prismatica | {Video; UN: elvenking}

{He sends his address immediately. Please take pity on him.}

Be careful, I know how to use them.

[ He rolls his eyes, heading over to the Elvenking's home. Once Thranduil answers, Fjord steps inside and takes a look at him, reaching up to touch his cheek as he catalogues how the elf has changed with his moon.

A little fuzzy, nothing ugly. ]

How are you feeling?

{The door is open and Thranduil's cheeks are red, his very skin echoing the fire that is burning at his core. His robe is voluminous enough to hide the obvious arousal, but from the way he moves, it pains him.

Do you like the fur on the tips of his ears?}

As if there is no end to my arousal.

You poor bastard.

[ He rubs his thumb up an ear that curves in reverse to his own, brushing the fluff. Fjord shuts the door with a tap from his boot and steps in to offer Thranduil a hug, the close contact and firmness of another body being something that always helps Fjord during his moon and his lovers during theirs. ]

Come here and hold on for a second, try to breathe. You're okay.

{He can't exactly argue, but he does frown. Until he is embraced. Relief floods him and he grips the back of Fjord's shirt, tucking himself close. Yes. Better.}

Try not to poke yourself in the eye. {Antlers never grow evenly. He tilts his head away from Fjord to protect him; he is loathe to let go of him.}

Luckily for you, my boyfriend has ram-horns. I'm a pro.

[ He makes sure to run his hands up and down Thranduil's back from hip to neck, keeping him gathered close. The long robe keeps the king's flushed body hidden but Fjord can vaguely feel the urgency, so to speak, and only leans back to make a suggestion. ]

Are you okay with taking me to your bed or do you want to do this somewhere else?

[ The mood may be a horny one for Thranduil but he'll be back to himself in a few days, Fjord doesn't want to make any unwanted memories in a safe space out of a sense of urgency. It doesn't have to be like that and Fjord is definitely holding the reins on responsibility tonight, not being affected. ]

Ram-horns? Are they too products of the lunar cycles? {Or are they permanent? Thranduil tries to imagine what race Fjord's boyfriend might be, but he doesn't get far. The sensations that follow Fjord's hands and just their bodies being pressed flush drive all other thought out of his head. He shudders and grabs hold of the other, dragging him to the bedroom.}

The bed will serve. {He steals a kiss on the short journey, his hands caressing Fjord in patterns meant to awaken his body. Thranduil is not just a king - he is a warrior. His hands are strong and warm; firm as they pass over cloth and skin, yet when they reach sensitive areas, they can - and do - become gentle.}

[ Chuckling lowly as Thranduil pulls him in, he shakes his head. ]

No, no moon alterations. He's just naturally beautiful.

[ He's distracted by the kiss and hums his pleasure, arching into those strong hands. Careful with his tusks, he shows Thranduil how to avoid cutting himself on deeper kisses and sinks his hands under what robes the elf currently wears for decency's sake, less mindful than the elf is with him when it comes to yanking them off a shoulder.

There's a soft growl on his tongue as he licks his way into the Elvenking's mouth, giving him the experience of the only orc he wants. ]

You should be telling me that... {If he were in his right state of mind, that demanding would be embarrassing. He learns quickly how best to kiss him, those tusks not frightening him in the slightest. Squirming, he loosens his robes and then lets them fall, revealing himself in all of his slender, sunny beauty.

His mouth trails from Fjord's mouth to his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a few marks. His erection is wide awake between them and he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing against Fjord's hip.}

[ As soon as the robe drops there's a lot of gorgeous elf on view, which is awfully different to the half-elves he's slept with. Thranduil is beautiful in a weirdly dazzling way that makes Fjord feel like a monster by comparison. ]

You know you are.

