Whether it was the crackling fire or the adrenaline pumping in his veins that had him feeling so incredibly warm, Bard was not sure.
All he knew was that, after an anticipation filled car journey for the restaurant, in which Thranduil's hand had never left his thigh, he was now seated in the manor's beautiful library with a glass of wine in his hand and his heart hammering in his chest.
Across from him, relined elegantly in an armchair, Thranduil sipped at his wine.
"Oh, Bard, are you cold?" he said suddenly, after Bard's traitorous nerves made him shiver.
"No! I mean, no, not at all. Please, don't trouble yourself," he replied, trying to regain thorough composure.
"Bard," Thranduil smiled and shook his head, "You must understand, anything I do for you is no trouble at all. Please do not think yourself a burden. Here,"
He stood and, sitting down his wine class, knelt to stoke the fire. As he drew the iron poker from it holder and turned the ashes and kindling the fire sparked and spat a few shards of wood into the air. Thranduil physically recoiled.
Bard nearly leapt out of his seat to make sure he was alright but stopped when he saw the look of shame on his face.
"My apologies," he muttered in a low voice, returning to his seat and taking a sudden fascination with his wine glass.
"Thranduil? Are… are you alright?" Bard decided that he could not let the incident pass without trying to understand his sudden upset.
"I am well, thank you, Bard," the only sincere part of his speech was the thanks.
Bard was unsure whether or not to push the matter. He had no wish to further upset Thranduil but he was distressed by his sudden change in countenance and sought to sooth him. While he was trying to formulate an appropriate reply, Thranduil spoke again.
"I...I am not fond of fire,"
He voice wavered slightly, as if he were afraid. Bard did not know why but it shocked him to see Thranduil experience such an emotion. He was always so very composed and yet, with every other show of humanity he had given, why should he not express fear? He was only human after all.
Knowing that he would have to judge his words very carefully, Bard tried to ease the tension.
"It pains me to see you in any discomfort, Thranduil. Is there anything I can do to help? Can-"
"Bard," Thranduil cut him off, looking up from his wine glass and showing eyes that prickled with unfallen tears, "I...I wish to tell you something. If…" he took a shuddering breath, "If you should think differently about me… about us when I tell you, I will understand..."
"No! No, of course not!" Bard insisted, immediately leaving his chair and kneeling in front of Thranduil, "Nothing you could say could possibly make me think less of you…"
Thranduil gave a humourless chuckle and glanced up at him with tear-filled eyes.
"Well, do not say I didn't warn you," he sighed.
He adjusted himself in his chair, an outward show of his inner discomfort. He took a breath to steady himself and, slightly shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was about to say, he began.
"When I was young, barely into my teens, I was staying with my parents in London for the summer. We were staying in a rented townhouse… opulent, just the way we were expected to. Marble columns, grand staircases, a fireplace in every room. It was a gift for my mother. A month surrounded by theatres and fine dining and boutiques. Everything she deserved for her birthday. My father… he doted on her. Never spared any expense,"
He took a shaky breath. Bard took his hand gently and urged him on with a gentle nod.
"We had just come back from the a late night play. We asked for food to be brought to our rooms and then went to sleep. They weren't expecting to be cooking so late… they forgot to douse one of the fires... it got out of hand, spread too quickly…"
Bard listened with a look of horror, not daring to guess what might have happened. He held his hand tighter.
"My mother was still awake and raised the alarm. She ran to find me but there were already flames in the hallway. My father, he tried to fight through them. When he reached me I was unconscious. Thankfully I had fallen onto the floor or I would have suffocated. He pulled me out of the flames…"
Thranduil paused and exhaled deep and long, clearly suffering from reviving the memory. Bard held his breath.
"I was… badly burned. Extensively so, but most of them were across my face. It took years, so many years, to rebuild and disguise the damage. I was unspeakably lucky in that no expense was spared for my treatment. The best surgeons, the finest facilities. The time and pain eventually paid off. They reconstructed almost half of my face perfectly and with the most minimal scarring imaginable. To anyone unaware of them they would merely appear as natural contours in my face. The only remaining damage is to my left eye. I keep a bottle of medicated fluid in my study, I believe you may have seen it. It nullifies the effects and allows me to function entirely uninhibited. I was the lucky one…"
Tears now tracked freely down Bard's face as he learned of his harrowing ordeal. He could not even begin to comprehend the agony and suffering that Thranduil must have felt and fought through. The only thing that was stopping his heart breaking in half was the awe that he felt at his bravery. He was truly a hero and Bard could not feel more proud of him.
