Chapter 12
The Queen lumbered slowly through the darkness. Her superior eyesight of course rendered everything visible. Yes, she could see quite clearly.
The Human, for example. He was transparent. His love for the Elf Lord was like a smell that hung about him and seeped off his flesh. The Predatory Male was never a great mystery to her. No matter the species, they all basically marked their territory in the same way.
The Elf Lord was clearly the Human’s property and sanctuary. Poor Arwen. She felt for the little She-Elf. But wisdom dictated that life demanded some allowances. The ancient Queen knew this well as she scraped her girth through the narrow tunnels beneath the Greenwood. She might offer the demented She-Elf some lesson in wisdom when next they met. Her teeth bared in anticipation, with a low animal growl, and visions of the lovely Elf King swam before her obsidian eyes. Now Arwen would be offered a choice. Neither path would be perfect but only the inexperienced expected perfection.
Gandalf and the others slowly moved down the tunnels, his staff illuminating their footsteps. Before them walked the Queen of Gondor. She needed no light. Her steps were guided by another.
Elrond walked mutely beside his daughter, occasionally glancing back at the Istari. The Wizard’s narrowed gaze told him what he already, in his heart, knew. Arwen was lost to them. Hope was growing dimmer in his heart that his child would recover her mind or her soul from the darkness of jealousy and pain that had claimed it. Yet, they followed her. If Legolas did not defeat the creature, they were all dead anyway. So, they had decided, the Men of Gondor, and the Elves of Middle Earth, to seek out their Monarchs and offer what aid they could or die trying.
Aragorn and the Hunter King walked down the winding dark tunnel, which now bent at a sharp angle that required they crouched to get through it. Aragorn concentrated on taking long deep breaths, and wondered how an Elf could manage in the tight claustrophobic spaces through which they now traveled. He recalled the difficult time Legolas had in Moria, and glanced at the Elf who marched stoically ahead of him.
The Sindar showed no signs of distress as they made their way relentlessly through the hot narrow shaft. It continued to bend downward and Aragorn’s head began to throb as a slow headache borne of fatigue and thirst crept up the base of his skull. The shaft thankfully opened up to a slightly larger cavern. There it branched again, offering them two possible avenues.
The Elf paused, head tilted in that characteristic attitude of one who listened to some far off sound. Aragorn collapsed next to him, taking the opportunity to rest. After several minutes however, Aragorn sat up straighter and looked at the Elf expectantly.
Finally, the Sindar opened his eyes and the look of despair within the blue pools took the Man aback.
“What is it?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.
“I can not hear her. I should be able to, but no longer…” the Elf’s voice broke into what Aragorn might have believed was a sob. But the proud tilt of the Archer’s chin made him think he had been mistaken. This Elf King would show no such weakness.
Aragorn stared at the Elf, unsure of what to say to such a creature. It was the Archer who finally broke the strange silence. He looked directly at the Man as if seeing him for the very first time.
“Why?” he asked, in a suddenly demanding voice.
Aragorn started with the vehemence behind the obscure question, and gaped at him in shock.
“Why what? What are you asking?” Aragorn had not expected the Elf King to favor him with speech.
“Why did you abandon your Prince? Why have you led the Queen to ruin?” The cobalt eyes flashed with some eerie inner light that seemed oddly foreign, even for this strange Warrior.
Aragorn gaped, floundering for a response to the questions he himself had been struggling with for the past five years. “I …I was… a coward. I could not find the courage to declare my true feelings.”
He looked into the inscrutable blue eyes and went on, heedless of the repercussions, realizing that nothing but the truth would suffice now. “I did what I thought was expected of me…and it lead to everyone’s unhappiness. I …did not love Arwen. I admired her and thought at one time that she was the symbol of my success…but I did not really love her.”
