The haze slowly begins to lift. I realize that I am sitting on the ground, slumped against a wall. There is also a taste of bitter herbs in my mouth. Strange.

I try to raise a hand to rub my eyes, but find that I am bound, my wrists tied behind my back. This jolts me fully awake, and the first thing I see is a pair of suede boots and shimmery robes that just barely sweep the ground; I recognize both and scramble to my feet.

"Your majesty!"

One look at the king's face confirms my fear: He is furious.

"You certainly are a more attractive prisoner than the last," he says dryly. He tosses aside something he's been holding—an empty potion bottle—and it rolls noisily across the stone floor.

It appears we are in a prison cell. I have a vague memory of being lead by a couple of guards, but I must have only been half-conscious and then passed out again upon arrival.

Finally, the meaning of his words sinks in. "What do you mean 'the last'? Where's—"

"Sméagol has escaped. I was told his guards became distracted while letting him play in the trees." He gives me an accusatory glare.

"That is unfortunate." I am not sure what else to say. If I was asleep under a table, I could not have been responsible for any such distraction.

"Do you know why the guards forgot to keep an eye on the prisoner?" he presses on.

"No, my lord."

He closes in on me until our faces are mere inches apart. "They were singing an ode to your mouth."

Fuck.

That was not the answer I was expecting, but regrettably it does make sense. How he managed to extract the truth about the distraction from the guards, however, I do not know. Clearly I'm not the only one who is unable to lie to him.

"Would you like to hear the lyrics?" he asks, stepping back.

Oh Valar, he knows the lyrics! I shudder to think what they might be. And the thought that he knows them is mortifying. When I initiated the events of the other night, I had a feeling my actions might lead to no good—but we were running very low on Dorwinion wine, so I had to devise some other escape from my misery.

"Preferably not."

"Pity—they are truly quite clever. I am in awe of the creativity of my people," he says, but his expression is one of disappointment and disgust.

The next question catches me completely off guard, though I should have known it was coming.

"Do you suck off any ellon who opens his breeches, or do you only make the rounds with the guards?"

"Neither. It was just one time, and there were only three of them." That last bit makes me cringe.

He grabs me by the front of the tunic and gives me a good shake. "Only three?"

He looks livid. A wave of fear rushes through me, but it is quickly tempered by the realization that he is jealous. I don't understand why—he made it clear years ago that he didn't want me—but I can think of no other reason for his overreaction.

"Splendid," he says. "You whored yourself with only three of my men at once. Should we ever go to war again, I'll bring you along so you can provide entertainment for all!"

I know he would never do such a thing, but to hear him say it brings a sting to my eyes. I have to turn away. "You don't mean that."

He loosens his grip on my tunic but continues to rub the coarse fabric thoughtfully between his fingers. "No, I do not, but—why, Galion? I do not expect you do be celibate, but that… You deserve a loving relationship."

When I'm sure I will not shed tears, I find his eyes again. "I cannot love another as long as my heart belongs to you."

"Does it still? Even after I led you on and then abandoned you?"

"Always."

He leans in slowly and presses his mouth against mine. The kiss is chaste and hesitant…almost mournful. Then he pulls back.

"My father loved you, Galion. But you were too desperate too see me in him to notice the way he looked at you, the way his face fell whenever you called him by my name."

Reading the confusion on my face, he adds, "It is true. You believe it was all a scheme to keep you away from me—and in the beginning it most likely was—but he came to care for you. I am sure of it."

"My lord, why are you telling me this?"

I was, perhaps, not as oblivious to Oropher's feelings as Thranduil thinks—though at the time I remained in denial. It was the only way I could carry on with him the way we did.

"I have taken everything that was once his," he says softly, "although I have earned none of it."

I know not to argue now; moments such as these, when he reveals to me his deepest insecurities, are exceptionally rare. And any attempt to change his perspective will cause him to shut me out and guard his feelings even more carefully in the future.

He brushes my lips with the backs of his fingers. "Almost everything," he adds in a whisper. Then he drops his hand and takes a few steps back, drawing himself up to full height once more.

I want to scream in frustration, because for a moment it seems like he's going to leave me again.

But he doesn't.

"I require a demonstration," he says. His eyes pose a challenge, but there is also a trace of vulnerability there, something only those closest to him would recognize.

My mouth goes dry as he starts unlacing his breeches. "I want to understand why I have lost another prisoner."

"I was not bound when I..." I point out. I would feel more confident if I had use of my hands.

"Ah, but there is only one of me, so it turns out fair, wouldn't you say? Get on your knees."

So I get on my knees, still unable to believe this is really happening. I watch, utterly dumbstruck, as he strokes himself to full hardness in front of my face, just out of reach. His cock is long and pale with a dark pink head and a delicate arch.

