Author: Dayast_joy Title: Loving Legolas series: Hottie Haldir is Very Naughty Email: dayast_joy@yahoo.com Homepage: - Rating: R Disclaimer: I do not own, and am not affiliated in any way with the LOTR universe and movie-verse, both of which are owned by geniuses. I just play here for fun :) Summary: Fluffy story about Haldir scheming his way into Thranduil’s virgin opening and then landing in trouble. Warnings: AU, Haldir Lives! Pairings: Haldir/Thranduil, Legolas/Gimli, Aragorn/Arwen (No gory details for the last, I promise) Thranduil, mighty elf king undefeated in battle for thousands of years, was being tortured. His moans and cries echoed alarmingly through the halls of his underground seat of power where he now lay captive in his own bed, quite naked and exposed, his usually lethal arms bound securely over his head to the bed post by his wicked tormentor. His slim hips were caught in a vice-like grip that could not be escaped despite his formidable strength and most vigorous wriggling. “Hurry up and let me come already!” he finally barked. “How rude you are, love,” chortled a cheeky Haldir, before promptly swallowing the throbbing sex that he had been teasing with feather-light licks and kisses. As Thranduil thrust enthusiastically into his mouth and throat, Haldir hooked a finger into the royal bottom, where it worked its magic to make the orgasm that undid the king even more intense. The royal elf was delightfully limp and satisfied as his captor undid his bonds. “I never knew you had such a naughty streak my dear,” he said, his voice soft and sweet and quite removed from his earlier bellow, “and at your age. Lorien must be an exciting place to be.” “Not as exciting as your bed, your Majesty,” Haldir kissed a pink ear and cuddled up to his lover. Thranduil smiled. He had been courting Haldir since shortly before the war, although the desirable former March Warden had only accepted him in the peacetime that followed, after being healed from grievous Helm’s Deep injuries by Ent draught. Haldir still bore a scar from his brush with mortality, and was very touched at Thranduil’s continued desire. Only one issue disturbed the joy of this loving union, and that was the king’s ridiculous insistence on maintaining the virginity of his thousands-year-old pale and pretty rear end. It was horribly frustrating for Haldir, who, before committing to the father, had known the delights of plundering the bottom of the son. They were as alike as twins and Haldir was convinced that Thranduil’s treasure would prove to be even sweeter than Legolas’s, which had no doubt been plucked and savoured before. But the royal consort had not forgotten his days as warrior and tactician. He was using blow jobs to weaken the king’s defences, and soon, Haldir would mount his captive rather than just fiddling with the delicious bottom using greedy fingers! But the wrath of his lover could possibly be lethal on home ground, so the calculating elf had to find some way of self-preservation while forcing Thranduil into holding his royal temper until he’d calmed down enough to laugh about the incident. So little Estel, which is how Haldir would always refer mentally to the revered King Elessar, had sent an invitation just in time. In two weeks, Thranduil and his loving consort would be guests in the home of Queen Arwen, daughter of Elrond the not-to-be-messed-with, to celebrate the anniversary of Estel’s coronation. And there, amidst the pomp and pageantry, even the haughty elf king would not dare to kick up a ruckus after being tricked into losing his virginity. How Haldir yearned for that moment of triumph and delight! Even immortal elf balls would turn blue after such a long wait. It would be a very special day indeed. ****** Haldir crowed inwardly as he squashed Thranduil against the heavy wooden Gondorian door with hot kisses. The king had had a boisterous and tiring day, starting off with a hunt, a mid-day feast, followed by a display of arms, when he’d tied with his son for the elfin archery category trophy. Then, he’d obtained the elfin sword-fighting prize after a tense match against the deadly Glorfindel, triumphing in the last half-second with an unorthodox body slam move. Which all made Haldir a little nervous for his own scheming hide, but lust had prevailed as his beloved’s bellicose mood softened with wine and copious amounts of food during the evening feast. But Thranduil was not be underestimated, and Haldir was glad he had claimed to be feeling “fragile” (an excuse that seemed logical only to Thranduil’s doting heart, for the former March Warden was clearly restored to his pre-Helm’s Deep strength and full figure even to non- elfin eyes) in order