Captain Hallas frowned sourly at the silver and black clad palace guard then he shrugged in annoyance. “Very well.” Turning he sternly pointed his gnarled finger across the practice ring. “Orlando No Name, come here.”
Orlando quickly looked up from preparing for a sparring match. Confusion replaced his anticipation. What now? He set down his leather practice jerkin, picked up his precious sword and paced across the hot sand. “Captain?”
Hallas mockingly jerked his head toward the upper levels. He couldn’t believe this boy’s luck. “Well, my pretty warrior, you’re to accompany Bergil to the palace.”
Upon hearing those words deep apprehension flooded Orlando’s soul. Damn, so far this third day in Minas Tirith flowed along normally; now this strange kink ruined any hope of normal. The Haradrim instinctively questioned Hallas about the summons. “Why am I wanted there?”
Unbelievable! The old drill instructor barely halted himself from backhanding this mouthy boy. “I don’t know and it’s not my place to ask so it surely isn’t your place to ask either, you impertinent savage! So do as you’re told and go.”
Fighting against his panic and blossoming anger Orlando anxiously pressed on. “But Captain, Sir, I am merely asking who wants me up there... have I done something amiss?”
Oh enough. Hallas lunged forward and gripped Orlando’s rough cotton tunic in one weathered fist. As he jerked Orlando forward the warrior’s voice shaded into pure cruel disgust. “Are you utterly deaf, my arrogant Haradrim? Have your ears filled with sand or does your long beaded hair halt sounds from freely entering? I know you’re not stupid but if you keep this bold defiance up I might change my initial opinion of your brain capacity. Now stop asking inane questions and take your sword along with you!” Hallas thrust Orlando’s lithe body away from him.
Orlando staggered back a step then he steadied himself. His seeking mind caught on those last words. His sword? Ahh, if his sword was needed then the King requested him. Orlando could only hope he would meet with Aragorn and not Halbarad. The lad instinctively knew that another meeting with the steely-eyed advisor would prove ugly. Please let him be summoned for practice, not preaching or, please, by the Burning Sands no, banishment. Had he been discovered?
All eyes now curiously watched the small drama. After mentally shaking himself back to the here and now Orlando refocused his thoughts. Be positive. Stop fretting. His long fingers swiftly buckled his battered leather scabbard around his hips then they carefully sheathed his sword.
Before Orlando took one step forward Hallas brutally grabbed the youth’s slender right arm. His fingers sunk into the young muscle. Ahh, the old instructor just couldn’t believe the satisfying scolding opportunities. “Now what do you think you are doing, my fancy boy?”
Fresh confusion mixed with Orlando’s ever simmering anger. He felt the tingling force build up in his lean chest and clench his already worried heart. What did he do wrong now? Orlando’s wide eyes hotly stared at the sinewy hand forcefully squeezing his right bicep yet his words remained cool and distant. “Captain, I believe I am obeying your simple orders.”
Oh this bold young sandworm definitely needed breaking. Hallas fixed his flinty gaze against Orlando’s dark challenge then he shook his head in profound mockery. “With your sword strapped around your dainty hips?”
How many times was he to be insulted? Orlando’s rich brown eyes finally betrayed his intense annoyance. His accented voice barely remained civil. “Pray tell, Captain, where else should I strap my scabbard?”
A well-worn sneer twisted Hallas’ features. “Around your head as a gag would be my first clever suggestion. You ignorant Southron dolt, you cannot travel above Minas’ sixth level wearing a long blade unless you are noble or a guard. Since you are obviously neither remove your precious sword and hand it to Bergil.”
Orlando almost arrogantly corrected the disgruntled captain but he forcefully halted himself. Calm down. Shut up. Do not make an enemy of this irritating man. Orlando drew in a centering breath then he unstrapped his belt and gravely handed his sword over to the amused guard. Turning toward Hallas Orlando directed his unruly anger back into its cage. Good. He respectfully ducked his head. “Forgive me, Captain; I did not know the rules.”
“Now you do, you touchy Haradrim. Now get out of my sight and by the Star if you cause trouble up at the palace you’ll answer to me.”
An annoyed huff just couldn’t be halted. Too bad. Calm down! One last dark glare darted toward Hallas before Orlando bowed stiffly and silently followed Bergil from the third level practice area. Damn, he hated being treated like a common idiot! He had already endured enough of such base treatment and learned to hate it. But he needed to calm down. He needed to remain unobtrusive.
Ha, being summoned to the palace hardly counted as unobtrusive. Orlando may as well strip, paint himself red and perform a Harad mating dance. This was so wrong.
The guard and Haradrim walked through the busy streets. As they ascended steadily upwards Orlando’s wide eyes observed the interesting changes. The many fascinating sights slowly quelled Orlando’s anger and sent his curious gaze spinning left and right. There was so much to see!