Legolas stared at the Man and knew that somewhere in the darkness a creature howled in fury. He knew the Man spoke truthfully but the words certainly did nothing to lessen the rage he could feel in the link to the creature’s mind. Strangely it was not the alien’s emotions he was feeling.
The Elf Lord moved closer to the Man, ignoring for the moment what lay ahead for them, and reached out a curious hand to touch the cheek, the beard, the brown curls. Aragorn held his breath as the fingers gently explored his face. The look in the Elf’s eyes was unfathomable behind the golden mask. This was Legolas and yet not Legolas.
The Elf King seemed puzzled, confused even, by the strange melodrama in which he now found himself. Never had the Hunt proven so complex. Never had the voice of the Queen sounded so…irrational. He had to unravel the mystery if he was to save the Greenwood. He brought both hands up to travel over the Man who sat motionless before him. The Human seemed to be the cause of all the confusion. Legolas was almost tempted to kill him and be done with it, but something stayed his hand. The Human couldn’t simply be eliminated. The mystery went deeper than that and required some answer.
Aragorn sat perfectly still as the Elf edged even closer. Something told him his life, at that moment, hung by a very narrow thread. Perhaps it was the cold predatory gleam in the sapphire eyes. Perhaps it was the slight downward curve of the voluptuous mouth, oddly reminiscent of Gondor’s Queen. Aragorn could not put his finger on it, but he knew with out a doubt that if he hoped to live past the next few moments he’d better comply with this Prehistoric King’s investigations. He hoped at the end, he’d prove interesting enough to not be summarily dispatched with.
Curiosity now flashed in the blue eyes as the Elf took the Man’s head in both hands and drew him decisively into a mute kiss. Aragorn’s eyes widened at the action and decided to be responsive but not pushy. He softened his mouth against the Hunter’s inquisitive lips as they pressed against him.
Legolas pulled back slightly to look into the Man’s face, their lips almost touching still. Aragorn held his breath for a heartbeat, then decided to take a gamble. He pressed forward and pushed his lips against the Elf’s. At first, the Elf pulled back but the Man’s hands slid around his back and drew him in, just enough to reconnect their lips. Aragorn could feel the tension vibrate through the muscles under the naked skin beneath his hands.
Unable to help himself, Aragorn let his hands graze across the bare back. The Elf’s eyes slipped shut at the sensations of the calloused hands dragging possessively over his body. Legolas moaned gently and the Man pressed his advantage further by sliding his tongue into the slackened mouth.
The Elf’s lips opened for him even as cobalt eyes snapped open in alarm. Aragorn tightened his grip on the slender body within his grasp and sent his tongue soaring into the hot recess of the Elf’s mouth. The silver loincloth around the Elf King’s hips did nothing to hide the sudden burgeoning erection that the Man’s ministrations evoked.
Aragorn groaned against the sweet creature trapped within the circle of his arms, his own erection demandingly pressed against his breeches. Suddenly, the Man was flung up against the rock wall with enough force to bang his head sharply.
“Ow!,” cried the Man, as he rubbed at his head. “What did you do that for?” But when Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at the Elf he stopped.
Legolas was pressed up against the other wall with angry tears traveling down his face. Aragorn swallowed and moved slowly toward the motionless being.
“Legolas? My Love? What is it…why do you cry?”
His hand reached out to stroke the trembling being in front of him. Before his fingers could touch the smooth skin, he found himself on the ground with a razor sharp blade pressed against his throat. Glittering eyes flashed at him in accusation through the flowing tears.
“This is all your fault! You bewitched the Elf King and broke his heart! And shattered the mind of the Queen…” The blade against his throat trembled as fingers shook in unearthly fury. Aragorn held his breath as he looked into the burning eyes above him.
The being sobbed in sudden weakness, “She weeps,…she weeps in the darkness! Her mind is shattered…”
Aragorn gaped at the crying Elf in confusion. He slowly and carefully dislodged the alien blade from the slackened fingers, with a slow breath, and placed it on the ground. Legolas collapsed on top of him, his frame now shaking as waves of grief pulsed through him.