Thranduil, however, was not finished. He sniffed slightly, tears beginning to escape and he squeezed his eyes closed to stop them.
"My father…when he tried to save me, when he did save me… he inhaled so much smoke. As soon as we were outside of the building, when he knew my mother and I were safe, he collapsed. He passed away less than a hour later, long before I woke up. He- he died… because of me…"
He could hold himself together no longer and finally he allowed his grief to show. His tears were silent as he raised his head to look Bard in the eye. He gazed at him beseechingly, almost begging him to be disgusted, to shy away, to validate his belief that he was now entirely unlovable.
He was altogether unprepared when Bard took his face in his hands and kissed him so fiercely that it almost hurt. He could not move or even breath as he felt tears which were not his own run onto his cheeks. As Bard pulled back, not letting go of his face, he stared at him in astonishment.
"No, sweetheart, that wasn't your fault," Bard soothed, "You can't blame yourself for what happened,"
"B-but-"
"He saved you. He did what any father would have and he would never want you to blame yourself for his actions. He wouldn't want you to carry guilt over his sacrifice. It was not your fault," he tried to explain, heartbroken that Thranduil had been labouring under such grief for no reason.
Gently, he stroked the tears from Thranduil's cheeks with his thumbs, meeting the gaze of his incredulous, pain-filled eyes.
"How… how can you p-possibly bare to be with me now… now that you know…" he breathed, his voice hardly above a whisper.
"Know what, love? That you are brave and strong and heroic in your own right? That you are a survivor and a fighter and foolish, foolish man for always laying blame upon yourself? My dear Thranduil, you are not a burden to be borne. You are a treasure," Bard stated, his heart swelling with pride as he thought on this admirable man and how lucky he was to know him.
Thranduil's lips parted and he gasped audibly, his eyes wide with disbelief. Slowly, he raised his shaking hand to cup Bard's face, who instantly leaned into the touch.
There was a second of utter stillness before his lips were upon Bard's in a frantic, feverish kiss filled with desperation and amazement and utter joy. He pulled him from his kneeling position on the floor into his lap, straddling him. Bard gasped in shock. Thranduil pulled back immediately.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you!" he babbled, horrified that moments ago Bard had made him feel more at peace than he had in years and now he had allowed his control to slip, "Please, I-"
"Thran…" Bard spoke, a tremor in his voice, "I-it's okay…"
He had no idea what to do. He had never dreamed of being in any kind of intimate relationship again and, now that this was changing, was he entirely prepared for it? Could he allow things to progress so quickly? Thranduil was so terribly important to him. He didn't want to lose him or push too hard or move too fast. He worried his lip with his teeth as he thought. Yes, this was fast, much faster than he could have anticipated, but hadn't he waited long enough? Wasn't it time to give in to that desire? He knew one thing for sure and it was that he wanted Thranduil. He wanted him desperately. Would it be such a bad thing to act on that, even so early in their relationship?
"Bard?" Thranduil whispered, bringing him back to reality, "If you do not want this... if you are not ready, please, tell me. I will think no less of you...I could never think less of you…"
Was he ready? Was he really?
In truth, Bard thought, when are we ever ready for anything in life? This was a dream and he chose to revel in it, come what may.
"I am," he breathed, fighting back a rising blush to look Thranduil in the eye, "I do want this. I am ready… I want you, Thran…"
Thranduil needed no verbal answer as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Bard was an angel. He was his angel.
Carefully, as if afraid to scare him off, he leaned forward and, with impossible tenderness, pressed his lips to Bard's.
Their kiss was hesitant at first, both of them stunned by this sudden confession. Their lips moved against each other like sheets of silk and hands gently held each other's faces. Then, there was joy as both realised that neither was pulling away. They fit together perfectly. The fear and uncertainty was gone. In this moment there was only each other and their bubbling anticipation. Bard, wanting to show his comfort, deepened the kiss. Truly, he would never get enough of Thranduil's taste.
