, his own eyes dark and heavy, his chest rising and falling with increasing rhythm.  Legolas silently mouthed the words, “You are next, melethron.” And the eldest marchwarden felt his sex swell beneath his robe.

Thranduil’s powerful thigh muscles constricted and stretched as he thrust up into the willing heat of the young marchwarden’s body, Rúmil’s plaintive cries driving him on to climax.  He looked at his son, so beautifully lost in the throes of his passion and saw his eyelids begin to flutter, a harbinger of his impending release.  

Legolas returned his gaze and saw his father nod. Reaching down, he deftly released the ring binding Rúmil’s swollen and throbbing length and the young marchwarden shuddered in response, crying out his release as it claimed him and left him utterly spent.  

Thranduil felt Rúmil’s constricting passage mercilessly squeezing his length, and groaned deeply, spilling his essence into his captive’s willing body, burying himself deeply into his welcome heat.  He heard his son’s gasp of pleasure and looked up, panting slightly as Legolas’ beautiful eyes closed in bliss. The Prince’s neck arched gracefully as threw his head back, spilling himself across Rúmil’s stomach, and Thranduil smiled; nothing was quite as beautiful as the aftermath of spent desire.

Rúmil shuddered with aftershocks, his arousal twitching, and his body trembling as he collapsed back upon the elf who had mastered him so easily.  He turned his head, nuzzling his lips against the King’s neck and heard Thranduil laugh softly.  

“You are an affectionate one, lirimaer.”  He stroked Rúmil’s damp brow, pushing the tangled locks of silver hair away from his face. “You have earned a rest.”  He slid from his captive’s body, gently releasing his wrists from the cuffs and cradling his limp body in his arms.  

Legolas rested back upon his heels, his head hanging down as he regained himself.  He looked up into his father’s eyes and smiled as Thranduil caressed his hair.  

“Well done, Greenleaf,” his father said softly, before rising to his feet and carrying Rúmil to his bed.

Legolas’ gaze was locked upon Haldir’s as his breathing slowed.  Just looking at the trussed and aroused marchwarden caused his own desire to light again, and he laughed softly as Haldir shifted in his chair, expressions of apprehension and anticipation warring on his face.

Thranduil laid Rúmil upon the bed and kissed him softly upon the lips, hearing the youngest marchwarden purr in delight.  “Keep your brother warm, little one.  I will return.”

Orophin wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him tight against him as the King laid a soft blanket across their spent bodies, bestowing a kiss upon Orophin as well.  Two pairs of equally dazed and satiated gray eyes blinked tiredly up at him, and he smiled in satisfaction.

He turned and stood beside his son, staring at the bound and gagged marchwarden before him, contemplating the endless possibilities and enjoying each one as it paraded through his mind.  He crossed his broad arms over his chest and smiled wickedly.  “Now, my Greenleaf, what to do with this one…”

Haldir flushed, painfully aware of his arousal as he stared up at the two golden elves, swallowing in unease at their predatory and hungry expressions. He expected such a look from the King, but never had he seen the Prince’s fair face look so, and it unnerved him. 

Thranduil saw Haldir’s gray eyes dart to the Prince and chuckled softly, his hands reaching for the tie that held Haldir’s robe closed and tugging it, loosening the fabric that hid the marchwarden’s flesh from his gaze. 

“You have seen my son in the depths of his need as he yielded to you, Haldir,” Thranduil gently chided, sliding the robe off his captive’s well-developed chest. “I think it only fair that you give him an equal measure of yourself.”  He glanced at Legolas, his eyebrow arching slightly. “Do you not agree, Iôn?”

“Oh yes, Ada,” Legolas breathed, his eyes widening slightly as his fingers gently explored the skin that his father had bared. His dark eyes locked on Haldir’s as his fingers teasingly brushed against the hardened nipples, hearing the muffled groan the caress elicited with a pleased smile. “I would have you, Haldir, as you have had me.” He pressed his lips against the curve of the Silvan’s ear, his tongue flicking out to tease the pointed tip. “I would have you breathless, pleading, and wanting nothing more than for me to fill you with my heat.”

Haldir shuddered, the Prince’s warm breath and his soft words sending shivers of desire through him, and he moaned against the gag, closing his eyes. He felt his gag being loosened and opened them once more, licking his lips and swallowing to work some moisture into his dry mouth.

Legolas tossed the gag behind him and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Haldir’s mouth, his tongue brushing against the velvet softness of the other’s. He felt the brief tremor that shook his captive’s body as he deepened his kiss, his fingers lightly pinching the hardened nipples beneath his hands. 

Thranduil watched, his arousal stirring once more, as Haldir’s body arched under his son’s skillful caress, his soft moans muffled against the Prince’s mouth. Tongues met and entwined, fighting for dominance, while Haldir strained against his bonds. He heard the oldest marchwarden’s gasp when Legolas left his mouth. His lips and tongue tracing a path down the smooth column of Haldir’s throat, sucking at the hollow at the base of his neck, before trailing down the center of their captive’s chest. 

Haldir gasped as the Prince licked a wet path across his skin, his tongue delving into the indentation in the center of his belly, and shuddered when he felt the warmth of Legolas’ mouth against his length. Wet, delicious heat enclosed him, sucking with teasing slowness, and Haldir groaned helplessly against the sensation, wanting more.

Thranduil chuckled as the proud Silvan lost his hard won control, his silver hair trailing the over the back of the chair as he threw his head back in abandon, his lean hips straining up off of the wooden seat to meet the thrusts of Legolas’ mouth. He curled his fingers into the silky strands, pulling Haldir’s neck back further, exposing the smooth column of his throat to his hungry gaze. His lips found the rapidly beating pulse beneath the warm skin and nipped at it with his teeth, feeling their captive shudder in response, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps.

Legolas knew Haldir would not last long under such treatment, and reluctantly drew away, letting his length slip slowly from his lips, chuckling at the marchwarden’s keening moan of disappointment. 

“Do you wish more?” Thranduil purred softly into Haldir’s ear, licking the point of it with his tongue. “We would give it to you, if you were to ask nicely.”

“Yes,” Haldir breathed, uncaring for the moment at how needy his voice sounded. 

Nimble fingers undid the ties that bound Haldir to the chair, and in moments, his arms and legs were free. The two Sindar elves gave him a moment to recover, to stretch his shoulders and rub the circulation back into his limbs, before they renewed their assault on his senses.

Legolas pulled the marchwarden to his feet, stripping his robe the rest of the way off his body and tossing it aside. He licked his lips provocatively, and heard Haldir’s swift and sudden intake of breath when his father caressed his curved backside. 

“You are every bit as lovely as your brothers, Haldir,” Thranduil murmured, his fingers kneading the smooth muscles of his bottom, sliding teasingly between the edges of his cheeks. “I can see why my son is so taken with you.”

