Chapter Text
Flopping onto the bed in his dorm room, Bard sighed and stared at the crumpled flyer in his hand. They'd been handed out by a couple of pretentious rich kids who were often giving out invitations to frivolous parties that he almost never went to. The only time he had, he'd felt under-dressed and out of place amongst all the grandeur. So he'd snatched the flier, expecting it to be another invitation to another party he probably wasn't going to go to, and stuffed it into his pocket, only to get back to his room and realise it was in fact an advert. A photography student looking for models for one of their projects. Willing to pay handsomely to anyone who would participate. Bard scoffed and crumpled the flier again, leaving it on the bed so he could get up and inspect his reflection in the dingy full length mirror on his door. He wasn't that bad to look at, he supposed, he did fairly regular workouts, and practiced archery in his spare time, so he was quite fit. And if the occasional glances and whispers he got around campus were anything to go on, he wasn't exactly unattractive. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, turning to glance at the crumpled piece of paper on the bed. He needed the money, he was struggling to pay his college fees, but was it worth his dignity?
Apparently it was, or he wouldn't be standing uneasily here, outside of a building that looked more like a stately mansion than a college dorm. He shifted his weight, contemplating turning around and leaving when the door opened and a regal looking man with long, platinum blond locks leaned lithely against the doorframe, smirking almost predatorially at Bard, who felt a shiver down his back and a faint flush creeping across his face. "I err...I'm here for...I saw your err flyer..."
"Mm..I thought that might have been why you were here," the man purred, studying Bard with intent, yet somehow managing to seem a little bored at the same time. "You do realise I've rejected nearly everyone who's turned up here today? What makes you think you're any different?"
Bard narrowed his eyes, scowling at the arrogance of this infuriatingly beautiful man before him. "Nothing. I just need the money, but I had a feeling this probably would be a waste of time." With that he turned on his heels to leave, but the man tutted and called after him.
"Now, now, did I say you had to leave? Most of the people I turned away were irritatingly desperate. And yet you are so ready to flee, before I've even made a decision?" He circled around Bard, every movement calculated and graceful. Pretentious, thought Bard. "And you're never at my parties. It's almost as if you're uncomfortable." His smirk was broader than ever now. "Oh my, this will be fun. You may call me Thranduil," he insisted, holding out a delicate hand with slender, beautifully manicured fingers.
"Bard," the other muttered through gritted teeth, as Thranduil ushered him through the house after Bard half-heartedly accepted the handshake. He knew of Thranduil, one of the most spoiled rich kids in this whole damn school, it was said that he rarely left his dorm and never seemed to do any work and it was well known that most of the pretentious parties were on his behalf. And yet he couldn't stop himself looking around in awe as he was buffeted along, yes the decor was all very grand, but there was also something natural about it, as if the entire place had been carefully decorated to look like something out of an enchanted forest. Rich kids, he thought dismissively.
“Here we are,” Bard couldn’t help noticing that Thranduil’s voice had yet to seem anything other than a purr. “You should count yourself lucky, in spite of my reputation, very few have had the honor of seeing the inside of my personal dorm room.”
Luck, right. Bard scoffed and rolled his eyes. If he had any luck, he wouldn’t be standing here right now. Still, he couldn’t deny that the room was beautiful, the same simple, natural decorations as the rest of the building, only with a little more splendour, making it feel almost as if he were walking into the den of some sort of fairy king. But what made Thranduil think he was worth bringing here, if so few got to see this place? Surely there were other places in the dorm they could do a photo shoot. No, he shook his head, stopping himself from staring with fixation as Thranduil moved so gracefully around this space, owning the room and reaffirming the fairy king allusion. Bard, stop. He pushed those thoughts aside. He was only here on business. So why did the predatory gaze the other consistently fixed on him make him melt a little?
“So, the err…project you’re working on..?” He stammered, trying to get his thoughts back in order. There was no way he was letting this arrogant man lord it over him so easily.
“Oh, just some portrait work,” Thranduil replied dismissively, adjusting some camera equipment. “Go ahead and sit down on the bed a moment, I need to adjust the lighting, then we can try and find a camera angle that makes you look…decent…”
Bard was halfway to sitting on the edge of the bed that looked too luxurious to disturb by so much as sitting on it when his head snapped back up to fix Thranduil with a glare. "Decent? If that's how you bloody feel, what am I even doing here? You can get anyone you want, so don't waste my time with petty insults."
Cold blue eyes fixed on Bard as he spoke, lips curled into a smirk. "Anyone I want? Is that really what you think? I mean you probably have a point, but you know nothing about me, you just assume that I'd be satisfied with any old floozy that wandered past me." He moved away from the tripod he'd been positioning and pointed a digital camera at Bard, his delicate fingers flitting over the controls to adjust the settings. "No, I like things to be a little more interesting. I've spent most of my life having things just handed to me, I'd like at least some part of my life to come with a bit of a challenge."