He wound his hands into Thranduil's silken hair, winding it around his fist, pulling lightly. Thranduil moaned raggedly into the kiss, loving this new boldness. He placed one hand at the small of Bard's back and used the other to cup his face as he began pressing reverent kisses along his jawline and down towards his pulsepoint. In return, Bard let his hands roam, dragging his nails along his broad shoulders and running his palms across his defined chest, stimulating him through his silk shirt.
"Bard!," Thranduil groaned, nipping savagely at his neck, "God, you're so beautiful!...Ah! Bard, yes!...Ohh! Please, touch me!"
As Thranduil vocalised his pleasure, Bard moaned aloud at the wonders his mouth wrought on his neck. How had he never realised that it had been so long? How had he lived without this kind of touch? And Thranduil, he was exactly the same; starved of intimacy for far too long.
He became very quickly aware of his own hardness, already straining painfully in his trousers. He was almost ashamed that Thranduil had brought such a wanton reaction from him so easily, that is until he felt the solid weight of his hardened member against his thigh. He gasped, not expecting to feel its heat or its, apparently considerable, size. He was far from objecting, however, and spread his knees slightly further apart in the chair, carefully rolling his hips to grind firmly into Thranduil.
"Ah! Ohh…"
A feeling like electricity shot through his veins and repeated his action immediately.
Thranduil's head fell backwards against the back of the chair as he released a desperate moan.
"Please!" he panted, gazing up at Bard with hooded, blackened eyes, "Again!"
Bard gripped the chair on either side of Thranduil's head to aid his balance and, as he rolled his hips forward again, Thranduil's hands flew to them, gripping tight and pulling him in harder.
"Ah! Yes!" Bard cried as he was pulled repeatedly against Thranduil, his cock engorged and pulsating dizzyingly at every thrust, "Mmm, f-feels so good… you're so… so big, Thran…"
Thranduil growled and thrust upwards harder,
"For you… only for you...God, I want you so bad!"
"Yes!" Bard found himself agreeing without any need for thought, "Yes, want you! Please!"
Thranduil kissed him fervently, clutching at him as he pulled back and panted,
"U-upstairs?"
Bard could only nod and, as he tried to get up from the chair, he found himself lifted entirely into Thranduil's arms, his legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. God, he was strong, he thought, as he was vaguely aware of being carried from the room.
It took a considerable amount of time to reach Thranduil's private rooms. At every turn they stopped to kiss, to push one another against a wall, to pull at clothing. Eventually, Bard was pulled through a thick mahogany door and into his bedroom. He had next to no time to look at his surroundings, only noticing a vast fireplace, a table with two chairs and large four poster bed.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Thranduil spun him so his back was pressed against its panels. He leaned down to kiss him insistently, one hand cradling the back of his head to prevent it bumping against the door.
Despite the sudden tension Bard had now begun to feel - being in Thranduil's room had added a massive amount of gravitas to the situation - he leaned into the touch and was delighted to find that it soothed him. He was a little scared about being intimate with Thranduil but it seemed that that same intimacy cured him of his fear. A sensual paradox.
Bard allowed his hands to run the length of Thranduil's chest, receiving an appreciate whimper, and gently, with slightly trembling hands, he begun to loosed the first few buttons of Thranduil's shirt. Thranduil pressed his lips to his a little harder, trying to show him that everything was alright. After fumbling blindly with the sixth and final button, the shirt hung open, baring Thranduil's heaving chest.
Were he not painfully aware that he was flesh and blood, Bard would have thought him carved of alabaster. His skin was beautifully pale and was entirely unmarked by blemishes. His years of riding and tending the estate had honed his physique into something akin to a Grecian statue. Still, for all his marble perfection, the flush colouring the column of his neck had begun to spread. He was breathing heavily and his chest expanded with every inhale. Bard was entirely speechless.
Thranduil, noticing Bard's silence, immediately sought to help.