to conserve his energies for his naughty plan and doubtless necessary flight afterwards! “Gently, my lusty pet, it has been a long and most active day,” Thranduil cautioned throatily. His tiredness couldn’t have come at a better time! Haldir whipped off their clothes speedily and eased his lover on to the bed. Thranduil was utterly pliant, not even noticing that instead of a silken scarf, Haldir had fastened his arms to the sturdy Gondorian bed post with thick leather straps and knots that would have secured an uruk captive. Kisses and nips with moist, full lips were showered on to his quivering chest and the elf king groaned with delight as his sex was enveloped, and then massaged, by an eager mouth. Meanwhile, unseen and unknown to the captive blonde, sneaky hands had collected a phial of massage oil with the straps and was now busily massaging another erection. Toes curling with delight, Thranduil roared his orgasm and fell back on to the pillows with a happy sigh. But then suddenly Haldir sat up between his legs and all the alarm bells went off in the ancient warrior’s love and wine-fuzzy mind. “Wha-,” Thranduil began, and then let out an uncharacteristic squeal of shock as he was penetrated by an oil-slicked sex. He tugged at his restraints, snarling indignantly, refusing to acknowledge the pleasure he was feeling at being plundered while so exquisitely relaxed after his climax. Haldir decided he would die happy, for die he surely would! Even as he thrust eagerly for a peak in the tight, and welcoming opening, (although its owner would rather die a thousand Balrog induced deaths than admit it), he could hear the mighty Gondorian bedpost groaning, in all probability starting to crack, and even his powerful arms were having a hard time holding down Thranduil’s thighs. But for the life of him, he could not stop impaling, and pleasuring himself, in that most guarded and precious of Thranduil’s many priceless treasures… “That didn’t sound very orgasmic,” Gimli said, sitting up, both hands still kneading Legolas’s bottom. There had been a commotion in the next room, but the walls of Minas Tirith were very thick and the lovers next door had also been too busy making noise of their own to be bothered by the king’s and his consort’s frolics. Until, that is, the yells erupted: one of bliss and one of rage. Suddenly there was a crashing sound, and Legolas heard the swift patter of elf feet running full tilt down the corridor. And then terrifyingly, the thunder of Thranduil’s killing cry, fuller and far more serious than even in the ring that afternoon, followed by a powerful charge after the culprit. What had Haldir done? “For Durin’s sake, Legolas, stop hiding and go see what angers your father. We could be under attack by orcs,” Gimli gaped to see the hero of the Fellowship quivering under a hastily gathered blanket. “Father will kill them if there are any,” said the fearless Legolas in a small whisper. “It’ll take a braver elf than me to face him when he’s in a temper.” The elf prince gulped in the face of his lover’s disbelieving disapproval at his apparent cowardice, and then decided that there was an elf who would be exempted from Thranduil’s wrath. The king was horribly old- fashioned and chivalrous. The dwarf watched speechlessly as Legolas scrambled out the narrow window towards Minas Tirith’s royal bedchambers on the floor above. ****** “King Thranduil?” Arwen, dressed in an elegant fur trimmed night robe and cloak, couldn’t help feasting her eyes on the naked and furious Thranduil, who had lost Haldir’s trail in the garden by the guest quarters. The elf king stopped his angry growl as he faced his hostess. His wily mind, which had played as much a part as his sword and bow in allowing him to escape death on countless occasions, started to work quickly. He would not gain any sympathy by hunting Haldir down like the rapacious trickster so richly deserved. Everyone would just say dismissively, “Oh, there goes crazy old King Thranduil on another one of his rampages!” Worse, Haldir had many friends and could therefore hide from punishment indefinitely…and he was the most succulent consort, and wouldn’t it be a crying shame not to have a taste of that juicy elf for a prolonged period of time? Like five days? (Elves may be immortal, but Thranduil’s dormant libido had been in overdrive since he first coupled with Haldir shortly after peace was restored). The king had to find some way to lure Haldir out of hiding and then ambush him with a punishment that would restore kingly pride without depriving the kingly sex of the naughty consort’s manifold charms… Throwing his sword down, he crumpled melodramatically to the ground and started