Haldir tensed beneath those exploring fingers, his pride struggling to surface once more. He opened his mouth to protest, and was silenced by the King’s kiss. Strong arms held him as Thranduil’s lips nuzzled his, and he was lost under the sensuous softness of their touch. He opened his mouth under their persuasive caress, and moaned softly at the velvet brush of Thranduil’s tongue against his.

Thranduil drew back, his eyes glittering in the half-light of the room, drawing his thumb across Haldir’s lower lip. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at Legolas, raising a graceful eyebrow in a silent query as he stepped aside.

“On your knees, Haldir,” Legolas ordered softly. “I want to see how well you can please my father.”

Gray eyes flew to his in protest, and Legolas silenced him with a kiss. “Shh, meldiramin. Do this for me,” he whispered against Haldir’s mouth. “I want to see you.” Firm but gentle hands pushed against his shoulders, and Haldir sank gracefully to his knees before the King.

Orophin stroked Rúmil’s slender back, his fingers sliding over his brother’s warm flesh as he watched Haldir take Thranduil’s length in his mouth, his own arousal twitching and growing in response. He heard Rúmil’s soft sigh, and placed a kiss beneath his ear, his eyes never leaving the erotic sight before him.

Haldir’s eyes closed as he swallowed the velvet hardness of Thranduil’s arousal, sliding his lips over the shaft and taking it deep into his throat. Soft moans escaped him as he worked his mouth over the silky flesh, lapping at the moisture that leaked from the tip, before swallowing it deep once more.

“That is lovely,” Legolas breathed, watching breathlessly, his own arousal hard against his stomach. He circled behind the marchwarden and knelt behind him, Haldir’s hair brushing softly against his chest as his arms swept around to hold the archer steady. His fingers toyed with the hardened peaks of Haldir’s nipples, and heard the muffled groans he made in response.

Thranduil’s head fell back and his eyes closed, his hips flexing slightly as he thrust into Haldir’s willing mouth, groaning when Haldir’s moans vibrated along his shaft. He opened his eyes and watched the marchwarden work his length, writhing underneath the touch of his son’s talented fingers. 

Rúmil felt his brother’s hesitant touch along his flanks and turned away from the breathtaking view, his eyes meeting the gray-blue gaze of Orophin in a questioning glance. He felt the tentative caress again, this time closer to the base of his arousal and shivered with the sudden and intense need that filled him. His brother’s gaze was dark and heated, and he reached out tentatively to touch his mouth with the tips of his fingers.

Orophin saw his eyes dilate with desire and heard his soft intake of breath as he pressed a kiss to those questing fingers, his tongue flicking out to taste their sweetness. He heard Rúmil’s soft moan and leaned forward, his head bending slightly to press his lips against the tender mouth that opened so invitingly for him.

Rúmil’s hand buried itself in Orophin’s soft hair as he opened himself to his brother’s kiss, his tongue shyly brushing against the warm and velvety softness of Orophin’s mouth, giving himself over to the new sensation of the lips that claimed his.

Legolas saw Orophin kiss Rúmil and smiled against Haldir’s neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty skin beneath his ear. His fingers continued to torment Haldir’s sensitive nipples, and he felt a fine tremble wrack the lithe body he held against him. He slid a hand lower, across the flat planes of the archer’s stomach to the throbbing length of flesh between Haldir’s thighs. Gripping it firmly, he gave it a few strokes, and felt Haldir’s quivering response, his moans increasing in their intensity. 

Thranduil growled low in his throat as his release took him and he arched his back, thrusting deeper into the warmth of Haldir’s mouth, spilling his seed into his throat with a guttural moan.

Haldir swallowed, his own release dancing just out of reach as the Prince’s hands kept him skillfully on the edge. The King’s length slid slowly from his lips and he gasped, shuddering with need, aching to be fulfilled. His cry of dismay when Legolas’ hand released him made both his captors chuckle.

Anger and dismay filled him, and he made to rise, only to be held back by the Prince’s strong grip on his arms.

“Let me go, Legolas,” he seethed, fuming and embarrassed by their soft laughter. “I am done submitting to you.”

Legolas held him easily, and brushed his lips against the struggling marchwarden’s ear. “You would leave us when you are in such a state?” he asked, brushing a hand against Haldir’s arousal teasingly. “When we would give you fulfillment?”

Haldir groaned at the touch, feeling the Prince’s arousal pressing firmly against his backside. His pride warred with his need. “Let me go,” he said again, his struggles weaker.

Thranduil smiled wickedly, watching the conflicting mix of emotions play across the handsome marchwarden’s face as Legolas continued to torment his sensitive flesh. He stalked closer, circling the two beautiful elves before him, the gold and the silver, one holding the other now only by his need and his desire.

“Do you want him?” Thranduil purred, his green eyes locking with Haldir’s gray ones. “Do you want to feel him inside you?” He reached out and caressed the light sweat from the archer’s brow, before teasing the soft lips with his thumb. “You must speak, lovely one.”

Haldir shook his head away from the caress. “No,” he breathed, his breath tightening as he felt Legolas’ arousal slide teasingly between his cheeks, the Prince’s hand stroking his length slowly once more. “No,” his protest came weakly.

“Would you deny him the touch of your flesh? When you have taken your pleasure with his?” Thranduil demanded softly, his thumb sliding over Haldir’s lips once more. “Hmm?” He bent lower, his face inches from the marchwarden’s own. “Would you deny yourself pleasure that you can only imagine?”

Haldir’s breath came in short, hitching gasps as he was held by that bottomless gaze. 

“Would you deny me what I demand?” Thranduil crooned, touching his lips softly with the tip of his tongue, and felt his captive shudder in need.

“Relent, Haldir, it is useless, no one can deny my father...” Legolas purred as he caressed the marchwarden's ear with his tongue. Gathering moisture from the tip of his arousal, Legolas pressed his fingers against the tight opening between Haldir’s smooth cheeks. “No one will deny me,” he growled softly as his fingers slid into the marchwarden’s tightness. 

“Ai!” Haldir gasped, his back arching against the press of the Prince’s long fingers. He felt the King take his length in his ringed hand and stroke it slowly, timing his movements with the gentle but insistent thrusts of Legolas’ fingers. He was lost between the two golden beauties who worked his body skillfully, their caresses bringing him closer to his peak, but leaving it just out of his reach.

“Saes!” he groaned, utterly undone by their touch. “I will not….” he groaned helplessly as those impossibly long fingers struck his mark. He shuddered, leaning forward against Thranduil’s chest. “Saes,” he whispered, his eyes closed in need.

“Yes, melethron?” Legolas purred, his tongue flicking the tip of Haldir's ear. “Please what?”

Thranduil pressed his lips against the soft skin at Haldir’s temple, smiling against the light sweat he found there. “You beg so prettily, malthen mathor...” he whispered huskily against his skin. “Tell him what it is you desire.”

