Thranduil was panting, body languid, satiated like never before. He went easily when tugged down, arms wrapping around his lover as their tongues danced. He rolled them to their sides, hips shifting as they moved, small thrusts made his over sensitive skin twitch, but he was loathe to pull out, to lose this connection.

Instead of dwelling on the strangeness of it all, on how Celegorm felt impossibly right in his arms, how they fit, he allowed himself to luxuriate and cuddle. There would be time enough later to contemplate the whys.

"Mind if we do not move for an age," he mumbled, mouth pressed into Celegorm's temple.

(OOC: Wrong account again! Sorry.)