“Legolas?” asked the Man in a soft whisper. “Can you here me, Legolas?”
The sobbing being sniffed against the Man’s neck but did not look up to answer. Instead the muffled voice said in defeated tones, “He can hear you.”
Aragorn’s arms had come around the shaking body and rubbed light circles over the soft flesh. “Shhhh…tell me, …tell me… who are you?” asked the Man, softly.
“We are all here, Man,” whispered the being tiredly, against him, as the body of the Elf began to relax.
“Who?” asked Aragorn, as he continued to gently caress the softening body.
“Legolas …, He is here, and…She who would have you both dead. She can hear you. The Queen. She is bringing Arwen to you….And I am here.”
Aragorn’s brows drew together in confusion. His hands continued to caress the warm body above him, while his mind grappled to understand what he was being told.
“Who are you?” he asked in trepidation.
Legolas pulled back enough to look into the Man’s gray eyes. “I am the Hunter.”
Aragorn stared into the anguished face and brought his hands up to stroke the soft cheek, his fingers grazing parted lips. “You are the Hunter who comes when the summons awakes you…every ten thousand millennia?”
The Elf nodded, leaning his head into the Man’s searching hand. Aragorn’s fingers dipped under the heavy mantle of braids and stroked at the long supple neck. Legolas’s eyes slid shut.
“And …the Thing, the Creature can hear us also? She is here?” asked the Man, carefully. Again the Elf nodded, his naked form now laying flush against the Man’s.
Aragorn swallowed nervously, and he skillfully ran his hands down the sinuous curves of the Elf’s body. So, the telepathy ran both ways! The being in his arms trembled at the touch. “The Queen,… the Creature,…She is talking to Arwen?…Arwen is here?”
Again the Archer nodded absentmindedly as he reveled in the Man’s expert caresses. The Elf’s groin pressed into the Man’s erection as Aragorn’s hands slipped over the rounded buttocks and squeezed the swell of flesh firmly. Aragorn’s own body responded to the familiar excitement of this delicious being in his arms. Their bodies meshed together with familiar longing.
“And my Legolas is here, too?” asked the Man in a whisper, against a perfectly shaped ear.
“Yes, Aragorn, I am here too,” whispered the Elf in a sigh.
The Man’s fingers pushed into the soft loincloth and closed on the straining erection beneath the silver silk. His hand closed over the smooth column of flesh and his mouth worked on the sensitive point of an ear. He longed to place kisses over the beautiful face but contented himself to work around the exotic mask.
His hands worked on the Elf’s erection as the body above him now writhed with wanton passion. “Legolas…” he breathed into the ear. “Legolas, my Love, can you hear me? Stay with me, my Love.”
The Elf moaned in pleasure as the Man’s mouth and hand worked on him. “Can they feel this, my Love?” breathed the Man against the Elf’s hair, nipping at the soft flesh beneath the ear.
“Hmmm…yes, we can all feel it…”
The Man’s mind worked frantically even as his body grew heated with desire for his beautiful Elf. The Creature above him was also being swept up in lust and desire. The being now moved sinuously against him, provocatively slithering down the Man’s body. Strong fingers gripped at the Man’s flesh demandingly, freeing his erect member from his clothing in a bruising grasp.
Aragorn gasped and panted as sharp teeth grazed against his shaft. He tried not to shudder at the thought of the monstrous Creature on him in sudden fits of murderous lust or of Arwen’s hateful stare. He tried not to succumb to the fear that tingled at the base of his spine, even as his cock strained to near explosion within the powerful enclosure of the mouth that worked on him.
He looked down, as he heaved in groans of passion, at the feathered golden beauty that bent its fair lips about his manhood. Then the eyes looked up at him, burning blue coals, and he gasped. Legolas was there but so was the Hunter, so were the others. Like a kaleidoscope of color, the emotions sizzled in strange cacophony within the blue gaze of the Predator. And the being came off his cock and crawled back up to straddle the Man.
