I shouldn't be allowed to write. Aro/Thranduil because of a conversation I saw on tumblr. I am sorry.
'Most would consider it a great privilege just to kneel at my feet." Thranduil had scoffed, content in the warm drunkenness that swept over him like a slowly rising tide, kissing at his face until his cheeks were pinched pink and his fingertips tingled lightly. "But of course you are the exception."
A silver cascade of glittering silks gathered amongst the floor where he has disregarded his robe, and a collection of crystal glasses, still half filled with wine, sat settled and forgotten at the table.
He hadn't expected his guest to pay his mindless comment any heed. He clearly had no interest in considering any of his other requests. So he definitely did not expect the man; nay, a fellow king to his own, to rise from his seat only to slide to his knees before him without another word.
Thranduil's mouth ran dry as a pair of lips pressed against the tip of his boot, pausing briefly before doing the same with the other, then his ankle, his knee, his thigh – and when those soft pretty lips finally made contact with the thin fabric of his groin, Thranduil almost fell to his own knees as a broken gasp escaped him, and he has to scramble to hold himself upright against the table edge as the cold breath contrasted against the sudden hotness coiled between his legs.
Afterwards burned into his mind is the memory is a pair of scalding red eyes watching as they guide him to a release he hasn't tasted in a lifetime.