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By: Sheyrena Wyrsabane&————————————————————————A/N: Response to a prompt over at avengerkink. I'd classify this as friendship, but if you want to, you can see the beginnings of slash.Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. It's how Tony described himself when Steve asked him what he was without his suit, but Tony should've added something else to that list. Liar. Though, if he told the truth by saying he was a liar, did that make him a truth teller? These were the kinds of puzzles that the genius in him loved. That part of his little self-description was true at least.Though he supposed none of it was exactly untrue. The playboy thing was a little misunderstood, but watching Steve shift uncomfortably at the term was worth it. So was the look over Natasha had given him. Yes, technically because of the vast number of people Tony had sexual encounters with, he was a playboy, but he was also Tony Stark so he despised labels. He was too unique for a word or phrase to neatly sum up who he was.He slept with people, but it wasn't for his reputation or because he was particularly horny. He did it for the rare moments that someone's hand cupped his cheek or danced their fingers down his chest or even held his hand on the walk home. He did it for the little moments that most people forgot in the rush to get naked.He liked to linger in bed after sex, but that pleasure had been denied to him as his reputation grew. Women, and men, assumed that all he wanted was sex, and they would get up to shower or leave right after making him feel dirty and used.Things had changed once he became an Avenger. There were now five other people living in his Tower, making it more difficult to bring people home, and he had a new reputation to uphold now. As a member of the group dedicated to saving the Earth, he couldn't afford to rent a couple hours at a motel just for the distant hope that he would feel something.That wasn't the only reason his image had started to change. Thor was also a part of it. Thor who always greeted everyone with a solid slap on the back or a firm handshake, and those moments were what Tony craved. He let Thor almost knock him off his feet to feel the touch of Thor's hand on his back, to feel like he was one of the team. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly brave, he'd even clasp Thor's shoulder in return."Again?" Clint asked, casting a critical eye at Tony who was struggling to stay on his feet, even as he took another sip of his whiskey."I have to take two drinks every time," Tony said, weaving his way over to the couch where Steve was pretending to flip through a magazine as he kept an eye on Tony. "One for me, and one for the dear Captain who can't get drunk."Steve's smiled was forced, stretched too tight across his face. "I explained to him that that wasn't necessary and to stop calling me Captain, but I don't think I got through to him.""Oh Captain, my Captain!" Tony proclaimed, falling into Steve's lap. Steve automatically reached his hands out to keep Tony from tumbling to the ground, and pulled him firmly onto Steve's lap.Steve rolled his eyes and cast Clint a 'you see' look. Clint shrugged, decided that Tony was officially Steve's problem, and headed out before someone could find a way to saddle him with the responsibility of looking after their resident alcoholic.Steve sighed and ran his hands through Tony's hair, something the man would never allow if he was sober. As it was, Tony curled up on Steve's chest like a cat, tucking his head beneath Steve's chin."Why do you do this to yourself?" Steve asked quietly, but Tony didn't answer him.Steve pried the glass from Tony's hand and carried the half-conscious man back to his bedroom. Tony's room was dominated by his bed, a piece of furniture far larger than two humans could ever require. Even Steve and Thor could fit easily on Tony's bed. All of the Avengers could probably fit as long as Bruce wasn't Hulked out.Steve had heard rumors of Tony's bed, and he had an idea of why it was so big, but he hadn't seen anything since he had started living at Stark Tower. He wondered if Tony was beginning to turn his life around. It was what happened when you were handed responsibility, especially the responsibility of protecting the world. You had to grow up. Tony was a little late to the maturity game, but he had never been one to do the expected.Steve smiled as he tucked Tony into bed, hoping that he had been at least a small part of this change. He had taken a liking to Tony, even though he was loud, crude, and sometimes offensive. Maybe it was because of those things that Steve liked him, because he was everything Steve wasn't. Steve was drawn to this side of Tony but worried for him when he started to tip toward the side of self-destruction. It was why he worried whenever Tony started drinking.Hopefully everything would be better in the morning. Tony would wake up hungover, but after some coffee, he and Bruce could go down to the lab to tinker around. Steve didn't understand anything that they did down there, but he knew when Tony wasn't in invention mode or research mode or general knowledge mode then he drank more, and if he drank too much then when he woke up he wasn't in the mood to work and thus started a vicious cycle."What am I going to do with you?" Steve asked, running his hands through Tony's hair again. It was a personal gesture, and he felt guilty for doing it, but Tony smiled, his eyes half-lidded and glazed."Stay," Tony said, his hand tugging on Steve's.Tony always asked Steve to stay when he was like this, and Steve always said no. Tony didn't know what he was asking for, and Steve didn't want to imagine Tony's reaction if he woke up with Steve in bed with him. They were teammates and Steve considered them friends, and that meant not sharing a bed."Good night," Steve said, pulling his wrist free. "Try not to wake up hungover."Tony woke up with his head pounding. He groaned and buried his face in his pillow wishing that either his head would explode or there would be someone lying next to him to comfort him. He reached an arm out and hit empty air before his arm dropped to the bed.He was almost desperate enough to get drunk and come onto Thor but not quite. Part of him knew that sleeping with his fellow Avengers was a very bad idea and even though Tony Stark had a reputation for very bad ideas, this was one he should definitely not follow through on. The self-preserving part of him knew that he probably wouldn't survive sex with Thor. If a casual back slap could knock Tony off his feet, he didn't want to think what sex would do.Wincing at the very thoughts he promised himself