My Heart's Desire - Part 1. To Wait for you.

Chapter 10. A Promise Kept.


Thranduil was awakened by feather light touches on his face. When his sight focused he found himself looking into the deep warm green of Gildor’s eyes.
“Good morning,” the Vanya whispered, his fingertips caressing Thranduil’s cheek.
“Is it morning?” Thranduil mumbled sleepily.
“Almost.” Gildor smiled and dipped his head. The kiss he gave Thranduil was remarkably energizing and by the time it ended Thranduil was fully awake.
“Uh, what is it you are doing?”
“I promised to make up to you, didn’t I?”
“Already?” the king chuckled, amused.
“Do you mind?” Gildor gave several teasing strokes to Thranduil’s member, which rose eagerly to meet his touch.
“Valar, no! Go on!”
At this invitation Gildor slid down Thranduil’s body, parted his legs and settled comfortably between them. Then he looked down at the golden perfection spread before him. Even to look at Thranduil was an erotic pleasure in itself. Gildor was voraciously drinking in the striking sight offered to his eyes. He marveled at the elegant curve of muscle and bone; at the body, so graceful and so masculine at the same time; at the dormant power he could feel in it. For him, Thranduil had always been the most precious jewel in the crown of Mirkwood, her brightest emerald. His silent admiration was ended by Thranduil’s knees suddenly squeezing his hips.
“What is so wrong with me,” the king complained in jest, “that you have me beneath you, more than willing, completely at your mercy and all you do is just stare, as if I were some piece of art!”
Gildor smiled down at him. “But this is what you are, Thranduil – a piece of art,” he said softly.
Thranduil gave a sigh of mock exasperation and Gildor kissed his knee affectionately. However, by this time the Vanya felt that for him, too, just to look was no longer enough. Now he yearned to feast on this magnificent body, given to him so generously. He craved for the feel of Thranduil’s skin, for the taste of his passion, for the music of his moans.
Gildor raised his hand and touched Thranduil’s flat stomach. His eyes darkened as he felt the hard muscles ripple under his fingers. The next moment Thranduil grabbed his hand and yanked him on top of himself. Both moaned with sudden need. Their mouths met in a greedy, fierce kiss. When Gildor tore his lips away Thranduil gasped in protest and leaned up, trying to recapture his mouth. But the Vanya threaded his fingers through his lover’s resplendent mane holding his head in place and covered his face and throat with ravenous kisses. Thranduil shivered in delight, his hands gliding fervently up and down Gildor’s back, tracing the defined muscles, stroking, squeezing, trying to press him even closer. Hungry for more, Gildor let go of Thranduil’s hair and started moving down, his lips trailing a fiery line over the firm plains of Thranduil’s chest, his gifted hands never failing to find and caress every sensitive spot on Thranduil’s body. The king moaned, his voice trembling with desire, when Gildor finally reached the main course of his feast. Gildor allowed himself a moment of admiration as Thranduil’s sex rose to greet him, as proud and beautiful as his royal lover himself. Then he could restrain his hunger no longer.
Thranduil cried out loud when he felt the mind-numbing heat of Gildor’s mouth envelop his flesh to the hilt. His hips thrust upward of their own accord, his hands clawing at the sheets. He could feel the tidalwave of his climax rushing rapidly down on him. He sat up abruptly, pushing at Gi’s s’s shoulders.
“No, no!”
Gildor sat up as well, a light shadow of uncertainty crossing his face. Thranduil took several deep breaths, trying to slow down his pulse.
“Too soon,” he panted. “I want…”
Relieved, Gildor braced his hands on Thranduil’s thighs and leaned forward, bringing his face close to his lover’s. “Thranduil, melethron,” he said softly, “I’ll give you anything you desire. But right now, please, give me what *I* want. Let me taste you.”
Thranduil sighed and lay down again, praying to the Valar he would not come the very moment Gildor touched him again. But then all coherent thought fled him as Gildor’s wickedly skilled mouth was back on him, sucking away the remnants of his self-control, urging, coaxing, demanding surrender. And surrender Thranduil did. He cried out his pleasure, thrashing his head and arching his spine, as his climax hit him full-force. He heard the Great Sea roaring in his ears and felt himself being first tossed by its billows and then rocked gently. Gildor stroked Thranduil’s hips soothingly, kissed his inner thighs and whispered endearments while Thranduil rode out the waves of his aftermath.
When his pulse slowed down again and his breath quieted, Thranduil felt Gildor move and opened his eyes. Gildor was silently kneeling between his legs; his look intense, his eyes blazing with dark impassioned fire. He caressed Thranduil’s hips and abdomen gently and the king sighed in bliss, relishing the tingle that raced across his skin from the touch of his lover’s hands. Soon he felt his desire swirl and rise and pool into his loins anew. It did not come as a surprise to him, though. It had always been like this with Gildor. It was enough for him just to put his hands on Thranduil to make him needy and burning with lust again, no matter how much sated he could have been merely a few moments ago. It could be exhausting, it could be frustrating. But with no one else had Thranduil experienced passion that mind-blowing and pleasure that overwhelming. Not even with his queen, Thranduil had to admit guiltily. He did not know if all of Gildor’s lovers felt the same, though he had little doubt about it. Neither did he know if the Vanya was aware of his gift. But the magic of his touch never failed to work.
This time was no exception. In a short while Thranduil was again hard and straining and writhing under his lover’s urgent ministrations. He wanted Gildor. He wanted him this very instant.
“Take me!” That was meant as a demand but all that came out was an impatient half-moan.
