Thranduil walked into Elrond’s office and glanced around, trying hard not to be nervous. Elrond looked at the king. “Why are you here, Thranduil?” His tone was not harsh, but confused. “It has been almost two millennia. What drove you to at last come to me?”
The king grimaced, for Elrond was right. “I could not face you. Not after…” Seeing the Miruvor on a side table, Thranduil strode over to it. “Mind?” He held up a glass.
Elrond shook his head and waved his hand. “Nay, help yourself. You know where everything is. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here.” Elrond turned to the balcony doors and gazed out upon the valley. “We could have shared our grief after the War. I would have been there for you.” Barely concealed pain laced his words.
Thranduil took a sip and savored the cordial, not wanting to speak about that time, but knowing he must. “Gods! When I realized I had lost your love, I wished Gil-galad – your lover… your soulmate – dead. And then, when it was all over, after that final battle, you wanted to see me? To try and ease my own personal hell? I would never have believed that possible.” He walked and stood next to Elrond and looked out. “I did not deserve it. Besides, I could not remain; I had an oath to fulfill… I was required at home… to marry.”
Elrond nodded. “Ah, I had wondered about that. I knew you lost Callon as well as your father. I did not understand how you could marry. No elleth could give you what you need.” Elrond turned and tangled his hand in Thranduil’s hair and pulled the king close, the elf lord’s mouth brushing his ear. “How long? How long has it been? Have you found another?”
The pain of having his hair pulled startled Thranduil, but then his need consumed him. His answer was throaty as he tried to respond without his voice quavering. “At the thought of seeing you again, I began training Surion, but there has been none since you.”
Elrond pulled harder, forcing Thranduil’s head back, and he leaned down and sucked hard on the king’s neck. “I did not hear that.”
Thranduil gasped. “None since you… Master.”
Elrond smiled against the newly formed bruise. “Then, come. Your need is palpable, my pet.”
Thranduil staggered as he was released. This was all going too fast, but his need was great. He had not relinquished control in two millennia and he desired to be the one mastered, to allow someone else the power, freeing him to no longer think, but just to feel. Old needs and habits quickly came back as the king followed on Elrond’s heels, his eyes lowered, watching the swirl of the elf lord’s robes as he opened the hidden door behind the bookcase.
Surion’s hand hesitated in mid-knock; he was worried for his king but knew that Legolas did not care for him and often seemed to hate the mere sight of him. The memory of Thranduil’s haunted eyes finally decided him and he knocked loudly.
The prince had been pacing his chambers, concern for his father paramount, when there was a rap upon his door. “Enter.” When the door opened and Surion stood in the doorway, uncertainty written on his face, Legolas almost shouted at him to leave, but something in the raven-haired courtesan’s eyes silenced his harsh words. “Surion. Come in.” He waved his hand toward the sitting area. “What brings you here?”
Surion cleared his throat and gathered his courage. He was here for his king and lover. “It is your father. Something was not right when he left for his meeting. I cannot explain what I feel, but I do not think he should be left alone with Lord Elrond.”
Legolas was surprised, for he had been greatly concerned about his father’s mental state as well. “What do you propose I do about this then? Adar expressly forbid me to attend the meeting.”
The prince had little fondness for Surion, but he tried to be less overt about his feelings toward his father’s young lover.
“Your highness, he forbade you, but he did not say anything to me.” Surion was crossing the line in proposing this and he was nervous at the consequences, but his concern for the king overruled worry for himself. “I could seek him out, if you can think of a reasonable excuse.”
Surion was trembling visibly as he listened at the door to Elrond’s office. The voices were indistinct, but he was sure Thranduil was in there. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. When there was no answer, he knocked again, loudly. Still no answer. Surion’s brow knitted in confusion and he leaned against the door again, but heard nothing.
Shaking his head at the likely consequences of his action, Surion reached for and turned the door knob. As he pushed the door open with a shaking hand, he readied a quick response for the expected confrontation at interrupting two powerful lords in their private meeting. Instead of outrage, only silence greeted him. Emerald eyes looked around the room, carefully searching for where the two elf lords could be. A small movement from his periphery caught his eye and he turned quickly, but nothing was there. He did notice a porcelain horse tottering slightly on a bookcase shelf and wondered at the cause.