"Are...Is this alright? If it's not, please, tell me. I would never push you-"
His fretting was drowned out by a pair of desperate lips clashing with his own. He was pushed back a step with the force of Bard's embrace. He nearly lost his balance altogether when he felt Bard's hands on his bare chest for the first time. They caressed and mapped and teased at his sensitive skin, all the while kissing him with a previously unknown intensity. It had been so long since he had been touched in this way; Bard's hand's felt as though they were leaving burning trails behind them. The only thought filling his rapidly clouding mind was the need for more.
When they finally broke for much needed air, Bard looked up at him with burning eyes. Any trace of discomfort or apprehension was now entirely gone. Choosing to act on his new comfort, Thranduil reached out and brushed his fingers along the line of buttons of Bard's shirt, silently asking for permission.
Bard answered with a nod and, as his fingers deftly worked the fastenings, Thranduil pressed soothing kisses to the column of his neck. Carefully, Bard reached backwards and braced his hands against the door. The mixture of feelings caused by Thranduil's lips and the air of the room hitting his chest with every button undone was making him lightheaded with anticipation.
As he felt the last button pop and his shirt fall open, he closed his eyes. He was not like Thranduil. He was not a work of physical art. He was a father of two who enjoyed the occasional cake. Yes, he looked after himself as best he could, but he could never compare to Thranduil's ethereal beauty. He waited to be met with the inevitable disappointment.
There was silence as Thranduil took him in. All Bard could hear was a softly shuddering breath. Then, two strong hands gently cupped his face. He opened his eyes and was met with Thranduil's own and saw that they shone with unfallen tears.
"Bard…" he breathed, smiling dazzlingly, "You're so beautiful… God, you- you're an angel!"
Had they been in any other situation Bard would have shot him an incredulous look but here, where he was unable to miss the sincerity in Thranduil's eyes, he flushed and managed a grateful smile. Upon seeing him smile, Thranduil breathed a relieved and joyful laugh, so happy to see Bard beginning to relax. Leaning in, he gently ran the side of his nose along Bard's - an affectionate gesture to show his appreciation. As Bard relaxed further upon seeing how much it pleased Thranduil, he allowed his instincts to have a little more leash and began to kiss the pulse point on his neck.
The feeling of Bard's lips on his neck was like electricity and Thranduil found himself grasping at Bard's bare chest, revelling in this new and intimate contact. His hands smoothed over his muscle and danced across his sensitive nipples, causing Bard to bite a little at the nape of his neck. He moaned aloud as they dragged across this particular erogenous zone and pulled back to stare Bard hungrily in the eyes.
Bard understood from his look what he had done and he too was desperate for more. Within a second they had wrenched the shirts from each other's back and had stumbled back towards the bed, their lips and tongues caught in a fierce kiss. As the back of Bard's knees touched the bed, he found himself lifted once again and half-thrown into the centre of its sprawling sheets. He had one brief second to savour the breathtaking view of Thranduil standing over him before he was straddled by his powerful mass.
As he kissed him, Bard let his hands wander across the planes of his chest, over his muscled shoulders and down his arched back. Thranduil, too, busied himself enjoying Bard's body, spreading his legs with his knee and pinning him down as he lay between them. His hair draped down on one side, like a curtain shielding every other thing in the world from Bard's attention.
To Bard, the situation was almost overwhelming. Every touch he received felt so incredible. God, it had been so long! He could tell that Thranduil, too, was nearly overcome by these sensations; every stroke across his skin elicited whimpers and breathy moans from him. He was so responsive. Bard, colouring at the thought, certainly hoped that his vocal appreciation would only increase.
He was proved right when, accidentally, he ground up against Thranduil's crotch.
"Ah! God!" Thranduil gasped, detaching himself from the bruise he had been sucking into Bard's collarbone.
His eyes flew up to meet Bard's, first in surprise and then, when he saw Bard smile, asking for permission. Bard nodded eagerly.
Carefully, as if terrified to break him, Thranduil rolled his hips against Bard's and mewled at the resulting friction. He could not help but repeat the action a few times more, beaming at the pleasure in Bard's face, before he pulled back and grasped at the buckle of his belt. Bard did the same and, trying to lose as little contact as possible, they wrestled themselves free of every remaining garment. Suddenly, at last, they were bare to each other.
