Honesty

HONESTY

By Capella

This story follows on from, and features original characters from, Seascapes. You are therefore advised to read that first.

Legolas and Imrahil belong to JRRT as we all know. No profit is made and no offence intended by borrowing them in this way.

The other characters in this piece are all the property of the author, so she can do what she likes with them; she intends to make full use of the fact.

Many thanks to Elfscribe, most excellent beta-reader.

Feedback is always gratefully received; please find the time to review.

This story is for Esmeralda, because she is wonderful.

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HONESTY


Merenin was not surprised to see Celaeren refilling his wineglass for fif fifth or sixth time while the meat course was still on the table. After the strange encounter with Legolas in the morning, the brothers had passed a pleasurable day together and had talked and joked with such ease, Merenin could truly believe that their relationship had turned a corner. However he was wise enough to know that Celaeren, for all his good humour, was not likely to change his habits overnight.

Conversation at the table was somewhat subdued, his father, in particular, having little to say. Lelneth, in her favoured seat beside Legolas, was conversing easily with her neighbours, but the elf seemed to be rather less talkative than usual in response. It was clear to Merenin, even before his father raised his glass for silence, that something was amiss. With a moment’s thought he could have predicted it, yet still a shock ran through him as the prince announced that Legolas would be leaving in the morning, and called upon those assembled to drink a toast in honour of his guest.

Shortly after, early as it was, Imrahil dismissed the company and stood to leave the table, Legolas at his side. Merenin felt his eyebrows raise, as Celaeren leaned in towards him and murmured, “If he was to take the elf’s hand, or drape an arm around his waist, he could not make it any more obvious.”

Merenin did not reply, but watched intently as the two figures paced the length of the table to the door. He wondered what it would be like to walk from the room with Legolas, anticipating the sensual pleasures ahead. He pictured himself at the elf’s side, resting a hand lightly in the small of that long, straight back, perhaps allowing it to slide down over the high, tight curve of muscular flesh below . . .

“Well, Husband?”

With a start, he tore his gaze from the captivating sight of the departing elf, and turned to his wife, standing beside his chair. Her eyes, darkly serious, held his, and he felt a flush rising in his face as the certainty filled his mind: ‘She knows.’

Celaeren chose this moment to push his own chair back noisily and get to his feet. Merenin, grateful for the interruption, looked up at him.

“I had thought to ask you to join me in sampling the delights of the Ship and Swan’s best vintage,” his brother drawled, “but it is clear to me that you have other plans. Thus I bid you goodnight.” He bowed low to Lelneth, and followed his father out of the hall.

“Shall we?” Lelneth tilted her head towards the door.

Merenin, cheeks burning with shame, nodded mutely, and stood.

The journey to their chambers had never seemed so long, nor so silent.

When they reached the bedroom, Lelneth wasted no time in shutting the door, and then, in a gesture which made Merenin’s gut clench with dread, she drew the heavy bolt across. Without a word she crossed to the dressing table and sat, slowly unpinning her hair and brushing it out into a cascade of auburn curls. She unfastened her heavy necklace and laid it carefully in its box before turning on the stool to face Merenin, as he sat despondently on the edge of the bed, wondering if he would ever know happiness again.

“Are you going to speak to me?” said Lelneth, finally.

“I do not know what to say,” he replied.

“Have you forgotten,” she said, walking across the room to stand before him, and looking down at him with sorrowful eyes, “We vowed honesty to each other, above all else? I have waited long enough for you to share your anxiety with me of your own accord, but it seems I must drag it out of you after all.”

“But Lelneth,” he found the words at last, “There are some things that a man cannot, in all good faith, say to his wife.”

She pulled a chair across to sit close, facing him.

“Assuming the wife to be a fool, that may or may not be the case,” she said. “But how could you think that you could conceal your heart from me? It hurts me to think that you underestimate me so.”

Merenin sighed, recognising the sense of her words.