Thranduil snapped a couple of candids as the now flustered Bard tried to collect himself. "What exactly are you implying? If this is just some sort of twisted game..." Bard trailed off, not sure where that sentence was going.
"Uh-uh, that would be telling. Enough chit-chat for now, we're here for business after all."
"Business? We haven't even agreed anything yet," Bard spat.
"And yet you came all the way to my room and are sitting on my bed, I'd say you've agreed whether you realise it or not," Thranduil stated simply, snapping another photo. "Now as much as I'm enjoying your flustered candids, I need some more composed photos for the project. Do you think you could try a couple of poses for me?"
Begrudgingly, Bard tried to think of some of the poses he'd seen models do, but he'd never really given it much thought, so a tutting Thranduil had to shift him into position, and Bard was surprised by the underlying strength in those seemingly delicate hands. "You're definitely going to pay me for this? I don't have time to waste doing this for no reason."
"Mmm, and even if I don't who says there's no reason? I will pay, of course, but only if you actually cooperate." Thranduil took a few steps back, considered Bard's pose then moved in again to adjust it slightly. "Now, just keep still, and maybe try not to look so miserable about this."
It went on for a few more poses, before Thranduil said. "I need a few for a life piece as well. Take your top off."
By now Bard had all but given up trying to reason with this man, clearly Thranduil didn't do much listening to other people, and just tugged his top off over his head, revealing a well-toned, muscular body underneath and causing Thranduil to make an odd choking noise that Bard thankfully didn't quite hear. After a moment, the blond regained his composure, though you'd barely noticed he'd lost it in the first place, and instructed Bard to do the last pose again "but maybe give me a little smoulder".
When Thranduil asked Bard to removes his trousers for a few full body poses, however, Bard almost snapped. Taking his top off was one thing, but getting almost completely naked in front of someone he barely knew? And so that this person could take photos for who really knew what purposes?
"You worry I'm just doing this to waste your time? Or that I'll do something nefarious with these? I give you my word that this is for a photography project, and I'll double the price on the flyer."
"You think it's just about money?"
"Perhaps not, but I know it's something you need. I am merely asking a favor in exchange for a favor."
Gritting his teeth, Bard conceded irritably, perching on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and socks, then roughly undoing the fly of his jeans, he shoved them down and kicked them aside. Underneath he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs in an understated grey colour.
"Happy?" he asked Thranduil rhetorically? At this point in time, the other's happiness meant little to him. Not when he was the one in such a compromising predicament, standing in the room of the richest kid on campus in nothing but his underwear. But he wouldn't allow himself to show weakness to this man, he would never admit how embarrassed and awkward he felt.
Thranduil, meanwhile, was grinning like the cat that got the cream. He was definitely enjoying the control he had over Bard, but the view wasn't bad either. "Very," he purred, moving in to pose Bard once more, his strong yet delicate hands lingering a little longer than necessary in a couple of places, and he'd be lying if he'd said he didn't want to rake his elegantly manicured nails down the strong ridges of Bard's abs.
But it wasn't the time for that. Not yet at least. He really did need the photos for his project, even if he also had a hidden agenda. Thranduil took a few more photos, then dipped his head to the side thoughtfully, and Bard may have been a little in awe of the way his gossamer hair shifted neatly with the movement. He was wondering whether he could push Bard a step farther, or whether he should just make a move.
Best not to waste his chance just yet, he decided, setting his camera aside and gliding toward Bard, lightly grazing his fingernails against the man's cheek, causing Bard to start, his own hand lashing out to catch Thranduil's wrist. "What are you doing?" he murmured, staring at Thranduil with his brow furrowed in concern and confusion.
"Like I said, I like a challenge," Thranduil replied calmly, wresting his wrist from Bard's grip. "I've always found interesting how there are so many people desperate to get into our parties, and yet you've only been to one, and even then you seemed uncomfortable. I've been curious."
Now Bard was just blinking incredulously. "What would someone as grand as you want with a commoner like me?"
"Don't you think it gets tiresome, having to entertain so many rich people and tagalongs all of the time? The fact that you're not remotely interested in that lifestyle is reason alone. But you're not exactly hard on the eyes. A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but that just adds to the charm after having to deal with so many prim people so constantly."
"But..."
Thranduil shook his head and skimmed his hands up Bard's chest. He'd already admitted far more about himself than he'd ever told anyone else. He wasn't usually an open person, but he'd meant what he said, he was drawn to Bard, and apparently felt relaxed enough around him in a way he never had around anyone else. "I've often wondered what you'd look like, writhing beneath me on my bed while I rode you like a wild stallion."