After a hasty, but thorough, inspection of Elrond’s study, Surion was more confused than ever. He was certain he had heard voices behind the door, but now they were gone, vanished into thin air. His eyes returned to the porcelain horse and a thought came to him. He raced from the room to get Legolas. If there was a secret door, then the prince’s aid would be necessary. Something suspicious was occurring and Surion was certain he could not handle Lord Elrond on his own.
Thranduil was amazed that his legs did not give out as he followed Elrond down the stairs. He knew these stairs and the room at the bottom all too well. As he stepped into the room, Elrond was moving about, lighting lanterns and candles, and Thranduil’s nervousness was growing. He wanted this so badly, he could taste it… feel it. But, yet, he was terrified.
The room had ropes and pulleys and all sorts of rings and hooks on the walls and low ceiling, the surfaces of which were highly mirrored. The floor was padded and there were no windows as this was deep below ground. The view from the doorway through which they’d walked was blocked by a large partition, thus keeping anyone who might accidentally find the door and the stairs from directly stumbling upon a scene in progress.
Elrond turned and smiled, gently coaxing Thranduil away from the partition. “Come, my pet. We can take it slow as I doubt you are ready for all we used to do.”
Thranduil walked to Elrond and entered the elf lord’s firm embrace. Strong hands caressed his head and neck and gently eased his face back as his lips were seized in a plundering kiss. He had not tasted Elrond in so long and had forgotten how easily the elf lord could undo him. The king’s heart was pounding, blood was thrumming in his ears, and he was panting lightly. His mind knew what to expect, and his body remembered, but he was still nervous.
Elrond led Thranduil over to the leather settee. Before he sat, he stripped off his robe, leaving himself clad only in a tight white shirt and dark leggings. He rolled up the sleeves and loosened the neck, then sprawled on the settee and removed his boots. “Undress for me, pet. Make it a good show as I know you can.” Elrond leered up at Thranduil and gently stroked the growing bulge in his leggings.
“Aye, Master.” Thranduil quickly gained his headspace; with each piece of clothing removed, the trappings of his life were tossed aside. Once he was completely bared to Elrond’s gaze, his arousal jutting out from his abdomen, he knelt in front of his master, his head bowed, arms behind his back, left hand clasping his right wrist. His body easily recalled what he should do.
“Lovely. You are beautiful, my king. Use that wondrous mouth on me.” Elrond did not move, his slave must come to him. Even though Elrond still used this room occasionally, he had not had someone with such a talented mouth service him in so very long. That was something that Thranduil had always been good at and his skill had not lessened. As he drew close to the precipice, he groaned and pulled away as he pushed Thranduil back. “Nay! You are uniquely talented with that, but there is much for us to do before I come for the first time.”
Thranduil quivered with anticipation, his body taut as a bow string, but he daren’t look up at his master. He stayed where he was told to be and waited for whatever followed.
Surion and Legolas finally found the catch on the bookcase that opened the hidden door. Taking a single candle, they silently moved down the stairs. When they came to the bottom, their view of the room was blocked by a partition. After hearing the crack of a whip and a low moan, which sounded eerily like his adar to Legolas’ ears, the prince was about to charge around the partition, but was restrained by Surion. Carefully, they looked around the partition and both were stunned at the sight before them.
Thranduil was naked and on all fours, bound to bars. His breathing was ragged as he tried not to tense against the next blow. When the crack of the whip came, he whimpered, but did not cry out. His back and buttocks were crisscrossed with welts and bloody lines delivered by Elrond who was standing over him, idly flicking the whip. Both elves stood in shock as Elrond knelt beside Thranduil and proceeded to slide a wooden phallus in and out of the king’s passage. “Do not come. You remember, my pet? The punishment for disobedience is probably more than you can take, after so long.” The king’s body was visibly trembling as he called on every ounce of control he had to avoid release. Elrond left the phallus in Thranduil’s passage and ran his finger along the welts as he moved to Thranduil’s head. “Now. Use your mouth until I come. You well know the rules.”
