Solo Performance

Solo Performance

Posted: September 7, 2007
Title: Solo Performance
Author: Minuial Nuwing
Type: FCS
Characters: Rúmil/Thranduil
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs to the creator-god of Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on their faces when I am done playing!
Warning: Erm...wanking elves?
Author's Note: For tuxedo_elf, with much love. Hope you enjoy it, Tux!

Summary: Thranduil comes home to a surprise.

*****

Rúmil stood beside the massive bed, his silver hair gleaming in the light of the dozens of candles that burned here and there around the chamber. He tugged lazily at the green silk belt at his waist, letting the thin robe fall open almost as if by accident, and his lover’s breath hitched in appreciation.

Rúmil smothered a grin. It seemed that perhaps his ‘gift’ would be well received.

Slipping one hand beneath the nearly translucent fabric, he slid practiced hands over his own chest, a shuddering sigh escaping as bow-callused fingers bumped and nudged the mithril rings that gleamed in his nipples.

An answering moan sounded from the bed and Rúmil threw himself into his performance, letting his head fall back as his hand moved lower, ghosting over the hard planes of his stomach, making the muscles twitch and quiver. There was a quick movement on the bed and Rúmil stepped back nimbly, just avoiding a reaching hand.

“You may not touch,” he chided. “Neither me nor yourself. Not yet.”

Thranduil’s pout of displeasure would have shaken a lesser elf, but Rumil had long ago become immune to such royal posturings. Obedient for the moment, the king returned his hands to the bed, gripping the soft-woven coverlet tighter as the show continued.

Rúmil applied himself in earnest now, both palms skimming his oil-slick skin, dipping lower and lower as his body began to twist and buck under the teasing touch. Holding Thranduil’s gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, Rúmil at last closed a shaking hand around his own swollen shaft, his moan of pleasure and relief echoed by his lover.

Thranduil stared mesmerized at the play of pale fingers on the darkened flesh as Rúmil’s hand slipped and slid at ever-increasing speed. His own hand stole closer and closer to his neglected arousal, control and compliance slipping away as his lover’s breathing changed to the harsh rasps that he had many years hence learned signaled impending climax.

Rúmil groaned, one hand clutching Thranduil’s shoulder to steady himself as his release overwhelmed him, rivulets of white splattering his stomach and Thranduil’s arm. Collapsing onto the bed, he forced back a wave of lethargy and dropped his head to his lover’s groin.

Thranduil let out a shout of pleasured disbelief as his lover’s mouth closed around him, his fingers burrowing into Rúmil’s hair as the skilled lips and tongue began to move insistently over his already thrumming shaft. A string of erotic endearments left his lips, then his back arched sharply and he howled, shuddering uncontrollably as he spilled into the slick warmth.

Rúmil pulled Thranduil down into an affectionate embrace, then curled around his body, pillowing his head on his lover’s chest. Thranduil, feeling wonderfully drowsy and sated, ran his fingers idly through the sweat-damp strands of Rúmil’s hair. There was a comfortable silence, then the king drawled lazily, “So, it seems you have missed me?”

Rúmil nodded and grinned impishly, his leaf-green eyes glowing with warmth. “Welcome home, my liege.”

*****

THE END

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