Seduction and Submission

Beta: Ilye

2: brandy & rings

Legolas reclined on the bed, his back flush against the beaded coverlet. He was nude from the waste up, his hands over his head, bound with silken scarves to the bed frame. His legs were slightly spread, his lover standing between them. The Wood Elf's erection pulsed in his leggings.

The Prince was a vision of gold and moonlight, of soft curves and hard muscle. Lothvaen felt honored to know the body of Thranduil's heir as intimately as he did. And now he was about to put his permanent mark upon Legolas' fair form. "Are you sure, melethron?" he asked in the warm quiet of the room. Lothvaen licked his lips as his violet eyes focused on the bulge in Legolas' leggings.

Glazed sapphire eyes regarded him from beneath half-closed lids and a smile played on Legolas' lips. "Aye," he breathed. "I will not leave this valley unless you do it, and your Lord will be quite upset with you for delaying me."

Snow had fallen that morning. The Fellowship would set out in three day's time. Legolas had brought up the idea of this little ceremony the previous night, in the languid heaviness of spent passion. Lothvaen could not deny the sense of possession the idea gave him, the lustful thrill at knowing that Legolas would always carry an outward sign of their relationship. It was a permanence he had thought would always be denied him; Lothvaen was but a Healer; he could not be the mate of a great Lord such as Legolas.

But now... Now he was.

"Then let us begin," he said huskily. Lothvaen took a cloth from the table beside the bed, soaked in strong brandy and snow. He placed the icy material across Legolas' heated abdomen and the Prince tensed, his arousal twitching in his suede casing.

After a few moments, Lothvaen removed the cloth and picked up the slender forceps. They were smaller than most, designed for this ritual alone, and he took the small flap of skin between them. They had been resting in the snowy liquid and Legolas hissed with the cold. "Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes dark and intense.

Legolas nodded. "Make me yours."

The words enflamed Lothvaen. He held a large needle between his fingers, larger than a simple sewing needle. The Noldo looked only once into his mate's eyes before stabbing the sharp steel through the skin held tight in the forceps' grip. Legolas let out a pained cry, his eyes widening for a moment. "I am almost done," Lothvaen told him softly. He dipped his fingers into the dish of brandy and snow, retrieving a mithril ring with a small ball resting in the center of it. Inscribed on the ball, in tiny Tengwar, were vows of love, devotion and fidelity.

Lothvaen's skilled hands quickly pulled the needle through, threading the open ring through the large hole he had made in the Prince's navel. He secured the ring and rested the alcohol-soaked cloth across the wounded flesh. "You are mine, Prince of Mirkwood," he said as he crawled on the bed, running a finger lightly over the ridge still in Legolas' leggings.

"Always yours," the Prince whispered, straining against his bonds, eager to taste his lover's lips.

The Noldo removed his robes, revealing a similar ring piercing his left nipple. Legolas had given it to him years ago, claiming Lothvaen as his lover. Now, Lothvaen had given Legolas his token, had marked him as his to all who saw Legolas. The Prince could not hide his choice now, and Lothvaen reveled in the newfound freedom. He unlaced his leggings, sliding the fabric over his slender hips. "I want to take you," he said heatedly, his need to stake full claim almost overwhelming.

"Yes," Legolas hissed, shamelessly spreading his legs. In all their years, the Wood Elf had never permitted him to know his body in this way. Lothvaen bent and bestowed and heated, hungry kisses to Legolas' lips, stealing the breath from his lover's lungs. When the golden Elf lay panting and desperate for his touch, Lothvaen moved down his body.

He removed the cloth, revealing the pierced navel, the blue-tinted metal ball gleaming in the late afternoon light. Legolas arched off the mattress slightly, silently begging for Lothvaen's attention. The Healer could no longer wait. He unlaced the Prince's leggings and swept them off, revealing the Elf-lord's impressive length. It was heavy with moisture and Lothvaen dipped his head down to capture drops of the precious fluid. He lapped at the slit, his own need growing with every whimper and mew Legolas made.

Legolas looked down upon his lover and felt his heart swell. His navel ached, but it was a pleasant ache, one that reminded him he was loved and wanted. The ache was also lessened with each stroke of Lothvaen's talented tongue. The Noldo finally moved between his legs, and Legolas eagerly lifted his knees as far as he could, offering himself to the Healer. "Please, melethen," he begged.

Lothvaen moved down from the shaft, licking and sucking at the tender pouch beneath Legolas' length. More moans and pleas came, the words warming Lothvaen's heart. He slipped lower, nuzzling against Legolas' most intimate place. The Prince became utterly still, completely silent, and Lothvaen smiled. He counted to ten, making Legolas wait, and then snaked out his tongue, caressing the Wood Elf's opening with his tongue.

The Prince's eyes became wide and he saw white for a moment. No other had touched him as Lothvaen was touching him, and he felt the first twinges of trepidation seep in. The fear, though, was washed away when Lothvaen's tongue breached him, gently preparing the way for something much larger, much thicker. He writhed, impaled on that smooth, supple muscle, begging for more.

