Heart of Ice
To move along from where we've been
I'll sing this song for you again
. . .
1
On and on they droned, their words mingling and slurring until they became a single flow of low nonsense. Occasionally the voices would spike with short-lived sparks of emotion -anger, joy or excitement, but the underlying current of pure, tedious boredom was always the same.
Behind his carefully constructed mask of unreadable expressions, Thranduil Oropherion wanted to scream in frustration, dismiss them all and retire for the night. He'd been stuck with the Council since that very dawn -fourteen hours ago, Valar, not even the fire-breathing serpents had been this dreadful- and his soft bed seemed like a mirage brought on by too much sun.
Ever since the defeat of Sauron, Thranduil's councilors had been blowing every little problem out of proportions, as if desirous to find something to complain about now that their greatest enemy had been vanquished and Mirkwood had been restored to its former glory. Thranduil was sick of their mindless chatter.
With a shake of his beautiful head, the Elvenking rose suddenly, interrupting one of the elves mid-sentence. «That's enough for today, I believe» he said with a calm he didn't feel. «We will resume discussing these matters once Anor rises anew. For now, we have said all there is to say.»
Which was read exactly as it should have been read: 'Stop bitching about every little thing and leave'.
They looked offended, rising with grumbling complacency -all but Miiran, who shot him a knowing look and snickered none-too-quietly behind her hand. Thranduil tilted his head in her direction, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, before he too took his leave.
The Elvenking of the Woodland Realm sighed as he closed the heavy oaken doors of his private quarters. Yes, a day gone to waste with pointless councils and useless words and false courtesy, his only respite coming in the form of his bright, beautiful son and his cheerful words. The ancient monarch smiled fondly at the thought of Legolas, who was off in the woods with his fellow friends from the guard. He was happy to be able to grant his son a few more centuries of peace, before he had to take the crown himself and try not to fall asleep while councilors babbled on about stupid, trivial matters. Thranduil hoped he could spare his iôn that burden, carrying it himself until all his subjects had left for the Undying Lands.
With a long exhale, he began shedding his heavy outer robes, carefully placing them in their proper place into the closet. He took off his rings and crown, leaving them on the vanity, and barefoot, his strong, powerful body covered only by his undertunic, he walked to his bedchamber and opened the doors.
He stopped with a hand on the doorhandle and another abandoned at his side, a leg slightly bent as if to take a step. His eyes widened and his soft lips parted in a gasp.
Curled up on the dark green sheets, still fully clothed apart from his bare feet, Loki from Asgard was sleeping peacefully on his bed, breathing slow and even and bewitching green eyes gently closed. His long dark eyelashes rested on his pale cheeks and one of his arms was bent, the hand looking so defenseless with its palm up, resting upon the pillow.
Movements stiff with surprise, the Elvenking quietly stepped inside his bedchamber, his feet almost making no noise on the cold stone floor. His blue-grey eyes drank in the form of his beautiful lover, sliding over his prominent cheekbones, on the delicate nose, the finely chiseled arch of his lips. In his sleep, Loki looked peaceful, nor worried nor tormented like Thranduil had seen him so many times before. But the dark circles beneath his eyes were no less marked and he was as brutally thin as he'd been the last time Thranduil had seen him. He looked, in a word, too gaunt, and the elf couldn't help but gently brush his long fingers in that dark hair. Loki sighed in his slumber, imperceptibly leaning into the touch, and the ancient king smiled.
Deciding against waking him, Thranduil carefully began to undress him, his nimble fingers working in the subtle way only an elf could, relishing in every inch of pale, supple skin that was revealed to him. He began with his tunic, gently tugging it off Loki's sleeping body, then his trousers and other garments until he was left in nothing but his underclothes. His chest rose and fell with his soft breathing, enticing in its paleness, his long, hairless legs slightly bent at the knees. The king gently ran his hand on one smooth cheek, feeling the soft pale skin beneath his long, elegant fingers -remembering the way those endless legs could wrap around his waist to keep him close, how those delicate hands could run into his golden hair in the gentlest of caresses, how those emerald eyes could shine with both tenderness and mischief at once. Loki's clothes smelt like him, a clean scent of snow and pine trees that refreshed Thranduil's mind and vibrated in his nose and throat.
Once Loki was undressed of his outer clothes, Thranduil gently covered him with the dark green duvet. The god's expression had melted into the slightest of smiles and Thranduil returned it, bending for a moment to leave a butterfly kiss on his luscious lips.
