Work Text:
__________________
Legolas cried out softly as his bare chest made contact with the rough wood of his father’s desk, the force nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs. “Ada, please,” he whimpered, the scarlet flush of shame already rising into his cheeks as he heard himself begging– for what exactly, he no longer knew; whether it was to be released or to be fucked senseless.
”Hush now, little leaf. The servants will hear,” Thranduil purred in his ear, settling his hands on either side of his son’s lithe, slightly curved hips. “Or perhaps, you would enjoy that too, as wanton as you are?” His touch was deceptively tender, but Legolas knew that beneath those smooth, perfect hands was the strength of iron.
“A-Ah..~” Legolas couldn’t help but give a tremulous moan as Thranduil’s skilled, slender fingers grazed teasingly over his exposed hole. “Ada, we shouldn’t– h-he might not understand–“
Thranduil’s reply was a soft, predatory growl; one that went shamefully straight to his son’s aching cock. ”You are inside my halls tonight, ion-nîn, and not his,” he returned, thrusting one graceful finger inside Legolas’ tight entrance. The younger elf shuddered visibly, low moans escaping him as he grasped harder onto the edge of the table to keep himself upright.
”Tell me, little leaf, do you kneel and worship the king Elessar the way you always have for me? Do you sit beside his throne like an obedient pet, waiting for the command to kneel between his legs?” His father’s voice was thick and laced with shadowy lust, as his oil-slicked fingers plunged mercilessly in and out of his son’s pretty hole.
Legolas moaned out softly, too ashamed and aroused to muster the words that yes, he’d done all of those things and much more. Evidently his silence served as an sufficient answer though, as the fingers filling him crooked suddenly inside him, making him cry out as they grazed against his prostate. “A-Ah! Yes.. I-I do, Ada..”
”Such a wanton slut.” Legolas hated how much the honeyed venom in his father’s smooth voice was affecting him, turning him into a heady mess of perverted desire. His hand wandered up between his thighs to grasp his own aching cock, but Thranduil immediately spread his legs even further, so that he was straddled humiliatingly wide before the desk. “You’ve hardly earned such a privilege,” Thranduil murmured seductively in his ear. A part of Legolas’ mind protested, but a more familiar part agreed hastily, sending warm shudders of arousal flooding through his oversensitive body.
”Turn around and face me, and kneel.”
Shakily, Legolas obeyed the command, keeping his golden head bowed the way both of his lovers preferred it. He prostrated himself before his father with a strange grace; one that immediately conveyed to Thranduil that his son was more than practiced at such things. The younger elf was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, an undeniably erotic gesture for one who nearly always kept himself hidden behind a mask of cool regality and fierce strength.
”Come, give your king’s cock a good sucking, mairëa,” Thranduil purred, the smooth tone of his voice sending waves of bewildering heat into Legolas’ nether regions. He hesitated visibly, lips parting in silent protest. How could he betray his Estel in such a way? How would he ever explain?
”A-Ada, please.. I swore..”
”You swore what, little Greenleaf? To bend over the throne of a king of Men and let him fuck you at will?” Thranduil’s tone was dripping with seductive acid, and the vulgar images his words were painting in Legolas’ mind made his eyes widen, cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment. He tried shaking his head weakly in denial, but lying was never his strong point, and his father could read the signs of both his hröa and fëa flawlessly.
”What a pretty whore of a prince..” Legolas tried closing his legs to hide the way his traitorous body was responding to the attention, but his kneeling position kept him from doing so, clearly betraying his arousal. Thranduil’s half-lidded eyes glinted with lustful amusement as he casually settled into a large, velvet-lined chair behind him, making absolutely no move to cover his own massive erection. Legolas swallowed visibly upon seeing it, wide-eyed as if someone had poured a rain of burning coals down his arching back.
“Ada.. I can’t..”