“Lle...” Haldir whispered, knowing he was lost.

Thranduil pulled back, his lean fingers lightly gripping Haldir’s chin as he forced the dazed marchwarden to meet his gaze.

“One or both, mir nín?”

Haldir shuddered again, desire making him helpless against their assault on his body. “Pân.” His reply was barely audible.

Thranduil growled, his reply a pleased rumble. “Then you shall have what you desire.”

Legolas’ soft breath caressed his ear. “And more.”

Haldir felt himself trembling and was unable to prevent the gasp that escaped him when Legolas' fingers withdrew from their tight prison

"I would have you screaming my name before I am through with you," Legolas' voice came again at his ear, his warm breath sending shivers of anticipation down his spine.

The wet caress of the Thranduil’s tongue along his hairline made him whimper and moan as the Sindar King's hands working their magic on his painfully erect arousal.  "Yes!" Haldir breathed, feeling those wickedly talented hands stroke his length, his breath catching when he felt the first drops of warm oil drizzle between his cheeks. He felt the warm press of Legolas' arousal against his opening, gasping in a mixture of pain and pleasure when he felt the tip slide past the barrier of muscles that endeavored to keep him out.

Legolas sighed, his eyes closing in bliss as he sheathed his length slowly into the tight heat of Haldir's body. He had wanted this for so long.

Haldir groaned, opening his eyes in surprise when he felt the hard press of Thranduil’s arousal against his cheek. The King smiled wickedly down at him, his eyes glittering with heat.

“I long to thrust into that beautiful mouth once more,” the King breathed as he stroked the warrior's silver hair.  “Would you grant me what I wish?  I will make it worth your while, meldiramin.”

Haldir's eyes fluttered shut, but he opened his mouth to willingly accept what Thranduil offered him, wrapping his lips around the velvet heat of the King's length.

“You feel so good, melethron,” Legolas whispered, his lean fingers gripping Haldir's hips tightly as he established a slow rhythm of thrusts. “Long have I wanted you this way.”

The King leaned his head back as the marchwarden took him in his mouth, slowly thrusting into his warm wet embrace.  He groaned as Haldir began to moan, sending tremors down his hardened length.

Legolas peered up at his father from behind weighted lids, his eyes almost black with pleasure.  Thranduil stroked his son's hair as the marchwarden took him deeper into his mouth, his muffled groans growing in their intensity.

His body swayed with the force of Legolas' thrusts, forward and back, taking their flesh into him with wet sounds of passion.  He was held by their bodies, impaled at both ends by the throbbing lengths of flesh that stroked him within, driving him closer to the edge of his desire with each drawing thrust.
 
Thranduil hissed through his clenched jaw as he spilled down the archer's throat, his eyes closed in pleasure. He opened them and reached out, softly caressing Haldir’s cheek as he slipped his length from his swollen lips. 

Haldir swallowed, feeling his arousal throb painfully as Legolas' thrusts became more forceful, changing the angle of his movements to strike Haldir's mark, running his length over and over the sensitive bundle of nerves buried deep within him until the marchwarden was groaning breathlessly.

Thranduil knelt in front of Haldir, gazing deep into his eyes before pressing a deep kiss to his mouth, swallowing his groans and muffling them with his mouth. Haldir’s body rocked against his with the movements of Legolas’ thrusts, and he increased his strokes on the archer’s length. He felt the lithe body stiffen beneath his hands and he swallowed Haldir’s cries of passion as he finally found his release, shuddering and moaning with delicious abandon.

Haldir’s head dropped to his chest as he gasped for air, the Prince’s thrusts still rocking his body forward as he filled him with his heat.  He groaned helplessly against the sensation of being taken, being claimed by the Prince, and felt his arousal begin to harden once more, as Legolas struck his mark unerringly. 

Legolas felt his father’s soft lips press against his forehead and opened his eyes, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he drove himself into Haldir’s willing flesh. He groaned, feeling the tight passage constrict against his length, and felt his release near at hand. Green eyes held his as he thrust, and he shuddered, crying out his release as he spilled his seed deep into Haldir’s body.

Thranduil stroked the golden hair away from Legolas’ face as kissed his son tenderly on the mouth. “That was beautiful, Iôn,” he whispered before drawing away. He glanced down at Haldir, and a smile tugged at his lips. “However it appears you have left our poor Haldir in an uncomfortable state.”

Legolas smiled blissfully, leaning his chest against Haldir’s strong back, and watched his father reach for Haldir’s reawakened length. He felt the fine tremble go through the body beneath his and placed a soft kiss against the back of his neck.

Haldir felt the King grasp his length in hand once more and shuddered, feeling the soft press of Legolas’ lips against his neck. The hand stroked him deftly, and he groaned, his body tightening once more as he spilled his release into Thranduil’s fingers.

The King brought his hand to his lips and licked his fingers slowly, cleaning the pearly substance from his skin with obvious relish. “Sweet,” he murmured, his eyes half-closed as he savored the unique flavor. He arched an eyebrow at his son, who gave him a tired smile in return. “One could become addicted to his taste.”

Haldir winced slightly as Legolas slid from his body, pulling him against his chest and cradling him in his lithe arms. The Prince placed a tender kiss on his closed eyelids, and his hands stroked his hair gently. He sighed; for the moment, he was utterly sated and content to be in Legolas’ arms.

Thranduil smiled at the beautiful scene, and turned his head towards his bed. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and a soft chuckle escaped him.

Orophin had Rúmil pinned to the mattress and was kissing him, their lovely arms and legs twined together as they mutually explored each other’s delights. They were obviously lost to each other, and he was tempted merely to watch, and to see how far things progressed. He wondered if Rúmil would let his brother stake his claim on his oh-so-sweet body.

Chapter 3, Fruition

“What is this then?” the King purred.

Orophin and Rúmil gasped as they gazed up at the King standing beside the bed.  Thranduil waved his hand, motioning to them to move over and he stretched out on the bed beside them, lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand.

“You could not wait for me to return?”  The King crooned, and the two brothers looked at each other with bemused glances.

“Our apologies, my Lord," Rúmil shyly answered. "We meant no disrespect, it is just that watching you was so… inspiring, that we became carried away.”

Orophin chuckled, “Inspiring indeed.”  He smiled wickedly at the King.  “We would be honored if you would join us, my Lord.”

Thranduil smiled and sighed.  “Well, as tempting an invitation as that is, I am rather… tired.”  He rolled to his stomach and folded his hands beneath his head.  “I would be content to watch the two of you for awhile.”

The brothers looked at one another and smiled.  Rúmil smiled sweetly and softly answered, “Could we stay in your bed this night, my Lord?  I would like to find sleep in your arms.”  He blushed as he awaited the King’s answer.