“I am sorry for that hurt, my love,” he said. “I only thought to spare you a greater one.”

“Then stop sparing me now, and tell me the truth.”

He looked up at her, trying to plead without words. “But you already know,” he said eventually, “I cannot . . .”

“I would hear the words,” she said deliberately, “from your own mouth.”

He looked at the floor, unable to meet her gaze, but certain that those serious eyes were fixed on him still. He waited, until it became clear that she would offer him no reprieve.

“It is Legolas,” he said finally, in a small voice. “He is . . . he affects me, in a way that no man has affected me before. How could I tell you, when I have been trying so hard to deny it to myself?”

“And what happened today, to make you so sure? I could see it in the way you looked at him, even before your father’s announcement.”

At this he looked up, and found himself surprised by the expression on her face. Serious as she was, there seemed, at least, no anger there. Having started his confession, he could see little point in avoiding her question, so he continued.

“I went to the training yard to seek Celaeren,” he said, “and there instead I found Legolas. I watchem shm shoot, and then we fenced together. His speed and skill are astonishing; I could not pretend that it did not move me. But it was the way he dealt with Celaeren that made it clear to me. He has such dignity, such strength.”

“I see.”

“Celaeren knew,” said Merenin miserably, “He accused me of having . . . feelings . . . for the elf, and I could not contradict him. He said I should talk to you.”

“Your brother, for all his faults, is not utterly lacking in common sense,” she said dryly.

They stared at each other, Merenin searching his wife’s impassive face for some indication of her feelings.

“What happens now?” he asked, after a while.

“What do you mean, what happens?” Her voice became animated at last. “Are you planning to desert me, and to run off to Ithilien in his wake?”

“No! Do not suggest such . . .”

She silenced him with a sharp gesture of her hand. “Or challenge your father to a duel for his favours? Or perhaps lurk around the training yard in the hopes that next time he may offer to meet you in a different sort of combat? No? Then clearly nothing happens.”

“I meant,” he said slowly, “what happens to you and me? And I think you know that.”

“Why should anything happen? You admit that you, along with half of Dol Amroth, are moved to lustful thoughts by the beauteous Legolas. Do you think that makes you a villain? Do you love me any less because of it?”

“No, Lelneth, of course not.”

She seemed to take pity on him then, and reached across for his hand.

“It need not harm us,” she said. “He leaves tomorrow, and our lives will return to normal.”

“How can you be so accepting, and dismiss it as if it were nothing?”

She sighed. “You say that you have never desired a man before, and I think that is the crux of it. It is strange to you and therefore deeply unsettling. But he is not a man; he is an elf, and quite unlike anyone else we have seen here. He is magical, unthinkably graceful and lovely; is it any surprise that you respond the way you do? Can you imagine that my pulse does not quicken in his presence?”

Merenin knew that he should be grateful for her sympathetic words, but somehow they only seemed to make matters worse, deepening his feeling of nauseous guilt. He had no way of telling her this directly, so he said nothing, and stared at her beseechingly.

Eventually a strange, knowing smile touched her lips and she freed her hand from his, raising it instead to his cheek.

“But you do not want my understanding,” she said, thoughtfully. “You want me to make you pay for the wrong you feel you have done me. Very well.” She stood, and put her hands on her hips. “I shall make you pay.”

A shiver ran across his skin as she spoke. She was ever forthright and confident, but the note of steely authority in her voice was something he had not heard before.

Lelneth stepped close enough for her knees to brush against his. Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Promise me, Merenin,” she said, “that you will do exactly as I tell thisthis night, and in the morning we shall put it all behind us and begin afresh.” e ste stared at her, enraptured by her stern beauty, and by the fire in her eyes.

“Promise meShe She rapped the words out.

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, take off your clothes, all of them, and lie on your back on the bed.”

He felt his eyes widen in shock at the suddenness of this command, but said nothing. His fingers were not quite steady as they began working on the fastenings of his tunic.