he wouldn't have, Tony contemplated the chances of not having to get out of bed today. Or at least getting to sleep in."You have a full schedule today," Pepper said, way too cheerful for this early in the morning as she flounced into his room with a cup of coffee.Tony groaned and covered his face with his pillow in a childish attempt to make her go away. A moment later his pillow was snatched away, and he was given a steaming mug of coffee to make up for it."This is your own fault," Pepper said like Tony needed the reminder. "I told you to stop drinking so much. You were doing so well. What happened?"He got lonely, Tony thought, but instead of saying anything he took a drink of his coffee. It was hot and burned down his throat as he swallowed. He knew he was an affectionate drunk, and usually he could find someone to reciprocate. Of course, he didn't usually drink around the Avengers. That was probably why he wasn't having any luck. Maybe he should go out to the bar tonight. He had promised himself he would stop, but it had been so long, and all he wanted was to be held.He knew this came back to his childhood, hell, didn't everything? His father had never loved him, and maybe he still hadn't gotten over that. Maybe he was still looking for that one person to know everything about him, every flaw, every imperfection, every annoying habit, and tell him that he loved him. Or maybe Tony read too many pop psychology books.He sighed, feeling a whole new kind of headache coming on and waved off Pepper's concerned look. "What's first on the list?""Shower then suit because you have a meeting with the board of directors," she said. "I'll put your briefcase and a summary of what's going to be talked about on the kitchen table with your toast."She waited for him to get out of bed before walking briskly out the door to get everything ready for him.Tony was well and truly wasted, clinging to the lip of the bar counter to keep himself standing. Everything around him was swirling in slow motion and his limbs felt heavy, almost pleasantly free from responsibility. Maybe he should sit.He plopped himself down onto a bar stool, looking around to see if he could find any possible candidates for the night's adventure. He had a hard time focusing on people, their features blurring together, but it didn't really matter what they looked like, did it? He just wanted a body after all."Sir, I think you've had enough," the bartender said as Tony motioned to his already full glass for a refill."Preposterous," Tony said. He could say the word preposterous. He clearly wasn't drunk. He slowly rotated in a circle until he was leaning on the bar again, or maybe that was just his vision playing tricks on him. He should wear the suit sometime when he was drunk so JARVIS could take stats and tell him what exactly being drunk did to his senses. He made a mental note to remember that in the morning."Is there someone I can call for you?" the bartender asked.Phone call! That was a brilliant idea. Tony pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts, searching for the name of someone he'd taken to bed before. He was sure they'd be up for seconds, and he was having difficulty finding someone here. He was also having difficulty reading his contacts."I'm getting old," Tony said, mournful as he stared at the screen. "I can't read anymore.""Let me," the bartender said, taking the phone out of Tony's hands. A moment later, the man was talking to someone on the other line. "Yes, hello. Are you a good friend of Tony Stark? Would it be too much trouble for you to come get him? I think he's had a little too much to drink. Yes, no thank you."The bartender slid Tony his phone. "Someone is coming to get you.""Someone fun?"The bartender shrugged. "I called your emergency contact. He sounds like a decent guy."Emergency contact? Since when did Tony have one of those? He thought he might have put Pepper as his emergency contact once, but she wasn't a guy. Maybe she was tired and her voice was gravely and the bartender was confused. Tony couldn't wait to tell her that she'd been mistaken for a guy."If you're going to drink like this, could you at least do it in the Tower?" Steve asked appearing at Tony's side.Woah, Tony thought, spinning to face him. Did he have teleportation powers now? Or maybe this was Loki playing tricks. Or maybe, wait, were those arms picking him up?Steve sighed when Tony turned to look at him and almost fell over. He had thought last night was bad, but apparently Tony was in a rare mood. He picked Tony's phone up off the counter, closed Tony's tab, and thanked the bartender before heading back to the Tower. He was having a serious talk with Tony in the morning.Steve knew he couldn't control Tony, no one could, but if he was going to get out of control like this, he needed to keep in the Tower. What if someone found him while he was vulnerable and attacked him? Alone, drunk, and without his suit, Tony made an easy and very tantalizing target. At the thought of Tony getting hurt, Steve held him closer, and Tony nuzzled his cheek."So what happened today?" Steve asked as they walked the few blocks back to Stark Tower."Nothing," Tony mumbled, his words barely understandable. "Bored."Steve laughed. "You were bored? You're a billionaire business owner and charity founder, you have an entire building filled with anything you could possibly imagine, and you're part of a superhero team that's tasked with defending the Earth. How do you get bored?""Sorry we can't all be perfect like you," Tony said, giving Steve a weak push, but even at full strength Tony couldn't budge Steve."I'm not perfect," Steve said. "I just don't understand why you're acting out."He sounded like Pepper when she was gearing up for one of her lectures. Tony didn't want to hear it."I told you, I was bored.""It's a weak excuse," Steve said. "I'd expect better from a genius.""Trying to keep things on your level," Tony said. A moment later he found himself on the ground, Steve having let go of him. "Mmph," he said, looking around at the dirty sidewalk. "Why'd you drop me?""Why are you doing this?"Tony wasn't sure what Steve was asking about. Why was he talking back? Why was he drinking? Why was he such a mess all the time? Why couldn't he just be happy with everything he had in his life? Why couldn't he be normal? Those were too many questions, and Tony didn't even know where to start answering them. He didn't even want to answer them. His business was his business, and Steve should stay out of it."We need you," Steve said. "Not just your brain or your money or even your stupid pretentious tower. We need you to make our team complete. Please stop doing this to yourself."Of course they needed