When you have a horrible secret, do you share it with the one you love and just burden him too? Or do you keep it to yourself and shoulder it alone? And is it selfishness and fear of a bad reaction that make you keep the secret when surely this should all be about love and trust? What does Thorin do and will he make the right decision to escape from Maelon's clutches?

Sorry, this one isn't very nice.

.o00o.

Kings, Secrets and Lies

Chp I

Dirty, Little Secret

"I think I need to send a messenger to Beorn, asking for some more honey," grinned Thranduil as he scraped the last from the jar with his fingers.

"Yes," laughed Thorin. "I can imagine that the kitchens are wondering why they are running so low. And I reckon that My Lady Glamel has noticed you filching jars of it from the dining table – she called me honey-throated the other day."

"Well, I suppose she could have been referring to your singing," was the amused response. "But I doubt it. That woman notices everything and then gossips about it. Does it upset you?"

"Only in so far as she has got it the wrong way around." And the dwarf reached down to where Thranduil lay between his thighs, applying the honey to his swollen member and, seizing him by the wrist, slowly and sensuously sucked the remains of the sweet stickiness from the elven king's fingers.

Thranduil closed his eyes and groaned. "Don't," he said. "You'll make me come before I finish the job in hand." And he gently withdrew his fingers from the dwarf's warm, wet mouth before applying his own lips to Thorin's rock hard arousal.

The dwarf lay back on the pillows and concentrated on the sensations clenching his groin. "Not so fast," he panted, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. Thranduil slowed down and wondered what he enjoyed more: taking or giving pleasure to his lover. Then, without breaking his rhythm, he reached out and dipped his fingers into the dish of oil by the side of the bed. Thorin had been strangely morose these past few days and he was doing his best to distract him from whatever it was that was bothering him.

Thorin was lost in a voluptuous haze and his hands clenched convulsively in the elf's silken hair. Every sensation ran like a powerful current through him and his body writhed and bucked on the feather mattress. Then he suddenly felt oiled fingers running down his cleft where they paused to probe and penetrate.

Thorin was undone. He was standing in the warm waters of the hot spring once more. He could hear Maelon's soft voice whispering filthy things in his ear and he could feel his soapy fingers pressing open his tight entrance – clever fingers that, without hesitation, found that special spot which he rubbed and pressed so effectively that Thorin's member immediately hardened and sprang erect with a seeming life of its own.

He had wanted to pull away but he had been fixed to the spot by sensations so powerful and so primal that he was unable to move until he had spilled his seed violently into the waters of the pool. At the same time, he had felt Maelon expend himself against his buttocks and he had wrenched himself out of the elf lord's grasp and, hastily rinsing the cum away, he had climbed from the pool, flung on his clothes and had then fled the scene with Maelon's laughter echoing in his ears. "I shan't tell Thranduil if you don't," the elf lord had called after him.

Well, that was one small mercy. The thought of Thranduil finding out about this escapade filled him with dread. The elf was so possessive that, if he discovered that Thorin had shared himself, however unintentionally, he knew that he would cast him off. Perhaps. But he wasn't prepared to take the chance.

As Thranduil's fingers penetrated him and he remembered the incident at the pool, Thorin exploded in an earth-shattering orgasm. And he felt total disgust at himself that those memories should have such an effect on him. The elven king laughed at this successful conclusion to his efforts and then folded Thorin gently in his arms. "Sleep now," he murmured softly. And Thorin closed his eyes in a pretence of sleep which didn't come for hours because of the shameful secret that he nursed so carefully within him.

.o00o.

Thorin finally fell into an exhausted sleep in the early hours and was still drowsing when Thranduil left for one of his endless council meetings. "I'll try to get back for lunch," he said as he bent over the dwarf and kissed him on the cheek. And then he was gone. Thorin dozed on for an hour or so and then dragged himself out of bed. He felt dreadful and he shrugged into a casual silken robe. Most of the morning was spent wandering aimlessly around the apartments and out onto the balcony where he could stare blindly over the forest and think his dark thoughts.