As Thranduil’s mouth was being fucked by Elrond, the elf lord opened his eyes and saw, reflected in the mirrored wall, two faces peering around the partition. He chuckled to himself, and then said, almost silently, but knowing that Thranduil heard him, “I do believe your rescuers are here. Shall I invite them to join us?”
Thranduil’s eyes met Elrond’s and the elf lord understood. Standing, he tucked his arousal into his leggings, but did not bother to lace them up.
Elrond turned to the partition, and beckoned. “Come in. No need to hide in the entry. We are aware you are there.” The elf lord carefully watched as Surion and Legolas reluctantly moved into the room. Surion’s eyes were wide as he scanned the entire room and all of its ‘toys’ before settling on his lover’s bound body.
Elrond strode up to Surion and quietly spoke to him, the elf lord’s body brushing against his. “If you wish to stay, you are welcome. Your king does not forbid it. The only rule once you are here is that you do exactly as I tell you, no matter what it is. If you cannot do this, then leave. It is that simple, and will never be spoken of again.” Even though his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the command in his tone and there would be no argument. Surion, wide eyed, only nodded in agreement as his voice had deserted him. “Good. Your first task is to fetch us refreshments. There is a bell pull in my office. Use it and a maid will come. Have food and drink brought to you for the four of us, then return here.”
Knowing that his orders would be followed, Elrond advanced upon Legolas who’s flashing eyes never left his father’s body. Elrond stood behind the prince and whispered in his ear, “He is magnificent, is he not? Only one other have I ever known that could compare to your father. You do desire him, do you not?”
At that question, Legolas’ head spun around to gaze directly into the elf lord’s stormy grey eyes. When their eyes met, Elrond read everything in the prince’s heart, even that which he did not yet know himself. “Oh, ernilen, what a difficult path you have started down. I know not if you will ever have what your heart desires, for your father would do nothing that could bring the Valar’s displeasure down upon you.” Shaking his head, Elrond embraced Legolas tightly, and brushed his words against the prince’s ear. “If you stay, you are to follow my orders. Mayhap you would like to be the one that finishes your father off, taking him until he screams?” Elrond pulled back to gaze into the crystal blue eyes, already darkening, and he knew the answer before the question left his lips. “What say you?”
Legolas’ mouth went dry. Someone knew his secret! But, the elf lord was offering him his deepest desire. What else would be required of the prince? Legolas’ stomach tightened. He had yet to meet his father’s eyes; it was as though Thranduil was in another place at the moment and had not even acknowledged that others were in the room. His body quivered and it was obvious he was in some pain. What should the prince do? Flee? But, he could not leave his father here without knowing the outcome. He managed to croak out, “Aye.”
The feral smile Elrond gave him made Legolas even more nervous. “Good. Very good. Strip. My pets are naked before me.” As the prince slowly undressed, Elrond watched every inch of skin as it was exposed. He tugged on Legolas’ arm. “Come closer.” They moved to within Thranduil’s field of vision. Elrond knelt and pulled Legolas down. The elf lord tangled his hands in the king’s hair and pulled his head up. “Watch.”
The king’s eyes widened as he saw Elrond seducing his son. Each kiss and stroke of his tongue or hand against Legolas’ fair skin pulled an answering moan from the king. Gods! His son was beautiful. Thranduil had never seen his son so wanton, writhing under Elrond’s skillful touch. The king was panting and ducked his head. A sharp slap on a large welt on his shoulder pulled his head back up. Elrond whispered in Legolas’ ear, his words only for the prince. “Your desire is returned, I believe. Where this leads, I know not. In the world beyond, social restrictions govern what is right, what is permitted. But down here, you can have what you want most.”
Elrond stepped away from Legolas, instructing the prince: “Continue with the phallus. Your father has the most talented mouth in Arda, and I intend to enjoy its use.”