Lelneth sat on the couch and watched him closely as he undressed. In spite of the fact that he had stood before her naked and unashamed on hundreds of occasions, there was something about the manner of this exhibition that both unnerved him and excited him enormously. By the time he laid the last item of clothing to one side, his skin was burning as if every nerve end stood alert, and his cock was hard and ready.

Lelneth gestured towards the bed, then got up and crossed to the window as he lay down.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Punishing you,” came her crisp reply. “Be quiet until I tell you to speak.”

It was only when she turned back to the bed that he saw the thick, heavy cords in her hands. Released from their restraints, the curtains swung free.

“Give me your hand.”

Obediently he stretched out his right arm and lay unmovis shs she knotted the cord firmly around his wrist. Moments later the other end was fixed to the post at the corner of the bed. Merenin knew that there would be no escaping this bond. Like himself, his wife had spent her childhood in and around boats. She well knew how to wield a rope.

Once both ties were secured, Lelneth stood at the bedside looking at her handiwork. Merenin struggled a little, testing the distances, and discovered that his bonds were indeed firm. He could barely bend his arms at the elbow before the ropes reached their limits. He was breathing fast, aroused to a fervour by his helpless position, and by the wicked look on his wife’s face.

“I think I like you like this,” she said. “Perhaps I should punish you more often. But it seems to me that I am wearing far too many clothes.”

With that, she began to unlace her robe, slowly, every movement of her hand across her body a sensuous caress. The robe dropped to the floor, followed not long after by her petticoats, leaving her standing in a chemise of fine white lawn. It did little to hide the voluptuous curves of her body, and drew the eye unerringly to the swell of her generous breasts, and the soft creamy flesh of her thighs.

Merenin swallowed, wondering if his cock could get any harder without permanent damage being done.

“You are soely,ely,” he said.

She leant over him, her softly curved mouth mere inches away from his own. But she did not kiss him; instead she raised a finger and ran it around his lips, making him shudder.

“I did not tell you to speak,” she said. “Now, look your last, for you will not be using your eyes again for a while.”

She bent to the night stand. The last Merenin saw was the scarf in her hand before she placed the thick blue material around his eyes, and lifted his head to fn itn it behind.

Naked, bound and blindfolded, Merenin lay still and felt the blood pounding in his head, throbbing in his groin. It crossed his mind toder der how this could possibly be deemed a punishment – unless, of course, Lelneth intended to arouse and incapacitate him thus, only to leave him unsatisfied. He listened to thell sll sounds, clues to her actions: soft footsteps crossing the room, water poured into a bowl, rustling and shifting of objects, her feet padding back to the bed. Suddenly he flinched, as an icy cold hand was placed on his belly.

He could not have expected the words that came next.

“Now,” her voice was low, and treacherously sweet. “I want you to tell me about Legolas.”

Silence.

“But . . .” he began.

“You promised, Merenin, and I intend to hold you to it. So, you are going to tell me everything. To start with, when did you first realise that you were attracted to him?”

Merenin thought fast. He had no wish to do as his wife said, but then, he had given a promise. She was more than capable of making his life difficult if he failed to live up to it, and he would then add that failure to his shame. It struck him suddenly that perhaps he should trust her. If this was how she wanted to repay him for his wicked thoughts, he really had no option but to concur.

“It was when Father and Legolas returned from their time on the coast,” he began. Immediately, her hand began to move softly, stroking its way up his chest.

“When I saw the braids in Father’s hair and the look in his eyes, and realised that they were lovers. Until then Legolas had appeared fair, but distant, like a painting or a statue; it would not have occurred to me to desire him. But once I understood that he had become . . . intimate . . . with Father, the images would not leave me alone.”

The hand, which had reached his nipples, and had made him gasp with its movement there, stopped.

“What images were those?” Lelneth’s voice came startlingly close to his ear.

