zee113 (zee113) wrote in aragornlegolas,
  • Mood: hungry

Autumn Darkness, an A/L challenge fic

Author: zee113
Beta: the wonderful and reliable liriel1810; thank you!
Banner: hammil77; I'm surrounded by generous people *throws kisses*
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A mysterious murder could mean a potential threat to all Gondor. King Elessar and the Prince Consort go investigate.

Author's Notes:
1. This fic was written for the 2007 Aragorn/Legolas Halloween Challenge. Turned out to be much longer than I expected...
2. Melda means beloved in Quenya



darkness



‘My Lord Elessar,’ Faramir entered the royal study. ‘There is an issue in the city that would require your attention.’

Aragorn looked up from his letter to Imladris. He took a good look at his steward, and then put down his quill. Faramir had a serious look in his eyes that Aragorn had not seen there since the Ring Wars.

‘What happened?’ He asked solemnly.

‘Several of the Mirkwood horses were killed during the night, my Lord.’ Faramir’s face betrayed nothing, but Aragorn could see how his hands were in fists by his side.

This was not good. The first guests just arrived for the Thanksgiving celebration that would last for weeks, and a killer of horses could turn into a murderer any time. There were, of course, tales of orcs still in the country, but in the past five years Gondor – and most of Middle Earth – had become a stable, peaceful land.

‘Where did it happen?’ Aragorn stood up and took off his formal coat that fit his office. He wore a short tunic under it, much like the ones that he had always worn as a ranger. He simply preferred practical clothes to pomp.

‘My Lord!’ Faramir couldn’t hold back the word, but swallowed whatever else he wanted to say. His first reactions seemed to come from his father’s training sometimes, no matter how much he despised it.

‘Let’s stop playing king and steward until we find the killer, shall we?’ Aragorn knew that formality served its purpose but wished he had no need of it. Faramir was good at it though, he always seemed to know when to be official and when to let it go.

‘Legolas?’

‘I came to you right away, my Lord,’ Faramir replied, ‘but the horses were from Mirkwood, so he probably knows about them already.’

‘He probably does,’ Aragorn said wryly, ‘but I’m going to see him now anyways.’

There was no need to go to the royal chambers though, as the door opened just when Aragorn reached it.

‘Legolas! I was just about looking for you.’

‘I heard about it, Aragorn,’ Legolas’ eye was full of sadness. ‘The trees have been whispering about horrible things that happened in the dark since they woke at dawn.’

‘You should have told me, Legolas,’ Aragorn’s eyes were full of gentleness as he looked at his Consort. He wanted to take him in his arms and comfort him, but was achingly aware of Faramir’s presence. Not that he didn’t see any marital tenderness between his King and the Royal Consort, but Legolas’ dignity was never to be compromised for the sake of Gondor. Gondor, that had yet to accept the present and future lack of royal heirs.

‘I heard nothing tangible but terror,’ Legolas replied quietly, but his eyes told Aragorn that Legolas knew about his desire and was comforted anyway.

They stood there looking into each others’ eyes, love weaving its magic in their hearts and around them, until Faramir cleared his throat.

He blushed when both Aragorn and Legolas looked at him.

‘I’m sorry but… would you…’ He couldn’t say it, but knowing his King and the Consort, he knew that they wanted to see the place.

‘Yes, we would,’ Aragorn was amused by his flustered Steward, but the situation didn’t let him enjoy the feeling fully. ‘And I want you to stay here.’

‘But my Lord!’ Faramir gasped.

‘Not now, my good steward, but I know that we will want to follow whatever traces we find.’

Faramir didn’t even need to think about it to see the sense in what he heard. Lord Aragorn used to be a ranger, even the captain of them. There was no man on Middle Earth who could read traces like him. And Legolas, as a wood elf, was even better at it. Besides, he would never let Aragorn to go alone.

Speaking of alone…

Faramir ran after his Monarch and his Consort but made sure that his messages got to the proper people.


