In which Thranduil allows Tauriel a lot of trust, and a little room to play. Here be porn, guys. Sort of.
The arrival of Lady Galadriel created quite a stir among the residents of the Woodland Realm, many of whom assumed she had come to take stringent action against the King and Tauriel. They were thus very surprised to find it was apparently otherwise.
Still the pair went for their evening walks – sometimes alone, sometimes with Galadriel – and very little appeared to change. She did not seem to have come to break them apart, which was something of a relief, because nobody wanted to see what either would do if someone tried.
"She must not think it anything too terrible," Ríniel said to Silwen on one of their morning walks. "Surely if she were concerned, things would have changed."
"Perhaps," Silwen said. She did not know Galadriel well, but she did know that the Lady never rushed into anything. She would want to watch them – possibly for years, if she could be spared from Lothlórien for so long.
Silwen had to grudgingly admit that her husband might be right. The King and Tauriel had settled into a routine before Galadriel arrived, stable and apparently not much different from that of any other couple. There had been no crises, no fights – just a remarkable domesticity.
If only their relationship was not founded on madness and captivity. Sooner or later, Silwen was certain, that would take its toll. It had to.
And even now, that possessiveness lingered in the king's eyes, mirrored to an unnerving degree by Tauriel's. If Galadriel meant to cure them of that, she would need all the luck and skill in the world.
Summer passed into autumn, and for the first time in centuries, the King came out to observe the harvest. It perhaps wasn't so much of a surprise; the Guard had often helped when needed, and Tauriel had been among them. She did so now as well, though the workers supposed it would be beneath the King's dignity to join her. He watched her fondly, and if that strange obsession lingered in his eyes, most were used to it by now. At the end of the day he would wipe the smudges of dirt from her face, and kiss her brow, and lead her off to dinner, as though they were any normal pair.
When the first snow came, many went outside to enjoy it – the King and Tauriel among them, well bundled against the cold. Lady Galadriel followed, watching both with her unfathomable blue eyes. She seemed to find nothing odd in their seeming need for constant physical contact – most of the denizens of the Woodland Realm didn't, but they'd been around it much longer.
The snow frosted Tauriel's red hair, catching in her eyelashes, and the King kissed the flakes of white away with a smile, heedless of the fact that others could see. That did unsettled them; Elven couples were very intimate, but usually not in public. Holding hands was usually as far as Eldar couples went, but the King seemed quite content to kiss Tauriel everywhere but her lips in front of Eru and everybody. The only thing that kept it from being unbearably awkward was that even now, there was chastity to it. Uncomfortably intimate as they sometimes were, it was never in a way that ought to be confined to a bedroom. It was perhaps understandable that Tauriel would not yet wish to consummate whatever odd union she had with the King, but he never looked at her with that manner or desire, not even when she wasn't looking at him. They really were a strange, strange pair.
The first time Thranduil gave Tauriel a truly premeditated kiss, they were out in his private garden one frigid dawn, watching the rising sun paint the snow rose and gold. Though it was chaste, it lingered longer than the others, and he stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb before drawing back to look at her. Her cheeks were faintly pink, and not only from cold.
"Thranduil," she said, with unusual hesitance, "would you—" She trailed off, her face growing even pinker.
"Would I what?" he asked, tracing the line of her jaw again.
She drew a deep breath. "Would you let me chain you to your bed and do…things… to you? I am not ready for anything for myself, but I am…curious."
Thranduil was somewhat appalled to find his face heat – surely he was matching her blush. "Curious?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Quite frankly, part of him loved the idea, even as it also embarrassed him.
Tauriel ducked her head. "Curious," she affirmed. "I want – I want to see what I can make you feel."
It actually made sense for more reasons than she was possibly aware of. She would quite literally have him at her mercy, and could control what he did or did not feel. It would give her absolute power over him. He was a bit disturbed by how pleasant the thought was. "If you feel you are ready for such a thing, Tauriel, I would be pleased to put myself at your mercy."
The light in her eyes bordered on unholy. Belatedly, he wondered if he should be nervous.
Tauriel really had no idea just what she thought she was doing, but she'd gone too far to stop now. The idea had been preying on her mind for months, and she had decided that it was finally time to act on it.
Nevertheless, she felt somewhat awkward when she sought something that could be used for bonds. Acquiring actual chains without alerting anyone would be rather difficult, but Thranduil had an assortment of scarves that she knotted into something like rope, testing the strength of the knots. At least she was already more than familiar with Thranduil minus all his clothing, even if not at all in this sense.
What would this change? Many things, probably, and it was likely terribly ill-advised, but at this point she simply couldn't help it. Her curiosity demanded to be sated.
"All right, Thranduil," she said, trying so hard to fight her blush, and utterly losing. "I've had…ideas for this."
"For how long?" he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.
"Long enough," she said, tying one scarf-rope to the left bedpost. "Take off everything but your trousers, for now," she ordered, trying to sound as commanding as she could.