him, Tony thought. He was the glue that held the Avengers together. They'd be a bumbling mess without him. Hearing Steve say it though, felt good. It made him regret going out tonight. It made him regret making Steve come all the way out here to get him. Steve hadn't said it, but he was disappointed. It rolled off of his perfectly broad shoulders in waves. He was Captain America, literally the American Ideal, and Tony was the bad boy screw-up.He raised his arms up, not caring how ridiculous he must look. "Carry me?"Steve nodded and scooped Tony up into his arms, carrying him back to his room. Tony was asleep by the time Steve reached the Avengers' suite, and he didn't linger tonight after putting Tony to bed. Instead, he went back to the kitchen where Pepper was sitting with two cups of tea. She pushed one across the table, and Steve sat down in front of it."How bad?" she asked."You should clear his morning."She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I don't know what happened. He was doing so well.""He said he's bored," Steve said."Well if that's the case, I'll pack his schedule even tighter." She tried to smile, but the attempt at humor failed. This was too serious to joke about."It makes sense," Steve said. "Saving the world from Loki was a whirlwind of activity, a constant adrenaline high. He must not be adjusting as well as he was letting on.""Are you?" Pepper asked, concerned at how well he seemed to understand Tony's condition.Steve's smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "You can't worry about everyone. I'll see what I can do about getting Tony in better shape. It might require rearranging his schedule.""Anything you need," Pepper said. "I don't think he'd survive another complete breakdown."Steve nodded and they sat in silence, sipping their tea.Steve was completely unsympathetic the next morning, coming into Tony's room at exactly 10:05am after knocking unnecessarily loudly on the door."I hate you," Tony said, bleary eyed and blinking as Steve flipped the light on."I brought you coffee," Steve said. "You have to stand up and come over here to get it."Under most circumstances, Tony would be intrigued by this bossy, demanding side of Steve, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep until he wouldn't hurt from last night. He tried to pull his blanket over his head to block out the light, he was going to have to talk to JARVIS about getting dimmer lighting, but the comforter was ripped out of his hands and tossed to the floor."Hey!" Tony protested. "How did you know I wasn't naked under there?""I put you to bed," Steve said. "Now get up."Apparently Captain I've Got a Stick up my Ass wasn't in the mood for jokes this morning. Well, Tony wasn't in the mood for being harassed when he felt like his head was going to explode. His body felt too heavy, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep."You're obnoxious, this morning.""I'm on a strict schedule, today," Steve said. "You have ten minutes to be dressed before I'm leaving."Leaving? Finally, Tony thought, grabbing an extra pillow to curl around. He wondered if Steve would give him his blanket back before he left the room. He looked over at Steve to ask and realized for the first time that Steve wasn't in his usual get-up. He was still wearing his impossibly tight pants and a non-descript white v-neck, but he had a Mets cap on his head. Was this Tony's mind playing tricks on him again?"I thought you were a Dodgers fan.""They moved to the other side of the country while I was asleep. I'm going to the game today. I have two tickets." Steve checked his watch. "I'm leaving the Tower in eight minutes."Two tickets. A schedule. Things started to click. "You want me to come to the game with you?"Steve grinned. "There's that genius mind you're famous for." He put Tony's coffee down on the table. "Seven minutes."With that final warning, Steve strode out of the room, leaving Tony to throw himself out bed. The movement was too much too fast, and Tony's stomach revolted. He rushed to his bathroom, gasping for breath over the toilet, but luckily he didn't throw up. This was going to be one of those days where he got excited about the little things.Such as the glass of water and Advil on his bedside counter. He wasn't sure whether that had been Steve or Pepper, but he was willing to kiss them both.By the time Tony made it to the living room, he only had a minute left. He'd struggled getting into his jeans, the zipper and button almost too much for him, but he wasn't going to wear sweatpants to a baseball game with Steve. Not going wasn't an option either, no matter how tempting his bed was.Steve was in his power stance in the living room, legs spread a little more than shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his chest when Tony walked in. The effect should've been ruined by the baseball cap, but it completed the 'I'm a super soldier from the 1940s' look. Or maybe that was the brown leather jacket Steve insisted on wearing everywhere."You want anything before we go?" Steve asked."Aren't you afraid to ruin your perfectly timed schedule?" Tony grinned and grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet. He didn't want it right now, but he'd be hungry later."I don't want us to miss the train," Steve said, heading toward the elevator. Usually he ran up and down the stairs for the exercise, but he was thirty seconds behind schedule."Train?" Tony echoed, following him. "Why are we taking the train?""I like trains."Of course he did, Tony thought. He probably liked making model airplanes too. Tony made a mental note of that, deciding that if today went well then he'd buy one for Steve to put together. And by went well, Tony meant he really hoped he didn't throw up on the train. Close quarters, questionable smells, and sudden jerky movements didn't seem like very good idea in his state, but Steve's eyes were shining with boyish excitement under the brim of his hat, and Tony couldn't ruin that."How'd you talk Pepper into this?" Tony asked as they headed down into the subway."It was a mutual decision," Steve said, "and Sundays aren't a particularly busy day for you."Tony had forgotten it was Sunday. It was a Sunday, and he'd gotten up before noon. If Steve didn't look so adorably perplexed by sticking his ticket in the slot so he could get through to the train, Tony might be angry."Here," Tony said, taking one of the tickets from Steve so he could show him how to do it. Their fingers brushed, for the briefest moment, and Tony couldn't help his small smile as the ticket popped up in another slot and the doors opened letting him pass through."Huh," Steve said, standing and just staring."Schedule?" Tony reminded, but