Bergil glanced back at the observant youth and smiled. “Yes, Minas Tirith is quite a place... I have lived here all my life and I still find new sights to intrigue me.” Pausing he handed Orlando his sheathed sword. “I think I can trust you to carry this weapon, eh? You don’t look like you’re going to stab me in the back.” Bergil hesitated again. Yes, he felt bad for this fiery boy. “Listen, my lad, don’t let old Hallas grind you down; he merely wants his charges to act responsive and obedient. Can you believe I also trained under his charming personality? So just keep your mouth shut and say ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’ and you’ll be fine.”
Orlando sighed and shook his head. “I find that is my biggest problem, Sir.”
Bergil offered Orlando a knowing smile. “I did notice that certain detail. Well, you’ll learn to control yourself or you won’t make the guard rank. Keep the consequences in mind.”
Another small sigh escaped Orlando’s lips. “Yes, Sir.
When they reached the seventh level Orlando could hardly walk since his eyes continuously danced upward over the many grand buildings crafted in fine marble, granite or limestone. Brilliant flowers sporting bright hues draped from hanging pots and spilled along cleverly designed iron balconies. This civilized city looked so different than anything back in Harad! Except for Umbar the stern Harad cities displayed adobe and sun-baked bricks. Even the grandest buildings proved dusty and dark, not shimmering like this fair city. And of course there was little greenery; water was simply too precious to waste on forcing flowers to bloom. Yes, Umbar aspired to grandness but...despite the heat Orlando shivered. Forget foul Umbar. Forget that time.
Bergil directed them along a tall marble wall that ran for blocks. Finely carved friezes depicting epic moments in Gondorian history systematically broke the stern expanse, they filling the eye with power and bravery. This must be the palace’s outer wall! Sheer excitement battled against Orlando’s frail nerves. Yes, he was going to enter the palace grounds!
After a brisk walk they arrived at a small gate huddled at the wall’s far corner. Bergil nodded to the inner guard. “Greetings, Hardolar, I have brought Orlando No Name.”
“Yes, Bergil, he is expected. Come, Orlando No Name and enter in peace.”
Bergil offered Orlando a quick smile. “Good luck, Haradrim.”
At least these elegant palace guards possessed manners! Orlando bowed in response to both guards. “Thank you, Sir Bergil and yes, Sir Hardolar, I do come in peace.”
Acting on instinct Bergil patted Orlando’s shoulder before he turned away. Yes, that boy needed guidance. Bergil hoped he wasn’t eaten alive by politics and pride.
Once through the gate Orlando followed the stoic silver and black clad Hardolar into the back corner of central courtyard. When he glanced back toward the main garden the lenegdary White Tree, its soaring leafy branches full of silvery blossoms glimmering in the bright summer sun, swam into Orlando’s gaze. The spectacular sight made him gasp in pleasure. As Orlando’s wide eyes consumed the sight his footsteps halted. He felt positive he might be the first peaceful Haradrim ever to appreciate such an awe-inspiring sight.
Hardolar noticed Orlando’s pause. Glancing back he smiled and patted the youth’s taut back. “Quite a stirring sight, eh, Haradrim? The Sacred Tree’s living grace never fails to move me. Now come along.”
Orlando finally stopped gaping and followed Hardolar further back into a maze of walls. He felt he moved in a waking dream. Smooth marble in various light hues surrounded him. Flowers peering from colorful vines softened the pale walls in dazzling living counterpoints. The pair reached another side gate and walked through two more stern gates. After so many turns the young Haradrim felt convinced he’d never find his way out of here. Finally Hardolar gestured to another gate, this one far more decorated than the others, and unlocked it. “In there, young one.”
“Thank you, Sir Hardolar.” Another bow seemed appropriate. Stepping through the gate Orlando hesitantly entered a pleasantly shady space. How fine; an octagonal practice area filled his curious sight. Yet instead of the hot sun beating on the sand a series of flowering vines bearing slender pink blooms hung overhead, they allowing in light but creating welcome shade.
Even as Orlando gazed at the vines relief wrestled with unwelcome dread. Yes, the King did summon him.
A melodic voice softly caressed his hearing. “Aragorn is on his way; his last meeting ran late.”
Orlando almost leapt in fear, he whirling to see Legolas leaning against the shade-dappled wall. The startled youth instantly bowed low. “Lord Legolas! Forgive me... the lovely overhead canopy so interested me that I did not see you resting there.”
“No matter.” Legolas walked to stand beside Orlando. His wide blue gaze examined the brilliant vines. “I must say this living canopy was one of my cleverer ideas. The palace, yes, the entire city lacked healthy gardens and living grace. After Aragorn was crowned I worked with him to bring greenery to Minas Tirith’s many stern levels.”
“How generous of you! Yes, I admired the gardens on the walk up; they are lovely. I am certainly not used to such fertile bounty...you are extremely wise to coax such into such an imposing city.”