Thranduil smiled, By Elbereth, he is enchanting…  “Of course, lovely Rúmil, you and Orophin are welcome in my bed.”  He glanced down at Legolas, who knelt on the floor with the exhausted marchwarden in his arms, and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

Legolas smiled and urged Haldir to his feet, still holding him in his arms as they rose together.  “I would like this one to myself, if that is alright with you, Ada.”

Thranduil smiled broadly.  “As you desire, Greenleaf.  Rest well.”  He smiled as he watched his son guide the exhausted marchwarden from his chamber to his own next door, and turned his attention back to the lovely brothers upon his bed.

< > < > < >

Legolas guided the dazed Haldir to his bed, turning back the blankets and sliding in beside him.  Haldir sighed quietly and rolled into his arms, resting his head upon the Prince’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist.  Legolas smiled sleepily and hugged the marchwarden tight, placing a gentle kiss upon the top of his head.  “Now, that was not so bad, was it, meldir?”

Haldir took a deep breath and sighed again.  “No, I suppose not.”  He sat up slowly and gave the Prince a stern look.  “Not a word of this to anyone, Legolas.”

Legolas put his hands up and smiled.  “I swear, melethron, I will not breathe a word of it to another.”

Haldir grumbled and laid his head back upon the Prince’s chest, a pleased smile crossing his lips as he began to drift into reverie.

< > < > < >

Thranduil smiled as he watched Rúmil tentatively surrender to his brother’s passionate onslaught, the younger elf caught between what his body demanded and his conscience dictated.  The King sighed as he saw the young archer tremble at Orophin’s skillful touch.  He reached out and trailed his fingers through the silver strands of Rúmil’s hair as Orophin worked his way down his brother’s sculpted torso. Rúmil’s hand groped for his own, squeezing it tight as Orophin’s lips brushed through the soft hair that grew about his arousal, and his eyes widened in surprise at the strength in the younger elf’s grip. Rúmil’s soft moans and plaintive cries sang in his ears and he found himself scooting closer, clasping the young archer’s hand against his chest and brushing his lips along Rúmil’s cheekbone.  Thranduil saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the last bastion of his former self slowly falling away.

Rúmil was lost, utterly lost to his brother’s touch.  In all the years they had played their games, found and tormented their victims, never had Orophin touched him like this.  What am I doing? he thought as Orophin’s tongue drew along the underside of his arousal, the next thought in his mind being, Why haven’t I done this before?  It all made sense to him now, why neither of them had found a mate, why they played their games of seduction with others.  Neither had taken a mate, because it was one another that they loved.  He clung to the King’s hand and leaned into his newfound tutor’s kiss. Somehow, Thranduil’s presence made it all right, made it safe, allowed him to let his brother do what he was doing now.  

Thranduil's soft words of reassurance floated into his ears, “We love who we love, Rúmil, there is nothing wrong with it.  Follow your heart, not your mind.”  Rúmil cried out as Orophin took him in his mouth, and he thrust into his brother’s warm and wet embrace.  He squeezed the King’s hand tightly, rolling his hips upward into the warm, wet heaven of Orophin’s mouth.  He arched his back and cried out as he found his release, tears tracking down his cheeks as Thranduil placed soft kisses upon his forehead.

The King whispered, “Beautiful Rúmil.  Gentle, loving, brave warrior.  It is all right, lirimaer, tell your brother how much you love him.”

Rúmil’s voice was laden with emotion as he whispered to his brother, “Amin mela lle, Orophin, so much, so very much.”

Orophin slid back up his brother’s body and took him in his arms, looking at Thranduil with concern.  “Have I… did I…”

Thranduil stroked his cheek and smiled.  “No, brave one, you have not harmed him.  Sometimes, when we finally let go of our fear, it overwhelms us.  You have both carried this for so long. Give him time to understand his feelings.”  Thranduil caressed Orophin’s face and saw the need that still thrummed inside his body.  He slid closer, his hand trailing down Orophin’s abdomen, his fingers lightly stroking the archer’s arousal.  “Let me take care of you, Orophin, until Rúmil is able.”  

Orophin held his brother tight, burying his face in his hair as the King skillfully manipulated his arousal, slowly bringing him to completion.  He imagined it was Rúmil’s touch he felt.  Rúmil buried his face in Orophin’s neck, listing to the low rumbles of desire come from him, his own hand drifting down to cover the King’s and aid him in his task.  Orophin cried out his release and whispered his brother’s name as he trembled.  Rúmil turned toward him and wrapped his arms around Orophin’s waist, tucking his head beneath his chin and held his brother as his desire slowly abated.

Thranduil sat up and gathered the blankets, drawing them up around their bodies.  Rúmil kissed Orophin gently before squirming over the King’s body, curling himself on Thranduil’s right as Orophin slid forward and pressed himself on the King’s left.  Thranduil smiled and gathered the brothers in his arms and the three slowly drifted into reverie.

< > < > < >

“Are you sure you want this, mir nín?” Thranduil paused, needle in hand, kneeling before Rúmil who sat upon a low table.  The young marchwarden nodded his head vigorously; afraid that if he were to open his mouth his voice would fail him.  

Haldir stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed.  Their official mission to Eryn Lasgalen had taken much longer than anticipated; though he had to admit sharing every night of the past two weeks with Legolas in his bed was not such a bad benefit.  He was quite taken with the Prince and had not shared him with his brothers again, since coming to the wood.  

Things had taken quite an unexpected turn.  He and Legolas were nearly exclusive, Orophin and Rúmil had not left one another’s, or the King’s, side since that fateful night in Thranduil’s chamber; and for the moment, Haldir was content to stay in Eryn Lasgalen, rather than return to his home.  He had ceased to question things since shortly after their arrival, for it seemed life in Eryn Lasgalen had its own rules.

Orophin sat beside Rúmil, their fingers entwined.  He was next, and he felt his palms sweating.  Why are you behaving like such a stupid elfling? He admonished himself, This was your and Rúmil’s idea.  He clenched his teeth and gasped when he saw the needle pierce his brother’s navel and heard his muffled cry from behind pursed lips.  Thranduil performed the ritual with perfect skill, quickly sliding the needle through and replacing it with a mithril ring.  He felt his sex swell in his leggings as he watched the King’s soft mouth gently kiss Rúmil’s wounded flesh and heard his brother’s plaintive whimper.

Rúmil leaned his head back and lost himself in the sensation of Thranduil’s soft mouth and tongue caressing his wounded flesh.  He felt his arousal twitch inside his now painfully tight leggings with each caress of the King’s skillful tongue.  He felt that tongue and soft lips move up his chest to his ear, then to his own lips and he sighed.

“Now, was that so bad, lirimaer?” the King’s honeyed voice whispered in his ear.

His long fingers strayed into the King’s flaxen mane and he whispered in return, “No, my Lord, not so bad.”

Thranduil pressed a deep kiss to his lips and moaned quietly, before pulling back and caressing the younger elf’s face.  “Mmm… you taste so good, Rúmil, so tender and sweet.”  