* * * * *

The stables were full of the smell of blood, and the horses snorted nervously.

‘Why are they still here?’ Legolas asked.

‘We didn’t want to disturb the tracks the killers might have left.’ The stablemaster was a sensible man.

‘Killers?’

‘Yes, My Lord. They killed several horses without a noise; I do not think one man could’ve done so.’ He was feeling the honour of the royal couple’s presence, but Eregil knew and loved his trade. Aragorn only saw sorrow in his green eyes.

‘Aragorn,’ Legolas called to him from his calming the horses. ‘This wasn’t a man’s work. I smell orc stink.’

Aragorn then looked around, examined the floors, the stall doors, and, finally, the dead horses that were horribly mutilated. Everything pointed towards Legolas being right. However, he could faintly sense traces of at least two orcs.

‘There were two or three Uruk-hais here,’ he said to Legolas. ‘They mutilated and killed the horses, and drank some of their blood.’

‘Uruk-hais? I haven’t heard of any for years…’ Legolas’ golden hair shone in the streaming sunlight, but his eyes held deep shadows.

‘Do you think we will pick up their traces outside the gates?’ Legolas was leaning against a plank, after calming the horses successfully. The stable boys were leading them out one by one. It was a testimony to the Mirkwood training how well the horses endured the stench of blood.

‘I believe so.’

‘But not alone, my Lord.’ Faramir stood in the door, with Beregond.

‘I will accompany you, my Lords, with four of my best men.’ Nothing could be read on their faces but Aragorn knew that he wouldn’t argue with them. First, it made sense; second, they had already wasted enough time.

‘Are they ready? We leave immediately.’ He came forward, and Legolas’ clean scent calmed him.

‘Wait a moment, my Lord,’ Faramir answered. ‘The men are ready, but the food I asked the kitchen to prepare for you isn’t.’

‘Faramir, your only problem is that you are too efficient,’ Aragorn smiled for the first time since he had heard the gruesome news that morning. Legolas snorted next to him, and there were matching smiles on Faramir’s and Beregond’s faces.

‘Thank you, my Lord!’

‘Now please, leave us alone for a few moments.’ He hated when they bowed to him, but couldn’t make them stop. Yet.

‘I can see you’re a real romantic at heart, my Lord,’ Legolas whispered in his ear, and Aragorn could hear the smile in his voice.

‘You’re a warrior, my love; and we’ve seen too much blood to stop us.’ Aragorn turned towards his Consort, and took him in his arms. Legolas’ embrace came naturally in return.

‘That we are, my king,’ he sighed, ‘and you are the only one that can make me forget.’

They kissed for a small eternity, forgetting about blood and orcs and dead horses, strengthening their bond and affirming their love. Aragorn was still amazed that he had married Legolas; that his childish infatuation with Arwen had not trapped him in a loveless marriage; amazed that lord Elrond was selfish only in the one area that would save Aragorn’s life from endless angst and sorrow. Arwen had only smiled at him sadly, and sailed to the West with her father.

‘My Lord,’ it seemed that Faramir had a slight problem with his throat today. ‘We are all ready.’

‘Thank you, Faramir,’ Aragorn replied, ‘we shall be with you soon.’ Then he turned towards his Consort.

‘Are you ready, my love?’

‘I am, as much as I ever will be.’ Aragorn knew what he meant. Legolas was a fierce warrior but each life destroyed hurt him. Of course, an orc’s life was already destroyed when he was born…

‘Kiss me once more, and then let us go.’ Aragorn wanted nothing more than to kiss his Consort all day.

Legolas did as he was told, cleaving to Aragorn even tighter. His lips were warm, and sweeter than anything Aragorn ever tasted, sweeter than all the delicacies that all the embassadors ever brought him. His kiss made him forget everything. Almost everything.

The sun was nearing its zenith when they exited the stables. Beregond and Faramir were there, waiting for them with four guards of the citadel, and the stable master with a few grooms.

