A Quiet Evening

A Quiet Evening

Posted: November 3, 2006
Title: A Quiet Evening
Author: Elohir Mornedhel
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Thranduil
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't know them, as much as I would like to. I just like writing about them so don't sue.
Prompt: Restraint, Scarf
Warnings: Slash
Beta: Patricia (slayer9649)
Author's Notes: I wanted to write a pairing I had never done before. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: A quiet evening in Greenwood

*****

Thranduil sighed as he withdrew the crown of leaves from his head. He placed it, almost reverently, on a stand in the corner of his room. Every time he removed it, he felt as if a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. The sensation was always followed by a sense of guilt. He was the king as reluctantly as he had been to accept the crown. He owed it to his people.

“You are tired, Híren (my Lord),” the husky voice startled him.

“Exhausted, meleth (love),” he answered as he walked over to the door to his bathing chambers.

“Then come,” Erestor said softly. “Give yourself over to my care.”

“With pleasure,” the king smiled.

The councilor led him into the chamber where a steaming bath waited, fed from a hot spring deep in the mountain. He gently slid the heavy robes off Thranduil’s broad shoulders, letting his fingers lightly caress him through the fabric. With careful and languid movements, he divested the Sinda elf of his clothing. Stepping back, he let his own robe drop to the floor, revealing his naked form. He chuckled when he heard the king’s low groan.

He caught Thranduil’s hand when the other elf tried to reach for him. He stepped into the bath and gently pulled, bringing his lover with him. Settling in the water, he slowly bathed the king, easing the stiffness of his muscles with gentle deep massage. Erestor saved the best for last. He knew how much the elf in his arms loved having his hair washed.

The groans were almost instantaneous when his fingers started moving over the royal scalp. Erestor chuckled softly.

“You are so good to me,” Thranduil whispered as he turned his head to kiss the dark haired ellon’s (m. elf’s) wrist.

“It is mutual, meleth,” came the soft answer.

“That meeting was grueling,” the king said as he laid his now rinsed head back on Erestor’s shoulders.

“I thought you showed wondrous restraint today,” Erestor pointed out. “The representative from Dale was quite… abrasive”

“He is always like that,” Thranduil said. “I have grown used to his blustering and know my way around it.”

“I thought you would gladly throttle him when he turned his sights on Imladris,”

“In truth, I would have,” the king chuckled. “If only to shut him up. For all his babble, he really does have his people’s best interest at heart. The problem lies in that he feels very intimidated by the Firstborn and is living in the shadow of men like Girion. It is not an easy task.”

“He is a shrewd negotiator,” Erestor said. “If one listens to what he is actually saying it becomes quite clear. It is a useful tool.”

“I think everything was settled to the benefit of everyone,” Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes.

“Indeed,” Erestor agreed.

They fell into companionable silence, their touches light against smooth skin. Truly, they needed no words to communicate. When the water grew tepid, they rose and dried each other off. Their lips met every now and then in sweet tender kisses. Erestor led the way to the bed and laid the king upon it. He lulled him with more kisses and light brushes of his body as he drew his hands up to the bars of the mahogany headboard.

Thranduil groaned as Erestor delved deep with his tongue and undulated his hips. He closed his eyes as those clever lips worked his nipples and chest. His moans grew louder as his lover worked that talented mouth down to his straining shaft. He buried his hands in the dark silken hair; at least, he tried to. Looking up he saw his hands bound to the headboard with a scarf of purple silk. He turned his piercing gaze on his lover and raised one finely arched pale brow.

Erestor merely smiled at him. Before the king could speak he swallowed his shaft completely. The strong hips beneath his hands bucked and strained as he applied his oral skills to the cock in his mouth. He knew Thranduil would not remain annoyed for long.

On a sigh, the king let his head fall back and gave himself over to Erestor. The pleasure flooding his body was simply too much to fight against. This was, of course, assuming that he wanted to fight. His world became the ellon servicing him so sweetly. He could feel the love surrounding him, cocooning him and making all his troubles fade away.

The pleasure flowed over him like a river, gentle and soft. He spilled into Erestor’s mouth on a low panting moan. He fell back against the bed, his eyes closed, savoring the sensations sliding over his skin. He felt his lover moving up his body, brushing every inch of him and reawakening his desire. Thranduil smiled at the sensation, expecting the bonds to be removed.

His eyes snapped open when the councilor simply took hold of his arousal and impaled himself on his shaft. They both gasped at the feeling. He gathered the beautiful ellon in his embrace and their dance began. He kept the councilor in his sights, watching the emotions that traveled across his face.

The love in his heart swelled as he rolled them despite his bonds. Long slender legs wrapped around his waist as Erestor’s arms surrounded his neck. He knew how much the dark-haired elf loved his weight pressing him into the mattress. He licked, kissed, and nipped every inch of skin he could reach as the passion built, carrying them up and over the plateau. Tightening, twisting, it overwhelmed them in short order.

He felt his body explode and he sank his teeth into the flesh beneath his mouth. The roar from the ellon beneath him echoed through his soul as Erestor spilled between their bodies. Always it was like this, always together. Thranduil collapsed against him, breathing hard against his neck.

“You are a wicked elf,” he chuckled dryly. “And I love you for it.”

“Of course you do,” Erestor answered smugly if a bit breathlessly. “As I love you, pen vain (fair one).”

“Now untie me,” the king demanded. “There is retribution to be had.”

“I can hardly wait,” the councilor laughed as he eagerly complied with the king’s order.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Elohir Mornedhel