[ He rakes black claws down Thranduil's side to leave red lines on that flawless creamy skin, careful with his grip as it slips between them to grasp that erection and thumb over the head, his own starting to harden in his pants. This is about pleasuring his new fussy Elvenking, however, so he doesn't pay attention to any of his own needs for the moment. ]

{Heat makes him glow brighter, his body, his fëa (spirit) calling for a mate. If Fjord wondered how Elves attract partners, well, this is it. Thranduil would also take offense to the other man calling himself a monster. He will need to free him of those thoughts...later.}

Hearing it from your lips would be sweet.

{Though he is already freeing Fjord of his pants. Shudders race over his body when his cock is touched and he feels himself twitch against that hand. Blowing out a breath in frustration, he finally wraps a hand around Fjord's cock, his eyes glowing victoriously.}

[ Half-elves are like extra-strong humans, a little more graceful. Thranduil is like a whole other breed of creature altogether, alight with eagerness as he coos for affection while managing to be demanding in the same breath. The soft hand that dips into Fjord's pants finds the ridges along the underside of his shaft starting to stand out, natural plating locking his cock into hardness as it swells, and he growls as a palm brushes over the thick crown, fisting hold of that long silky hair in Thranduil's nape with a slight shake. ]

You're beautiful.

[ And getting walked backwards to the bed as best Fjord can, pants snagged around thigh-high boots. ]

{Praises help. Thranduil is hungry for them and a new fire is awoken in him the moment those words leave Fjord's lips. He eagerly seeks out that cock, taking hold it and caressing the ridges. Then his hand slides all the way to the tip, lavishing the crown with soft, circular strokes.}

If you think you're not, you are wrong.

{He steps backwards gracefully and drags Fjord down onto the bed, using his weight to teeter them onto the mattress. He steals a few more kisses, unable to deny himself. Why should he?}

Didn't say that.

[ It's damned unnerving how Thranduil reads him so well, prompting Fjord to give him a push after that kiss to send the elf down to the bed, spread out like a wet dream. He wrenches off the armour he wears to let it clatter on the floor, long tunic hauled off and tossed aside with his gloves. Hungry, but unhurried. Thranduil doesn't get to boss him around just because he's a fucking vision. ]

What do you have for me to prepare you with? I assume you have something, Your Majesty.

[ Boots and pants off, Fjord's naked body reveals colouring in the style of a fox, lighter tones of mottled green down his front and inner thighs, scattered in dark hair. Scars litter him in pale shapes, wounds that were healed magically but left the mark of blades or blasts. ]

{Most Elves have that uncanny ability; it likely comes from living for so damn long. Thranduil lets himself fall onto the bed, still somehow graceful, his hair creating a pale halo around his head. The furry tips of his pointed ears are more visible this way and they have a funny way of shifting, reflecting his curiosity as Fjord strips.

Speaking of visions! His eyes warm and he reaches down to touch himself, teasing the other to hurry. He even has the audacity to part his legs.}

I don't need it. {Iris. Just. Thank Iris. Self-lubrication seems to be one of the highlights.} Let me see those scars...

{He abandons his task of touching himself in favor of running his fingers across the marks.}

Scars are lovely... I prefer them to perfection.

[ Iris is so helpful. It's the best moon.

He crawls his way between those spread legs and bears down over Thranduil, letting his weight pin him down by the hips just to tease him back with the line of his cock against a far smoother one. A slow grind is a feat of self-control for Fjord, reaching up to brush back that long hair over a shoulder and kiss him hard, licking his way past those pretty lips. He could just eat Thranduil up right here, cock aching with his restraint. ]

You're flawless, like ... like the way everyone thinks elves look back home.

[ Probably why half-elves are their own race by now, banging one half of their parents was fuelled by wild lust for this sort of loveliness. ]

More real, though.

{Isn't it thoughtful? Thranduil disliked the feeling at first, but now he understands. He can have what he craves so much quicker!

Fjord is welcome between his legs. Thranduil groans, half in relief, to have touch again. His back arches and he presses into that slow grind desperately, his cheeks flushed. The kiss makes him jerk against Fjord, his arms wrapping around him firmly. His lips part after a small "fight" for dominance and he purrs.}

I'm sorry your world...lacks...