The Elf gyrated his bare hips, rubbing the inviting crevice between twin globes of perfect flesh onto the Man’s hard shaft. Flushed red lips bared over white teeth and the being lowered to capture the Man’s lips in a sharp kiss.
“I want you, Man,” said the Creature. “Take us.”
Aragorn nodded, sweat pouring down his brow as the fey being of Prehistoric visions untied the silvery cloth from his hips to expose the soaring pearl column of flesh that slipped and slid over the Man’s own straining cock. Still straddling the Man, the Hunter rose up on his knees and positioned himself over the weeping head of the Man’s penis. With a growl of wanton desire, the Elf slammed himself down onto the shaft, burying the Man deep inside the narrow channel.
Aragorn groaned to feel that pulsing heat suddenly engulf him, his hips thrusting upward reflexively, and the Elf grunted at what must have been a painful intrusion. A feeling of wetness told the Man the Elf must be bleeding and he stilled his movements, not desiring to cause the sweet body any injury. But the Creature above him would not have it done gently. He lifted himself up off the Man’s hardness and pushed himself back down again, impaling himself brutally yet again. Legolas cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Aragorn grasped the Elf’s hips, then, in between strong hands and slowly sat up. “Nay, not like that, my Love.”
The Creature snarled in displeasure and tried to move again, but the Man held him in place.
“No, Legolas. No.” The Man’s eyes bore into the blue orbs with the steel of command.
Aragorn slowly, and carefully, lowered the trembling body to the ground as he managed to reverse their positions without dislodging himself from the tight channel. Now he was on top and he coaxed the Elf’s knees to come up on either side of him. He rested on his hands, on either side of the Elf, so not to push in further and cause greater injury to his precious lover.
“Now, my Love, …when you are ready.” He looked deeply into the confused blue eyes beneath him. Tears sprang from the magnificent cobalt orbs as they looked up at him in disbelief.
The Human, for example. He was transparent. His love for the Elf Lord was like a smell that hung about him and seeped off his flesh. The Predatory Male was never a great mystery to her. No matter the species, they all basically marked their territory in the same way.
The Elf Lord was clearly the Human’s property and sanctuary. Poor Arwen. She felt for the little She-Elf. But wisdom dictated that life demanded some allowances. The ancient Queen knew this well as she scraped her girth through the narrow tunnels beneath the Greenwood. She might offer the demented She-Elf some lesson in wisdom when next they met. Her teeth bared in anticipation, with a low animal growl, and visions of the lovely Elf King swam before her obsidian eyes. Now Arwen would be offered a choice. Neither path would be perfect but only the inexperienced expected perfection.
Gandalf and the others slowly moved down the tunnels, his staff illuminating their footsteps. Before them walked the Queen of Gondor. She needed no light. Her steps were guided by another.
Elrond walked mutely beside his daughter, occasionally glancing back at the Istari. The Wizard’s narrowed gaze told him what he already, in his heart, knew. Arwen was lost to them. Hope was growing dimmer in his heart that his child would recover her mind or her soul from the darkness of jealousy and pain that had claimed it. Yet, they followed her. If Legolas did not defeat the creature, they were all dead anyway. So, they had decided, the Men of Gondor, and the Elves of Middle Earth, to seek out their Monarchs and offer what aid they could or die trying.
Aragorn and the Hunter King walked down the winding dark tunnel, which now bent at a sharp angle that required they crouched to get through it. Aragorn concentrated on taking long deep breaths, and wondered how an Elf could manage in the tight claustrophobic spaces through which they now traveled. He recalled the difficult time Legolas had in Moria, and glanced at the Elf who marched stoically ahead of him.