‘I want you to bury the horses near Snowmane,’ Aragorn said, ‘they are victims of the same war, I feel.’

‘My Lord,’ Eregil nodded and started towards the stables. The grooms bowed too, and then went to prepare for the grueling work.

‘Thank you, my lord Aragorn,’ Legolas was smiling, and for that smile Aragorn would have buried the horses himself. Except Legolas would be there to help him, and so would Faramir and every member of the royal household, there was no doubt about that in his mind.


* * * * *

They rode as far as they could for several days, but stopped as evening approached. The autumn darkness could not be broken by the crescent moon that set early these days. Only the star of Earendil shone brightly in the west.

On the first day, Beregond and his men insisted on stopping for the night, and Aragorn agreed. The decision echoed that difficult one of the past when they were going after the orcs that kidnapped Merry and Pippin. It was part of the legends now, stories that were sung around campfires and in great halls, although not in the royal palace when Aragorn was around; he saw to that.

It was the same choice, and it was easier to make now that he knew that it was a good one. In the darkness they couldn’t have found the leaf back then; and couldn’t have found the fluffs of horse hair that got stuck in a branch.

‘They killed the horses for their manes?’ Legolas wondered with shadows in his eyes.

‘I don’t think so,’ Aragorn answered somberly. ‘I sense a dark will at work here.’

Tonight they set up camp around sunset in a small clearing by a brook. The orc traces brought them up to the White Mountains, into the Stonewain Valley. They could feel the people of Ghan-buri-Ghan watching them, they could hear their drums, and they could sense their fear in the rhythms; but none of the stone people came within eyesight.

Beregond and his four men sat a pace apart from them, far enough to give them some privacy but close enough to fight and protect them if the need came. And it seemed to Aragorn that the need was close.

‘I can feel eyes watching us,’ Legolas whispered to him, ‘and it’s not the stone people.’

‘I can feel that too,’ Aragorn answered. ‘Let’s warn the others.’

But as they stood up, the enemy was on them; giant spiders from every corner of the dark moonless night.

‘Beregond!’ Aragorn cried out. They could see the five guards jump up, but then it was just the flurry of the deadly fight surrounding them, coming at them like waves of a poisonous ocean.

Legolas fought the deadly claws and fangs with arrows, knives, whatever came into his hands; his back against Aragorn’s, protecting and grounding each other just like they fought against the armies of Sauron.

After an eternity, the tide of spiders got thinner, and Legolas could see Beregond and the guards. Two of them were on the ground, or at least Legolas thought so from the tumult of spiders. He killed two more creatures that came at him half-heartedly while Aragorn finished a third, and then both of them ran to the two fallen men.

The spiders here were slower, heavy with blood, and tried to run away. Legolas made sure that none of them escaped, killing all of them efficiently.

When he looked around, he saw Aragorn leaning over someone, and two still forms. The two men who were still able to stand were gathering fire wood under the trees, but they didn’t venture far. Legolas could feel though that no spiders were left in that part of the woods, and no one watched them with burning, malignant eyes from the shadows.

He went over to Aragorn, and on his way he saw that the two guards laying there were dead. He didn’t understand death any better now than when he had seen Boromir die, his very first encounter with men’s mortality, no matter how many battles he had witnessed.

‘My Lords,’ Beregond came closer.

Aragorn looked up and smiled despite the pain in his eyes.

‘Beregond, take our horses and take your men back to the city.’

‘But my Lord, our horses… were killed, too…’ Beregond swallowed. ‘Only Brego and Hasufel…’

‘I am sure my elf brothers will lend you theirs. We will need to proceed on foot, I believe, to be able to follow the tracks any further. But only after the sun is up.’

‘No need to wait, brother,’ a voice rang clearly from the dark woods. ‘We have seen tracks of Uruk-hai north of here. There’re two or three of them…’

It was obvious that Beregond and his men were surprised as they looked around again and saw Elladan and Elrohir appearing between the trees. Their elven cloaks disguised them perfectly until they were at the edge of the trees; only Aragorn’s and Legolas’ eyes could distinguish them in the dark.