Rúmil gazed up at him with dilated eyes, his lids heavy as he peered at the King from behind thick lashes.  “As do you, my Lord," he whispered huskily.

Thranduil suppressed a quiet moan and felt a shiver of delight course through him as he looked upon Rúmil.  The lovely elf’s appetites had grown and varied during his stay, he had learned his lessons well.  He reluctantly turned from the younger elf’s hungry gaze and looked at Orophin, who was staring at his brother with rapt fascination.  He parted the elder brother’s legs and stepped between them, dipping the needle into a glass of potent brandy and swirling it around.  

Legolas stood behind Haldir, his hands beginning to roam up and down the marchwarden’s chest, his fingers dancing over the rise in his leggings as his tongue skillfully manipulated his lover’s ear.  Haldir closed his eyes and moaned quietly, utterly enslaved by his lover’s touch.  He leaned back into the Prince’s embrace and arched his back, pressing his buttocks into his lover’s rising arousal.

“Would you do something for me, a’maelamin?” the Prince whispered.

“Mmm… yes, mir nín, I would do anything for you," he purred in reply.

“Would you get one for me?” Legolas crooned, his tongue sliding teasingly over the curve of his ear.

“Get what, my pet?” Haldir growled, his breath catching at the caress.

“A ring," the Sindar answered, his warm breath caressing the side of his neck.

“Where would you like it, my precious one?” Haldir whispered, arching his neck against the feel of Legolas' lips nibbling the sensitive skin.

“Here.” Legolas flicked his tongue along the point of Haldir’s ear.

The marchwarden’s eyes widened.  “There?  Can you not think of a place a bit more…inconspicuous and less painful?”

Legolas purred, “Think of the pleasure you would derive from it, meleth nín.  It would make me very happy.”  He gently raked his fingers across the rise in the marchwarden’s leggings.

Haldir arched again and groaned as the Prince worked his seductive magic upon him, causing his body to betray his every rational thought.  He stammered a reply, “Yes, my Prince, anything for you.”

Legolas wrapped a leg around Haldir.  “Mmm… you are so good to me, Haldir.  How will I ever repay you, hmm?”

Haldir hissed through his clenched jaw as his arousal became fully engorged.  “You could let me have what I have not since I arrived…” he whispered.

Legolas chuckled against his ear, his warm breath caressing the wet flesh.  “You wish to take me then?  To claim me and drive inside me until I am nothing but a boneless shell of myself?”

Haldir closed his eyes and groaned at his lover’s soft words, his arousal beginning to weep inside his painfully tight leggings.  “Saes, Legolas, do not tease me so, do not…”

Legolas cupped his lover’s arousal in his hand and squeezed it, causing his lover to bite his lip to stifle his cry.  “I would give you what you wish, Haldir, if you grant me my own.”

“Aye, my Prince, I will,” he whispered.

Thranduil nibbled and sucked at Orophin’s nipple until it was taut.  The archer’s head hung back and he moaned quietly, feeling his sex swell in his leggings and he unconsciously rolled his hips forward against the King.  Thranduil withdrew from the marchwarden’s hardened nipple and smiled.  

“’Tis your last chance to change your mind, nín bain.  Once it is in, you cannot take it out.”

Orophin nodded, his eyes glazed over with passion.  “I understand, my Lord.  I am ready.”

Rúmil shifted to his side and pressed his mouth against his brother’s ear.  “Squeeze my hand, gwanur.  It will hurt less.”

Orophin turned and smiled at his brother, squeezing his hand in his own as Rúmil pressed a kiss to his waiting lips.  The elder brother groaned into the kiss as the needle pierced his sensitive flesh and he winced as he felt the ring slip through.  He shivered in delight as the King’s warm, soft mouth gently suckled his wounded flesh and he greeted that mouth hungrily as it reached his own.

Thranduil turned to look at his son tormenting the eldest brother and smiled.  “Would you like me to do it, or do you prefer to do it yourself, Iôn?”

Legolas smiled wickedly from behind Haldir.  “I will do it, Ada.”  Legolas took his lover’s hand, “Come, melethron, ‘tis your turn.”

Haldir closed his eyes and followed the Prince to the table, sitting upon it and waiting for his lover.  

Legolas placed his hands on Haldir’s hips and slid him back, straddling his lap and slowly rocking his hips against him.  He removed Haldir’s tunic and swirled the needle in the brandy before drizzling some over his ear.  

Haldir flinched at the warm, thick liquid dripping upon his shoulder, and set his jaw in preparation for what would surely be painful.  He felt the Prince’s soft lips upon his ear and heard him whisper, “Relax, melethron, it will be over soon.”  He groaned as he felt the tip of the needle pierce through the cartilage and flesh of his ear and winced as he felt and heard the ring click into place.  He then sighed and shivered at the feeling of his lover’s soft lips upon his wounded flesh, his hands traveling to Legolas’ hips as he pulled him closer.  He whimpered quietly as Legolas pulled back and took his hands, pulling him from the table.

The Prince’s deep voice floated into his ears, “Come, melethron, you have earned your reward.”

Haldir opened his dilated eyes and hungrily watched the Prince as he led him to his chamber.

< > < > < >

Thranduil reclined upon a blanket in the sun, slowly arching his back and purring at the sensation of two pairs of hands, two sets of lips exploring his flesh.  He hissed in pleasure and smiled as Orophin’s mouth locked upon one nipple, fondling the ring against his tongue. Rúmil’s sweet lips pressed against his stomach and his tongue delved into his navel, drawing another gasp of pleasure from Thranduil’s lips.  Both Lórien brothers quietly moaned as they enjoyed their King, hands roaming, mouths hungrily consuming him.  “Aaahhh, yes, my lovelies, you both feel so good…” He groaned and arched his powerful back as Rúmil’s fingers danced over the rise in his leggings.

“Do we please you, my Lord?” Rúmil asked sweetly.

“Do you want us, my Lord?” Orophin asked wickedly.

Thranduil nodded, “Mmm, yes, aníron…”

Orophin straddled the King as Rúmil moved back to Thranduil’s mouth.  The younger brother whispered against the King’s lips, “Yes, my Lord, what do you desire?”

Thranduil smiled, recognizing the game they were playing.  He thought to himself, they had been very obedient, why not let them have their fun?  “Lle… pân…” he whispered.

Orophin smiled and whispered, “Would you beg, my Lord?”

Rúmil smiled.  “Yes, my Lord, do so prettily.”

Thranduil opened his eyes and chuckled.  “What have I done? What have I created in the two of you?”

The brothers laughed softly and showered the King’s face and neck with kisses.  He purred in delight and whispered, “Saes…”

Both Rúmil and Orophin groaned at the honeyed sound of the King’s voice whispering pleading words and intensified their advances.

“Rúmil!  Orophin!”