The Sindar showed no signs of distress as they made their way relentlessly through the hot narrow shaft. It continued to bend downward and Aragorn’s head began to throb as a slow headache borne of fatigue and thirst crept up the base of his skull. The shaft thankfully opened up to a slightly larger cavern. There it branched again, offering them two possible avenues.
The Elf paused, head tilted in that characteristic attitude of one who listened to some far off sound. Aragorn collapsed next to him, taking the opportunity to rest. After several minutes however, Aragorn sat up straighter and looked at the Elf expectantly.
Finally, the Sindar opened his eyes and the look of despair within the blue pools took the Man aback.
“What is it?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.
“I can not hear her. I should be able to, but no longer…” the Elf’s voice broke into what Aragorn might have believed was a sob. But the proud tilt of the Archer’s chin made him think he had been mistaken. This Elf King would show no such weakness.
Aragorn stared at the Elf, unsure of what to say to such a creature. It was the Archer who finally broke the strange silence. He looked directly at the Man as if seeing him for the very first time.
“Why?” he asked, in a suddenly demanding voice.
Aragorn started with the vehemence behind the obscure question, and gaped at him in shock.
“Why what? What are you asking?” Aragorn had not expected the Elf King to favor him with speech.
“Why did you abandon your Prince? Why have you led the Queen to ruin?” The cobalt eyes flashed with some eerie inner light that seemed oddly foreign, even for this strange Warrior.
Aragorn gaped, floundering for a response to the questions he himself had been struggling with for the past five years. “I …I was… a coward. I could not find the courage to declare my true feelings.”
He looked into the inscrutable blue eyes and went on, heedless of the repercussions, realizing that nothing but the truth would suffice now. “I did what I thought was expected of me…and it lead to everyone’s unhappiness. I …did not love Arwen. I admired her and thought at one time that she was the symbol of my success…but I did not really love her.”
Legolas stared at the Man and knew that somewhere in the darkness a creature howled in fury. He knew the Man spoke truthfully but the words certainly did nothing to lessen the rage he could feel in the link to the creature’s mind. Strangely it was not the alien’s emotions he was feeling.
The Elf Lord moved closer to the Man, ignoring for the moment what lay ahead for them, and reached out a curious hand to touch the cheek, the beard, the brown curls. Aragorn held his breath as the fingers gently explored his face. The look in the Elf’s eyes was unfathomable behind the golden mask. This was Legolas and yet not Legolas.
The Elf King seemed puzzled, confused even, by the strange melodrama in which he now found himself. Never had the Hunt proven so complex. Never had the voice of the Queen sounded so…irrational. He had to unravel the mystery if he was to save the Greenwood. He brought both hands up to travel over the Man who sat motionless before him. The Human seemed to be the cause of all the confusion. Legolas was almost tempted to kill him and be done with it, but something stayed his hand. The Human couldn’t simply be eliminated. The mystery went deeper than that and required some answer.
Aragorn sat perfectly still as the Elf edged even closer. Something told him his life, at that moment, hung by a very narrow thread. Perhaps it was the cold predatory gleam in the sapphire eyes. Perhaps it was the slight downward curve of the voluptuous mouth, oddly reminiscent of Gondor’s Queen. Aragorn could not put his finger on it, but he knew with out a doubt that if he hoped to live past the next few moments he’d better comply with this Prehistoric King’s investigations. He hoped at the end, he’d prove interesting enough to not be summarily dispatched with.
Curiosity now flashed in the blue eyes as the Elf took the Man’s head in both hands and drew him decisively into a mute kiss. Aragorn’s eyes widened at the action and decided to be responsive but not pushy. He softened his mouth against the Hunter’s inquisitive lips as they pressed against him.
Legolas pulled back slightly to look into the Man’s face, their lips almost touching still. Aragorn held his breath for a heartbeat, then decided to take a gamble. He pressed forward and pushed his lips against the Elf’s. At first, the Elf pulled back but the Man’s hands slid around his back and drew him in, just enough to reconnect their lips. Aragorn could feel the tension vibrate through the muscles under the naked skin beneath his hands.