there was a large smile on his face. He should take Steve out into the world more, if he got so excited about all the little things. He wished he'd been there when Steve first discovered automatic doors."Right," Steve said, collecting himself, and putting his ticket through."So, you're a big baseball fan?" Tony asked as they headed down yet another flight of stairs to where their train would pull up."Yep. Baseball and the army. Those were the only two things I cared about as a kid.""You ever think about playing?" Tony asked, looking at the bench debating sitting for a moment before deciding he wasn't going to risk whatever disease might be on it. Steve, of course, sat down without a second glance.Steve laughed, shaking his head. "I wasn't the athletic type. You want to sit down?" He motioned to the empty space beside him, and Tony wrinkled his nose. "You aren't this much of a priss when you're drunk," Steve said. "I distinctly remember you sitting down on the sidewalk last night.""I believe that was because you dropped me," Tony said. He should probably burn his clothes from last night. It wasn't like it would be hard to get new ones."Come on, sit," Steve said, pulling Tony down onto his lap. "Pepper said that you're going to be tired all day. She also said you were going to be cranky.""You and Pepper have been talking a lot," Tony said. It was supposed to come out accusingly, but then Steve lightly looped his arms around Tony's waist, folded his hands on Tony's legs, and rested his chin on Tony's shoulder, and Tony couldn't find it in him to be angry.Steve's chest was warm against his back, and it was almost like he was holding Tony, and Tony had to fight the urge to curl up in Steve's arms like some kind of overgrown cat. They were on their way to a baseball game, and they were both grown men which meant no cuddling. This was why Tony got drunk all the time. That was the only situation it was acceptable for him to cuddle other people."We have similar interests," Steve said."What, me?" Tony asked, teasing.Steve didn't have to answer, because their train arrived, and he almost dropped Tony to the ground in his excitement to get up. Tony laughed as Steve rushed him to the yellow line, trying to guess where the train's doors were going to open. When the doors whooshed open, Tony had to put a hand on Steve's arm so he wouldn't trample the people trying to get off."You really like trains," Tony said as Steve claimed a standing spot, wrapping one of his large hands around the metal pole coming out of the ground."It's nice to see that not everything's changed," Steve said.Tony gripped the same pole, even though he knew he should sit down, but Steve had that enthusiastic smile on his face, and Tony didn't want to miss a minute of it. Of course, when the train lurched to a start, Tony almost fell, his balance not nearly as good as it usually was. Steve's free arm slipped around his waist, helping to hold him up."See? Aren't they fun?"Tony's was stomach rolling, his head was pounding, and his knees were shaking from the lack of food in his system, but he nodded, because he didn't want to ruin this for Steve.Tony suspected Pepper's influence in acquiring the tickets, because they were sitting right on the first base line, and he didn't think Steve understood computers or credit cards well enough yet to order tickets online. He'd have to do something extra nice for Pepper. A new pair of shoes? One of those fruit things that was supposed to look like a bouquet of flowers? He'd have to think about it, but not right now. Right now he was starving."I'm going to grab something to eat," Tony said. "You want anything?"His question went unanswered. Steve was leaning forward in his seat, watching the players warm up like it was bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded, and the home team down by 1. One of the Mets was sideways skipping through the outfield, rotating his shoulders, trying to get his body loose. Tony shook his head, deciding he'd buy enough food now to last them through the game, because he didn't think Steve was going to move until the stadium was empty.Tony came back with three hotdogs, two hamburgers, cracker jacks, cotton candy, and two sodas."A little help?" he asked, trying not to drop anything.Steve tore his gaze away from the field, shocked when he looked at Tony. Was that some kind of new magic or had he missed the man leaving? Tony impatiently cleared his throat, and Steve remembered he was supposed to be doing something. He took the drinks and set them down in the cup holders, before grabbing a hotdog and a hamburger. Tony put the cracker jacks and cotton candy down for later and dug into his hot dog."They don't have beer anymore?" Steve asked after he had finished chewing and swallowing his first bite of hotdog."They do," Tony said through a mouthful of bun and ketchup. "You want one?"Steve shook his head, a smile on his face that Tony didn't understand. Tony shrugged and went back to his hotdog. He felt like he could eat for days. He really needed to stop drinking like he had last night. Not only did he feel like crap in the morning, but he was going to put on twenty pounds if he ate like this too often.They finished their lunch as line-ups started being announced, and Steve went to throw out the trash while the Marlins were introduced.Top of the fifth, the Mets were up 3-2, but the Marlins had the bases loaded, two outs. Steve was on the edge of his seat, watching as RA Dickey wound up for his pitch. The ball cracked off Giancarlo Stanton's bat, and Steve held his breath as the ball began to sail toward homerun territory.The centerfielder hit the warning track and caught the ball, a relieved sigh passing through the crowd. Steve leaned back in his seat, shifting as he realized that stadium seats weren't made for men his size. He stretched his legs out, his knee brushing Tony's, missing the smile that crept up Tony's face.It was four o'clock by the time they got back to Stark Tower, and Steve was wearing his Mets hat proudly after at 6-4 victory. Tony was exhausted, desperately in need of a nap, but he didn't want this afternoon to end. He was still grinning from the absolute delight on Steve's face when he discovered cotton candy, and he wondered how soon he could get a cotton candy machine installed in the Tower. He put it on his list of things to do tomorrow when thinking was easier."You should rest until dinner," Steve said, guiding Tony back to his room. "Pepper says you have a full day tomorrow, and you aren't allowed to be grumpy for it.""Full days always make me grumpy," Tony said, but the idea of his bed sounded really good right now. The idea of Steve in his bed with him sounded ever