The Noldo drew back and reached for the oil on the night table. He looked down on the Prince, nude, hard and spread open before him. Lothvaen coated his shaft with the lubricant and then stroked Legolas with that same slick hand. As he slowly moved over the hot column, he pressed in, slipping into the untried body with little difficulty. His hand stilled and his eyes closed, a growl of possession rumbling in his chest.

Legolas let out a loud, low moan as he was filled, completed. He pulled at the scarves, cursing himself for suggesting the bondage. The Wood Elf was pulled from his thoughts when Lothvaen made his first tentative thrust, brushing against something inside his passage that caused Legolas to buck and cry sharply. "Lothvaen!" he panted, his lust dilated eyes falling on the creature laying claim to him.

Lothvaen released Legolas' shaft, clutching the bedspread in his hands as he thrust faster, harder, into that tight, hot sheath of the Prince's body. He teetered on the edge for one blinding moment, and then plummeted over, burying his face in Legolas' neck as he filled his lover with his love.

The Wood Elf shifted uncomfortably, his arousal weeping steadily. Lothvaen's sated gaze fell on him and Legolas felt himself pulse. He needed release, and he hoped his eyes showed the need. A sleepy smile graced Lothvaen's beautiful face and Legolas' heart stopped at the sight. The Noldo gently withdrew from him, though he did not leave his position from between Legolas' legs. The Prince watched with open hunger as Lothvaen took him into the heat of his mouth, and Legolas' eyes fell shut, the vision burned into his memory.

Lothvaen worked his lover's shaft between his lips, suckling the head and teasing the underside with his tongue before swallowing the Prince deeply. He held Legolas' hips down, setting a steady pace, drawing the Prince closer and closer to his release. Lothvaen's talent and skill soon coaxed the warm, salty-sweet seed from his mate's body and he drank all Legolas offered.

In the sated hours following their coupling, the pair lay in silence, finding peace in each other's arms. But, as the night darkened their room, Lothvaen stirred.

"I will miss you," he whispered in the darkness.

Legolas planted a soft, chaste kiss to the center of Lothvaen's chest. "I will miss you as well, meleth. But, you will be with me every step of my journey, in body and in spirit." He brought Lothvaen's hand to the new piercing, hissing with the slight pain the gentle caress caused.

Bright violet eyes gazed at him. "And you with me," he said, resting Legolas' hand over the ring that speared his nipple.


