Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's Hobbit or Peter Jackson's Hobbit series. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is a Barduil fic, set post BOFA and meant to be a sort of snap-shot into a newly established relationship. This is basically unrepentant pwp that centers on the idea that Elves sexual practices do not include oral sex in terms of giving or receiving blowjobs.
Warnings: Contains movie spoilers for all the Hobbit movies, pwp, first time, oral sex and Thranduil wanting the thing immediately and not afraid to be bossy about it.
Starbursts (closed lids)
His glare was confused, yet regal, as he looked down his nose at the soon to be crowned King of Dale. Their dalliance, birthed in the weeks after the battle, was still new – untested. Thus he didn't bother to hide the calculating shrewdness that wisped across his expression in the wake of the bargeman's request. A fell match to his lover's mirthful cheer as the human's blush blossomed warm across coarse, whiskery cheeks.
"Let me?" Bard murmured again, seemingly set on waiting for his consent as the man stroked teasingly along the smooth plane of his inner thigh.
Their frames were comparable, but the Bargeman was built with a visible sturdiness his people lacked. The sight was…different, but pleasing. Enough to ensnare his interest as the muscles in the human's shoulders shifted - propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down at him. Dark hair drying in soft waves to frame his face – pleasantly sheened with sweet smelling oils - still damp from their shared bath.
Assuming Bard meant to explore him in some way, he waved a lazy hand. The man was more than pleasing, a mayfly though he may be. Such a passionate, changeable creature. Certainly a welcome distraction from the numbing affairs of state that usually took up his waking hours.
He was willing to admit that he let his attention wander. Only half paying attention as Bard slithered down the length of him, strong hands splaying cross lithe hips. Etching invisible whorls into the juts before gripping him firmly and-
Aiya!
He froze. Delicate throat arcing as he let go of a strangled sound. An embarrassing half-keen as Bard licked a stripe down his hardness. He jerked - not away, never away -shuddering at the new sensation as his body sparked. Thrumming to life in a way it'd not in countless centuries.
"What…what are you doing, Bargeman?" he voiced, nerves uncoiling – vulnerable and almost drunk with it already as that clever tongue trailed down the gentle swell of his sack. Slicking the skin around the crease until it was glimmering, a soft crystal-clear in the flickering candlelight.
"Having you," Bard grinned, cheeky and unrepentant as he came up for air, mouthing the head of his cock with a filthy suckling that made his toes curl.
Oh! Ed' i'ear ar' elenea! Oh, that was-
It was obscene. Baser and lewd and oh so good that before he could think to put a stop to it, he was already lost. Just a moment of that wet heat had felt like….like nothing he'd ever experienced. He struggled to make sense of it, unaware of the way he was stretching out, putting himself on display as the human forced his hips to heel and suckled him in earnest.
There was simply nothing in his long life he could compare it to. The sensation was, in a sense, singular. And he could feel it all. The solid weight of the man splayed across his thighs. The growingly bold tongue that darted out to trace the crown of him. Delighting him with its nimbleness before returning to lathe broad strokes down the curve of him. He tried to move, wanting more of that delectable pressure, long fingers spreading blindly into open air as he tried and failed to encourage his lover to move faster. He wanted-
He hissed, watching as the bowman peered up at him through the fan of his lashes. The human's eyes were dark, fathomless and glittering with lust. Wanting and proud, like he was well aware of just how much damage his trade had wrought before the thought stopped him in his tracks – spine stiffening in possessive affront. Suddenly taken by the desperate need to know how many the bowman had pleasured this way. The surge of jealously was unfamiliar, cloying and clear, until Bard curled his tongue and flicked. Flirting with the weeping slit and- Oh Arda!
"Do elves not love their partners in this way?"
He blinked, mourning the loss immediately as Bard slowed, pulling away in increments as realization dawned across handsome features. The man shifted, sending ripples through the deep Mahogany-red silks that adorned the bed in his chambers.
