Bride, in whose breast haunt rosy loves!
Bride, fairest of the Paphian groves!
Hence, to thy marriage rise, and go!
Hence, to thy bed, where thou shalt show
With honeyed play thy wedded charms,
Thy sweetness in the bridegroom's arms!
Happy bridegroom, thou art blest
With blisses far beyond the rest,
For thou hast won
The chosen one,
The girl thou lovest best.
~ Sappho, 1st transl. by J. A. Symonds (1883); 2nd by F. Tennyson.
Mirkwood, 2380 T.A.
He came back into the room less than three hours after leaving it, in a rush of velvet and silk.
Arasien, who was sitting behind her dressing table, looked at him over her shoulder. “Back already?” she asked in surprise. “I was not expecting you so soon.”
Thranduil laughed as he untied the lace at the front of his robe and took it off, throwing the velvet down on the bed. His boots came off as well. “I ate, I drank, I conversed-- all my duties as host have been fulfilled,” he said. Unbuttoning his tunic, he came over to where she was sitting and leaned down to kiss her temple.
“And I had a wife to return to,” he added.
She smiled, reaching back to gather her long blond hair in one hand and draw it across her shoulder, continuing to brush it. He smiled back at her via the mirror. “I am glad to find you still up.”
“In fact, I was just about to turn in,” she said.
“So I see.” He toyed with the thin straps of her white silk nightgown and kissed her again, in the neck this time. “That is fine. I think I will accompany you.”
“You have been drinking,” she stated when he lowered himself to his knees behind her and began making a trail of soft kisses between her bare shoulder blades.
“Hmm-mm. I already admitted to that, did I not? But I am not drunk, if that is what you are implying."
She smiled amusedly. “Are you certain?”
“I am.” He stopped kissing her and she knew he was frowning, heard it in his voice. “I do not need to be drunk to feel like kissing my wife.”
“I did not say that.”
“But you strongly implied it.”
“Apologies. I did not mean to insult you.” She laughed. “But you cannot deny that wine does tend to ignite your urges, my darling.”
“Not mine only.” His hands started to slowly caress her hips through the fabric – oh, he knew exactly where and how to touch her, the villain! – and he murmured, “Allow me to prove that, wine or not, I can still perform to the best of my ability."
She placed the brush on the table before her and rose, smiling. “It seems to me that you have already proven enough. Remove your robe from our bed, dear; I wish to lie in it.”
He stood and went back to the bed, taking the robe and letting it carelessly fall to the floor. “Our bed is now ready to receive you, mistress,” he said with a small, mocking bow.
She looked pointedly at the robe at his feet. “You are not going to let it lie there the whole night, are you?”
“As a matter of fact I am. Is there a problem?” He took off his tunic and dropped it on top of the velvet heap. “Now it has something to keep it company. Better?”
“Somewhat.” She pointed at his leggings, the only garment still on him. “How about those?”
“Patience, my love.” He crossed the distance between them, opened his arms and pulled her against him. “Before I do anything else, I am going to kiss you,” he announced, brushing his lips teasingly against hers.
She smiled, the embrace of his strong arms delighting her. They had been married for so many years now, had loved each other even longer, but like a tree growing stronger with the seasons, so grew their love; never weakening, ever expanding, deepening. And they never tired of this game of attracting and repulsing.
“I thought you were going to kiss me,” she said when after several moments, he was still moving his lips over hers with a frustrating lightness.
He drew back, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Forgive me, but I thought I was doing just that.”
“Do it properly,” she purred. “And drop that act of innocence; it does not suit you at all.”
Smirking, he leaned forward and kissed her for real, the way she liked and wanted to be kissed. He closed his eyes this time as he devoted himself to the task, claiming gentle entrance to her mouth, exploring her as he had explored her countless times before, slowly sliding his tongue along hers and nibbling her full lower lip softly until she sighed. Craving to feel his muscular, male contours through her nightgown, she leaned more fully against him (she could still do that unhinderedly), sighing again when her soft breasts rubbed against his firm chest and she felt her nipples harden. Surely he felt it too. Her body could never conceal the effect he had on her.