The brothers shot bolt upright and scrambled off the King upon hearing their Lord’s voice.  Thranduil rose to his elbows and leaned his head back, groaning at the site of Celeborn standing in his garden.  Rúmil hurriedly laced his leggings shut as Orophin groped for his tunic.

“Daro!  Sedho…” Celeborn approached, anger flashing in his eyes.  “Where is your brother?” he growled.

Rúmil looked at the ground, unable to answer, as Orophin stammered, “With the Prince, my Lord.”

Celeborn flicked his finger against the ring that pierced Orophin’s nipple, causing the elder brother to wince, then turned his gaze to Rúmil’s navel.  “What are these?” he asked incredulously. 

Thranduil rose to his feet and stared down the proud Sindar lord.  “Gifts, from me to your marchwardens.  Is that a problem, Celeborn?”

Celeborn frowned at him and turned his glower to the brothers.  “Go collect your brother and bring him here.”  

Orophin and Rúmil bowed and dashed off into the Palace.

Thranduil cocked his head, and looked at the proud elf Lord.  “What is the problem, Celeborn?  What is wrong with them having some fun now that darkness has passed?  They have fought long and hard to protect your realm. They have earned a little rest.”

“Rest?  Is that what you call…” he waived his hand around, “…this?”

Thranduil chuckled, “Ai, Celeborn…” he trailed his fingers down the elf Lord’s silver braids, “… you know how restful this can be, meldir.  Perhaps you should stay awhile with your marchwardens.  Galadriel is gone, she need not know what you do in her absence.”

Celeborn closed his eyes for a moment then abruptly pulled back.  “Not again, Thranduil.  You have no idea how long it took me to untangle the web you wove last time… No, I will not go through that again.”

Thranduil smiled and locked his hand around the back of the elf Lord’s neck, pulling a surprised Celeborn into his embrace.  He plundered the elf Lord’s mouth, sliding one hand into his silky hair; the other down to cup his firm buttocks.  Celeborn gasped in surprise then found himself relenting, moaning quietly into the King’s bewitching kiss.

< > < > < >

Rúmil and Orophin arrived at Legolas’ door and heard the plaintive whimpers and deep moans coming from inside.  They pressed their ears against the door and smiled, Orophin’s hand sliding down Rúmil’s bare chest, fondling the ring that pierced his navel before sliding his large palm over his brother’s still prominent arousal.

“Haldir is taking him, that is his moans we hear.” Rúmil whispered breathlessly as his brother relentlessly rubbed the bulge in his leggings.

Orophin sighed, “And that is Legolas’ pleading whispers.  Aahh, they are so beautiful.”

Rúmil arched his back and pressed into his brother.  “Take me, Orophin, do it here, do it now.”  He gasped as he felt his leggings pulled quickly down, his rigid arousal springing free.  He moaned as he felt his brother’s arousal slide between his legs as Orophin’s fingers slid between his lips.  He sucked hungrily at Orophin’s fingers, and gasped when he felt them slide inside him.  Spreading his legs, he rocked back against his brother’s hand, gripping the doorframe with tight fingers as he prepared for Orophin to enter his body.  

“We do not have much time, gwanur.” Orophin whispered huskily. 

“Si… saes, gwanur…” he replied breathlessly.

Orophin entered his brother’s willing heat, groaning into his ear as he buried himself inside his body.  He set a rapid pace, stroking Rúmil’s arousal in time with his thrusts, harder, deeper, faster, each time.  They could both hear Legolas’ cries and Haldir’s moans intensifying.  

Rúmil rocked against Orophin, bucking back to meet his thrust and then thrusting forward into his brother’s hand.  He found his release quickly and whimpered as he felt his brother spill himself inside him, panting heavily as Orophin slid from him and they quickly relaced their leggings.

Barely having composed themselves, Orophin rapped upon the door.  “Haldir, Lord Celeborn is here, he wants to see all three of us at once.”

< > < > < >

Haldir groaned silkily as he thrust into Legolas tight warmth, hearing the soft cries of his Prince as he brought their bodies together with slow and even strokes. The beautiful face was slack with need, his mouth open with his cries as his body rocked with the force of their movements. Haldir's hands increased their pace on Legolas' length, sliding the slick flesh in his fist, and he felt the lithe and golden body tightening inexorably beneath him.

"You are mine," Haldir growled softly, his hips flexing sharply, driving himself deeper into Legolas' heat. He groaned, feeling the Prince's quivering response. "Mine!" 

"Ai," Legolas cried out, shuddering with pleasure, spilling himself over the lean fingers that stroked his throbbing length, gasping when Haldir filled him with his own heat, hearing his lover's cries of passion echo his own.

Haldir collapsed against the warmth of Legolas' chest, and felt the Prince's hand stroke his hair softly, his heart beating wildly beneath his ear.  "Mine," he whispered again, his arms tightening briefly around his lover's form.

A soft chuckle vibrated beneath his ear. "Aye, Haldir, meleth nín, I am yours. " He felt soft lips press against his forehead and smiled. "But I could say the same," Legolas' voice admonished softly.

Haldir smiled in content, raising up to place a kiss on the Prince's sweet lips. "Aye, a'maelamin, you could." Haldir replied, resting his head against Legolas' chest once more. "I am yours as well." His eyes closed, and he felt the rise and fall of his lover's chest as his breathing gradually slowed, and they both began to drift into well-earned reverie.

A sharp rap on the door dragged them both rudely awake.

“Haldir, Lord Celeborn is here, he wants to see all three of us at once," Orophin's voice came muffled through the door. 

Haldir bolted upright, an expression of alarm and dismay crossing his handsome features. "Lord Celeborn," he breathed, glancing at Legolas in consternation. "He has come to fetch us." 

Legolas watched his lover dress hurriedly, rising up in the bed and reaching for his own hastily discarded clothing. "Do you wish for me to go with you?" he asked quietly, sliding his leggings over his hips and lacing them. 

Haldir struggled to straighten his appearance, scowling in the mirror at his mussed hair, swollen lips, and flushed face. One look at him, and Celeborn would know exactly what his marchwarden had been up to. 

"Here, meldir, let me help you."  Legolas took the comb from his hands and ran it through the tangles, straightening the silky silver strands until they lay flat.

"My braids!" Haldir cursed softly. "I cannot appear before him like this."

"Shh," Legolas placed a quick kiss against his mouth, silencing him effectively. "I will do them for you."  

Haldir returned his kiss, and felt the nimble and clever fingers work their skill at his temples, creating two simple warrior braids and drawing them back. He saw Legolas reach for an elaborate wooden clip and his eyes widened in surprise. 

"You do not mind wearing one of mine, melethron?" the Prince asked with a quick smile.

Touched by his gesture, Haldir simply nodded, and Legolas fastened the ends of his braids with the clip. "Thank you, my Prince," he said softly, catching his gaze in the mirror.