"No," he allowed, voice at risk of breaking as Bard pressed a kiss on the crown of him. Pulling back, yet still connected to his hardness by a strand of saliva. "No they do not."
"Do you want me to stop?"
He almost said yes, clamping down on the innate urge to control the situation as Bard watched him expectantly. Petting his flank as if he were some frightened horse as both their breathing gradually slowed back to normal. Turning the moment stilted and awkward as the distant sounds of his Kingdom carrying on behind their closed doors gradually ushered in.
The desire to extricate himself was reflexive in nature.
Did he want the pleasure to stop?
Of course not!
And yet-
He supposed his hesitation stemmed from the fact that he was so rarely taken by surprise. He was accustom to being confident in his abilities and knowledge regardless of the situation. Something he could certainly not boast now. This act was not unknown to elves, they had watched the sons of man age and die for too long to remain blind to their perversions. But such things were simply not practiced amongst his people. It was not discussed, not studied. To lower yourself to such an act was considered below even the most low-born wood elf. And for all the stars in the night sky, now that he'd experienced it for himself, he was at a loss to understand why.
The sensation was queer, to be sure. To have a mouth – the mouth of a lover no less – wrapped so tightly around him. But it was pleasure – concentrated and pure with intimacy that one could feel to the very core. It was new. Thrilling. No small thing to a being who had watched the great trees in his forest grow from nut to mighty oak. Feeding that dark, secret part of him that yearned for even the most fleeting experience of the unknown.
He breathed in, indulgent and rich as his lover's scent rose heady in the air.
It was, in a sense, mutual surrender. An exquisite sort of submission that touched them both. Highlighted in the shadowed star-light wreathed from above as Bard had hollowed his cheeks around him only scant moments before. Receiving him like he did in their bed play. But again, here, their roles were not so clearly defined. For the trust needed to submit to the same pleasure, to relax and welcome the moment in all its layered pleasures was needed from him as well.
All that being said, he was still mildly surprised when he hurried to answer.
"No," he admitted after lengthy pause, soothing the growingly contrite expression on his lover's face by running the curl of his finger down the human's cheek. Smoothing the crinkled expression that had taken residence during the moments he'd spent considering his reply. Likely concerned he'd made some sort of trespass as an embarrassed flush worked itself down the bowman's neck. "You may continue."
"If you're sure?" Bard replied cautiously, sneaking another look up at him, like he was half-sure he was about to change his mind. Before lowering his head slowly, nuzzling up against his member only to make him gasp as the silken-rough of the man's beard rasped delightfully across reddening flesh.
"Yes lirimaer, you may-" he started, trying and failing to hold himself still as Bard smirked. Clearly catching on to his predicament as the incorrigible man wrapped his lips around the head of him and swallowed.
His eyes blew wide. Meaningless sounds – praises, curses, broken lisps of lovers' poetry – escaping him as Bard huffed out a laugh. Only heightening the sensation as the vibrations danced across the moist tip. Searing star-light across closed lids as his hand found the man's hair and buried itself in the mess of curls. Certain he would need the anchor lest the flood of pleasure – surging and almost too much – carry him away into the ether.
"I'll see to you properly then, my lord," Bard replied, husky and burning as each word rolled over him like the molten-sear of the hottest forge.
He had barely enough forethought to arch an imperious brow. But what little willingness he had on getting the final word, he certainly made count. Speaking between the press of lips and the instinctive baring of his throat even as his nails scored across the curve of his lover's back. Wanton and impatient as Bard took him into his mouth and began to move.
"See that you do, King of Dale, or-Aiya! I shall be forced to slake my curiosity elsewhere."
The empty threat came out more like a challenge. Like young things declaring their love to one another between the whip-willows and tall grasses of late summer. But fortuitously for them both, neither of them intended to let it pass by unmarked. For, as he was fast learning, a willing march to defeat appeared to be in neither of their natures.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.
Reference:
*"Aiya!" – "Oh!" an elvish exclamation of surprise.
* "Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!" – "By the sea and stars."
* "lirimaer" – "lovely one."