better. He had reached the stage of overtiredness where it almost felt like he was floating, registering things just a moment too late, like the fact that he was sitting on the edge of his bed, and Steve was helping him get his shoes off."You just love getting me into bed," Tony said, waggling his eyebrows.Steve's hands paused on Tony's second shoe before he took it off and brought them over to Tony's closet."I'll have JARVIS wake you when dinner's ready," Steve said, picking Tony's blanket up off the floor where they'd left it this morning."Wait," Tony said, reaching his hand out to grab Steve's wrist before he'd given what he was about to do any thought.Steve stilled, confused, and Tony floundered around for something to say. He shouldn't have said anything after Steve didn't respond to his flirting, but he hadn't meant to be suggestive. That wasn't what he was looking for from Steve. He liked the easy way Steve's arm fit around his, the spark of warmth he felt whenever Steve's knee brushed his at the game, but it was missing something. Steve had done that out of necessity or by accident. Tony wanted to Steve to hold him on purpose, because he wanted to, because Tony was worth being with."Stay?" he finally asked, his fingers softening around Steve's wrist so Steve could leave if he wanted to but not willing to completely let go."You ask me this when you're drunk as well," Steve said, unsure what to do. He could brush Tony off when he was his eyes were lidded, seductive, but right now? There was a rare vulnerability in Tony's eyes, a desperation in the touch of his hand that made Steve hesitate."I just want you to hold me," Tony said. "Scout's honor."A small smile curved Steve's lips. "I have difficulty believing that you were ever a Boy Scout."Even so, he slipped his shoes off and climbed into bed with Tony. Tony rested his head on Steve's chest, and Steve's arms wrapped around him, almost surprised when there was no witty comment at hand or hand trailing up his thigh. This hadn't been a joke. Tony's fingers were fisted in the fabric of Steve's shirt, and Steve realized for the first time what Tony really needed."You should've said something," Steve said, even though he knew admitting weakness wasn't something Tony Stark was known for doing. All of the drinking binges suddenly made sense, how cuddly Tony got when he was drunk, how he'd started drinking more after the first time Steve caught him when he stumbled. It was all for a touch, for the hope of something more. Steve couldn't believe he hadn't seen it earlier."I did," Tony said. "Multiple times.""When I knew you meant what you were saying," Steve corrected. He ran his hand through Tony's hair, and Tony let out a contented sigh before snuggling closer.
【Legolas Greenleaf/Thranduil】《Protection》
writter: aronnaxs
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Legolas and Thranduil cannot admit what they do in the privacy of Thranduil's bedroom. But, after years of lying to one another, Legolas cannot bear their dangerous masquerade any longer and craves the truth.
For gingermaya.
This for the lovely gingermaya who asked for Thrandolas daddy kink a while ago. I don't know if this veers more on daddy issues but I hope it's alright :))
Work Text:
Thranduil is waiting for him that night in his private quarters, illuminated by soft candles and dressed only in his thinnest of sleeping robes, ones that cling sinfully to his form and highlight all his beautiful curves. When Legolas enters, walking carefully like he does not trust his feet, he can hardly believe his eyes. His heart springs into his throat. His breath stops in his mouth. Words vanish from his mind. He can only stand in the doorway mutely, dumbly, staring ahead.
As he hears him, Thranduil turns and inclines his head, a greeting he bestows on all his guests, day or night. His countenance is stoic but his gaze is gentle, maybe warm - and for a moment, he seems vaguely amused at Legolas' reaction. But then it is gone, and he is the king again, Legolas' lord and chief. Nothing else, not even within the walls of their own chambers.
He outstretches a hand slowly, silken material falling back slightly to reveal a long, elegant arm. Legolas keeps his eyes upon his face, not daring to look anywhere else. Not yet. "Captain," Thranduil eventually says though, voice low, commanding. "Why do you stand so silently by the door? It unsettles me."
Legolas swallows heavily at this. Thranduil's tone never fails to make him tremble from the inside out. It is one of the things that started this dreadful mess. But such an intoxicating, blissful mess.
He shakes his head, apologising, and gradually places one foot in front of the other to enter further into the king's heady sanctum. As he comes closer, the subtle but delicious smell of spices and flowers arises to his senses. 'Oh, by the Valar,' he thinks. 'This night will be the death of me.'
But he tries to keep calm, struggles to retain his composure. He walks before Thranduil, head bowed respectfully, and when the elder elf's hand reaches to stroke his cheek, he does all he can not to tremble. Oh how he needs this. But not how they do it - not with this secrecy, not with these lies. He wants to lay under Thranduil, wrap his legs about his powerful waist, feel the force of his thrusts and domination but not just as his sovereign. He craves for so much more than that, though it is terrible to admit. He doesn't want his king, he wants -
"Adar..." He whispers it quietly, as if it is a treacherous thing to utter. And sure enough, it draws Thranduil's finger to his lips, silencing him abruptly.
"Ssh..." he croons. "Don't."
"But -"
"No. We can't."
The words are rushed, almost shuddering. As soon as they are out of the way, Thranduil draws back, rubbing his hands like one would scrub at uncleanliness. Legolas watches him guiltily, wanting to say something but knowing it would not help. He shuffles, wondering if he should leave, wondering if he has wrecked what Thranduil had prepared for them. It always has to be carefully fabricated, any offending holes patched up, so they will not think of what they are doing, of who they are. He intensely regrets what he has said.
But Thranduil soon composes himself, going to the wine bottle resting on a table nearby. There are two glasses there and he fills both of them, the rushing of the liquid breaking the awful tension for a few moments. He clears his throat quietly as he pours, glancing at Legolas out of the corner of his eye. Legolas only responds when he offers him one of the goblets, and then he comes forward, taking it demurely. Their finger tips brush ever so delicately. But it is enough to send shivers throughout both elves' bodies.