”You dare refuse your father, your king?” Thranduil echoed, a note of peril breaking into his smooth, honeyed voice. His deep blue eyes were locked on his son’s ones, noting how wide his pupils were blown with arousal, however he was trying to fight against it. “You are in my halls now, and you will do as I tell you,” the Elvenking whispered seductively, watching as Legolas licked his rosy lips nervously, his own cock twitching hard between his legs. “Come, my slutty little prince; I know you are longing for my cock. Is this what that filthy king of Men did to you, meleth-nín, fucked you so hard that your poor mind can’t think of anything else but being filled?”
”Ada,” Legolas moaned plaintively, scarlet with shame. A part of him was rebelling fiercely at hearing Aragorn, his lover so degraded, but his cock was throbbing lewdly at his father’s harsh words. He hesitantly nuzzled his face against the silken-smooth flesh of Thranduil’s thigh, wet lips so dangerously close to the massive shaft that was turning his rational thoughts into jelly.
”That’s it, little leaf,” and Thranduil groaned deep when he felt those hot, sweet familiar lips struggling to wrap around the weeping head of his cock, “remember to whom you swore loyalty, my sweet prince. Do you remember kneeling before me all those years ago, vowing to serve me as your king for the rest of your long life?”
Legolas’ shame-filled moan was muffled by the familiar throbbing heat of his father’s cock. The thick, musky scent of it was addictive, making the elven prince’s head feel dazed and giddy. He couldn’t escape the feeling of humiliation though, the fact that he was technically betraying his lover, but some distant part of his altered mind made him wonder whether Aragorn would be watching them this moment, palming himself languidly as he watched Legolas service his father with such lascivious eagerness. Caught between two kings, his mind supplied, and he shuddered with unbearable desire.
The blonde elf soon found himself licking and swirling his tongue around the tip of his father's shaft with renewed vigor, keeping his hands splayed carefully on the carpet in a gesture of innate submission. Raw instincts were taking over now, stifling the conflicting whirl of emotions in his mind as he worked to take Thranduil's cock deeper into the tight, wet heat of his throat. The Elvenking smirked lightly upon noticing that little to nothing remained of his son's gag reflex; further evidence of his clandestine activities with his long-time Dúnedain lover. Legolas was taking his cock as beautifully as a skilled palace whore- elegant cheeks flushed and glowing, lips bitten and swollen, bright eyes hazy with lust. Tears glittered on his dark lashes like drops of starlight as he struggled dutifully for breath; the sight of his beautiful son so debased made Thranduil come then and there, spilling a torrent of burning-hot seed down his son's throat.
"Swallow every drop, ion-nîn," he commanded softly, and Legolas lapped wetly at his father's shaft to clean it, cheeks flaming red with both humiliation and sinful desire. His own cock was throbbing shamefully between his legs, clearly betraying how much he was enjoying the rough treatment.
Thranduil's deceptively slender fingers tangled abruptly in Legolas' hair, pulling him away from his cock with a lewd popping sound. The beautiful elven prince looked positively ruined; his dignity and refined elegance long since stripped from him, leaving him bare and hard and wanting. Thranduil couldn't help but think vainly to himself that he doubted Legolas ever begged so prettily in King Elessar's bed as he did in his own father's chambers.
Legolas gasped softly as Thranduil suddenly lifted him as roughly yet effortlessly as if he weighed no more than a woodland leaf. "Ada!" Within seconds, he found himself sprawled on his front on the thick, luxurious sheets of the king's bed, the vulnerable position leaving the toned, silky-smooth globes of his buttocks lewdly exposed. His aching cock was crushed into the mattress, soiling the mussed sheets as droplets of precum leaked from the angry tip. "A-Ada, please.. need you.."
"Good little slut, always asking so sweetly for what you want," Thranduil praised him, like a beautiful serpent with honeyed venom dripping from its fangs. His strong hands gripped Legolas' buttocks roughly, provoking whimpers as ruddy nail-marks appeared on the flawless ivory skin. For a brief second, Legolas thought he might be granted the blessing of oil, but belatedly remembered his father rarely ever bothered with such trifles the way Aragorn did. He preferred the sacred melding of pleasure with pain, and so Legolas cried out loudly at the first breach of that massive cock into his impossibly tight hole. It burned, it burned horribly, but the stretch of it was divine and sent all rational thoughts spinning from his mind like Elbereth's stars wheeling overhead.