The Elvenking then retreated to take a bath before slipping into bed beside his lover, his surprise still not having worn off, but his joy at it bubbling up nonetheless. He didn't have plans that regarded waking Loki. His bewitching sorcerer looked as if he'd had too little time to sleep as it was, judging by how he'd barely stirred as Thranduil undressed him, and the Elvenking only had in mind to wrap his arms around him and keep him close, waking him when the unfailing nightmares came.
Thranduil frowned as he washed with the forest-smelling soap. He wished he could erase them all away, praying the Valar for a miracle for his Loki -that one day he could wake up and not remember anything, the suffering erased like chalk on a blackboard. It had taken a great deal of trust for Loki to reveal all that had transpired in his
(don't touch me I'm tainted)
young life, and while he'd begged Thranduil more than once not to dwell on it, the Elvenking couldn't help himself. It was at times like these, when he saw Loki in all his innocence as he slept, or gave him that small, tender smile that was reserved only for Thranduil, that the king wished he could meet Odin. Just to choke the life out of him, extinguishing his life like one blows off a burning candle. To feel his bones snap beneath his fingers like fragile dry twigs.
He sighed. As it was, he couldn't do anything to that monster of a man, far away as he was. He could only comfort Loki, holding him in his arms, and beg him not to return to wherever it was that he came from.
Thranduil had begged him to stay countless times, but Loki had always refused his requests. At first it was his family. His mother, his brother. Then his children. When he'd finally, finally managed to break them out of their prisons of pain and take them here, in Thranduil's realm, he'd still returned back to that monstruous place. The king was sure he'd come up with another excuse again, and as much as Thranduil wished he could, he couldn't stop him -not when his love was able to vanish into thin air.
But he could still try.
He came out of the tub and dried himself with a soft white towel. He only slipped a thin nightgown on, as the night was warm and he would have Loki in bed with him. He padded back into his bedroom, blowing off a few candles as he went, only leaving one on the small, elegant table beside the bed.
Loki was still sleeping, his face partially hidden behind the covers he was now gripping in his hand. His expression hadn't changed, but Thranduil still didn't dare hope he was immersed in a dreamless sleep.
The elf slipped beneath the sheets, his movements careful as if he were lying beside a creature made of glass. As if on cue, Loki opened his eyes slowly, blinking sleep away and looking around as if he didn't know where he was. Once he caught Thranduil's form lying beside his, watching him intently, his eyes widened.
«Thranduil» he whispered and oh, how the elf had missed his velvety voice. «I fell asleep... I'm sor-»
The rest of the sentence was swallowed by Thranduil's soft mouth, closed upon his in a gentle, chaste kiss. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, then slid closed once again as he melted in the kiss, his hands finding the hair at the base of the elf's skull, gripping it as if to assure himself that he was really there. Thranduil's own hand cupped the god's right cheek, thumb brushing on the skin beneath his eye, lips moving against Loki's own.
«How I have missed you» he whispered in the raven-haired man's mouth, pulling him close. Loki sighed against his lips, breaking the kiss to rest his mouth against the taller elf's throat.
«I missed you too» he murmured, one hand cupping a strong, creamy-skinned shoulder. He squeezed it gently, massaging the muscles there.
Thranduil hummed, tightening his grip around Loki a little. The younger one made a soft sound in the back of his throat, contentedly slipping an arm around Thranduil's middle.
«I wasn't expecting you, my beauty» Thranduil murmured, hands running through Loki's silky hair. The god stiffened a little beside him.
«I'm sorry» he whispered. «I needed to see you.»
«Never apologize for this, meleth-nín. It has been too long» Thranduil said, sighing softly. «You don't need to be so tense. You know you don't need to be afraid of me.»
Loki stiffened further at his words, before relaxing again a moment later, melting into the elf's embrace. Thranduil murmured his contentment, never ceasing to caress the god's hair with tenderness.
«How are the children?» Loki asked softly, sighing in pleasure at the loving touch.
«They are well, beloved. Jormungandr has taken up to practice archery with Legolas -he will become the best archer on Arda one day.»
«And... Fenris?»
At the name of the little wolf-boy, Thranduil's expression became darker. «He... still isn't comfortable enough to say more than a few words at a time» he said eventually. «And he's still scared of swords, of course. But he now doesn't object to me or his siblings being in the same room when he eats. He's making progress, my magpie.»