I lick my lips.

He takes a step closer, and I flick the very tip of the head and then swirl my tongue around it. His breath hitches. His cock bobs in the space between us as I continue to tease him like this. He hisses every now and again, but he keeps his hips still and makes no attempt to direct me. I suspect he wants to put my skills to the test by giving me full control from beginning to end. But I intend to make him lose his self-restraint; before it's over he's going to be grabbing fistfuls of my hair, thrusting fast and deep while I gag and splutter around his length.

I inhale his musky scent as I place soft kisses all along his shaft and dip my tongue into the oozing slit. Only when his breathing grows labored do I finally suck his dick into mouth. He gives a contented sigh and reaches out to brush the hair out of my face as I establish a rhythm of taking him deeper and pulling back. Before long, his fingers start to tighten in my hair. I can sense how hard he is trying not to guide me, so I moan around his length. His entire body tenses. I do it again, and he exhales a shaky, pent-up breath.

At one point I begin to wonder who is going to break first. I am so hard, and the sounds he's making are divine. I'd rather let him win this game than embarrass myself by coming untouched again.

"Galion, please…"

I release him with a smirk tugging on the corners of my lips at this first hint of my imminent victory. "I am only following your command. You asked for a demonstration, and I'm giving you one."

This time, when I take him in my mouth again, he automatically thrusts forward—but then he remembers to restrain himself. Undeterred, I swallow his entire length. He moans as his cock hits the back of my throat. I stop to lap at the tip, and then I do it again and again until, with a frustrated groan, he grabs my head in both hands and starts pumping his hips.

Before long there's drool sliding down my chin, and my cock feels like it's going to burst through my trousers. Eru, how I wish he'd fuck me. But I can't ask for it because my mouth is full and my head held firmly in place.

His voice is breathy and hoarse when he speaks. "Did you like it when they came all over your face?"

I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat. I did like it, but only because I imagined it was him.

"Do you want me to?"

This time I moan enthusiastically, and the vibrations make him quiver. He pulls out and keeps my head tilted back with one hand while stroking himself with the other. His breath hitches. I open my mouth.

The first shot feels hot as it splashes onto my chin and lips. Some of it goes into my mouth and slides down the back of my tongue while I keep open for another, and yet another. His dick is still pulsing when he uses it to smear his seed over my skin.

"Come here," he says, pulling me up.

He kisses the corner of my mouth, tasting himself on me, while his fingers begin working on the laces of my breeches. When he pulls back I rub my face into my shoulder to get some of the sticky mess off.

He wraps his long fingers around my cock, and we kiss again while he strokes me for a while.

"I do not have much experience on this end of things," he says then, pressing his forehead to mine. "But I hope I am able please you." Before I can decipher the meaning of his words, he's dropped to his knees, and I cry out at the sensation of heat and wetness as he wraps his mouth around my cock.

My initial instinct is to try and pull him back up—but my hands are still bound. "M-my lord, what if one of the guards passes by?" And sees the king, on his knees in a prison cell, blowing a common tosspot.

He doesn't reply, only sucks harder while gently rolling my balls in his hand. I assume he has ensured our privacy. Still, the thrill of being pleasured by the king in a somewhat public space—of being pleasured by him at all—is enough to send me over the edge within minutes.

It's torture not to be able to hold him while he swallows my come with a quiet, appreciative moan, looking up at me for a moment with glazed blue eyes before his lids flutter closed and the long, dark lashes brush his cheeks. I want to tell him he's beautiful, but all I can manage is a strained whisper of his name.

He pulls back and wipes his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve. My heart flutters madly and I'm not even sure why. Then it hits me. His father would have used my tunic instead—if he had ever sucked me off at all—and I would have called him 'Thranduil' and thought that was as good as it could get. But this is the real Thranduil, in the flesh, looking up at me with a bright twinkle in his eyes. It is better than anything I ever imagined.

He stands and tucks me back into my breeches. "You are mine now," he says, tugging roughly on the laces. "And that means you will not let anyone else touch you. Do you understand?"

He reaches behind me to untie the rope around my wrists, pressing himself against me harder than necessary. I swear I must be glowing—my cheeks actually hurt.

"Yes, my lord."

"Thranduil," he says, and my heart makes another leap. "But to be certain you do not stray, I am going to keep you locked up in my chambers for a fortnight. That ought to send the message to anyone who might be tempted by your charms."

"How will I get my work done?"

"On your back…on all fours…in the bath…" He steps away, grinning, and opens the cell door. "I can think of any number of possibilities."

Something tells me it's going to be an interesting couple of weeks.

Elvish terms:

ellon: male elf