The elf lord tipped Thranduil’s chin up and brushed long golden tendrils from the sweaty brow. “Finish me, my pet.” Elrond pushed his leggings down and pulled out his erection, which he quickly thrust into Thranduil’s open mouth, watching as those pink lips were stretched around his arousal. Groaning, the elf lord looked up to watch Legolas. The prince was highly aroused, and his fair skin was flushed. As Legolas pulled the phallus from Thranduil’s stretched passage, and slowly thrust it back in, he angled it with such care that it dragged across the king’s prostrate, forcing a moan deep in Thranduil’s throat. If Legolas continued in that manner, the king might fail and spend before he was allowed. Elrond recognized the consuming need and thrust deeper, practically choking the king, but Thranduil took it all, swallowing as he sucked hard, pulling Elrond’s release from him. At the last the elf lord pulled out and shot his essence onto Thranduil’s face, marking him with his seed. “Good, my pet. Very good. Rest, while I see to your son and courtesan.”
Surion walked in with a laden tray at that minute. The sounds and scents in the room created an ethereal vision, as though this room was not in Middle-earth at all. He set the tray on the side table and then looked to Elrond for guidance. It was almost overwhelming to see his powerful king in such a position, but when his eyes landed on Legolas and what he was doing to his father, Surion gasped. Of course, Elrond ordered him to do it and none could disobey the master while in this room. That was the agreement. Still, it stunned Surion to see Legolas with his hand resting upon his father’s striped arse as he was slowly thrusting in and out with the wooden phallus. It was actually very erotic, and Surion felt himself harden at the memory of Thranduil saying he would use such on Surion.
Suddenly a voice spoke from behind Surion, causing the courtesan to jump. “Strip now, my lovely. I would see, touch, and taste you.” Elrond moved to the settee next to the table and poured himself a glass of wine before he sprawled across the leather sofa. “Come, ernilen. Your father needs a moment to regain himself and I would touch you. Crawl to me.”
Legolas was pulled from the haze he was enveloped in. There was something in the air down here that dragged you under its spell and you could not stop your actions. If Elrond willed it, you did it. That simple fact both scared and thrilled the prince. Would he really be allowed to take his father? And have it be simply because he was ordered to? And, no one would know that it was his deepest desire? For that opportunity, Legolas would do anything Elrond demanded, even crawl to him.
Elrond smiled. This was perfect. He had two novices, one obviously eager to switch places with the king, the other… Hmm, the prince was still an incomplete puzzle. He was aroused and trembling, obviously eager, but did not seem to delight in the pain or submission. Elrond would work out what was going on in the prince’s head and use it, as he always did. The elf lord was so good at domination, not because he knew how to inflict physical pain up to his sub’s limits, but because he knew how to read the emotions of others so well. He could manipulate people with little effort once he saw into their heart.
Once Legolas crawled to the elf lord, his head rested on Elrond’s lap as the elf lord brushed his fingers through the prince’s hair, while murmuring softly to him. “Shhh… you will have your heart’s desire, but first our little emerald-eyed beauty needs to be taken care of, do you not think?” When the prince stiffened at his words, Elrond smiled. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Legolas did not care for the courtesan who shared his father’s bed. Elrond considered the dynamics in the room, being certain that Thranduil’s needs were first in his mind.
“Kneel next to your lord, my raven-haired beauty. I am surprised that you do not have pierced nipples.” With that comment, the elf lord brushed his fingers over Legolas’ nubs and tweaked them, not looking at the prince, but enjoying his indrawn breaths. “Maybe I should rectify that this day?”
At that comment, Thranduil forced his head up, and pleaded with his eyes. He was still too proud to beg and knew the rules in this room far too well to speak when he had not been spoken to, but it was obvious to Elrond that Surion held a place in the king’s heart and Thranduil was possessive of his courtesan. The effort required to lift his head was monumental, but the king had done so. Speaking to the king, Elrond relented. “Very well, my pet. He is yours. I will not mark him this day.”
Lifting Legolas’ face between his hands, Elrond looked into the beautiful blue eyes as he spoke. “Be ready, ernilen. I expect you to be masterful, forceful, and powerful. If not, I shall take over. Understand?”