Thranduil is gone before Legolas can contemplate it anymore. As if a change of scenery may help, he moves into the adjoining bedroom and takes a long swallow of his drink, turning his back. Legolas observes him from a distance, stranded in the midst of his own confusion. Thranduil is unpredictable, unfathomable. Only he alone knows how his mind works - and even then Legolas is not sure he is fully aware of its machinery. The younger elf certainly doesn't know anything about his inner thoughts, especially not how this night may develop.
But then he turns to him a little, gaze lingering for a fleeting second in a silent invitation. A shiver is driven down Legolas' spine. All the power this beautiful, ancient, wise elf has over him... It secretly thrills him to his core.
He has joined Thranduil in the bedroom before he can even realise what is happening. They take their places, like they always do, in luxurious armchairs by the fire and for a few moments, there is nothing but silence between them. Legolas sips continuously at his drink, for something to occupy himself with, and Thranduil does the same, staring into the crackling flames. If anyone was to watch them (and by the gods, Legolas hoped against everything that no one ever would), they would have no cause to think that their bond stretche a king and his guard sharing some time together at the end of a long day. It is what they want, what they crave to imitate in their interactions. At least here, where such unspoken, forbidden things may occur if they do not cover it up. If they lie to each other, at least it does not feel so bad -
Thranduil suddenly shifts and turns to Legolas. He appears to be about to say something but no words come out. It is uncomfortable to watch him flounder like this so Legolas quickly intervenes. "My lord," he says cautiously. "I can leave you alone if you wish it. I do not want to -"
"No." Thranduil utters it firmly, convincing both himself and Legolas. "No, I do not want you to leave, Captain. I enjoy your company, even if I seem a little out of sorts this evening. Maybe I have had a long day and it is just catching up with me."
Legolas nods, though at times like these, he does not know what it is they are doing. Are they merely shaking off parts of their lives together to concentrate on others or are they pretending they are completely different people? Legolas has never been sure. Possibly Thranduil is operating on a completely different mindset to him. It is not healthy. But what part of this relationship is? he wonders. In one instant, they can be warm and affectionate, the next they are both bewildered and distant. He cannot think how long he can keep this up for anymore.
But he does it for Thranduil, wonderful, enigmatic, powerful Thranduil, and the sake of both of their consciences. He loves to be under his control. As he proves with every night he spends with him, he will do anything for his happiness. If happiness this is -
An immoral, terrible happiness...
Legolas tries to keep his eyes from following so inanely when Thranduil finally leans back in his seat, returning to staring at the fire. He looks so exquisite by this light, an ethereal vision from his wildest, most erotic dreams. Why did it have to be him? he questions himself, definitely not for the first time. Why couldn't it have been one of his fellow guards, someone attainable, someone acceptable? Why -
His thoughts are cut short by the feel of Thranduil's hand suddenly brushing upon his, a delicate, inquisitive touch. He turns to him but his gaze is still elsewhere, ignoring the burn of his eyes. Gently, he weaves his fingers between Legolas' and without any more time for hesitation, draws him to his mouth, placing a kiss upon the palm. He tries not to shudder yet his lips are soft and warm and the act is so intimate it nigh on draws his breath away. This is devastating, maddening, enchanting...
He feels shameful heat rise to his cheeks as he begins to become aroused at the simple caress. He shifts a little in an attempt to hide it yet there is no use when Thranduil moves to his wrist, sucking gently. The elder elf should not know so well what drives him crazy - only he should know that, and a possible partner he still assumes he can find sometime in his life. But no, the king is wise to all and can make him wither in mere seconds. He is the only person that has ever made Legolas feel like this.
And that is a confession he cannot fully admit to himself. It could easily spell out his doom if it continued.
Yet now, sitting by Thranduil once again in his bedroom, he cannot move. He cannot do anything to oppose him. Not even something so meagre as to pull away his hand from the mouth he should not have tasted so many times. He is trapped in this sinful web of lies, where each victim wears a fragile, desperate little mask.
Finally, he feels Thranduil's eyes on him, peering over the short distance that separates them. For a few moments, he cannot bear to face him, but then, irresistibly, irreversibly, he meets his gaze and lost in those beautiful blue orbs, leans forward closer. They do not speak a word - neither can withstand it - as the king softly runs a finger down Legolas' cheek, feeling him tremble, feeling him weaken. He closes his eyes, frightened at the surge of feelings within himself, and only feels it as their mouths brush together, just a feather of a touch but enough to make them both sigh and shake. By the Valar, this should not feel so good.
But every sensation is heightened now as Thranduil's hand runs down his throat, bobbing slightly as he swallows heavily. His lips soon join it, still not quite connecting, and Legolas desperately resists the temptation to delve his fingers into that silvery cascade of his hair. His mouth opens in a small gasp and he squirms again when his arousal intensifies. And yet Thranduil hasn't even properly touched him -
The king pulls away though before he can do anything else. He looks into Legolas' lust-darkened eyes and for a moment, a hint of guilt runs through his own. He covers it up quickly with his next words. "Captain," he whispers. "Will you join me on the bed?"
Legolas should say no - even amongst all this pretending that they do - but he is standing from the chair as quickly as if it is the easiest decision in the world. He follows Thranduil to the bed and they sit at the end of it, facing each other. His hands linger over the hem of his tunic. "Shall I undress, my lord?" he asks. Thranduil nods.
"Please."