‘We were sent by Mithrandir,’ they said, ‘and he said that time was of the utmost importance.’

‘If Gandalf said that, we must hurry,’ Aragorn replied, but didn’t lift his hands from the wounded man. He seemed to withdraw into himself and Legolas felt the scent of athelas fill the air and clear his lungs. It reminded him of home, of his father, but then he remembered that his people had sailed away to Valinor and he had chosen to remain with Aragorn.

That decision had surprised everyone but those closest to him, because before the fellowship was formed, he had always hunted alone. He’d never known love before he met Aragorn, only the love for a brother or his father, or camaraderie. But the Fellowship of the Nine was a true gift of the Valar, for he found friends and love, and he never felt homesick.

It took only a few moments for his musings to come and pass, and when Legolas looked up, the wounded guard – his name was Khildor, he remembered now – looked less pale and breathed easier.

‘He will be able to survive the journey back to Gondor now, although he will have to go to the Houses of Healing right away,’ Aragorn turned to Beregond. ‘Take the horses and carry your brothers in arms back to the city. Help their families with all you can, and ask Lord Faramir’s help in that matter also.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Beregond nodded. He knew his duty was to protect his King, but that duty was now preceded by obedience because his Lord was well protected. He and his company were the four best fighters and hunters in all Middle Earth.

Legolas grabbed his bow, gathered his arrows from the dead spiders, and was ready by the time Aragorn turned to him.

‘So we will have to run again, my love,’ Aragorn told him, and Legolas could see the smile in his eyes that the memory brought there.

‘I will miss Gimli’s grumbling,’ Legolas smiled back, and they started to run together, as if they were one man.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, like the silver moon and its image in the mirror of Galadriel, and ran after them like the quick footed wind.


* * * * *

When they finally found the orcs, it was almost a disappointment. There were only four Uruk-hais and a nest of spiders that they could kill easily.

‘Something’s not right here,’ Elladan said. ‘I can’t believe this was all…’

‘And yet it is so, son of Elrond,’ a familiar voice sounded nearby, and they could see Gandalf the White stepping out from behind a rock in the faint light of the stars. It was that hour before dawn when the star of Earendil shone the brightest, and the heart is filled with sweet assurance that the light would come back to them soon to give new delights.

‘It is a shame that these orcs still could reach into Gondor,’ Gandalf continued, ‘but one of them had dark powers. I believe he stole a few of Saruman’s books and learned to read them. He built a small altar to his late master that somehow raised Melkor’s curiosity. He is only banished, not destroyed.

‘This is a sad story, the Uruks’,’ Gandalf pondered. ‘They were created from orcs, but Saruman bred close relatives to bring out strength among them, and that was their doom. Even had Sauron prevailed, they would have died, all of them.’

‘It is interesting that you’d feel sorry for such dark creatures, Mithrandir,’ Elrohir said. ‘You saw what sorrow they brought, even now.’

‘I saw that, and I don’t feel sorry for them. I feel sorry for the destruction of something that was beautiful, for the orcs were elves once.’

‘We know family history, old friend,’ Aragorn assured him. He felt that perhaps because he was mortal, he understood what Gandalf said about opportunities missed and beauty destroyed. ‘But let us go back to Gondor, after we cleaned this dirt here.’

‘Let’s not leave here any spider nests either,’ Gandalf nodded, sat down on a rock, and took out his pipe and pouch. ‘I will take a smoke while you amuse yourselves.’

The three elves and the man grinned at each other. This was their old friend that they knew so well: always up for a smoke, although he called it ‘food for thought’. Then Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas went to the nearby trees to gather some woods to add to the orcs’ small pile, and Aragorn crouched down to light a fire.

They built a small pyre and burned the bodies, and made sure to clean the caves they found. There were several small spider nests in some of them, and they burned and squelched all the poisonous creatures they found. They made sure that they found all of them.