Elrond stood and removed his shirt, his muscles rippling. The air in the room grew charged as two pairs of eyes watched his every move. The elf lord was the epitome of grace and power, his mastership of this domain obvious. He moved to kneel in front of Thranduil and lifted the king’s face. Elrond stared deeply into the glazed eyes, taking the measure of the king. It had been so long that the elf lord worried his charge would not recognize his own limits, but there was still a spark left in the cloudy blue eyes. Gently kissing each eyelid, Elrond spoke, his voice only for Thranduil. “I will give you something you would never ask for… your son, but you must take the next. Give it all to me and I will free you from your burdens.” Tears were coursing down Thranduil’s cheeks through his tightly closed lids as he bowed his head once again, trying to relax his body and preparing his mind for the last of it.
“Legolas, kneel here.” Elrond indicated a spot two feet from his father’s side. “Surion, here.” The elf lord indicated that the courtesan should kneel behind Thranduil. “You will work the phallus when I order it.” The elf lord pressed a vial of oil into the courtesan’s palm. “Prepare yourself. You must be ready when it is time.”
Elrond walked to an armoire and pulled a cat o’ nine tails from the cabinet. He then took a bottle and bucket and proceeded to soak the cotton straps in the liquid. Answering the unspoken query, he said. “It is simply vinegar, a mild acid will add to the burn as the cotton strips open the skin.” Elrond nodded to Surion to start with the phallus. As he heard Thranduil’s barely restrained gasp, he knew that the courtesan was applying himself to the king’s pleasure. Then the cat swung time and time again. Sweat was soon pouring from the king, tears were running freely down his cheeks, there was nothing but the pain and pleasure, nothing but his master’s demands. He was no longer king of a realm with so many dependent upon him. He simply was.
Elrond watched his charge carefully, the last blow striking his already battered cheeks. The elf lord knew that Thranduil could take no more. He needed release. The cat was tossed aside. “Surion. To me.” As Elrond moved to kneel in front of the king, he caught Legolas’ eyes and nodded. He was sure the prince knew what to do. If not, Elrond was more than happy to take Thranduil once again.
As the prince moved to the king’s backside, Surion crawled forward, and waited. Elrond pulled Thranduil’s face up and kissed him gently. “Once we have our release, you can have yours, my pet. Watch.”
As Elrond pulled Surion’s backside to him, he nodded to Legolas. It is time. Take your heart’s desire, ernilen. In one swift move, he was seated deeply inside the courtesan. “Gods! You are tight, my beauty. No wonder Thranduil does not desire to share you.” As Elrond drove in repeatedly, a loud, throaty moan came in chorus from both royals’ lips. Legolas was pistoning into the well-stretched passage of his father, who was out of his mind with need. He was watching Elrond take his lover as he was being taken by his son. Only countless millennia of control kept Thranduil from spending that instant.
Elrond stroked Surion’s arousal in time with his thrusts. “Come, my beauty. Your king’s need is too great for us to delay.” His own orgasm ripped through the elf lord and he collapsed upon the courtesan’s lithe frame and turned his head to witness Legolas’ peak. It was magnificent.
Pulling out of Surion, Elrond gently pushed the courtesan toward Thranduil. “Go to your lover. Drink of him. Give him what he needs.” He watched as Legolas tried to pull himself away, but could not yet force himself from his father’s body. The prince’s torso was dotted with his father’s blood and he was flushed and trembling. “Come to me, ernilen.” Legolas did as commanded even though he felt he might die once separated from his father again.
Elrond sprawled on the settee and watched as Surion slid under Thranduil’s body and took his rock hard shaft in his mouth. “Come for me, my pet. Give Surion all of your essence.” Those words coupled with Surion’s warm mouth allowed Thranduil to let go and he finally gained his release. It tore through him, leaving him shattered. Elrond was instantly up and untying him. “Legolas, he will not be able to use his limbs for a bit, your aid is necessary.”