"Ada!"
"Patience, my pretty little whore," his father crooned huskily in his ear, slamming his hips roughly forward as he sheathed himself entirely inside the divine heat of his son's lithe, perfect body. Legolas was writhing underneath him, his slender fingers grasping in vain at the bedsheets for purchase and his toes curled in blissful agony of being torn apart by his father's cock. "If you're good for me, I'll let you have your release, sweet Legolas," and the prince nodded frantically, whimpering with blind eagerness as incoherent moans spilled from his rosy lips.
"Ada! So big, so full.. I-I can't.."
"Hush now, meleth-nín; you're taking me wonderfully like the little slut you are. So obedient to your king," Thranduil hummed darkly under his breath, bending down to lavish hot, open-mouthed kisses on the porcelain skin of his son's throat. It was as if his little leaf was made for this, to be hammered into the royal bed until he forgot his own name and could think of nothing but wanting to be filled with cock. "Elessar can never give you this," and the deep growls in his throat made Legolas' insides twist with arousal, as the brutal thrusts of his father's hips brought his heavy balls slamming lewdly against his bruised buttocks. "Only I can, isn't that right, my prince? Only your king can truly own you," and he groaned loudly, thrusting so hard that Legolas keened like a wild thing, shaking uncontrollably as his angelically beautiful father fucked him blindly into the mattress.
Dizzily, Legolas recalled the tenderness with which his beloved Estel would always care for him after their rough bedplay, compared to the possessive, all-consuming ardor of the Elvenking. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but it was swiftly driven out by another brutal thrust of the massive cock inside him, threatening to split him apart. "Y-Yes, Ada!" he gasped out, unable to stop the moans from rolling freely from his lips. "Y-Yes, hîr vuin, only you can own me.."
"You always did have the voice of angel, ion-nîn; shall I call you Tinúviel?"
Legolas gasped at the sheer predatory lust in his father's tone, and a dizzying wave of flame washed over his body, shattering his vision into a splintered mural of pleasure. He was vaguely aware of Thranduil's hips grinding into him with bruising force as his own release flooded into his son's tight, clenching channel; the sensation of being so utterly filled was nothing short of divine.
Both the king and prince were panting heavily as they separated, their bodies slick with sweat and creamy fluids. Legolas couldn’t help but moan as he felt the swollen bulk of his father’s cock leave him, rivulets of cum leaking lewdly from his red, swollen hole. Thranduil’s thick fingers spread him open, gently rubbing at the sore, oversensitive flesh and listening to his pretty son’s whimpering moans.
”Please, Ada.. t-that part is dirty..”
”No part of you is dirty, my little leaf,” Thranduil reassured him softly, pressing a tender kiss to Legolas’ flushed cheek before slowly, carefully pulling his exhausted son close to him in the bed. Legolas mewled sleepily and nestled into the smooth, strong chest of his father, his legs too weak and sore to move, and his body feeling battered with ecstasy and weariness.
They lay quietly that way for what seemed a long while, before Legolas finally gathered the courage to murmur softly, “Ada? Are.. are you truly angry with me, about my love for Elessar?”
Thranduil hummed and kissed his son’s temple gently, his hand wandering slowly under the bedsheets to graze teasingly over Legolas’ soft cock. “Of course not, ion-nîn. In fact, I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to introduce me to this handsome king of Men I’ve heard so much about in the last few years.”
Legolas’ eyes widened visibly and he blushed, but seemed far from displeased, nodding eagerly. “Of course, Ada! I could do so at once!”
Thranduil’s smile remained muffled in Legolas’ silky blonde tresses as the younger elf slowly drifted into a warm, exhausted slumber. The gears of the king’s mind were already turning, filling his imagination with images of his beautiful son lewdly sandwiched between himself and the dark-haired King Elessar as they hammered him into oblivion with their thick cocks.