“His hands, always his hands, stroking Father’s hair and trailing down his face to his neck and chest. I could not sleep for imagining that those hands were touching me in the same way . . . Aaagh - ” he stopped as Lelneth’s hands, both of them now, dragged over the sensitive flesh of his neck and down once more to his nipples, ending with a cruel, tugging pinch to each one that ca him him to struggle against the ropes, arching his back uselessly.

She waited a moment before asking, “And was that your only fantasy of him? I hardly think so. Tell me. Tell me what it isut hut him that is so attractive to you.”

This part was easy enough. “He is so fair and tall and strong. His body moves like a cat, so sleek and slim, yet there is so much power in him, he must be solid muscle beneath that skin.” Her hands were brushing lightly across his body now, gentle, tantalising touches to arms, torso and thighs, flitting from place to place so he could not know what to expect next.

“And his skin, it is so pale and I swear it glows; when they came back and Father was so tanned, Legolas was still silver-white but glowing even brighter. It must be smooth, that skin, smooth and soft, yet firm over his muscles . . . ”

“Good,” said Lelneth, her hand lazily circling on his lower belly, perilously close to his erection. “Now you are being honest. And answer me truly,” for the briefest of instants he felt her soft touch on his cock, stroking gently g itg its length before moving away altogether, leaving him moaning. “Does it not feel good?”

“So good,” he whispered. “Please, Lelneth.”

“Shh,” she responded, breathing gently in his ear and suddenly teasing it with her tongue. “You will get what you deserve. So tell me, when you dream of being with him, what happens?”

Gods, how could he tell her? Yet what choice did he have? Her hands rested on his thighs, and started to knead the flesh there as he began to speak.

“It starts with him coming to me, telling me that he wants me, somehow bewitching me with his bright blue eyes so I cannot say him nay. He tells me to undress him, and I do so slowly, starting with his tunic and shirt, taking my time, running my hands all over his smooth chest and back.”lnetlneth shifted, moving to straddle Merenin so he could feel her legs against his. Her hands were on him, mimicking the actions he described.

“I kneel to remove his boots and he places a hand on my head, telling me to stay there. So I reach up to unlace his leggings, and slowly pull them down, revealing his long, powerful legs, and . . .” The hands, which had moved down to fondle his hips and thighs once more, stopped their work as his voice tailed away.

“And what? Tell me.”

“And his cock,” Merenin said at last, grateful for the blindfold that prevented hrom rom looking at his wife. But his shame soon subsided as Lelneth’s fingers followed the thread of his story. “It is long and sleek, just like him, and proud, erect, hard for me. I look up at him and he nods, bringing his hand to my head again to guide me towards him. And so I kneel at his feet, and take his cock in my mouth, and strive to please him.”

“How does it feel?” she asked quietly.

“Like nothing I have experienced before. He is solid and warm, and almost too much for me to take. I know he is becoming more and more excited, and all because of me. I long for him to lose his perfect composure, and to come, to fill my mouth. . . oh, Gods, Lelneth, please!”

But instead of allowing him to find his own release between her sweet lips, his wife stopped her steady sucking and held still. Merenin cried out in desperation, every part of his body aching, it seemed, with his overwhelming need for completion.

“Please, my love,” he groaned, only to have her pull her head away completely.

“Have you forgotten, Husband,” she said curtly, “that you are being punished? Do you expect mercy from me tonight?”

Inflamed to the point of pain by his fantasy and her ministrations, he struggled wildly, lifting his hips towards her in an effort to encourage her attentions. Still she kept her distance.

“Well?”

“No mercy, my love,” he whispered.

“Good. Now, you are doing very well, but there is one more thing you must tell me. In your dreams, does Legolas lie beneath you and let you enter him, or are you the one helpless in his hands, as he takes you for his own gratification?

He was quite sure that the furious blush of colour must be covering his whole body by now. Yet something in him truly wanted to tell her all of it, to leave no corner of his shame unexposed.