Legolas held his father as the limp body collapsed into his arms once the bindings were undone. “It will be some time before he returns to us. Just hold him and whisper to him. Ground him.” Elrond set a small tray with two glasses of wine on it next to the prince. “Once he begins to stir, see that he has a bit of wine, then Surion can rub the salve into his back.” Elrond looked at the courtesan, who was indeed a beauty. “Come here, Surion.” Elrond pulled the courtesan onto his lap and stroked and petted the fair skin as he ran his fingers through the silken strands. “You are beautiful. I would keep you if your lord ever tires of you.”
Surion trembled at those words. Lord Elrond was masterful and intimidating. He would teach the young courtesan much! But, Surion’s heart was his king’s and he would go nowhere that Thranduil did not tell him to. “May I speak freely, Lord Elrond?”
Elrond looked back at Surion in surprise. “Aye. The scene is done. We must care for your king, but you are no longer bound. What do you feel the need to say?”
“I am King Thranduil’s. He owns more than merely my body. I love him, yet you insisted that he see you take me. Why?” Surion wanted to understand.
The elf-lord brushed gentle fingers against Surion’s cheeks. “You are lovely. Who would not desire you? A large component of what goes on down here is about power and control. By my taking what is most dear to him, he had to give up all power and control. Hand it all to me and trust me enough to do right by those he loves. Did I, my beauty? Did I treat you well?”
Surion’s eyes flicked to the floor where Thranduil was stretched out on his stomach, his head cradled in Legolas’ lap as the prince stroked his hair, rubbed his numb limbs, and sang softly to him. When his emerald eyes returned to Elrond, the young courtesan received an encouraging smile. “Aye, I am well, but… “He did not finish, instead letting his eyes settle on Legolas once again.
Elrond well knew the unasked question, but he would keep the king and Legolas’ secret safe. “And, I am the master, Surion. Everyone in this room serves me. Once Legolas agreed to stay, he had to do as I commanded. Just as you did.”
“But… what… what will Thranduil do once he realizes?”
The elf-lord continued to stroke Surion’s face, smiling gently into the emerald orbs. “He will acknowledge that he gained what he had long needed and he will accept any tool I used to make that occur.” Elrond tenderly kissed the courtesan’s ruby lips. “You are just beginning to walk this path, my lovely. In time you will understand it, and will know not to question. Now, enough talk. Your lover is returning to us and has needs that must be tended.” As he stood, Elrond’s grey eyes raked over Surion’s lithe form. “You should put on your leggings while I retrieve the salve.”
Elrond carefully picked up the still limp body and tenderly laid Thranduil down on the cloth covered day bed in the corner of the playroom. He again took the king’s face in his hands and stared into the unfocused blue eyes, needing reassurance that his charge was coming out of his headspace. A spark flared when their eyes met and a corner of the king’s lip curled upward. Neither signs when separate were enough to convince Elrond that all was well, but both together meant Thranduil was coming to.
The elf-lord took long minutes carefully showing Surion how to use the salve and how best to tend to Thranduil’s body. Once he was convinced the young courtesan was capable of caring for the king, Elrond turned to Legolas. As he walked by the still kneeling nude form, his fingers lightly grazed the prince’s cheek. “Come to me, ernilen. We should talk.”
Legolas stood and followed Elrond back to the leather settee. “Sit. Have a glass of wine. Your father is strong and doing well. He will walk out of here, so worry not for him.” The elf-lord watched as a myriad of emotions flashed across the prince’s face. Staying silent as he drank his wine, Elrond’s eyes would occasionally drift to the king. He was still monitoring his charge’s well being and would continue to do so until Thranduil set foot upon the stairs.
“You know your father will not act upon your desires outside my command?”
Legolas reaction was pained silence and a stiff nod. Elrond saw the anguish that disclosure brought the prince. As he gathered Legolas up in a tight embrace, he whispered, quietly. “I can give you this room, but I can promise you nothing more. Your father may never come around. Are you willing to wait?”
Azure blue eyes gazed unwavering into stormy grey, “For all eternity. He completes me. He is worth waiting for.”
Elrond smiled sadly as he released Legolas. “He is indeed.”