It does not take him long to remove his clothing, especially with Thranduil's eyes roaming over him, observing every bit of bared flesh. He guides him back onto the mattress once he is done and side by side, they lay together, one naked, the other still swathed in a thin robe. The feel of its silken material against Legolas' skin is infuriating. He wants to rub even more onto it but he controls himself.
When Thranduil gently touches his face though, he flushes bright red in sinful excitement. He yields to him easily and desperately whispers "my Lord", a final confirmation of their masquerade, as their lips meet.
The kiss that follows is incredible. Thranduil weaves his hands into his hair and plunders his mouth with his tongue, self control slipping at the heated wetness. Legolas cannot help moaning, firmly holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He raises a leg to wrap about his waist, hips already beginning to twitch in order to find gratification but Thranduil grasps him and presses him back down to the bed forcefully. There is nothing more he can do as he gets on top of him and pins down his hands.
He pants helplessly when the kiss is broken and Thranduil immediately begins to nibble at his neck. He becomes hypersensitive when he is aroused and Thranduil knows this, knows exactly which spots are erogenous but still he shows him no mercy, keeping him bound down. It is not until he lets out a heady groan again that he suddenly stops, freezing against his body.
Legolas gradually gains his breath back and feels the hold around his wrists lessen. He frowns and moves them slowly into Thranduil's hair. The king is shaking, his face buried shamefully into Legolas' shoulder. A knot instantly grows in Legolas' stomach. "Ada -" he mumbles. But Thranduil immediately snaps up, expression pained.
"No," he whispers. "Do not say that."
Legolas stares into his troubled eyes, feeling a horrid deluge of feelings storming within himself. It hurts so incredibly to pretend, to lie to each other, but they have to - they cannot admit what happens here in the king' a most terrible sin and betrayal... But which neither can stop. Not now they have tasted its intoxication and illicit allure.
Legolas feels himself trembling as he slips his hands from Thranduil's hair and caresses them down his shoulders, loosening the satin robe. It comes off easily, revealing skin that is just as smooth and soft. He hears him exhale lowly, delicately but he allows the material to fall from his body. He shivers at his touch, even more so when Legolas' lips join his fingers. "Thranduil," he murmurs. "My lord..."
Thranduil closes his eyes. "Captain..." he responds.
And the performance begins again.
Legolas clenches his knees around Thranduil's waist as he captures his mouth once more. They kiss fiercely, passionately, as if they are trying to regain those last few precious seconds, and this time, their nudity means they can rock against each other without fabric constraints. The younger elf digs his nails into the king's sides, raking them up and down, and cannot stop himself sighing and moaning between his lips. They try even harder to block out any other stray notions of what they are doing and in the ferocity of this, Thranduil again pushes Legolas down under his dominion.
Yet it only makes Legolas squirm more. It could never be spoken but he loves to be dominated by the king, adores to feel his power over him. He can order him around out of the prime authority he exudes and he secretly craves it, needs it for him to function. But he also cares for him, treats his every desire, including this clandestine, forbidden one... He wants to be under his protection forever and always...
Oh, Valar, how he loves him. He loves him far too much.
A lump rises in his throat as Thranduil moves away from his mouth and starts to kiss and suck at his ear. He bunches his hands in his hair and winds it around his fingers, wishing he could never let go. "My lord," he cries again. "Don't stop, please..."
But Thranduil doesn't seem to be able to anymore. He ravishes and spoils him as if it is their last moment together and Legolas gasps out encouragements. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from calling out the wrong thing yet it is worth it if it means he can feel these wonderful hands on him or those exquisite lips or that strong, elegant body... What a dangerous game they play, he laments.
Still, he leans back his head to give him access to more skin and opens up his legs enticingly. He hears Thranduil sigh as he settles between those warm thighs and then he is reaching across to the bedside table, rummaging for something. For a second, he pauses as if unsure but quickly continues.
Legolas squeezes shut his eyes as a slick finger breaches him and immediately shifts about. It hurts yet
if they stop, the illusion may break. And it can not break now - not when they are at the height of their passion. It would be their ruin.
So he allows it to happen when a second digit, then another, joins in. Thranduil rubs his thighs and lower stomach - never quite touching his arousal - and he trembles, clenching around him in pain. "Ssh," he whispers apologetically and Legolas cannot help staring at his mouth, wanting it in such awful places. Your own father, a voice suddenly hisses in his head. Stop lying to yourself - He jerks, sobbing out loud. But this time, as his fingers crook, he welcomes the suffering as they drive away the stray thoughts.
Finally, Thranduil deems him sufficiently prepared. He reaches again for the oil and Legolas wraps his legs around his waist. The king leans over him, nibbling at his ear but it is almost too much. "Please hurry," he begs, and it is half in pleasure, half to ensure his guilt does not return.
He has to furiously bite his hand as Thranduil thrusts into him. Even then, his cry is loud and carnal, and he is thoroughly ashamed by it. It is not normal that they make love in this fashion - usually Thranduil will turn him over onto all fours and fuck him so as he cannot see his face. Legolas had forgotten how good it feels to be taken in this position. Though it hurts at first, he is soon moaning in ecstasy, eyes nigh on crossing at every push inside.
Thranduil buries his head in his shoulder and it is not long until he is echoing the sounds he is making. His hands run all over his body, mapping every little place, and Legolas returns the favour, though his nails frequently dig desperately into his flesh. He is sweating, glo the sensations are nearly unbearable. He is going to lose his mind in this bed one night...
And when the older elf thrusts forward and slams against that exquisite little spot inside of him, he almost screams. The world blurs around him for a minute and it is all he can do just to breathe as he does it again. Oh by the Valar, he cannot think, he cannot stay still, he cannot keep this up anymore...