Bard choked down an awed moan as he took in Thranduil in his entirety. He was all muscle and creamy, flawless skin. And, he noted with a gasp, he had certainly been correct in his estimation about his size. He was glorious.
Thranduil was looking at Bard with no less awe. He drank him in, willing the image of this beautiful, strong, rugged man to stay forever in his mind.
"Bard," he sighed, nearly panting with want, "I...Bard, you're perfect!"
"Thran," Bard breathed, finding his voice husky and filled with gravel, "Want you. Please, I want you so much…"
With a moan Thranduil surged forward, returning to his previous position between Bard's legs, sensitive flesh touching for the first time. Both of them cried out as their cocks dragged the length of each other. Without a word, they thrust against each other, Thranduil's hips driving his into the mattress. Bard wound his calves around Thranduil's, spreading his legs further and groaning as the pleasure increased.
Soon this wonderful friction was not enough. Both were aware of the next step, though neither wanted to ask, they were so afraid to make the other uncomfortable. Bard knew he would have to be the one to say it was alright, and, though the fear from earlier had begun to creep back into his mind, he pushed it aside with thoughts of the pleasure to come. Gently he lifted Thranduil's face to meet his, kissing him gently. As they broke apart, he tried to find the words.
"Thran...I...I want…"
Thranduil smiled and pecked Bard on the lips.
"Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you want," he encouraged gently.
Bard to a deep breath.
"I want...I want you. I want you...inside me. Please, Thranduil?" he stammered out.
"Are you sure?" Thranduil replied, "If you don't want to, please, don't be scared to tell me. Or… or if you want it… the other way round, then that's okay too. I want you to be happy, baby,"
Bard gasped.
"You… you would do that?"
"I'll give you anything you want, Bard," Thranduil vowed.
Bard thought for a moment before he spoke.
"No...no, I want you to be...I want you to be in…"
"I understand," Thranduil nodded, "Bard, thank you… thank you for trusting me. I promise, I will look after you. I promise I'll try to deserve you. Anything you want, just say it. And- and if you want to stop at any time, we can. I would never-"
"I know," Bard cut him off. It nearly melted his heart to know how considerate and dedicated Thranduil was to making sure he was alright. He wanted to do the same, "Thran, please, if...if you want anything...please tell me. I want to make you happy,"
"Oh, sweetheart," he replied, kissing his forehead, "you already do,"
There was a moment of perfect stillness as both took in what the other had said. This was really going to happen.
Carefully, Thranduil rose from the bed and opened a drawer on the nightstand.
"Wait!" Bard said suddenly.
Thranduil froze, terrified that he had done something wrong.
"Bard, are you okay? What did I do?" he gasped.
"I don't want… I don't want anything between us… I want to feel you…" Bard pleaded.
Thranduil blinked.
"Are- are you sure?" he asked, open mouthed.
"Yes, please, Thran," Bard nodded eagerly.
Reaching into the drawer, Thranduil withdrew a small bottle of amber coloured oil and immediately returned to Bard, pulling him to him and kissing him deeply, pouring out his gratitude, his amazement and his desire.
"I'll look after you, baby, I swear," he whispered as he peppered Bard's face with tender kisses.
Bard was not aware that they had moved further up the bed until he found himself lying back against the pillows. Thranduil broke from kissing him to tenderly stroke a lock of hair from his face, drawing his finger slowly down to run along his jaw.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, an adoring smile on his face.
"I'm, uh, I'm a little nervous…" Bard answered truthfully, the butterflies in his stomach flapping all the harder as if to prove his point.
"Of course you are," Thranduil nodded, knowingly, "I promise, I'll take it slow. As slow as you need. And, if you ever feel like you need to stop, all you have to do is say. I will never push you, Bard. This is all on your terms," he kissed him on the forehead, reassuringly.
The butterflies seemed to calm themselves a little.
"What… what do we do now?" Bard asked, feeling something of a fool, his inexperience showing through.
"I'm going to prepare you, okay, baby?" Thranduil asked, waiting for Bard's nod to continue, "Okay. I'll be so gentle but, at the start, it might be a little bit uncomfortable. You must tell me if it gets too much or if I hurt you at all. Promise me?"
"I-I promise," Bard replied, voice trembling a little in anticipation.