Loki nodded slowly against his chest, eyes closing. It was good. Yes, it was getting better. His children were getting better. He smiled softly.
«Are you hurt, my love?» Thranduil whispered a moment later.
Loki didn't answer immediately. The pause stretched until Thranduil thought he'd fallen asleep again, before a soft, barely-there 'no' echoed in the air.
The Elvenking parted then from his lover, gently extracting himself from his pleading arms, propping himself up to look at him in the eyes. He didn't say anything, not accusing him of lying, giving him the choice to speak.
Loki held his gaze for long, eternal seconds. The his eyes flew down again, throat bobbing with his swallow, chest shuddering with his breaths. He sat up, Thranduil following him with movements so smooth they resembled a feline's.
«Yes» he whispered eventually, and Thranduil shook his head, golden hair swaying on his back.
«Oh, my love» he whispered, taking Loki in his arms. The thin god wound his arms around him, hiding his face in the crook of Thranduil's neck, slipping in his lap with the naturalness of a river that flows back into its bed.
Thranduil cradled him in silence for a while, cursing Odin, Thor, Heimdall, the whole Nine Realms for not seeing the suffering of the beautiful creature in his arms.
«I... was an idiot» Loki said, voice beginning to crack. «I was so sure I could trust him, Thranduil, so sure he would see, and I have no idea what you've heard but I swear I didn't want to, it wasn't my fault, I swear on my fëa.»
The elf just embraced him tighter as his shoulders began to shake. Loki was fighting back tears with all his might, struggling not to let them fall and wet the pale skin beneath his cheek.
«What happened, Loki?» Thranduil murmured, his voice vibrating in his chest and sending shivers down his spine.
He could not even begin to describe what had happened. The lives he'd taken while struggling to regain control of a body that didn't respond to his commands. The so-called trial, his mouth muzzled all the while, declared guilty without being able to defend himself, unable to make them see. Thor, leaving his body on Svartalfheim to rot, discarded, unwanted, and Sakaar and then Thanos-
And the cell. Oh, Norns, the cell. He couldn't tell Thranduil what had happened into that cell. Not because he feared that Thranduil would be disgusted by him, that he would banish him from his bed and his halls -it had been too many years for Loki to still fear that. But that Thranduil would, eventually, think he was too broken to be brought back... it was an unconscious and yet very real fear. After all, what was that saying with the mirrors again?, it's better to leave it broken than to wound oneself with the shards.
But no -he wouldn't insult Thranduil by accusing him of that. The elf was strong, strong enough for the both of them, and as much as Loki hated depending on someone else, he found himself desperately clinging onto that strenght, trying to make it his.
«Things» he said, fighting to keep the trembling out of his voice, failing miserably. «... bad things».
Thranduil cursed Asgard again. He cursed the very air the people breathed, hoping to see them all choking on their own breaths.
«My mother's dead» Loki suddenly whispered, voice breaking. «She was the only one who... who... and she's dead».
«Oh, Loki... oh, my love... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my beautiful magpie» Thranduil whispered, feeling the first hot tear fall on his shoulder. Soon more followed and then Loki was breaking down in a silent, shaking wreck of tears and pain, mourning Frigga like he hadn't had the chance to when he was in the dungeons. That, he was sure, was something he'd never forgive nor Odin nor Thor.
Thranduil held him close, softly shushing him, rubbing soothing circles on his shaking back. His grip never loosened, never allowing Loki to believe he was alone in this. Thranduil knew all too well how it was to lose someone you cared about, how it felt to be left alone to grieve. He wouldn't let Loki bear that pain alone.
It took some time, but in the end Loki's almost silent sobs subsided, leaving him red eyed and numb. The elf cupped his cheek, holding him close, whispering sweet nothings as he kissed his temple.
«I'm sorry» Loki murmured. «I didn't come here to bother you with my pains.»
«Ssshh, pen-neth, never say things like that again. I'm glad you trust me enough to share your feelings with me, good or bad as they may be. Never think you're bothering me.»
«You are too good to me.»
Thranduil smiled sadly, gently leaning back to look Loki in the eyes. Then he slowly brought their mouths together, trying to convey all his love in that sweet, chaste kiss. His hands grasped the god's fair face, while Loki's hands rested on his shoulders, keeping him close.