“Your Majesty’s wish is a law for me.” Gildor made a mock bow of respect. “Do you need preparation?”
“Yes,” Thranduil panted. “I do not often find myself in this position.”
“I know and I treasure the privilege,” Gildor replied earnestly. Then he bent forward lithely and gave a quick kiss to Thranduil’s regal erection. Thranduil gasped and Gildor smiled mischievously. “Oil then, please, melethronen.”
Thranduil fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer, found a vial of oil and tossed it in Gildor’s direction. Gildor snatched it and unstoppered with his teeth, the fingers of his other hand drawing titillating patterns along the juncture of Thranduil’s hip and pelvic bone. Then, spreading Thranduil’s thighs even wider, he inched closer so that his demandingly hard sex lay on Thranduil’s abdomen pressing against the king’s rigid shaft, pourpoured the oil. Thranduil hissed as the cool liquid hit his heated skin. He hissed again when Gildor’s deft fingers brushed over his opening, spreading the fluid.
“Don’t draw it out,” he panted.
“As you wish,” Gildor grinned, the stopper still between his teeth.
Thranduil gasped loudly at the sudden invasion of two efficient and well-placed fis. As. A long moan tore from his lips as Gildor stroked his pleasure gland. Gildor quickly put the stopper back into the vial anssedssed it aside. He felt he was swiftly nearing the limits of his self-control. His member had grown painfully hard and was throbbing with need. He longed for the blissful relief the golden body beneath him could give. He wanted it, he needed it. Badly, desperately and immediately. He bit hard on his lip as he proceeded with the preparing of his lover, stretching him skillfully and carefully, if not too gently.
“Gildor, please, now!” Thranduil begged at last.
The next moment the fingers were gone, replaced by the hot, smooth marble of Gildor’s sex that pushed insistently inside, making Thranduil’s flesh part and accept it. Thranduil felt himself filled in one long, masterful thrust and moaned at the sensation. Gildor kept still, giving him time to adjust and groaning at the effort it cost him. But Thranduil, almost insane with desire, saw no reason for Gildor to be so solicitous.
“For Valar’s sake, do not stop!” he urged him impatiently.
Gildor was only too ready to oblige. Resting his weight on his arms, placed on either side of Thranduil’s trembling form, he started to rock himself steadily in and out of the blissful heat and tightness that was Thranduil’s body. But Thranduil was in no mood for a drawn-out lovemaking. He slung one leg over Gildor’s arm, trying to make him go deeper, faster. Gildor refused to be hurried, though. His dark eyes hooded, his face set in concentration, he moved in the same controlled manner, his hips surging slowly, rhythmically against Thranduil’s. The king moaned in helpless frustration. Gildor felt the strong, long legs on either side of him tremble and a faint smile of satisfaction curved up his lips. Gildor loved to have Thranduil in the throes of passion; his pleas so husky and urgent, his moans so low and sensual. The Vanya had to summon up als ses self-control to keep to the set tempo as the younger elf was crying out and begging under him. Nonetheless, he soolt hlt his willpower giving way under the effect of Thranduil’s intoxicating song of passion. He sped up his pace at last, shoving hard into the welcoming body beneath him, seeking the relief and comfort he knew his lover could give him. Thranduil’s moans were rising in level with each well-aimed thrust, gradually changing into something more akin to screams. The ruler of Mirkwood wondered in a dazed way if his entire household was aware by now what their king was about. But then it did not matter any longer as an overpowering pleasure fountained through him. The last hoarse cry tore from his throat and his sex spurted wildly between them, covering them both with hot viscous fluid.
His breathing harsh, his heart pounding in his ears, Thranduil was only vaguely conscious of Gildor giving a sudden gasp and freezing in motion on top of him. The Vanya remained in this position for several moments longer, his arms trembling, his chest heaving. Then he disengaged himself gently from Thranduil’s body and collapsed in a relaxed sprawl beside his lover. True to his usual nature, he showed no inclination to hold Thranduil or to be held by him.
‘So much for cuddling,’ Thranduil remarked to himself.
Unexpectedly, Gildor spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, his breathing still ragged, “I did not please you as I should have.”
“What?” the other elf asked, perplexed.
“I did not touch you. I forgot to think about you in the end, I’m afraid.”
“Phew! I did not touch myself either, and I came anyway, didn’t I?” Thranduil laughed dismissively. “I only hope you did not think about someone else at that moment. Or did you?”
There was a silence. “You do know I love you, don’t you?” the Vanya said eventually.
Surprised, Thranduil rolled onto his side and propped himself on one elbow. “Are you going to turn me down?” he inquired in dark amusement.
Gildor turned his head to look at him. “No.”
“Then why this talk about love?”
“I simply felt like saying it.” The Vanya looked away again.
“Gildor, will you not tell me what is wrong?” Thranduil asked, all his concerns of the previous evening returned.
“Nothing. Everything. I do not know.”
“Talk to me,” Thranduil pleaded.
“Not now. I need a bath. We are messy.”
Thranduil sighed and lay back. Gildor’s fondness for water and baths was legendary. As was his reticence. The Vanya got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. Thranduil had almost dozed off when he returned and brought a warm wet cloth to clean the king’s stomach and chest. This done, he dropped the cloth onto the floor and slid back into the bed. This time he did take Thranduil into his arms and held him close till his lover fell asleep.

A/N: This chapter was written on Laurelin's insistent request so it is for her. And for Jilly, who is so fond of everything Thranduil-centred. Thank you, girls!