“I lie beneath him,” he said, grateful for the hand now stroking him firmly. “And he takes me. It hurts, but there is nothing I can do. I am in his power, and he does as he wants with me.”

There was a pause, and Lelneth shiftnce nce more, away from him completely. He thrashed around on the bed, twisting from side to side in an effort to locate her. After a moment, he heard a quiet clinking sound, like a glass or a bottle bemovemoved, and then her voice spoke close to his ear again.

“Let me tell you something, Merenin. If Legolas was not involved with your father, I would go to him now. Somehow I would persuade him to follow me, and I would bring him to you, exactly as you are at this moment. How could he resist you, helpless and beautiful as you are? I would kneel beside you and watch every move as he takes you, skilfully, drawing from you cry after cry of painful pleasure.”

And then Merenin did cry out, as her fingers suddenly delved between his legs, slippery and cool, and probed for the entrance there.

“Raise your knees,” she said softly, and he complied.

It did indeed hurt, but the strange thrill of submission was stronger than the pain, and his cries were not demands for her to stop. Her finger pushed inside, through the ring of tight flesh, until it rested within him. At the same time she took his cock in her other hand, and began to work it in earnest.

“Imagine it, Merenin,” she said. “He kneels between your legs in all his glory, and pushes his lovely long cock into you. There is nothing you can do but submit to him as he thrusts into you again and again, hard and fast, seeking his pleasure at your expense. You shout out, begging him stop, to carry on, to end your agony, to give you some relief. And all the while you know that I am watching, and that the sight of you being fucked so relentlessly by the elf is the most exciting thing I have ever seen. Is that not exactly what you want?”

For a moment he was capable of neither speech nor thought, as the finger moving inside him rubbed against some sensitive part there, causing stars to burst behind his eyelids. He gasped and writhed, then tensed as he felt his orgasm begin at last.

“Yes!” he shouted as he came, in seemingly endlesves ves of pulsing, shuddering bliss.

He heard her laugh, in triumph, perhaps, as his spasms slowed and finally stopped. It hurt when she withdrew her finger, but he was beyond crying out. He listened as she crossed the room to wash, then blinked in shock as the blindfold was suddenly removed and he looked up into her flushed face.

“Now do you understand why it is better to share your anxieties than to keep them to yourself?” she asked him.

He nodded, still speechless, was was rewarded with a passionate kiss.

“You are the most incredible woman,” he said, when she pulled away at last. “I do not believe it would be possible to love you more.”

Lelneth smiled. “You have the rest of the night to prove it to me,” she said. You tell a good tale, and it has left me in need of my own satisfaction.”

“Then untie me,” he breathed, “and I shall give you all you want.”

She smiled at him fondly. “Oh no, I find the sight of you like this too stimulating to want to release you just yet. But you may watch.”

And watch he did, pulse racing, as she straddled his hips and lifted the hem of her chemise. One hand moved among the dark curls there while the other stroked and teased her nipples through the fine cotton fabric. Before long her head fell back and she shouted out, pushing herself down against his semi-hard cock as she came.

Then she fell forward on top of him, face close to his, fingers knotting in his hair.

“Promise me that you will hide nothing more from me,” she said.

“I will never keep a secret from you, nor deny you anything it is in my power to give you,” he replied solemnly. “Not now, not ever in the future. Now please, release me, so I may hold my beautiful wife in my arms.”

“Not yet, my love,” she purred, wriggling against him in y thy that sent the blood rushing back into his cock. You shall stay this like this a while longer, since you bear your punishment so well.”

Merenin closed his eyes, as Lelneth moved down the bed and bent her head to tease him to hardness once more. Not for the first time, he thanked the gods for blessing him with such a wife. As he lay spread-eagled below her, moaning with pleasure at the warm insistence of her mouth, he knew that the glib phrase he had so often spoken to her was in fact no more than the truth.

‘Without doubt,’ he thought, shortly before his sense deserted him entirely, ‘I am the luckiest man in the world.’