Neither ever knew who started it, but the kiss began to deepen, lips slowly parting and tongues touching tentatively. Loki buried his hands in the elf's long hair, slowly leaning closer until he was pressed to Thranduil's body, his pale chest to the firm, solid one of the Elvenking. He remembered the first time he'd seen that chest bare -how afraid he'd been of the physical proof of Thranduil's immense strenght. But the elf had let him explore his body without as much as a change in position, letting him get acquainted with the soft skin, the lean muscles, the large shoulders, the beautiful dip of his hips. It still made Loki apprehensive, from time to time, to see Thranduil naked and know he could -at least physically- overpower him easily, but that fear was always chased away by the way Thranduil put his body in Loki's hands, submitting to his every touch as if he could live on that alone. And oh, the loving, reverent look in the elf's eyes. Thranduil always looked at him as if he was someone who was precious, someone to protect, someone to love. Loki had looked in the elf's eyes and had seen someone who would die for him without hesitation. In the face of that love, he knew he didn't need anyone else's, save that from his children.
When they parted for air, Thranduil saw the same love reflected in Loki's eyes.
«I love you» the raven haired man whispered, and the elf smiled, cupping his face with both hands as if it were the most precious thing on Arda.
«I love you too, my beautiful magpie» he murmured, stealing another kiss from those soft lips. That kiss soon became a second, and a third, and then more, until they were both lying on the silky bedding, kissing deeply, their hands slowly roaming on their still clothed bodies.
It was, surprisingly, the trickster god the first to slip a hand beneath Thranduil's tunic. Pleased with this turn of events, as Loki was usually far too uncertain to make the first move, Thranduil let him take the thin fabric off his body, smiling softly when Loki looked at him. The younger of the pair began exploring the soft expanses of skin that were displayed before him, his to take as he pleased. Each time was like the first to the sorcerer, and he brushed that skin with the same reverence he'd first shown all those years ago -the first time they had kissed, and the first they had made love.
«Your skin glows» he murmured. «As if you'd taken the moonlight and bathed in it until it was yours.»
«I wish I could always see that look into your eyes» Thranduil whispered back. «It is that gaze, that which makes me glow. Without you, my nights are dark and my days are dull.»
Loki smiled a little, and, as Thranduil noticed immediately, with far more bitterness that he probably wanted to show.
«What is it, my love?» he asked in a whisper, but Loki shook his raven head.
«Don't» he breathed. «Not now.»
Thranduil granted his wish despite his desire to know more, and he let the subject drop. He closed his eyes, sighing in barely-contained pleasure as Loki's hands ran on his chest, his sides, his ribs. He lowered his head to kiss the god again, one of his large hands slithering to gently cup the back of Loki's neck, cradling his head tenderly. His lover's hands found his hair and Loki buried his fingers in the pale golden strands, heart fluttering at that simple touch.
«You are so beautiful, meleth-nín» Thranduil whispered reverently. «Your eyes... they burn like the fire of ancient stars, from your world and mine.»
Loki hummed in a confusing tangle of emotions that went from joy to love to embarrassment to outright self-hatred. If only Thranduil saw him for what he really was... oh, Loki didn't think he could survive the heartbreak.
I can't even touch you with my true skin, my love...
But he wanted him. Oh, Norns, how he wanted him. He wanted Thranduil to kiss and caress and lick and claim every inch of his body, of his mind, everything, he wanted to give him everything-
Loki surged up to claim the Elvenking's mouth again in a bruising kiss. Thranduil welcomed it with a smile and hands tangled in his hair, tasting him, drinking him in like a man dying of thirst. He let Loki push him up and then back until he was sprawled beneath the God of Mischief, still tightly lip-locked, Loki's weight a sweet one between his legs. He could feel the god's arousal, thick erection pressed against his, delicious pleasure separated only by thin fabric and unwillingness to part, even for the briefest moment, from the other's lips. Thranduil moaned at the feeling, one hand snaking between their bodies to cup Loki through the flimsy tunic.
The unexpected, sweet assault made Loki gasp, reddened lips parting from Thranduil's as he threw his head back. His body arched like a cat's and he began to minutely, slowly roll his hips into the Elvenking's hand, moaning softly as Thranduil chuckled lightly.
«So beautiful» he breathed again. «May I touch you, my beauty?»
Loki bit his lip, cheeks flushed, leaning forward until he was supporting himself on his hands, Thranduil's head between them. He nodded slowly, wetting his lips.