“More to your liking, my lady?” he asked, drawing back slightly. His expression was distinctly mischievous. “Oh, why am I even asking...?” he mused aloud, looking pointedly at her breasts. His hands slid down and cupped her bottom. She squeaked and frowned at him reproachingly.
“Your hands are growing too bold, rascal,” she chided him. “I know what it is you want but you must not forget, I am in a delicate condition.”
He smiled and moved his hands to her front, laying his palms against the slight swelling of her abdomen. The signs of their blessing had begun to show a few weeks ago.
“I had not forgotten,” he said lovingly. “It is ever on my mind. But it has not stopped us before.” Sparks of mischief leapt back into his azure-green eyes. “Why would it do so now?”
“Because you cannot always have it your way,” she chided him playfully.
“Says I,” she replied. “Your wife and Queen.”
“You forget something, wife,” – he swept her into his arms in one fluid movement and walked to the bed carrying her –, “a king always has his way.” He laid her down gently.
“You are presumptuous!” Leaning on her elbows, she scowled at him as he joined her on the bed, kneeling in front of her.
“And your resistance is very unconvincing." Smirking, he took the hem of her nightgown and began to slide it up her legs, baring them slowly. “You have not tried to scratch me once so far.”
“Oh, but I will,” she said darkly. “When the time is right.”
“Ah.” His grin widened. “Good. But please try not to draw blood this time.”
“Did that hurt you so bad, my dear?” she quipped, not able to suppress a smile. “It was your own fault I got so carried away.”
As they talked, he had gently spread her legs wide enough for him to kneel between them. He now leaned over her, supporting his weight on one hand while stroking her leg, from the knee up, with the other. He kissed her again, slowly, patiently, asking for a response. She gave him that, also slowly, teasingly. Gradually giving more of herself as he sought to have it all, with a greedy possessiveness that she liked. And in the meantime his hand continued to rove over her leg; across her hip then and up to her breast, caressing her soft flesh through the thin silk. His mouth left hers and moved down the length of her throat, worshipping her with kisses.
“Thranduil,” she murmured blissfully.
He did not respond, but spread out more kisses over her collarbones, teasing the hollow at the base of her throat with his tongue until she shivered with delight. Then he playfully took one of her shoulder straps between his teeth and attempted to drag it down her arm.
She laughed, moving her arm to help him. “You are such an animal!”
He confirmed this by producing a low, growl-like sound, and gave another pull with his teeth, baring most of her right breast. Forgoing all subtleties, he claimed it with a predator-like eagerness, sensually tracing her curve with his tongue until he found her nipple and sealed his lips over it; drew it into his warm, wet mouth where he teased and tormented it with his supple tongue, making her moan with pleasure.
His hand, in the meantime, left her other breast and moved down, sliding blindly underneath her nightgown and making its way back up until it came to rest on her rounded belly, where their unborn child of four months was growing-- their first.
Arasien, finding her breath between two moans, said, “You are so obsessed by my new curves.”
Looking up, he said, “I am. I love your belly more than ever these days. May I confess something?” He grinned self-consciously. “I find myself strangely aroused by it.”
She giggled. “My love, I am aware of that.”
“Yes. You cannot keep your hands off of it when we make love. It is impossible not to notice.”
“I am sorry. Does it annoy you?”
“Do not be silly.” She gave him a loving smile. “I think it’s sweet. You may touch it whenever you feel inclined to.”
“I will remember that. Right now, however,” – he grinned wickedly –, “I wish to touch you in other places.” But before doing so, he affectionately caressed her abdomen for just a few moments more.
“I can hardly wait to see you a few months from now,” he said. “Just imagine how much you will have grown by then.”
She moaned. “I would rather not.”
He chuckled. “Now come, don’t give me that. We have both wanted this for a long time, have we not?”
“Yes, we have.” She smiled. “You are right, my love. For all we know, this could be the only child I will ever carry. I might as well enjoy it.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Come claim your kiss,” she ordered.