to sob noisily. “Oh, my dear King Thranduil, what ails you?” Arwen immediately held him in protective arms, shielding his nakedness from prying eyes…or was she rubbing up against him? Determined not to be distracted from executing his plan, he said in a soft, quivering voice brimming with vulnerability that he had been ravished by his lover and then abandoned. After that, discreetly stabbing his eyes, he proceeded to sob and cling to Arwen as any plundered virgin would. “How awful and low of Haldir! We’ll turn Minas Tirith inside out until we find him and bring him to face you,” the Queen of Gondor soothed. Thranduil wondered why he was being smothered by a generous bosom but decided that it was just as well, because it hid his cunning grin of satisfaction. Haldir could run, but he couldn’t hide! ****** Haldir stopped before opening the door and fidgeted. “Are you sure he isn’t murderous?” he asked his friend. Aragorn nodded. “Arwen said he was most distressed and that you really shouldn’t ravish your spouse and then run away.” The king was convinced that he was beginning to feel his age. He had been trying to sleep off the effects of yet another long week presiding over festivities, hunting “ceremoniously” (which meant he never even got off his horse) and eating, which seemed to be all he ever did these days. But then Legolas had climbed through his bedroom window wearing a sheet, startling him from sleep violently enough to rob him of breath and send his heart racing. Arwen, not really sleeping but merely keeping him company, had gone to investigate. And then, most inexplicably, she had charged back a half hour later and made love to him so violently that Aragorn rather felt like he’d lived through a battle that night. After that, while still rather alarmed and bewildered, he’d been dispatched by a happy Arwen to track Haldir down in the gardens and return his friend discreetly to the royal elf’s side. “I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so angry,” Haldir looked at his feet. Aragorn, never having experienced Thranduil’s rage, patted his friend comfortingly on the back, “There now, maybe he was just shocked.” He looked in dismay at the hasty and messy repairs to the door’s hinges. Elf visits seemed to cause all sorts of destruction, despite them being such a graceful race. Legolas had crashed through his wedding suite door in drunken haste to tumble Gimli last time while Haldir had run out so violently that the door flew right off its hinges tonight. The blonde elf squared his shoulders and knocked. At a rather soft and tearful sounding, “Come in,” they went in. Aragorn stared in bafflement at the broken bed post that had been laid on the floor. In the bed, now with only 3-and-a-half posts, Thranduil lay hidden by a fur, face in a pillow, only his ears and plaits, encrusted with berry-shaped jewels, visible. “I’ll pay for repairs, sorry for the mess,” Haldir said hastily. “No worries,” Aragorn said with a weak smile. If this was the result of elfin coupling, he must have been positively babied by Arwen all this time! “Well, take care and have a good night,” he excused himself quickly, knowing the pair would need to talk. “Oh, Thranduil, I’m so sorry,” Haldir was filled with remorse. His love looked so vulnerable and sweet and…Oh, great Elbereth!! Haldir’s scream sent Legolas diving right under the bed in the next room and all Thranduil’s guards scurrying for cover… Next morning, having breakfast in a small, private chamber, Legolas looked with sympathy upon Haldir. The latter was seated on a very soft cushion, his ears completely red from being pulled and twisted. Blushing ears were a sign of an elf’s sexual arousal, and it was deeply shaming, as well as very painful, to have them bruised into going permanently red. And doubtless Thranduil had caught him up and smacked him soundly on the bottom a few times as well, the royal hand being supremely hard and efficient. The elf king could catch a full grown male elf and secure him with one arm and smack him with the other…Legolas knew this from personal experience, and was supremely glad that Haldir seemed ignorant of this fact. “Are you all right, Haldir? Father can be cruel sometimes,” he said in a small voice. He hoped that the consort would not consider leaving his father. The former March Warden chewed thoughtfully on his breakfast, and then stopped to sip some water. He seemed subdued and the prince worried even more, brow furrowing. But then, Haldir smiled suddenly, shocking his friend. “All things considered, I would do it all again in a heartbeat!” Legolas gaped, but then laughed. Here at last was a match for Thranduil’s unapologetic boldness and sharp mind!