Thranduil smiled admiringly at him and gently guided him to lie in a relax position, spreading his legs wide enough that he could kneel between them.
Bard took a shaky breath. This was all suddenly very serious.
He steadiest somewhat as he felt Thranduil lovingly stroking his thighs, calming him. He had not been aware that they were trembling until he heard him cooing soothingly, quieting his nerves.
"Alright, darling, I'm going to start now, okay? You just remember to keep letting me know how you're feeling,"
Bard nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 'Oh God!' he thought, this was happening! 'Calm down, calm down, he's got you. Everything's okay…'
He heard Thranduil unstoppering the bottle of oil and took another, calming breath.
"Sweetheart, this is going to be a little cold at first, okay? I don't want to give you a shock,"
And it was a little. The next sensation he felt was the intensely intimate feeling of Thranduil's soft fingers tenderly rubbing oil around his hole. He gasped at the sensation and shuddered, trying not to appear jumpy.
"It's alright, Bard. I've got you," Thranduil soothed, his voice suddenly taking on a level of huskiness, "You're so beautiful, Bard…"
As he continued to whisper sweet words, Bard felt the knuckle of his index finger breach him. He gasped aloud.
"Are you okay?" Thranduil asked, staying perfectly still.
"Yeah… yeah, m'fine… just strange…" Bard managed, focussing on his breathing and Thranduil's other hand caressing his leg.
"Good, good… you just let me know if that changes, sweetheart,"
Another push. Thanks to the oil, the finger entered fully him with little trouble. 'There,' he thought, 'that wasn't so bad. You can do this,'.
"That's one, baby. How do you feel?" Thranduil asked, rubbing his leg rewardingly.
"I'm fine. It- it feels okay… just a little tight…"
"Do you want me to continue?"
"Yeah… I can do this…"
Thranduil chuckled and shook his head slightly,
"You. Are. A. Treasure," he purred, punctuating every word with a kiss to his knee.
A moment later Bard felt a second finger brushing against his entrance. He took another breath.
The second knuckle was a bit of a stretch. A slight burn passed through him and he winced.
"Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?" Thranduil asked concernedly.
"N-no...I knew this would burn a little… it'll get better. Keep going…"
As Thranduil pushed further the burn intensified. He took a shaky breath. Then that was it. It was in.
He let out that breath.
Thranduil kissed his thigh, muttering terms of endearment and praise.
"Well done, baby! Oh, sweetheart, you're doing so well," he beamed, "Alright, I'm going to have to move them a little. I need to start to loosen you up..."
"'Kay…"
It burned again as Thranduil pulled back a little. He was so gentle but the burn was unavoidable. As they pushed back in, he gasped a little. The feeling was not yet pleasurable but he was starting to see how it could be.
Thranduil repeated the action, every time pulling out a little further, pushing in a little quicker. he back to scissor his fingers and, to his delight, Bard showed little sign of discomfort. He grew a little bolder.
He adjusted his angle and pushed back in, curling his fingers slightly.
"AH! God!" Bard cried, a sudden jolt of intense pleasure shooting through him.
"Ohh, yeah…" Thranduil sighed, grinning as he watch Bard arch against the bed.
"W-what was that?!"
"Something that's only going to get better, sweetheart," he purred, his voice becoming gravely with desire. Seeing Bard react like that sent lightening straight to his cock.
"Please...do it again!"
"Anything you want, my angel,"
Again he withdrew and struck down upon that perfect spot. Bard cried out with joy.
"More!" he begged.
"Ohh, Bard! Yes…"
Again. Again and again and again he caressed it, every touch making Bard howl in pleasure. He was panting with arousal just watching him. God, if Bard kept making those beautiful sounds he would have a hard time taking it slow.
Deciding that enough was enough, and seeing that Bard was now properly prepared, he withdrew. Bard whined at the loss.
"Bard...baby, it's okay… do you think you're ready now?" he cupped Bard's face, looking for any sign that he might want to stop.
"Yes!" he cried, "Yes, I'm ready! Just, please, Thran...I need you so bad…"
"Okay, baby, okay. I'm right here…"
His hands were almost shaking with anticipation as he slicked his cock with the remainder of the oil.