He did so, and while he kissed her his hand slid away from her abdomen and wandered between her legs, gently exploring that most intimate and sensitive of areas. He teased her for a while, keeping his touches light and apparently ignoring the whimpering sounds that fell from her lips with increasing frequency. She still had her arms around his shoulders and clung to him, deliriously tangling her hands into his long golden tresses as he played her so expertly.
Then, sensing that she was ready for it and that he had teased her long enough, he pressed against her with more insistency, sliding into her with two fingers and delighting in the way she opened for him, as always. Like a flower...
It was the beginning of the end for her, as he intended it to be. They were still kissing, and she moaned and quivered beneath him as he made her experience those heavenly sensations, knowingly moving inside her and touching her where only he was allowed to venture. No one but he...
She had to end the kiss when he began using his thumb as well, sweeping it slowly over that one spot that gave unadulterated pleasure at even the slightest touch; had to end it because she was beyond the point of being able to hold back on her gasps and cries. He tormented her ceaselessly, being tender and thorough and ravenous as he always was when making love to her. It was one of the reasons why she never tired of sharing a bed with him; why she craved no other.
He brought his face past hers and murmured into her ear, “I wonder what you are thinking right now.”
“I am thinking...” she gasped, involuntarily pulling at his hair as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, “I am thinking, that the king’s fingers are a bit too clever.”
He gave a low chuckle. She arched against him then, overwhelmed by the sensations, barely hearing his murmur of “Let go, Rasi” right before she did just that, letting go and finding the ultimate peak of pleasure, reaching it and tumbling over it in a wonderful, mind-boggling climax.
When eventually she started to come down from it, she found that he was studying her face with an attractive half smile.
“I love you,” she breathed.
“Ah, those are words I like to hear,” he said. “The best reward imaginable.”
“Not the only reward,” she said. “Take off your leggings.”
He smiled and started to do so, loosening the laces at his hip until they allowed him to remove the tight-fitting fabric. He sat completely naked then, and she pulled him on top of her, feeling his desire press against her, and already the responding heat in that part of her that craved to take him in.
He held back, though. “Is this not uncomfortable for you?” he asked her.
His concern made her smile. “No, my love. It will be uncomfortable, even impossible, in a few months, so let us enjoy the position while we still can; before we have to search our repertoire for more inventive things.”
“And what a punishment that would be,” he smiled as he slightly adjusted his position, readying himself to love her completely. “No more hair-pulling,” he warned.
“Oh; I’m sorry!” she laughed.
Watching her with an expression on his face that held the middle between tenderness and controlled desire, he entered her then and started to build up a rhythm, slow and languid, thrusting into her and connecting them, time and again, the way she liked it most. Their Fëar already formed a union – they were bound, linked together for eternity – but always when they made love, another intense connection was made, one that filled them with joy and gratitude every time. A uniting of bodies and souls was exactly what this was. She felt it as he made love to her thus. He knew her so well; it could have been scary had it not been so heartwarming and wonderful. And right... She knew he had warmed his bed with others prior to their marriage; knew that he had loved others, in a way. But never the way he loved her. He had told her that, and she knew it was true. And what once was no longer mattered; he was hers now, all hers...
By the time he finally gave in to his own need, instead of caring only for hers, she was more than ready to reach that peak together with him. This time she was the one telling him to let go, and he did so, climaxing with great, shuddering convulsions of raw, unrestrained bliss; pouring joy into her, and warmth, and love. And she followed him, making the union complete.
He always gave her such pleasure; always made it equally wonderful for the both of them. And she loved him even more for it.
Collapsing next to her, he gathered her in his arms and drew her against his heaving chest, where she could feel the powerful pounding beat of his heart.
He smiled breathlessly against her temple.
“Did I not tell you that a king always has his way?” he murmured.
This ficlet can be read both independently and as a part of the Pilgrim series. It describes a moment of wedded bliss shared by Legolas's parents in the days before he was born. Sweet, but entirely plotless.
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