{Words are hard, okay? He laughs breathlessly and tries again, voice husky.}

I have been real since I can remember.

You're real enough to me.

[ After a moment's fussing he feels Thranduil relax against him and finds he likes kissing him when he's smiling, it's somehow more dazzling. Mild glamours have that affect in battle but he's mostly sure Thranduil is just magical as fuck and has some kingly radiance about him, whatever that means.

He slips two fingers down between them to check he's wet and ready, yellow eyes locked on that pretty face. ]

And ridiculously good-looking, if you're still curious.

Real enough to kiss and...take. {Those last words are emphasized with a thrust of his hips, bringing Fjord's cock almost against his entrance. Yes, the Elven-King is flexible too and more than happy to wrap his legs where he pleases - as long as it keeps the other flush against him.

Those fingers will find that he is wet. Growling in his throat, his eyes flash in challenge.}

So stop stalling.

[ The only thing stronger than his arousal is his pride, meeting Thranduil with a sharp smirk as he teases him with a hint of pressure, barely pressing against his entrance. ]

You're no king to be making demands in bed with me, Antlers.

[ Fjord slips out of Thranduil's arms but it's only to get between those lithe, powerful legs and drape them over his shoulders. He flashes him another heated look and descends between burning thighs to lick a firm stripe over that sticky entrance, lapping over the rim before sinking his tongue inside to stroke soft walls. ]

Is that my name now? I don't recall giving you permission to -

{Pride is hard to hold onto when a tongue is placed just so. His narrowed eyes flutter closed and he lets out a sudden, breathy cry. He grabs hold of the bedding until his knuckles are white, his body tensing around that probing tongue. Cocks are nice; he is fond of them, but tongues are so agile. Everything feels slick and hot and wet...}

Fjord...

[ He's pretty sure Thranduil could kick him clean through a wall if he didn't like it, so he sets to eating out the Elvenking under the assumption he's treating him to something particularly rare, if those cries are anything to go by.

The graze of a soft beard runs over the insides of lean thighs, dampening with a mixture of slick and saliva as he eats him out with clear enthusiasm, tongue flicking in that hot channel so Thranduil is always aware of how he's being filled. The grip Fjord has on those thighs prevents any accidental pulling away and holds them spread, tusks pressed up against a pink hole to frame each penetrating lick that rubs deeper on each thrust like the sway of the tide. Thranduil wasn't kidding, he's soaking wet and that only spurs Fjord on to clean up every drip. ]

{Easily. But why would he? Elves aren't exactly prudes; they make good use of their several centuries of heat, thank you very much! And Thranduil is even wilder than his Silvans. No one has tamed him yet and they never shall.

Though that beard...and those tusks...are lovely additions. He gasps with each flick of Fjord's deft tongue and, yes, take pity on this poor king: he is terribly wet. That means he is also terribly sensitive. He tries with all his might to hold back his climax, his fingers gripping the blanket, his toes curling... He even grits his teeth, but it's no good. With a jolt, he spills over his stomach, the walls around Fjord's tongue spasming.

His chest rises and falls sharply, unevenly and his hands loosen their grip to grab onto any part of Fjord he can reach.}

Rise...

[ There he goes. Wound so tightly, it's not surprising when Thranduil comes and Fjord wipes off his face on his shoulder and arm before rising, dropping kisses up a lean body, a pounding heart. His aching erection rests against the Elvenking's hip, hot as a brand. ]

You know, I think I could do that all night if you asked nicely.

{He swallows heavily and glances down, admiring that erection. Who can hate a well-endowed half-Orc? Not him, apparently, which would take his people by surprise! What a shame they are not present to see this.

Then again, perhaps that is for the best.}

After you called me Antlers? {He purses his lips as if he is genuinely hurt.} Was that you apologizing?

{Video; UN: elvenking}

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