"For now?" he asked, shedding his silvery outer-robe.
"I will decide if you get to lose them or not," she said, with as much imperiousness as she could muster. She moved around the bed, tying another scarf to the right post. In truth, she was unsure how far she wanted to take this, though really, if she were going to go to all this trouble, she might as well take it all the way. She still couldn't quite believe she was doing this, honestly. Her face certainly felt as though it were about to catch on fire.
She assembled a few things while Thranduil shed his layers of clothing – a lark's feather she'd found in the garden some weeks ago, a silk scarf not used in her bindings, and a very cold glass of wine – more for her benefit than his.
When she turned back to the bed, she found Thranduil already upon it, looking at her with some amusement – doubtless enjoying how flustered she was, for all this had been her idea.
Tauriel scowled when she crawled up beside him, taking his left wrist in her hand and wrapping the end of her impromptu bindings, taking his left wrist in her hand and wrapping the end of her impromptu binding around it, careful not to tie it tight enough to cut off his circulation. The bed was so wide that with his other arm bound, he would have little – if any – slack, which shifted her scowl to a smile.
When she'd tied both his arms, she paused to survey him, feeling nearly drunk with power. Even Thranduil's very obvious amusement couldn't quell it. He wouldn't be silently laughing for very long. There was something ridiculously beautiful about him, bound out before her, his silvery hair spread out around his head like a corona on the pillow.
She hopped off the bed to fetch the feather, giving him a good look at it while she climbed up beside him again. Delicately, oh-so-delicately, she ran it down his throat, tracing his collarbones.
The reaction she got surprised her. His eyes fell shut, lips parting, and he drew in a contented sigh. Tauriel hadn't expected him to be so very responsive. She drew the feather along his jawline and he tilted his head back to give her better access.
"I think it is safe to say you are enjoying this," she said, fascinated simply by watching him.
"You have no idea," he groaned.
Well. She could draw this out into torture, if she was creative enough.
The feather traced down the smooth, pale expanse of his chest and up along his left arm, running over each of his fingers in turn. Back down it came, very slowly, outlining each of his muscles, and then gave the same treatment to his right.
A glance downward showed her that he was indeed enjoying this, very much. She'd give him his ending – but she'd make him beg for it first.
"Stay still, Thranduil," she ordered, hopping off the bed again. She hadn't intended to use the scarf as a blindfold, but that would be its purpose now – this would be all the better if Thranduil didn't know what was coming. She carried both scarf and cup back to the bed, setting the latter on the bedside table.
"Raise your head," Tauriel said, folding the scarf in half. He obeyed, again with a look of amusement, and she laid it over his eyes, wrapping it around his head three times.
"Now stay very still." In truth, she was somewhat nervous about doing this, but his reaction would doubtless be worth it. Dipping two fingers into the wine, she drew a chilly line from his stomach all the way up to his throat, and followed it with her tongue. The Dorwinion was sweet, his skin salty, and she immediately wanted to do it again. She could devour him this way.
His groan was so deep it almost frightened her – it sounded as though he were in pain, but he arched into her touch, not away from it. "Tauriel," he gasped, straining at his bonds, and she hoped her knots would hold.
"Yes?" she asked, dipping her fingers into the wine again. The next line went up his neck, and his pulse fluttered beneath her lips. She could so easily kill him like this – all she would have to do would be to sink her teeth into his artery, and there would be nothing he could do but bleed.
She did bite, but higher, and lightly, just below his jaw, and reveled at the sound of savage need that caught in his throat. She half fancied that she could smell his desire, that the unnatural heat of him was growing even warmer under her touch.
On impulse, she sat astride him, pressing down on the bulge in his trousers. Thranduil groaned again, his hips bucking up against her, and oh, that felt good.
"I said hold still," she ordered. "All in good time. If you make me spill this wine, I will be very cross with you." Another line, this one up to his left nipple, which she took into her mouth. He jerked beneath her, but didn't arch – good King. As a reward, she ground her hips down against his, a sinuous movement that made him shudder.
"You are going to kill me," he said, and he didn't sound at all displeased by it.
"Of course I will not," Tauriel said, mock offended. "I can hardly do this to you again if you are dead. Well, I could," she added thoughtfully, "but you wouldn't be anything like as responsive."
He laughed, but it cut off in a sharp gasp when she bent her head to his other nipple, this time adding a light scrape of teeth. She could hear the pounding of his heart, and it made her smile against his skin.
"Are you mine, Thranduil?" she asked, running her nails down his chest.
"Yes," he breathed.
"Are you sure?" She nipped lightly at his collarbone.
"Yes," he groaned. "Yes, Tauriel, I am yours."
"Good. Don't you forget it." She scooted back, running her hand along the waistband of his trousers. He was tense beneath her – with desire, with the effort of holding still, or both.