Unable to help himself, Aragorn let his hands graze across the bare back. The Elf’s eyes slipped shut at the sensations of the calloused hands dragging possessively over his body. Legolas moaned gently and the Man pressed his advantage further by sliding his tongue into the slackened mouth.
The Elf’s lips opened for him even as cobalt eyes snapped open in alarm. Aragorn tightened his grip on the slender body within his grasp and sent his tongue soaring into the hot recess of the Elf’s mouth. The silver loincloth around the Elf King’s hips did nothing to hide the sudden burgeoning erection that the Man’s ministrations evoked.
Aragorn groaned against the sweet creature trapped within the circle of his arms, his own erection demandingly pressed against his breeches. Suddenly, the Man was flung up against the rock wall with enough force to bang his head sharply.
“Ow!,” cried the Man, as he rubbed at his head. “What did you do that for?” But when Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at the Elf he stopped.
Legolas was pressed up against the other wall with angry tears traveling down his face. Aragorn swallowed and moved slowly toward the motionless being.
“Legolas? My Love? What is it…why do you cry?”
His hand reached out to stroke the trembling being in front of him. Before his fingers could touch the smooth skin, he found himself on the ground with a razor sharp blade pressed against his throat. Glittering eyes flashed at him in accusation through the flowing tears.
“This is all your fault! You bewitched the Elf King and broke his heart! And shattered the mind of the Queen…” The blade against his throat trembled as fingers shook in unearthly fury. Aragorn held his breath as he looked into the burning eyes above him.
The being sobbed in sudden weakness, “She weeps,…she weeps in the darkness! Her mind is shattered…”
Aragorn gaped at the crying Elf in confusion. He slowly and carefully dislodged the alien blade from the slackened fingers, with a slow breath, and placed it on the ground. Legolas collapsed on top of him, his frame now shaking as waves of grief pulsed through him.
“Legolas?” asked the Man in a soft whisper. “Can you here me, Legolas?”
The sobbing being sniffed against the Man’s neck but did not look up to answer. Instead the muffled voice said in defeated tones, “He can hear you.”
Aragorn’s arms had come around the shaking body and rubbed light circles over the soft flesh. “Shhhh…tell me, …tell me… who are you?” asked the Man, softly.
“We are all here, Man,” whispered the being tiredly, against him, as the body of the Elf began to relax.
“Who?” asked Aragorn, as he continued to gently caress the softening body.
“Legolas …, He is here, and…She who would have you both dead. She can hear you. The Queen. She is bringing Arwen to you….And I am here.”
Aragorn’s brows drew together in confusion. His hands continued to caress the warm body above him, while his mind grappled to understand what he was being told.
“Who are you?” he asked in trepidation.
Legolas pulled back enough to look into the Man’s gray eyes. “I am the Hunter.”
Aragorn stared into the anguished face and brought his hands up to stroke the soft cheek, his fingers grazing parted lips. “You are the Hunter who comes when the summons awakes you…every ten thousand millennia?”
The Elf nodded, leaning his head into the Man’s searching hand. Aragorn’s fingers dipped under the heavy mantle of braids and stroked at the long supple neck. Legolas’s eyes slid shut.
“And …the Thing, the Creature can hear us also? She is here?” asked the Man, carefully. Again the Elf nodded, his naked form now laying flush against the Man’s.
Aragorn swallowed nervously, and he skillfully ran his hands down the sinuous curves of the Elf’s body. So, the telepathy ran both ways! The being in his arms trembled at the touch. “The Queen,… the Creature,…She is talking to Arwen?…Arwen is here?”
Again the Archer nodded absentmindedly as he reveled in the Man’s expert caresses. The Elf’s groin pressed into the Man’s erection as Aragorn’s hands slipped over the rounded buttocks and squeezed the swell of flesh firmly. Aragorn’s own body responded to the familiar excitement of this delicious being in his arms. Their bodies meshed together with familiar longing.