Thranduil kissed him again, softly now as he tenderly lifted Loki's tunic. He dipped his hand in Loki's leggings, grasping his hot, half-hard cock.
«Mmnh, Thranduil...»
The elf smiled playfully, dragging his hand up in lazy, slow strokes. Loki hardened further in his expert palm, hips bucking, chasing the sweet sensation as pleasure spiked in his veins.
«Thranduil... I... oh...»
Loki's head drooped, kiss-swollen lips parted on another soft groan, a shudder coursing down his spine. Thranduil's free hand roamed his muscular, enticing pale back and gently settled on the curve of his hip, the elf marvelling once again at how the slightly protruding bone perfectly slotted into his broad palm. He loved how their bodies seemed made to fit together, like two pieces of the same puzzle. It was with utter adoration that he gazed up at Loki, biting his lip as he watched the drunk-on-pleasure expression on the young god's face.
«Oh, Loki... you're utter perfection» he murmured as he caught those lips again with his. Loki groaned into his mouth and Thranduil relished in that intimate little sound, his strokes quickening slightly.
Loki whimpered at how pleasurable this felt. The feeling of Thranduil's large hand on him was mind-blowing. The elf knew exactly how Loki wanted to be touched, caressed, kissed. He knew where to nibble to make the God of Chaos whimper, where to lick to coax an enticing moan out. Only Thranduil knew how to make his body sing with lust and want and love alike.
«Please, lay down for me, meleth» Thranduil whispered. «Let me love you.»
Loki bit his lip and complied, moving to lie at the king's side. Thranduil kissed his neck, licking and biting at his pulse point until Loki sighed sweetly, gasping at the sensation as the elf nuzzled and kissed his way down his hairless chest, stopping to kiss and suck at his rosy nipples. Loki panted slightly, hands finding the long strands of hair on the Elvenking's skull, and he arched his back, pushing his chest into Thranduil's mouth. The eldest of the pair smiled fondly, complying with the silent request as he lavished attention on the hardened little nubs of flesh, relishing in every little gasp and moan he pulled from the young god. Loki was always so deliciously vocal when they were together, so responsive to every little touch. Thranduil kissed his chest again, tender and aroused and so in love he could barely think.
Giving one final swipe of his tongue to Loki's nipple, he continued down, leaving a trail of wet, burning kisses in his wake. Goosebumps bloomed on Loki's skin when Thranduil caressed his clothed hips, hooking his fingers on the hem of the light pants and pulling them down slowly, relishing in every inch of creamy skin that was revealed. He kissed Loki's inner thigh, worshipping his body with sensual licks and gentle kisses until the young god was a panting, begging mess beneath his mouth.
«Thranduil... please...»
«Ssshh, meleth-nín... I will give you everything you want.»
Thranduil stopped teasing then, crawling slightly up to nuzzle against Loki's throbbing cock. He licked a long, tender stripe on the underside of it, making the god arch and gasp, a broken moan escaping his lips, before Thranduil closed his mouth over the head, suckling wetly on it, laving it with his tongue.
Loki gasped hotly when he felt that hot, wet mouth upon him. He arched his back, unable not to buck his hips, a low moan escaping him as Thranduil's lips sank further down. He tipped his head back with a sigh, eyes closing -Thranduil was good at this, so talented with that wicked tongue of his, and the way the elf moaned around him, sending shockwaves of delicious pleasure up Loki's spine... the young god arched beautifully, biting his lip to stifle another groan.
Thranduil pulled off his cock with a popping sound, massaging it with his large hand. «Don't» he whispered against his hot flesh. «Let me hear you, meleth-nín», and with that, he sank again down the hard, flushed rod of flesh before him, swallowing around it until he felt the tip touch the back of his throat.
«Thranduil- ah!»
The god groaned, long and loud this time, a sound so erotic Thranduil moaned himself around his mouthful. Loki hid his face into his bicep, the hand that wasn't gripping the headboard winding in Thranduil's hair. He moaned the Elvenking's name again, seemingly unable to stop, as Thranduil began to gently bob his head -up and down, up and down until Loki couldn't form coherent words anymore. The elf himself was nearly delirious by this point, the feel of Loki in his mouth making him dizzy with a pleasure he couldn't explain. Loki's deep sighs were driving him insane, the god's rapture enchanting enough to trigger his own.