He leaned forward, positioning himself between Bard's open legs. Capturing his mouth in searing kiss, he poured out his gratitude, his admiration and his love.
"Thank you...thank you for trusting me… for everything…" he whispered, his eyes welling up a little as he gazed at the flushed siren beneath him. If he wasn't the luckiest man alive…
"Thran, I-I want you… you're perfect! Please!" Bard grasped at his broad shoulders, spreading his legs a little wider.
"Angel," he whispered, using one hand to position himself at Bard's entrance, "Are you ready?"
Bard nodded. That was all he needed.
Gently, ever so gently, he pushed.
Bard cried out and gripped tighter at his back as his head breached that tight ring of muscle.
Fuck, he was so tight!
"Ugh!" Thranduil felt the air leave his lungs as he was slowly enveloped in Bard's velvet heat, "Fuck! Ohh...God!"
"Ah! It's so big!" Bard panted. Thranduil was really stretching him. He was incredibly grateful for his meticulous preparation. It burned but...mmm, it was good!
It took a little while of Thranduil's slow, steady pushing until he was, finally, seated in Bard to the hilt.
He kissed Bard with fervour.
"You- you're amazing! Oh my god, you're so tight! You're gripping me! Ugh! Oh, Bard!"
Bard knew Thranduil would not move without his say so, so, reaching up to cup his face and looking him in his blackened eyes, he whispered,
"Take me, Thran,"
"Ah!"
Bard's words were glorious torture to his self restraint. Slow, he had to take it slow. This was Bard. His Bard.
Carefully, bracing himself on his forearms, he withdrew until only his head was still inside. He took a steadying breath and slowly pushed back in.
"Mmm!"
The friction was exquisite and Bard dragged his nails lightly across his shoulders. For all his worry, this was incredible so far.
"Again!"
Thranduil gladly obliged, his breath coming in ecstatic pants. Carefully, he started to build up a rhythm.
"Bard! O-oh fuck, f-fuck!"
It was like heaven! How had he survived this long without him? Without his Bard?
Bard was now moaning at every movement he made and instinctively wrapped his legs around Thranduil's waist, crying out as it brought him even deeper inside him. Oh! Oh, there was that sweet spot again!
"Mmm, Thran, faster! Ugh! I-it's so good!"
"A-anything! I'll do anything for you!"
Thranduil groaned long and deep as he began to pick up speed. Now he had the angle just right, Bard was starting to writhe under him. It was fucking beautiful.
"Yeah! Fuck! Oh, Bard! L-let me hear you, baby!"
"Thran! Oh, Thran!"
"Ohh! Baby, say it! Say my name again!"
"Thran! F-fuck! 'm close! H-harder! Please, fuck me harder!"
Harder and harder, until the bed banged against the wall like it would break it down. He ploughed into Bard, crying out at every thrust.
"I'm so close, Thran!"
"It's okay, baby! Cum for me! Bard, cum for me!"
He reached in between them and grasped Bard's cock, pumping it in time with his punishing thrusts.
"AH! Shit! I-I can't hold it! Ohh, THRAN!"
As he screamed his release, he clutched at Thranduil's hair.
That was it. The one last trigger to throw him over the edge.
Thranduil came with stars in his eyes, sobbing Bard's name like a prayer.
He truly was an angel.
They lay there for a time, panting and basking in their afterglow. Bard hissed as Thranduil slowly withdrew, kissing his apologies onto his neck. He dragged the sheets over them and tucked Bard lovingly to his chest, pressing reverent kisses to his damp hair.
"You cannot be real," he sighed, sure that this was simply the greatest of his fantasies and that he would soon wake in an empty bed.
"Thran, you're... I don't have the words!" Bard held him close, revelling in the sound of his heartbeat thundering next to his ear.
Thranduil chuckled disbelievingly. Truly, what could life possibly be without this god in his arms?
Bard's sudden laughter brought him back to reality.
"What is it, angel?" he smiled.
"I was just thinking I should probably call Sigrid and let her know I won't be home tonight," he beamed.
Thranduil laughed merrily.
"Perhaps that would be best, my love,"
As Bard reached for his phone in his discarded clothing, he felt those butterflies returning; this time, eagerly awaiting what the future might hold.