“And my Legolas is here, too?” asked the Man in a whisper, against a perfectly shaped ear.
“Yes, Aragorn, I am here too,” whispered the Elf in a sigh.
The Man’s fingers pushed into the soft loincloth and closed on the straining erection beneath the silver silk. His hand closed over the smooth column of flesh and his mouth worked on the sensitive point of an ear. He longed to place kisses over the beautiful face but contented himself to work around the exotic mask.
His hands worked on the Elf’s erection as the body above him now writhed with wanton passion. “Legolas…” he breathed into the ear. “Legolas, my Love, can you hear me? Stay with me, my Love.”
The Elf moaned in pleasure as the Man’s mouth and hand worked on him. “Can they feel this, my Love?” breathed the Man against the Elf’s hair, nipping at the soft flesh beneath the ear.
“Hmmm…yes, we can all feel it…”
The Man’s mind worked frantically even as his body grew heated with desire for his beautiful Elf. The Creature above him was also being swept up in lust and desire. The being now moved sinuously against him, provocatively slithering down the Man’s body. Strong fingers gripped at the Man’s flesh demandingly, freeing his erect member from his clothing in a bruising grasp.
Aragorn gasped and panted as sharp teeth grazed against his shaft. He tried not to shudder at the thought of the monstrous Creature on him in sudden fits of murderous lust or of Arwen’s hateful stare. He tried not to succumb to the fear that tingled at the base of his spine, even as his cock strained to near explosion within the powerful enclosure of the mouth that worked on him.
He looked down, as he heaved in groans of passion, at the feathered golden beauty that bent its fair lips about his manhood. Then the eyes looked up at him, burning blue coals, and he gasped. Legolas was there but so was the Hunter, so were the others. Like a kaleidoscope of color, the emotions sizzled in strange cacophony within the blue gaze of the Predator. And the being came off his cock and crawled back up to straddle the Man.
The Elf gyrated his bare hips, rubbing the inviting crevice between twin globes of perfect flesh onto the Man’s hard shaft. Flushed red lips bared over white teeth and the being lowered to capture the Man’s lips in a sharp kiss.
“I want you, Man,” said the Creature. “Take us.”
Aragorn nodded, sweat pouring down his brow as the fey being of Prehistoric visions untied the silvery cloth from his hips to expose the soaring pearl column of flesh that slipped and slid over the Man’s own straining cock. Still straddling the Man, the Hunter rose up on his knees and positioned himself over the weeping head of the Man’s penis. With a growl of wanton desire, the Elf slammed himself down onto the shaft, burying the Man deep inside the narrow channel.
Aragorn groaned to feel that pulsing heat suddenly engulf him, his hips thrusting upward reflexively, and the Elf grunted at what must have been a painful intrusion. A feeling of wetness told the Man the Elf must be bleeding and he stilled his movements, not desiring to cause the sweet body any injury. But the Creature above him would not have it done gently. He lifted himself up off the Man’s hardness and pushed himself back down again, impaling himself brutally yet again. Legolas cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Aragorn grasped the Elf’s hips, then, in between strong hands and slowly sat up. “Nay, not like that, my Love.”
The Creature snarled in displeasure and tried to move again, but the Man held him in place.
“No, Legolas. No.” The Man’s eyes bore into the blue orbs with the steel of command.
Aragorn slowly, and carefully, lowered the trembling body to the ground as he managed to reverse their positions without dislodging himself from the tight channel. Now he was on top and he coaxed the Elf’s knees to come up on either side of him. He rested on his hands, on either side of the Elf, so not to push in further and cause greater injury to his precious lover.
“Now, my Love, …when you are ready.” He looked deeply into the confused blue eyes beneath him. Tears sprang from the magnificent cobalt orbs as they looked up at him in disbelief.
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