Once more against that secret area and before he can stop it, a cry that he has furiously withheld suddenly rushes to his lips. He can do nothing to quell it, nothing to stifle the sound of it bouncing off the walls. "Daddy!" he shouts fervently. And immediately, everything crumbles down around them. Thranduil stops, stiffening against him. Realising what he has said, Legolas claps a hand over his mouth, tears rushing to his eyes in humiliation.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles weakly, muffled. "I'm so sorry..."
Thranduil gradually raises his head, frowning, and for the first time, looks down upon him, splayed out, flushed, on the bed. "What did you just say?" he asks and Legolas shakes, looking as though he is about to weep. Thranduil touches his hand and gently peels it away from his mouth. He whines, trying to hide from him.
"I didn't mean to say it - I'm so sorry..."
Thranduil pauses for a moment and Legolas kno everything that they have done has vanished because of one simple word. He starts to feel ill - he has disappointed both himself and his glorious, beautiful father. But then Thranduil leans down to him and brushes his mouth once more against his. He stills, shuddering, and doesn't know what to do as the king begins to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, then up to his ear. "Say it again," he murmurs. Legolas furrows his brow in confusion.
"My lord?" he asks.
"No." His hands run down his chest, sliding to his arousal. Despite himself, Legolas shivers.
"I don't -"
"You know what I mean."
Legolas takes a breath and it quickly gets stuck in his throat as Thranduil rubs him up and down, up and down. He closes his eyes in pleasure. "Oh - daddy..." he sighs.
"Yes." The thrusts start again, quickly gaining power and speed. The prince moans, gripping his hands on Thranduil's shoulders. "Yes."
And now it is even more incredible. Legolas cannot help himself calling for Thranduil over and over again and he feels the bed tremble in the force of his desire. "Daddy, daddy!" he shouts and then "ada!" and the king becomes mindless in response, holding him tight. Legolas groans loudly as the masquerade withers away around them. It shouldn't feel so good to let go of all of their carefully constructed lies but oh, and it is impossible to stop now.
It doesn't take long for them to feel the beginnings of the end. Thranduil grasps one of Legolas' thighs possessively and buries his head into his neck, whispering sobbed affections. "My beautiful elfling, my lovely boy..." he gushes and Legolas feels his legs shaking and chest restricting. Tears spill down his reddened cheeks.
"Ada!" he cries. "I - I love you -"
"Yes, I love you also -" Thranduil stems his words for a moment, gasping as Legolas begins to constrict around him. He quivers and jerks, babbling for him, right on the edge. Gently, he kisses his ear and mutters the thing he knows he knows he wants to hear. "Legolas...oh, i?n-n?n..."
"Oh!"
And it is all it takes for Legolas to reach his peak. He throws back his head and writhing, he comes copiously between them, trying desperately hard not to scream. Thranduil embraces him throughout the intense waves and attempts to hold back until he is finished but cannot. With a cry, he sees white lights burst around him and wildly follows Legolas, clutching into his hair for dear life.
When it is finally over, they lay, panting, together. As soon as he is done with cleaning them up, Legolas turns his face from Thranduil, embarrassed, but he slowly reaches over and makes him look at him. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean to call you...that."
"No -"
"But I have felt a need to for a while. I can't help it -" Legolas shivers and Thranduil touches him gently, soothingly.
"Ssh..." He pauses for a moment and takes a breath as he slowly rolls Legolas over into his arms. He cuddles into his chest helplessly. "Maybe it is time we stop pretending to each other. I do not want to make you hide anything."
"But it is wrong," Legolas says emphatically. "We cannot do this. I should not have called you that. It is twisted and disgusting..."
"Then I may also be twisted because I enjoyed hearing you call me that. It has been a long time since you've said anything like it. Granted, I did not think we would be in this position if you spoke it again -"
Legolas frowns and looks up into his father's face. He cannot quite comprehend his tranquility regarding what has happened and what is still happening. He shivers as he touches his hair. "But it can never be the same if we admit what we are doing, who we are... And I cannot lose you, ada. You are everything I have."
Thranduil smiles softly and places a kiss on Legolas' damp forehead. He rubs his back calmingly. "You will not ever lose me, my treasure. I will always be here, no matter what you need of me. We can do whatever you wish. Nothing has to change if we do not want it to."
Legolas stares at him, as if trying to gauge the truth of what he is saying. "Can we really do that, ada? After what happens - here?"
Thranduil nods, bringing Legolas back into his arms. "Of course it can. Don't you fret. You are everything to me, Legolas. Nothing will ever take that away. So I thank you for saying what you did. You have made me realise that we are strong enough to handle the truth together."
Legolas shudders against his neck and holds him even tighter.
"So you can call me my lord, my king, ada, daddy... Whatever you wish. I will love you, no matter what."
A sob escapes Legolas' throat. He buries his head into Thranduil's shoulder and utters "ada," in thanks. Tenderly, Thranduil squeezes him and eases them both down into a comfortable position. Legolas doesn't let go, nor at any time throughout the night. Thranduil keeps him close, reassuring and protecting him and vowing never to stop adoring him.
When they return before their people the following day, it is evident that something has changed between them but no one can pinpoint what. At the end of the evening, Legolas comes to Thranduil's bedroom again and is greeted with the same luxurious sight as he always is, his lovely father draped in beautiful, silken materials. He kneels before him and softly kisses his hand. "Daddy," he mutters quietly. Thranduil lifts his head encouragingly. "Will you look after me?"
Thranduil smiles and gently strokes his cheek. "I will always look after you, i?n-n?n."