Strong arms enfolded him briefly, and he felt the soft press of his lover's lips against his temple. 

"You are welcome, mir nín."

< > < > < >

Celeborn groaned, lost to the press of Thranduil's warm body against his, feeling the heat of the King's arousal press against his thigh as his lips continued to work their magic on his mouth. It was maddening, the way the Sindar King could do this to him so easily, make him tremble with need like an innocent elfling. He sighed into that wonderful mouth as Thranduil's hands left his face to slide down the silky fabric of Celeborn's robes, his fingers brushing lightly against the prominent bulge between his thighs. 

He broke away from the kiss, gasping, his cheeks flushed with shame and need.

"Thranduil..."

"Shhh, my Lord," the King murmured, his hand sliding slowly over Celeborn's arousal, feeling it throb beneath the thin fabric of his robes. He looked up and held the elf Lord's gaze with is own. "Why are you so reluctant to give me what we both want?" he crooned softly.

Celeborn closed his eyes against that seductive gaze, his mouth suddenly dry as he felt those lean and strong fingers slip beneath the opening of his robes, stroking the bare skin beneath in slow and lingering caresses. 

"Let me give you pleasure, meldiramin," Thranduil whispered, his lips at Celeborn's throat. He licked the soft skin just above the collar of his robes, and felt the responding shudder. "Would that truly be so bad?"

He groaned again, tilting his head to allow the King better access to the sensitive flesh. "You are wicked, Thranduil," he moaned. "I cannot allow....ahhh!" He was lost when those exploring fingers found the heat of his arousal and stroked it firmly beneath his robes.

"Hmm, yes," Thranduil chuckled, pressing his lips against the curve of Celeborn's ear. "That is it, my lovely." His tongue flicked out to tease the curve of the elder elf’s ear, his hand continuing to stroke the hard flesh, hearing Celeborn's breath quicken in response. "Have you ever been taken against a tree, my Lord?"

Celeborn's blue eyes fluttered open and he tried to concentrate on Thranduil's words. "Wh-what?"

"Or perhaps we could simply use the blanket," Thranduil continued, his eyes hooded as he watched the conflicting emotions play across Celeborn’s flushed face.

He struggled to gather his dignity about him, but found it impossible, his body betraying him with its need as Thranduil skillfully stroked his length. There was something he was supposed to remember, a very good reason why this was all a very bad idea, but he had difficulty remembering what it was.

"The blanket, I think," Thranduil purred softly, licking a wet line across the curve of Celeborn's ear and feeling his delicious shudder. "I want you spread beneath me as I take you."

"Thranduil," Celeborn's voice wavered, his knees threatening to buckle as the King claimed his mouth once more. Lips pressed hungrily against his. He felt the bold touch of Thranduil's tongue, and met it with his own, brushing it against the velvet softness as he openly groaned into his mouth. 

The King drew back, his eyes glittering with desire and heat, and he brushed his fingers over Celeborn's swollen lips, his fingers reluctantly releasing their hold of the elf Lord’s length. "Come," he said softly, and turned, walking with fluid grace to where the blanket lay.

Celeborn swallowed, his desire warring with his pride, and followed the King, allowing the golden elf to push him gently down on the blanket, and watching the beautiful form as he stretched his length out beside him. 

He felt the fine trembling in the body next to his as he reached for the clasps that held Celeborn's robe, his clever fingers undoing the small fastenings quickly and easily. One by one they gave beneath his hands, and he parted the robe, sliding his ringed fingers across the smooth and pale flesh he revealed. 

"You are beautiful, meldiramin," Thranduil whispered, his eyes meeting Celeborn's as his hands drifted in slow caressing circles across his chest. "I had forgotten how beautiful you are."

Celeborn closed his eyes and arched under that touch, feeling the soft press of lips against his and opening his mouth eagerly to the warmth of Thranduil's tongue. He ignored the voice inside him that told him he would regret doing this. For now, all that mattered was the golden body above his, and the sweet and undeniable touch of the King's mouth. His hands reached up to clasp Thranduil's strong shoulders, sliding down the silky skin of his back to the curve of his buttocks, kneading the muscles beneath the satiny fabric of his leggings. He heard the King's soft groan and echoed it when Thranduil's hands found his chest, teasing the hardened nipples between his fingers.

He left the warmth of Celeborn's mouth and traveled downwards, kissing and licking the smooth pale flesh until his lips found the hardened peak of a dusky rose colored nipple, taking it between his teeth. The lithe body arched beneath him and a deep groan escaped the Sindar Lord's lips as he suckled the flesh, devouring the sweet and sensitive skin until Celeborn was writhing in pleasure. A hand slid lower to encircle the weeping length of hardness between the elder elf's thighs and he stroked it slowly.

"Tell me you want me, Celeborn," Thranduil crooned softly, watching the silver elf lose himself to his caresses. "I want to hear your lovely voice."

Celeborn groaned, utterly lost. "Aníron lle, Thranduil," he whispered breathlessly, and was rewarded with another searing kiss that left him shaking.

"Then you shall have me, my beautiful Lord," the King replied, drawing back only long enough to remove his leggings, before sliding his body over the heat of Celeborn's lithe form once more. He resumed his exploration of the Celeborn’s chest, his hand reclaiming the hard length of flesh that pressed insistently against his stomach. He kissed, nuzzled, and stroked the heated flesh that quivered beneath him, until Celeborn gave a breathless, pleading groan. He drew back slightly and reached for the vial of oil that lay on the grass next to the blanket, left there from his earlier activities with Orophin and Rúmil, and coated his fingers with the slippery substance. He poured a bit more over his own throbbing length, hissing softly when Celeborn’s hands covered his. The Sindar Lord’s eyes were dark with need as he slid his hands over Thranduil’s length, working the oil into the heated flesh in slow and lingering strokes. Thranduil gasped with pleasure, before gently pushing those hands away, tossing the small vial back onto the grass. 

Slowly he trailed his oil coated fingers over Celeborn’s length, sliding lower to tease the small opening between his thighs, pressing gently against the puckered entrance with his fingers.

"Saes, Thranduil, Im baur," Celeborn shuddered at the gentle but insistent touch, opening his legs shamelessly as he pleaded his desire. “Saes!”

"Uma, Celeborn, lirimaer nín," came the soft, breathless reply, and he felt those long fingers press into him, sliding with delicious slowness into the tight heat of his body. 

Celeborn was transformed by his desire, his face flushed beautifully as he arched under the steady thrusts of Thranduil’s fingers, moaning as they opened him, stretching the tight ring of muscles, and spreading the oil deep into his body. His arousal throbbed almost painfully when he felt Thranduil’s fingers brush his mark, and he cried out wordlessly, shaking with his need.

