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Thranduil eyed the Dragonslayer opposite him with a hint of amusement in his ice blue eyes. He knew Elves could drink much more alcohol than the short-living humans without getting drunk, but he had no idea 3 glasses of wine could already make their cheeks flush such an entrancing pink colour.
Bard let out a sound close to a giggle as he almost knocked over his glass, only barely steadying it but not stopping the deep red liquid from sloshing over the sides and over his hands. Thranduil quickly gestured for one of the servants to fill up Bard’s glass again, and to clean up the spillage, ignoring the apologetic murmurs from the King of Dale.
The servant, a rather beautiful young Elf with shiny dark hair and large brown eyes, gave Thranduil a coy smile before dutifully bowing his hand and walking away. Thranduil smirked suddenly when realising he had bedded this young man in the past. Bard seemed to notice the exchanged looks too, even in his tipsy state.
“Did you…” he blurted out, before firmly pressing his lips together to stop himself from finishing his sentence. Thranduil raised his eyebrow.
“During the day, we are royalty here, right now, you are amongst friends.” he said softly. “Ask what you want.” he finished with a tilt of his head. Bard swallowed thickly.
“Did you… sleep with him?” he muttered, eying the servant leaving the room. Thranduil shrugged.
“Elves live long lives, it is not uncommon to bed servants when you are not wed, or when your spouse has passed on.” Thranduil said, a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Bard pursed his lips.
“Even with male servants?” he asked. Thranduil blinked.
“You do not approve of same sex relationships?” he asked in surprise. Bard bit his lip.
“I personally do not mind, but it is not very common among Men.” he explained. “Some people do frown upon it, but I do not count myself amongst them.” he added quickly. Thranduil delicately rested his chin on his hand, leaning a little forward over the table.
“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked curiously, sipping his wine. Bard laughed nervously.
“I’ve only ever been with my wife. I…” he let out a shaky breath. “She is the only person I’ve ever kissed, let alone…
bedded”
he looked away from the Elvenking’s inquisitive eyes, clearly not used to speaking so freely about such private issues. Thranduil reached out to drag his cool fingers over the back of Bard’s hand.
“Have you never been curious,
Dragonslayer
?” he purred softly. Bard had learned to understand Thranduil used that term as almost a term of endearment, only ever using it in private. Bard shrugged.
“When my wife was alive, there was no need for me to be curious for any such experience. I had her and that was more than enough. Then, after she passed away…” his hand clenched into a fist, but Thranduil fingers gently urged him to relax the digits again. “I never thought I would want to be with anyone else.” Bard ended in a whisper. Thranduil offered him a surprisingly sympathetic smile.
“Life can be unfair, but sometimes it is best to move on, my Dragonslayer.” he whispered. Bard barely had time to wonder when he had gone from just Dragonslayer to Thránduil’s Dragonslayer, before Thranduil got up and leaned over the table, his long hair curtaining his face.
“Tell me, Bard, are you curious now?” Thranduil purred. Bard’s eyes flickered to the Elvenking’s lips, his chin tilting up to bring their lips closer together.
“Perhaps, with the right person, I would be inclined to try.” he said breathlessly. Thranduil needed no more encouragement and wordlessly closed the gap between them.
Bard’s lips were surprisingly soft, but the feeling of the man’s beard against his face was relatively unknown to Thranduil. He found he liked it, although perhaps his acceptance was just caused by the fact that this was Bard, and he would still want to kiss Bard even if his facial hair rubbed his skin raw.
Bard hesitantly parted his lips, and Thranduil didn’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, letting out a soft noise as all his senses were just filled with
Bard,
from his scent, to the way his fingers intertwined with Thranduil’s on the table, his scent filling Thranduil’s nostrils...
“Thranduil..?” Bard called softly, reluctantly pulling away from Thranduil’s soft lips. Thranduil had failed to notice Bard’s hand had come to rest on his cheek, and the kiss had made him lost his composure, the illusions hiding his scarred face fading slowly.
Thranduil gasped, moving back like a startled deer and falling into his chair. Bard slowly rounded the table, seeming more intrigued than disgusted. He knelt down in front of Thranduil,
“You must hear this all the time.” Bard started. “But you are so beautiful.” his hand pressed against Thranduil’s wounded cheek, hidden again by the illusion magic but still very much there.
“You don’t have to tell lies to soothe me.” Thranduil answered. Bard smiled, as if he had been expecting the answer. He leaned in, kissing the corner of Thranduil’s mouth before moving up, trailing kisses along the Elf’s jaw and cheekbone, before pressing a careful kiss over his eyelid.
“Thranduil…” Bard whispered. Hearing his name on the man’s lips was odd, but Thranduil wanted to hear it over and over again. He opened his eyes, unsure when he had closed them. Bard smiled at him, a smile so genuine and kind that Thranduil could only compare it to the innocence and faith of children.
“Kiss me again.” Thranduil whispered. Bard didn’t hesitate to close the gap between them this time around, calloused hands clasping around the sides of Thranduil’s face, pushing into the silky strands of hair. Any other person would have been pushed away for messing up Thranduil’s hair, but in Bard’s case, Thranduil just leaned in closer, parting his lips with a soft moan.
“Stay the night.” he whispered, only barely pulling away far enough from Bard’s lips to speak. Bard sighed, pressing their foreheads together.
“Yes.” he said simply. Thranduil smiled a genuine smile for the first time in centuries.
“I’m glad.” he answered, before pulling Bard close again.