When they finished their gruesome works, Gandalf put away his cold and empty pipe and smiled at them.

‘Let’s ride home to Gondor.’

‘You might forget, my good Mithrandir, that our horses are gone with the Gondorian guards,’ Elrohir started indignantly.

‘Because our brother here, the king, asked us to lend them because of the need the guards had,’ Elladan wasn’t slow to add.

Legolas and Aragorn just smiled at each other. This was an old trick of Gandalf’s, but they didn’t want to ruin his fun.

‘Our brother,’ Elrohir continued, ‘who is so in love that he doesn’t even care when we try to tease him.’

‘Is that true?’ Legolas asked and weaved his arms around Aragorn’s waist.

‘Yes,’ Aragorn answered between the small kisses he was covering his Consort’s face with. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Children!...’ Gandalf whispered under his breath, but he was smiling. Not that the sons of Elrond weren’t capable of upsetting him in a very short time, but for now his attention was elsewhere.

Shadowfax was like a gleam of silver first but as he came close, it was clear that he wasn’t alone.

‘I visited King Eomer on my way here,’ Gandalf explained to no one. ‘He looked at me and saw my need; and so he told me that if ever I am in need of horses, I can take as many as I want.’

‘I shall thank him when we meet at the celebration,’ Aragorn said.

‘It’s time we returned to Gondor,’ Legolas replied. ‘We will have lost almost a week in these mountains.’

‘Let us tarry no longer then,’ Elladan said, and then the horses were there. They seemed to know who their master was to be for the ride to Gondor, so they aligned and were shortly gone like the path of the wind over the Grey Havens.


* * * * *

The celebration was wonderful, the most enjoyable since the tradition had begun five years ago. It was Legolas’ idea to give a way to the people to express their joy of survival, of life and it’s returning to the normal, everyday ways after the first peaceful harvest. There was, of course, the remembrance of the end of the Ring Wars on the first day of May, but Aragorn liked that less. It was too formal, too cold for the ranger in him, although the king understood the need for it; but he loved the familial, homey feeling of Thanksgiving better. There were giant orange pumpkins and braids of corncobs everywhere, and people felt more free to approach him, greet him, and say a few words of respect and love.

Not that any of them could have gotten close to him this time, because he was surrounded by friends and family. Not since the Fellowship was broken were so many members together. Gimli left the glittering caves of Helm’s Deep and his fellow dwarves behind to accompany King Eomer and Queen Lothiriel. Sam and Rose were accompanied by Merry and Pippin and several barrel of the Shire’s best pipeweed. Gandalf finally left the royal library where he had spent his days with Elladan and Elrohir and endless numbers of scrolls.

Aragorn looked around the big hall that hosted at least a thousand people, nobles and commoners alike. There was no one too highly or lowly born to be invited.

‘I met Ghan-buri-Ghan on my way here,’ Eomer had said earlier. ‘He said that his forests are now free of the faceless terror; and he asked me to convey his gratitude.’

‘I’d like to visit him one day,’ Legolas pondered. ‘But I don’t think he would enjoy our festivities.’

‘When the spring comes and even these walls seem to burst with its energy, I will go with you. If he would meet us.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ Gandalf replied, even though there wasn’t really a question. ‘He said he would like to meet an elf before he dies. Not that he plans on it, but I know he’s not a young man.’

‘How does he know things like that?’ Aragorn mused while reaching for another carmel apple. He’d already had his fill, but he knew Legolas loved them.

‘He’s istari,’ Legolas replied, drawing closer to his husband. He could hardly resist those apples, and he hoped he could convince Aragorn to retire for the night soon.

‘I don’t think that would explain every detail.’ Aragon saw the glint in Legolas’ eyes and took an apple in his hand. He bit into it, just a small piece to savor, and lifted the rest to Legolas’ lips.