Thranduil heard his soft gasp when his fingers left the tight heat and chuckled softly, spreading the lean limbs beneath him and gazing down at the beautiful and flushed face. This was how he loved Celeborn best; shameless, wanton, needy, his pale skin a beautiful golden rose, glistening with the light sheen of sweat. He felt the elder elf tighten beneath him as he pressed the tip of his arousal against the entrance of his body, and heard his soft whimper of apprehension.

“Shh, melethron,” Thranduil whispered, stroking the trembling limbs. “I will go slow. I know it has been some time.” With careful movements, he pressed his length against the tight ring of muscles, hissing in pleasure as he felt his shaft breach the barrier and slide into the delicious and welcome heat of Celeborn’s body. “Ah, my lovely,” he crooned softly, brushing his lips against Celeborn’s sweating brow. “You feel so good.” He did not move for several moments, content to be sheathed in the tight body that quivered beneath him, his lips sliding across the proud nose and cheeks, pressing tender kisses against the trembling eyelids. 

It had been a long time, yet Celeborn felt his body welcome the hard length of flesh, groaning softly at the exquisite sensation of being filled, of being claimed in this way. The pain passed quickly as his body adjusted, and he moaned again, feeling Thranduil’s arousal throbbing deep inside him. 

Slowly he began to move, sliding his length in carefully controlled strokes into Celeborn’s heat, growling softly as the tightness enveloped him. He felt the elf Lord relax against him, take him deeper into his body, and groaned, increasing the strength of his thrusts gradually. His fingers curled around Celeborn’s length and he stroked it, timing his movements with his thrusts, until he heard the elf give a keening moan.

“That is it, my lovely,” Thranduil purred, his eyes nearly closed as he watched Celeborn lose himself to the sensations that assailed him, his own release near at hand. “Let it go.”

Celeborn shuddered, a gasping cry falling from his lips as he felt his release sweep over him, his body arching tautly as he spilled his seed over Thranduil’s fingers. He felt the King thrust into him deeply, claiming him utterly, and heard his deep growl of ecstasy as he reached his own release, the warmth of his essence flooding deep within him. 

Thranduil’s strong arms trembled slightly as he looked down at Celeborn, a smile of satisfied pleasure curving his generous mouth. Celeborn blinked dazedly up at him, giving him a small smile in return. His hand reached up and caressed the King’s cheek, his fingers trailing softly over his skin. 

“I had forgotten how good you can make me feel,” Celeborn sighed, dropping his hand away. “But I will not become a plaything for you again, Thranduil, no matter how sweet the rewards.”

Thranduil smiled, placing a soft kiss against Celeborn’s mouth before sliding his softening length out of his body. “I never asked you to be my plaything, meldiramin,” he chided softly, reaching for his leggings. “I never asked you for anything you were not willing to give me.”

Celeborn sat up, reaching for his robes and pulling them on in quick, angry movements. “I am married,” he said bitterly. “I should not want to tarry with another so easily.” His fingers trembled as he fought to close the small clasps.

Thranduil caught his hand and brought it to his lips. “We love whom we love,” he said, repeating the advice he had given Rúmil and Orophin earlier. "There is no shame to be had in that. I know your heart belongs to Galadriel." He kissed the trembling fingers once more. "But is there no room left in your heart for anything else? Hmm?"  He pulled Celeborn unresisting into his arms, stroking his hair gently. "I have loved many over my years of life, and I hope I will love many more. Is your heart less generous than mine, meldiramin?" he asked, his voice softly teasing.

A deep sigh welled up from within him, and he let it out slowly, relaxing against the strong body that held him. "I will think upon your words," Celeborn said finally, reluctantly pulling away. "Perhaps you are wiser than I in this matter."

Thranduil chuckled, rising gracefully to his feet and offering his hand to the Sindar lord. "Lord Celeborn, I never thought I would hear you say I was wiser than you in anything."  He tilted his head slightly, the sun gleaming off his golden hair as he gave the other elf a wicked grin. "I do believe I like the sound of it."

Celeborn opened his mouth to retort, when he saw his three marchwardens approach, Prince Legolas walking gracefully beside the captain as they came over the grassy knoll.  Quickly he finished straightening his robes, his face flushing slightly as he realized his hair was mussed from laying on the blanket. He gave Thranduil a quick glance, and heard the King chuckle once more.

"I am afraid, my Lord, that you look exactly as you should look." His throaty voice dropped suggestively, "Well and truly tumbled."

Celeborn scowled at him, trying to straighten his hair as Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin came to a halt before him, their hands touching their hearts as they bowed their heads.

"We have come as you requested, My Lord," Haldir said, straightening. His eyes widened slightly as he took in Celeborn's less than immaculate robes, mussed hair, and swollen lips, and his eyes flickered briefly to Thranduil's face. The King's smirk spoke volumes.

"Yes, well," Celeborn cleared his throat slightly, his eyes lingering on the small mithril ring that gleamed from the tip of Haldir's ear. Shaking his head, he continued. "It is time for you to return to your duties in Lothlórien," he said, pleased to hear the familiar firmness in his voice. He turned to Thranduil. "I hope that you have had time to consider my request, King Thranduil?" he asked politely.

Thranduil gave him a slow smile. "Ah yes, your request. Forgive me, my Lord, but I require a few more days consideration before I can give you my answer."

"Hmm," Celeborn replied, feeling the heat of the other's gaze sear through him. "I will be pleased to give you all the time you need, King Thranduil."  A small smile crept across his lips. "Perhaps you would consider giving me your answer in person? We would enjoy having both you and the Prince as our guests."

Thranduil chuckled, glancing at the faces of the three marchwardens and his son, and seeing the gleam of anticipation in their eyes. "It would be our pleasure," he said smoothly, sliding his arm over Celeborn's and giving the Sindar Lord a wicked smile. "Perhaps I can convince you to stay long enough to enjoy a glass of wine with me?"

Celeborn's arousal twitched slightly beneath his robes at the heat in Thranduil's green gaze. He swallowed, turning to Haldir. "We will leave tomorrow morning," he said, his mouth suddenly dry. "I require nothing further from you this day. You are dismissed."

Haldir and his brothers bowed once more before turning away, each seeking their lovers with their eyes, each eager to take advantage of the time they had been given. 

“Now, my Lord,” Thranduil purred, stroking his hand slowly down the arm that held his. “Shall I show you my extensive wine collection?”

Celeborn’s silver laughter filled the sunlit glade.

Finis

Elvish = English:

lirimaer - lovely one
nín bain - my beauty
melethron - lover
rwalaer - lusty one
n’uma ner - no more
aran nín - my king
Im baur -  I need
aníron - I desire
uma - Yes
meldir - friend
Lle - you or yours
mir nín- - my treasure
sedho - be still
a’maelamin - beloved
meleth nín - my love
amin mela lle - I love you
Ada - Father
Iôn -  Son
Gwanur - brother
Pân -  all
Si – now
Malthen mathor – Golden Warrior