PAINTING THE WOODS RED
Overall rating: (very mild) orange (see rating explanation below)
Category: slash (two male Elves in love).
Pairing: Thranduil/Lórindol (called "Nonfindel")
Status: complete
Warnings: none
Beta: Eveiya the Ever Efficient
Summary: Thranduil does finally give in - but then again, he does not.
CHAPTER 7
Finally even Thranduil understood Nonfindel's far from subtle hints, and all colour drained from his face.
"You! Out of my bed! Immediately! Who in the name of the Forest Spirits do you think you are? Do you think me so desperate that I must invite an untalented hack of a house painter to my bed?"
Nonfindel rolled his eyes.
"Firstly: you did not invite me to your bed. I invited myself. Secondly: I am not untalented, and you know it very well. The painting in your Black Cave is excellent."
Thranduil closed his fingers into fists and went over to the bed.
"I hate that painting!"
Nonfindel, not impressed in the least by the king's outburst, shook his head.
"No, you do not hate it. What you hate is the way I portrayed you."
Thranduil was taken aback.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You enjoy playing the wild and dangerous king of the Woodland Elves. But I portrayed you the way I see you: wise, gentle, loveable. Your image is at risk."
Thranduil hit his fist on the night table.
"I am not loveable!"
Nonfindel sighed.
"On my journeys I have met many wolves who tried to fool people into believing they were sheep. You, my dear friend, are the first sheep who tried to convince me of being a wolf. Now stop being difficult and come to bed."
This was wrong on so many levels. Thranduil was not one to take love lightly; he had never been interested in short affairs. And it had always been him making the choice. The way Nonfindel had approached him went against everything Thranduil considered proper and decent.
But on the other hand, the Elf in his bed was oh so tempting... maybe he should give in? Maybe... maybe the other could be convinced to stay until morning and not disappear into the night after their encounter? It would be wonderful to wake up and not be alone, just for once… but no. No. He could not do this. What if anybody learned about it? What would his advisors say? His clan? Legolas?
Nonfindel's lips looked very soft. What would it be like to kiss them?
"Thranduil. Stop thinking and come here. I will not herald this all over Arda, nobody will demand a written report from you, and Legolas is busy with his new lady love."
Thranduil, startled by Nonfindel's talent for reading his thoughts, came to a decision.
"Very well then. But know this: should I ever learn that our encounter here has become gossip for all of Middle-earth, you will wish that you had never hatched from the dragon's-egg you probably came from."
Nonfindel snickered and watched with amusement as Thranduil took his sleeping pants off with quick, angry movements before joining him in the large carved bed.
Thranduil lay an arm's length away from Nonfindel, hands folded behind his back, staring at the ceiling. There was an awkward silence between them, finally broken by Nonfindel.
"The ceiling needs a new coat of paint," he said. "I understand that this is important to you, but I would be grateful if you could turn your attention to me once you have decided on the colour."
Thranduil did not answer. He could feel the warmth of the other Elf despite the distance between them, and his heart beat faster. It had been very long since somebody had shared his bed.
"Is that really the way you see me? I mean - what you said before," he finally asked, not looking at Nonfindel. The other turned towards Thranduil and propped his head on his hand.
"Yes."
"You are very strange."
"You waste time by stating the obvious."
Nonfindel smiled and moved to Thranduil's side, snuggling up to the king. Thranduil would have bitten his tongue off rather than admit it, but this felt - right. After a moment's hesitation, he put his arm around Nonfindel and drew him even closer. The other Elf pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder. He licked slowly along the collarbone, taking his time, and finally reached a nipple and bit it playfully.
Thranduil closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
"Now then, your royal highness, Thranduil the exceptional and impressive, most splendid and feared ruler of Mirkwood, king by the Valar's grace, ruler of 2000 years, shining star of Greenwood the Green, fairest of all Elven lords, light of the dark ages, son of Oropher the magnificent: I have to tell you that I very much like the taste of your skin. And if you do not mind, I will now explore the rest of you as well.”
Thranduil had no chance to answer, as Nonfindel rolled on top of him and closed his mouth with a kiss. One could question Nonfindel's clothing style and choice of colours, but his kisses were inarguably exquisite. Lots of practice, probably. Thranduil was not sure if he liked this thought or not.
Nonfindel had now moved from mouth to cheek and from there to ear, nibbling on a pointed tip. A delightful shiver ran through Thranduil's body.
"Lórindol, you have a wicked tongue.”
His lover chuckled and nuzzled his neck.
"Oh please, stop calling me Lórindol. I do not like that name.”
"This is exactly the reason why I call you by it. Lórindol, Lórindol, Lórindol!”
Nonfindel gave a growl, which turned into a moan when Thranduil ran his hands down his spine and onto his rear, where he tried an experimental squeeze.
"Nice and firm. I like that.”
Nonfindel nudged his lover's by now rather prominent erection with his thigh.
"I can return that compliment. How about combining our talents?”
"I like the way you think, Lórindol,” Thranduil replied with a predatory smile.
More kisses followed, with strong hands raking over heated skin.
"I hope you do not store the oil too far away from the bed," Nonfindel moaned.
"Oil? What do you need oil for?" Thranduil asked, drawing a chuckle from his lover.
"I am a considerate lover, Thranduil. Under no circumstances would I take you without proper preparation."
"Take me? You will not take me. Nobody is going to take me. If anybody is taken here, it will be you!" Thranduil protested. Nonfindel rolled his eyes.
"Thranduil, this is a bed, not a training field. And this is not about fighting and winning."
Thranduil stopped his movements immediately and took his hands off Nonfindel's back, making the Elf groan with disappointment.
"There are three rules in my bedroom, Lórindol. They were established ages ago, and I have no intention of changing them:
First: no eating in bed.
Second: the left side of the bed is mine.
Third: I do the taking."
Nonfindel tapped his fingers on Thranduil's chest, considering his options. He could insist and end up sleeping on the couch – and probably spontaneously combust with frustration in the process – or give in to Thranduil's stubbornness.
He traced one of the patterns on Thranduil's chest with his index finger, delighting in the softness of the skin. The king shifted, the friction making Nonfindel moan. He looked up at Thranduil, saw the passion in his eyes but also the smile, so confident of victory.
"Thranduil,” he purred, batting his lashes, "I think we should throw a coin."
* * *
TBC