Legolas looked on hungrily; hungry for the apple or hungry for the man, he couldn’t decide and didn’t want to. He looked at Aragorn with expectation, then at his fingers, and then he caught his hand.

‘I have no patience for teasing now,’ he whispered, and bit into the apple. With a few bites, he ate it, but didn’t let Aragorn’s hand go until he had licked the last morsel from his fingers.

When he finished and looked up again, there was a new kind of hunger in Aragorn’s eyes. He fidgeted a bit, too.

‘My Lord, you look to be ill at ease,’ Legolas leaned closer until his breath tickled Aragorn’s ears.

‘I wasn’t before,’ Aragorn gulped.

‘Maybe some carmel apples will help.’ Legolas smiled innocently.

Aragorn knew that innocent look and wasn’t fooled. He looked around, nodded to Faramir, then grabbed his Consort by the hand and started resolutely toward the royal bedchambers.

Legolas looked around but only saw his friends’ amused smiles. This kind of behavior was nothing new to them though, so Legolas shrugged, smiled back at them, and gave in to Aragorn’s impatient tugging.

They tried to maintain some dignity and not run like horny teenagers, but the façade ended as soon as they reached their bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, Aragorn pushed his elf against it and kissed him with all the passion and promise a healthy and amorous ranger could muster.

Legolas wasn’t sure he could breath but he didn’t mind. He combed his fingers in Aragorn’s hair while the other hand slipped under his heavy tunic to caress the firm muscles there. He lifted his left leg and embraced Aragorn’s hip with it. He would’ve climbed into the ranger’s skin if he could.

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes to look into heaven. Legolas’ eyes were heavy with desire; his face flushed a beautiful pink, his lips swollen and red with kisses. Aragorn wanted to ravish him right there but knew they had all the time in Middle Earth to love each other thoroughly. With a gentle kiss on each of the elf’s eyes, he drew back a bit and started to open the fastenings on Legolas’ tunic.

Legolas started to disrobe his ranger in turn, slowly, sensually, covering his skin with small kisses everywhere he could reach. When they were half naked, the two of them turned towards the bed that ruled the room with its presence.

Aragorn made sure the door was locked while he could still spare a thought for his surroundings, because he knew his brothers too well. And Gimli. They had no patience for others privacy when they had an idea.

In silent agreement, they each went to their side of the bed, sat down and divested themselves of leggings and boots, and met again in the middle of the sheets, with no clothes this time to hinder their passion.

They kissed again, long, leisurely, sensuous kisses, until Legolas was almost crazy with desire.

‘Aragorn…’ he whispered. Opening his eyes, he saw his husband’s handsome face in the moonlight, eyes dark with love.

Melda,’ Aragorn replied, and caressed the beautiful elven face with small kisses. He kissed his brow, his eyelids, those high cheekbones he loved so much, and then one sensitive ear. Not that Legolas needed any more stimulation to stoke the fire in his groin, but this was a path Aragorn has taken many times and loved the most.

He bit on the pointed tip gently, then nibbled down the long neck and kissed each shoulder. The soft sighs and whimpers urged him on his journey, so he licked his way to the enticing adam’s apple, and then down on the smooth chest. Delicious pink nipples were like small peaks of desire, and Aragorn knew that with all the festivities of Thanksgiving, he had never tasted anything as appetizing as the flesh of his Consort.

Aragorn groaned when his cock was rubbed against the sheets as he moved down the lean, muscular body of his Consort, and the sensual fog in Legolas’ mind cleared a bit. He was no fair maiden to be wooed and overpowered; he liked to give pleasure as he received it.

‘Aragorn,’ he whispered, and his breath caught when he saw the burning desire in those blue-grey eyes. He knew what Aragorn was about to do and had nothing against it, but he wanted to reciprocate.

‘I want to taste you too,’ he said softly, and moved around on the bed until he could reach Aragorn’s cock easily.

‘How do you say sex in Quenya?’ Aragorn asked, and it was so unexpected that Legolas had to giggle. In a manly way, of course.