At lunch time, Thranduil finally returned and, taking Thorin's face between his elegant fingers, he kissed him long and hard. "You look exhausted," he said. And he led the dwarf to the bed where he pulled him down beside him and, sliding up his silk robe above his hips, he began to caress his body. Thorin tried hard to respond to the elf's kisses but he was feeling very strange. Thranduil's face seemed to swim and shimmer before him and he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his eyesight and his head. Perhaps he was ill or perhaps just over-tired and worried.

The elf was sucking at his pierced nipple through the silk and Thorin laughed and pulled off his robe so that he had full access. His lover played with the ring for a while, pushing the tip of his tongue through the golden metal and tugging at it with his teeth and then he dipped his fingers in the dish of oil that was still by the side of the bed and, unbuttoning his breeches, applied it to his fiercely erect length.

"Take your clothes off," whispered Thorin.

"No time," was the response. And he forced himself quickly into the dwarf's body and roughly brought himself to completion. Then he got up from the bed and, straightening himself, left Thorin lying, frustrated and unsatisfied, with only a cursory kiss.

Needless to say, Thorin was surprised. Thranduil had always been mindful of his needs. And, for one horrible moment, he wondered if Maelon had revealed to him details of their encounter in the pool which had resulted in this moment of intercourse being such a cold and punishing one. He got up stiffly from the bed and went to the bath. The elf had been so rough that it had hurt and he found that he was sore and bleeding a little. He washed and put on fresh clothes and then waited anxiously for Thranduil's return that evening, afraid that there would be some kind of show-down as knowledge of his secret was revealed.

But, when he did finally come back from the meeting, all was as usual. Thranduil was sweetly concerned about the paleness of his features and ordered food to be brought up to their room. And then he took him to bed and caressed him tenderly.

"You're not angry with me for missing our lunch together, are you? I just couldn't get away." Thorin stiffened. "You did get my message, didn't you?"

Thorin's mind was in such a state of confusion that he suddenly felt sick. "Yes," he managed to mutter. "Don't worry."

"That's all right then," the elf murmured and, tucking the dwarf close into his body, he fell asleep.

It was as if he stood at the top of a vertiginous height and, as he looked down from this dizzying summit, the heavy drag of gravity threatened to pull him over the edge and down into darkness.

Focus! Focus! he sternly exhorted himself, or you will be lost. And he carefully thought through the events of the day. So, if a messenger hadn't come, then he must have been intercepted. And he thought of Thranduil's shimmering face and the coarseness of his love-making, from the way he had just unbuttoned his breeches to the roughness of his thrusts. The elf had never hurt him or made him bleed the way he had done today. And, if his lover hadn't acted like his lover, then – perhaps he wasn't his lover. This demanded a great leap in his thought processes but it was the only answer to this conundrum.

He thought back to his childhood and he could hear his grandfather, Thror, speaking dismissively of elves. "Many have the gift of glamourie. They can create illusions. They can make things seem other than they really are. They can even appear to others not as they are but in a different guise." He had not fully understood this at the time – he had just accepted Thror's judgement that elves were not to be trusted. Now he realised that this must be the answer to what had happened to him. And the elf using the power of glamourie to deceive him had to be Maelon.

.o00o.

Early the next morning, Thranduil woke him and made love to him. Although he was gentle, Thorin had to try hard to hide from him how painful the penetration was. And, once the elven king had left the apartments, Thorin sat down and thought hard about what he should do.

One option was to do nothing and perhaps Maelon would never approach him again. The whole affair would be his nasty, little secret and he would have to bear the burden alone.

He could call Maelon out, fight a duel with him. But, there was a good chance that the elf would win and, worse, the whole of Mirkwood would soon find out what it was all about.

He could tell Thranduil but then his lover would either cast him off or his jealousy would persuade him that the best solution was to kill Maelon. But Thranduil might get hurt himself and he couldn't bear the responsibility for that.

In the end, he decided that, until his thoughts had calmed themselves, he would do nothing. And it was at this moment that there was a knock at the door and he opened it to find Maelon smirking on his threshold.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked.

.o00o.

So, what does Maelon want and will Thorin be prepared to negotiate with him? Find out in the next chapter: Blackmail.