She unlaced his trousers, painfully slowly, and only took the hard length of him in her hand, when the last lace was undone. In this she had little idea of what she was doing, but Thranduil didn't seem to care in the slightest, if the noises that left his throat were any indication. Her fingers explored, stroking and teasing, finding out exactly what made him shiver.
He made a sound that was perilously close to a whine when she stopped. "Tauriel," he gasped, his head thrown back against the pillows.
"Tauriel, what?" she said. The feel of having him so totally at her mercy almost made her delirious, headier than the finest wine.
"Tauriel, please."
The sound of that word, the hoarseness of his voice as he spoke it, made her shiver. She stroked him again, but very lightly, creeping up the length of his body. With her free hand she remove the blindfold, and found his pupils blown wide with desire."You know, I've never truly kissed anyone," she said. "Show me what all the fuss is about, and I'll grant you release."
Now the need in his eyes was almost savage. "Come here," he said, and she'd swear his voice had dropped an octave. "I'll show you." The heat in his tone almost made her second-guess herself, but Tauriel was an elleth of her word. She smoothed the hair back from his brow, cupping the side of his face, and lightly brushed her lips over his.
For someone in such a submissive position, he was certainly dominant when it came to kissing. He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and when she gasped in surprise, he licked his way into her mouth, claiming it with almost bruising force. He kissed her as though he wanted to devour her whole, guiding her through her inexperience., teaching as he drank her in like a dying man granted water.
Tauriel moaned before she could help it, heat surging through her. Her fingers stroked almost of her own accord, and she swallowed his groans until he arched beneath her, nearly biting her lip as hot wetness washed over her fingers.
His head fell back, and his entire body went absolutely boneless. When he opened his eyes, they were both sated and wicked. "There are other places I could kiss you," he said. "I know you are not ready for more, Tauriel, but you deserve a reward."
Her face flamed, and yet the idea was not at all unappealing. Thought of that talented tongue in other places, as he put it, was not to be passed up.
"Impress me," she said, wiping her hand on his trousers before rising to untie him.
"I will do my best," Thranduil said. His pale eyes were actually somewhat unfocused, and when he sat, it was without his usual grace. He kicked off his soiled trousers, leaving them crumpled on the floor. "Take your clothes off, Tauriel, and let me…impress you."
She was actually a little nervous when she unlaced her tunic – which was ridiculous, since this was hardly the first time he'd seen her with no clothes on. The gleam in his eyes wasn't helping in the slightest.
He drew her to lie crosswise on the bed, so that he could kneel beside it. "Relax, Tauriel," he said, hooking her legs over his shoulders. "You will enjoy this."
And then his mouth was on her, and all trepidation – and coherent thought – fled. He laved her with his tongue, and Tauriel cried out when he reached the little bundle of nerves she'd had such fun with on her own solo explorations over the centuries. Those had never felt like this – he suckled hard, gripping her hips when she writhed, and then his tongue was curling inside her, hot and strong, leaving not an inch unexplored. He was merciless, licking his way back to that aching spot, each flick of his tongue drawing another cry from her. Heat shivered through her, her nerves sparking, pleasure rising and coiling, but each time she thought she'd found the edge, Thranduil eased back.
Tauriel moaned in frustration, trying to squirm out of his grasp, to grab his hands and force him to get on with it, but he was far stronger than her, and kept her pinned in place while his tongue tortured her into gasping, incoherent need.
Finally, just when she thought she could take no more, one little suckle and flick of his tongue sent ecstasy like nothing she had ever known surging through her, singing along her every nerve. She'd swear a galaxy exploded behind her eyelids, and even as her cries gave way to whimpers he kept on, drawing her back to the peak almost as soon as shed come down off of it.
She cried out again, harsh and ragged in her throat, this second climax even more intense than the first, almost to the point of pain. She was breathless by the time he was through, loose-limbed and sated in a way she'd never brought herself to be.
Thranduil kissed his way up her body, and lightly pressed his lips to her brow. "I know you unready for true coupling," he said, wrapping his right arm around her and drawing her close, "and perhaps you never will be, but you can tie me down and torment me whenever you see fit, and I will find other ways to give you pleasure."
Strangely…that idea worked for her. Tauriel still did not think she could ever fully give herself to him – not yet, at least, not unless Lady Galadriel managed to work miracles. But this…whatever this was, it felt strangely right. Doubtless others would think it, but they were not others. And they were both more than a little twisted themselves.
"I think I can live with that," she said, almost shyly, with a small smile.
Thranduil laughed, and drew her up the bed and under the covers. Somehow, in spite of all they'd just done, his embrace was as it had always been before, affectionate but not sensual. Perhaps she needn't fear things would change much in the rest of their lives after all.
Thranduil might be more than happy to let Tauriel tie him up and do all kinds of kinky things to him, but he ain't no pushover. At least they've exchanged quite a large mutual level of trust now.