‘We don’t. We say maile,’ he replied, then leaned and caressed Aragorn’s cock with his lips.

Lust,’ Aragorn nodded, because he just knew the feeling, and kissed Legolas’ handsome cock. It was rosy, warm and hard under his lips, just perfect.

Legolas sighed at the touch, but after a moment went back to his self-appointed task of pleasuring his husband. He loved to do it, and he loved it to be done to him, but the impatience growing in his groin was hard to ignore. Determined to not be the first to stop, he renewed his efforts on Aragorn’s cock. He kissed down the underside and then up, sucking it gently, and then took it into his mouth and moving his lips up and down the hard shaft, pressing his tongue against it, just as his ranger liked it the best.

Aragorn had a hard time breathing. He had his mouth full of the loveliest cock in Middle Earth, but the owner of that cock did everything in his power to divert Aragorn’s attention. He groaned, because rangers did not whimper, and gave up. It was the sweetest surrender to Legolas’ charms, for he knew that he wanted to make love to the elf. He reached his arms towards a small table by the bed that had sweet smelling oil prepared on it always, but it was too far away.

Legolas looked up when he sensed the movement, and seeing the ranger’s problem, he reached to help. As he gave Aragorn the vial, he opened his long legs to allow more access to his entrance. He didn’t need much preparation unlike his Aragorn, but a little oil to ease the way and heighten the pleasure was always welcome.

Aragorn poured a little oil into his palm and anointed his fingers. He pushed a digit into Legolas’ entrance slowly and gently. He moved it around a few times to sooth and stretch the muscles, and then he aimed for the spot that would give the most pleasure to Legolas.

‘Estel!’ Legolas whimpered. He called his husband that only in the most intimate moments and Aragorn’s heart melted a bit more at that. They were estel for each other, hope and light in the darkest night, when everything else failed.

Aragorn moved up on the bed and kissed Legolas again. Those long legs opened to cradle him and his cock slid home with the ease of long time lovers.

Legolas couldn’t stop whimpering and the long shaft stroked him inside. Aragorn didn’t have to look for his pleasure spot, he found it unerringly with every thrust, every long slide in and out. He swept the strands of moonlit hair aside from Legolas’ face to stare at his transfixed beauty. The elf’s face was flushed a beautiful shade of pink, his eyes full of love and passion, his lips forming the perfect o of impending pleasure. Aragorn could feel that his own climax was close, too, and sped up his thrusts. He lifted himself a bit to be able to reach between them, and started to stroke Legolas’ cock.

Legolas couldn’t hold back any longer and he didn’t want to. With a deep shudder and a silent moan, he let himself be carried away by the waves of rapture as he spilled his essence between their bodies.

Aragorn felt his husband’s pleasure and he let himself go too. In these moments he felt himself closest to his elven ancestors yet grounded deep in his human heritage. He shook with pleasure for a small eternity, and then collapsed on Legolas.

When he could look up again, Legolas’ eyes looked into his with the deepest love, and he knew that he would be unhappy without that love even before Iluvatar.

Legolas looked into Aragorn’s dazed eyes and had to giggle. He placed a soft kiss on his lips, with a sigh, his eyes became unfocused as he slipped into reverie.

Aragorn groaned and moved a bit; he didn’t want to lose contact, but didn’t want to crush his husband either. And he cared about cleanliness the least. Come morning, they could take a bath together.

He turned on his side and pulled Legolas against him, then reached out and grabbed a nearby blanket. The autumn nights could be chilly despite the fire burning in the fireplace. Legolas let out a soft breath and burrowed into his husband's embrace, slipping his arms around him.

Aragorn sighed and stroked down Legolas’ back until he reached his buttocks. His only regret was that he hadn't seen them, hadn't kissed them tonight, but he knew that he would remedy that very soon.

Tomorrow morning.

Until then, he closed his eyes and slipped into contented sleep.









the end
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
  • 4 comments