That one caught Bard off guard, caused his breath to catch in his throat. He couldn't say he disliked that thought, even remotely, especially with the distracting way Thranduil was fingering the elastic of his briefs. Before he realised what he was doing, his hands, rough and callused from archery and from some of the manual jobs he'd done to earn money, were brushing against Thranduil's porcelain cheeks, gingerly pushing the delicate, silken hair aside and drawing Thranduil in for a tentative kiss.
At that, Thranduil let go of the waistband, letting it snap lightly against Bard's skin, while his hands moved to rest on those broad pectorals, nails biting into the flesh. He didn't want to waste time being gentle, he'd waited too long for this as it was, he was kissing back more urgently, nipping at the other's lips and pushing him back toward the bed.
Bard gave in, opening himself to Thranduil's prying, the kisses become hot and rough, tongues entwining, tasting, until he was sitting on the bed once more and Thranduil broke away, leaving Bard panting softly, so that he could disrobe himself.
Where Bard had taken his clothes off only to begrudgingly comply with the criteria of Thranduil's project, Thranduil made a show of it, slowly, deliberately removing each garment, very aware of Bard watching him, until he was stood in just a pair of lacey, white panties. He gave Bard a moment to take in the view, before moving in once more, straddling his lap and resuming the fervent kisses.
If Bard was asked, he'd have to admit he wasn't all that surprised by Thranduil's choice in underwear, if anything, it seemed to suit him and add to the ethereal image that surrounded him. Thranduil was beautiful, he had no choice but to concede that, even from the moment they met. But seeing him like that, long and lithe, looking so delicate and breakable, yet somehow managing to excude and aura of strength at the same time, he may have been a bit smitten already, and though he still wasn't a fan of Thranduil's attitude, he could certainly appreciate his beauty. And oh did he want to appreciate the hell of out him right now, even if it didn't seem right for such rough hands to caress such smooth, perfect skin.
Thranduil didn't care, he wanted those hands all over him as much as he wanted to rake his nails over every single bit of Bard he could reach, and he let out a small moan as Bard's mouth found his neck, one rough hand delicately brushing his hair aside for better access, while Thranduil's nails skittered down Bard's back and his fingertips slipped into the back of Bard's briefs. "These have got to go," he murmured, disentangling himself from Bard for a moment so he could retrieve something from the drawer in his bedside table, and slip his panties off.
Bard was so distracted by the sight of Thranduil completely naked and still elegant and proud as ever, that he fumbled getting his own underwear off. Once they were off however, Thranduil was eyeing him appreciatively, looking more predatory than ever. He shoved Bard backwards onto the bed, this time straddling his thighs so he could have access to his cock. What he'd needed from the drawer was lube, which he was now warming a little on his hands before working it over Bard's length, enjoying the strangled noises the other was making as he expertly stroked him.
Once he was satisfied that Bard was slick enough, and not wanting to lose him before he could have his fun, Thranduil shifted, easing himself onto Bard's cock, silken hair falling around his face like a curtain, shifting aside to reveal his face once more as he straightened himself up slightly, he needed to be able to watch Bard after all.
Resting his hands on Bard's chest, he began to move his hips, a slow rhythm to start with, drinking in Bard's noises and expressions, before getting lost in the tide of sensation and picking up the pace, his nails scraping at Bard's flesh as he let go and allowed himself to just get caught in the moment, not thinking anymore, just feeling and moving.
It was Bard's turn to watch Thranduil, to admire his expression once he finally stopped being so calculated, watching him get as lost to the pleasure as Bard was. The bite of Thranduil's nails only added to the pleasure of the moments and it wasn't long before both men reached their peak, and a spent Thranduil collapsed next to Bard, his chest rising and falling heavily after his exertion. But in spite of his exhaustion, he still had the energy to reach into the side table drawer once more, this time drawing out an old Polaroid camera. Propping himself up, he aimed the camera at Bard, wanting to be able to savor the sight of him covered in scratch marks that he'd been the one to cause (not to mention Thranduil's cum), and Bard was too dazed to object at this point.
In fact the main thought going through his head was wondering how the hell Thranduil didn't have a single hair out of place.
A while later, once they'd both recovered, Thranduil was propped up on an elbow, looking at Bard thoughtfully, his fingers idly wandering Bard's chest and arms. "I could take care of all your debts, you know..."
"And what, I just have to be your plaything?" Bard scoffed. It's not that he didn't enjoy it, but he wasn't really up for prostituting himself out. He wasn't that desparate.
"Hardly," tutted Thranduil. "There's a limit to how shallow I am. I'm not about to go trying to buy you, or shower you with fancy gifts. I know that's not you." He sighed, trying to figure out his thoughts. "But I could use someone to talk to who's not just trying to kiss my arse all the time. Not to mention someone who looks that good on camera."
It was hard to say no with Thranduil looking at him so imploringly. "I'll think about it," he conceded, twisting a lock of Thranduil's hair around his fingers and using it to pull him into a rough kiss. "But this isn't going to become a regular thing."