	Navigation multi-part stories previous next Translations meleth - love melethen - my love melethron - lover (m)		Seduction and Submission Beta: Ilye 2: brandy & rings Legolas reclined on the bed, his back flush against the beaded coverlet. He was nude from the waste up, his hands over his head, bound with silken scarves to the bed frame. His legs were slightly spread, his lover standing between them. The Wood Elf's erection pulsed in his leggings. The Prince was a vision of gold and moonlight, of soft curves and hard muscle. Lothvaen felt honored to know the body of Thranduil's heir as intimately as he did. And now he was about to put his permanent mark upon Legolas' fair form. "Are you sure, melethron?" he asked in the warm quiet of the room. Lothvaen licked his lips as his violet eyes focused on the bulge in Legolas' leggings. Glazed sapphire eyes regarded him from beneath half-closed lids and a smile played on Legolas' lips. "Aye," he breathed. "I will not leave this valley unless you do it, and your Lord will be quite upset with you for delaying me." Snow had fallen that morning. The Fellowship would set out in three day's time. Legolas had brought up the idea of this little ceremony the previous night, in the languid heaviness of spent passion. Lothvaen could not deny the sense of possession the idea gave him, the lustful thrill at knowing that Legolas would always carry an outward sign of their relationship. It was a permanence he had thought would always be denied him; Lothvaen was but a Healer; he could not be the mate of a great Lord such as Legolas. But now... Now he was. "Then let us begin," he said huskily. Lothvaen took a cloth from the table beside the bed, soaked in strong brandy and snow. He placed the icy material across Legolas' heated abdomen and the Prince tensed, his arousal twitching in his suede casing. After a few moments, Lothvaen removed the cloth and picked up the slender forceps. They were smaller than most, designed for this ritual alone, and he took the small flap of skin between them. They had been resting in the snowy liquid and Legolas hissed with the cold. "Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes dark and intense. Legolas nodded. "Make me yours." The words enflamed Lothvaen. He held a large needle between his fingers, larger than a simple sewing needle. The Noldo looked only once into his mate's eyes before stabbing the sharp steel through the skin held tight in the forceps' grip. Legolas let out a pained cry, his eyes widening for a moment. "I am almost done," Lothvaen told him softly. He dipped his fingers into the dish of brandy and snow, retrieving a mithril ring with a small ball resting in the center of it. Inscribed on the ball, in tiny Tengwar, were vows of love, devotion and fidelity. Lothvaen's skilled hands quickly pulled the needle through, threading the open ring through the large hole he had made in the Prince's navel. He secured the ring and rested the alcohol-soaked cloth across the wounded flesh. "You are mine, Prince of Mirkwood," he said as he crawled on the bed, running a finger lightly over the ridge still in Legolas' leggings. "Always yours," the Prince whispered, straining against his bonds, eager to taste his lover's lips. The Noldo removed his robes, revealing a similar ring piercing his left nipple. Legolas had given it to him years ago, claiming Lothvaen as his lover. Now, Lothvaen had given Legolas his token, had marked him as his to all who saw Legolas. The Prince could not hide his choice now, and Lothvaen reveled in the newfound freedom. He unlaced his leggings, sliding the fabric over his slender hips. "I want to take you," he said heatedly, his need to stake full claim almost overwhelming. "Yes," Legolas hissed, shamelessly spreading his legs. In all their years, the Wood Elf had never permitted him to know his body in this way. Lothvaen bent and bestowed and heated, hungry kisses to Legolas' lips, stealing the breath from his lover's lungs. When the golden Elf lay panting and desperate for his touch, Lothvaen moved down his body. He removed the cloth, revealing the pierced navel, the blue-tinted metal ball gleaming in the late afternoon light. Legolas arched off the mattress slightly, silently begging for Lothvaen's attention. The Healer could no longer wait. He unlaced the Prince's leggings and swept them off, revealing the Elf-lord's impressive length. It was heavy with moisture and Lothvaen dipped his head down to capture drops of the precious fluid. He lapped at the slit, his own need growing with every whimper and mew Legolas made. Legolas looked down upon his lover and felt his heart swell. His navel ached, but it was a pleasant ache, one that reminded him he was loved and wanted. The ache was also lessened with each stroke of Lothvaen's talented tongue. The Noldo finally moved between his legs, and Legolas eagerly lifted his knees as far as he could, offering himself to the Healer. "Please, melethen," he begged. Lothvaen moved down from the shaft, licking and sucking at the tender pouch beneath Legolas' length. More moans and pleas came, the words warming Lothvaen's heart. He slipped lower, nuzzling against Legolas' most intimate place. The Prince became utterly still, completely silent, and Lothvaen smiled. He counted to ten, making Legolas wait, and then snaked out his tongue, caressing the Wood Elf's opening with his tongue. The Prince's eyes became wide and he saw white for a moment. No other had touched him as Lothvaen was touching him, and he felt the first twinges of trepidation seep in. The fear, though, was washed away when Lothvaen's tongue breached him, gently preparing the way for something much larger, much thicker. He writhed, impaled on that smooth, supple muscle, begging for more. The Noldo drew back and reached for the oil on the night table. He looked down on the Prince, nude, hard and spread open before him. Lothvaen coated his shaft with the lubricant and then stroked Legolas with that same slick hand. As he slowly moved over the hot column, he pressed in, slipping into the untried body with little difficulty. His hand stilled and his eyes closed, a growl of possession rumbling in his chest. Legolas let out a loud, low moan as he was filled, completed. He pulled at the scarves, cursing himself for suggesting the bondage. The Wood Elf was pulled from his thoughts when Lothvaen made his first tentative thrust, brushing against something inside his passage that caused Legolas to buck and cry sharply. "Lothvaen!" he panted, his lust dilated eyes falling on the creature laying claim to him. Lothvaen released Legolas' shaft, clutching the bedspread in his hands as he thrust faster, harder, into that tight, hot sheath of the Prince's body. He teetered on the edge for one blinding moment, and then plummeted over, burying his face in Legolas' neck as he filled his lover with his love. The Wood Elf shifted uncomfortably, his arousal weeping steadily. Lothvaen's sated gaze fell on him and Legolas felt himself pulse. He needed release, and he hoped his eyes showed the need. A sleepy smile graced Lothvaen's beautiful face and Legolas' heart stopped at the sight. The Noldo gently withdrew from him, though he did not leave his position from between Legolas' legs. The Prince watched with open hunger as Lothvaen took him into the heat of his mouth, and Legolas' eyes fell shut, the vision burned into his memory. Lothvaen worked his lover's shaft between his lips, suckling the head and teasing the underside with his tongue before swallowing the Prince deeply. He held Legolas' hips down, setting a steady pace, drawing the Prince closer and closer to his release. Lothvaen's talent and skill soon coaxed the warm, salty-sweet seed from his mate's body and he drank all Legolas offered. In the sated hours following their coupling, the pair lay in silence, finding peace in each other's arms. But, as the night darkened their room, Lothvaen stirred. "I will miss you," he whispered in the darkness. Legolas planted a soft, chaste kiss to the center of Lothvaen's chest. "I will miss you as well, meleth. But, you will be with me every step of my journey, in body and in spirit." He brought Lothvaen's hand to the new piercing, hissing with the slight pain the gentle caress caused. Bright violet eyes gazed at him. "And you with me," he said, resting Legolas' hand over the ring that speared his nipple.