«I... I'll come soon if you don't stop» Loki panted, giving a gentle tug on the long blond tresses. «Oh, oh Thran...»
The elf pulled off his cock with another wet noise, a string of saliva connecting the tip to his lips. He looked beautiful like this, Loki thought hazily, not for the first time tonight -bathed in the dim glow of the solitary candle, almost totally immersed in darkness, flushed and consumed by want.
I made him feel like this, and the thought made his body shudder with uncontrollable desire, impossibly hot and pooling in his groin. He bit down on another moan as Thranduil smirked.
«Who said you'd only come once tonight, my love?» he said, voice rough and husky, before claiming his lips once more in a scorching kiss, tongue delving into the wet, hot cavern of Loki's mouth.
The action and the slight roughness of it had Loki flinching as if hurt. Thranduil's eyes snapped open, what he thought a passionate gesture now deforming into a horrible shape in his mind, and he started to back away to give his lover some space.
Loki didn't allow him.
«Don't you dare» the Trickster growled against his mouth, pulling him back forcefully to slam his mouth more firmly to Thranduil's again. He kissed the elf like a man starving, hungrily licking his way into the other's mouth, Thranduil's taste like a drug and he a helpless addict. He grew softer after a time, once he was sure the Elvenking was not going to withdraw again -and the kiss grew heartbreakingly tender, Loki crushing their mouths together as if it were his last day on Middle-Earth. The thought made Thranduil's blood turn to ice in his veins and he kissed back with equal passion, gripping Loki's arms as if it had ever stopped him from leaving.
«Don't leave» Thranduil begged in a broken whisper. «Please, please, please don't leave me».
No other had ever heard that word fall from the Elvenking's lips, no one but Legolas and Loki knew the way Thranduil said please. At the shaky tone the elf used, Loki frowned and pulled back.
«Thranduil? Elskan, what is it?»
Thranduil's head was buried in his neck and the elf was breathing Loki's scent in, eyes closed and lips pressed to the side of his neck.
«Do not leave me again» he repeated, quiet and desperate. «I coud not bear it all again.»
Loki smiled then, a beautiful thing that made Thranduil's heart clench. The green-eyed man cupped the elf's face, shaking his head.
«I do not indend to leave» he whispered. «Never again, if you will have me here with you that long.»
Thranduil's breath hitched, his eyes going wide as he stared at Loki with a dumbfounded expression. His heart latched onto those words like their wife would to a bleeding wound, hope and delight spiking in his chest.
«Loki» he breathed, and began to rain little kisses all over the god's face. «Oh, Loki, Loki, my Loki...»
Said man chuckled at the elf's joy and caught his lips for a proper kiss again, holding him tight against his own body. Thranduil responded with equal passion, his hair falling at the sides of Loki's face like a silver-blond curtain. They both had their eyes closed and Loki kept them like that even as Thranduil began to slide down his body again, kissing the inside of his thighs as he coaxed Loki's long, lean legs open once more. Thranduil opened them instead, his throat going dry at the display in front of him.
«I'll want an explanation on this sudden change of mind» he whispered, then licked a long stripe over Loki's cock again, making his hips buck.
«Later» the god gasped. Thranduil hummed in agreement and opened his mouth for him once more, taking him in deep, throat clenching wetly around the weight of him. Loki's hips twitched with the need to thrust in that warm, welcoming heat, and Thranduil just let him, gods, he wasn't going to last-
«Norns, Thranduil-»
All it took were two bobs of Thranduil's head, and Loki could think anymore, could only come, hot and gasping and so good it made his vision go white. He sobbed, strangled and breathless, and Thranduil actually swallowed around his cock and Loki could only moan, pleasure and delight like a wave in his veins.
The Elvenking pulled off with a wet noise, kissing Loki's lower belly while he waited for him to come down from his high. It didn't take long before Loki was all over him again and forced him up to catch his lips once more. Loki pulled him closer, almost aggressive in his need for closeness.
«I need you, Loki» the elf whispered in his mouth. «I missed you so badly while you were away. Make me yours -claim me once more, my love».
The thought of that warm, slick heat around him almost made Loki change his mind -almost.
«Thranduil... make love to me.»
. . .
Authoress' note:
There's not enough Thranki lovin' out here.
I do not own in any shape or form the characters featured in this story. I only own my OCs and the plot.
Please leave a comment and have a good day/night!