“Thank you, Orlando. Yes, planning the gardens and greenery was a project that satisfied my Elven soul. I wanted Aragorn’s home to be a place of beauty and rest.”
A silence fell, it interrupted only by quick bird calls emerging from the vines. Orlando breathed in deeply, he enjoying the subtle scent of both the trailing vines’ blossoms and this beautiful Elf. So many questions crowded his mind yet he felt no reason to ask them. This Elf simply conquered his reason. Legolas certainly didn’t threaten Orlando but... he soothed the Haradrim’s inner fire. How odd. How welcome.
The Haradrim finally slid his fascinated gaze to Legolas’ pale face. “May I ask you a personal question, Lord?”
A scolding smile curved Legolas’ full lips. “If you keep calling me Lord no but if you call me Legolas then yes.”
Orlando smiled in agreement. “Very well; Legolas... I...do you truly have seven children?”
Merry laughed echoed against the stones and startled the birds. “Indeed I do, seven lovely, lively children. And yes, I did carry my darlings here under my heart.” Legolas gently patted his taut waist.
“I... that is completely amazing.”
“Not for me but I know most find my child bearing abilities deeply disturbing.”
Orlando quickly shook his head. He hoped he hadn’t insulted Legolas! “Oh no, please, I don’t find your ability disturbing... but it seems simply... unbelievable.”
A husky voice invaded the warm air. “What is unbelievable?” Both turned to see Aragorn arrive already clad in his leather practice jerkin.
Upon seeing the King Orlando swiftly bowed. All this bowing was making him dizzy. “Sire.”
Legolas smiled at his friend. “Oh, we discussed my ability to bear children.”
“Bah, that boring old subject. Orlando, take care; this proud Elf will prattle on for hours about his dear children. In his eyes there are none finer in all Middle Earth.” As he spoke Aragorn winked. “Well, let’s get you into a practice jerkin so we can begin.”
“Yes, Sire.” Orlando quickly stripped off his cotton tunic, he baring his lean torso. He almost winced when Aragorn helped him with the jerkin’s side buckles. The Haradrim couldn’t believe that a King helped a supposed No Name dress!
After Orlando was properly protected Aragorn gave into his burning desire and gently, slowly squeezed those sinfully graceful shoulders. Supple leather straps and living warmth caressed his palms. Yes, Legolas proved correct; the toffee-toned skin felt smooth and silken. The urge to taste boy flesh nearly undid the King’s nerve.
Feeling the intimate touch Orlando tried not to stiffen and failed. He barely murmured a strangled “thank you.” Could this be the actual day he dreaded? Trying to distract himself the unnerved Haradrim darted a glance at the watching Elf. What? Orlando swore a playful wink darted his way. Did Legolas know his friend’s intentions? The Haradrim knew no threat dwelled here but a subtle danger still roamed free.
No. No! Had Aragorn just felt a slight refusal, a swift denial? He almost wanted to perform his touch again but something didn’t seem right. Why was Orlando so tense? Odd. Very well. As he chained down his prowling urge Aragorn gestured to the stone benches ringing the walls. “Now, Orlando, sit and observe closely. I thought to take advantage of having a real Elf teach this special move.”
As Orlando sat he shook his head and gazed at Legolas’ long body encased in the snug teal silk tunic. “But Sire, Legolas has not donned a practice jerkin. Isn’t that dangerous?”
Oh how sweet of this lad to act concerned. Aragorn laughed in utter dismissal. “Trust me, young one, I will not hurt Legolas. I am not fast enough to hurt him. I have never beaten this clever Elf at this Ilmarin feint and I doubt today will be my lucky day. Now... first we’ll perform it at proper speed so you can see the advantage. I’ll let my Elven friend here use the attack against me.”
Legolas nodded and held up his flashing blade.
An excited Orlando watched intently as the pair engaged each other in a few basic attacks. They moved so swiftly and skillfully! At times the Haradrim swore that Legolas’ slim arm transformed into a blur of dazzling movement. Suddenly Orlando saw the anticipated move; by the Scorching Sun if he had blinked he would have completely missed it! Amazing!
Upon seeing Orlando’s shocked expression Legolas tapped his sword against Aragorn’s jerkin again and grinned in delight. “Young one, I take it that our King here didn’t move as quickly.”
Caught off guard Orlando almost lied but he felt he’d be found out. “Not to be insulting, but no, not at all.”
“I’m not surprised; he is merely an old human.” Legolas couldn’t help but laugh at Aragorn’s supremely insulted expression.
“Why thank you very much, you Elven show-off.” Feeling childish again Aragorn playfully smiled at Orlando. “It is interesting that Elven history never reveals what egotistical show-offs they truly are... that’s something you learn from close experience.”
Legolas rolled his eyes and poked Aragorn’s chest again. “Bold words to utter considering I have a sharp sword aimed at your throat.” Once Legolas ceased laughing he lowered his sword. “Now let’s perform this feint at a lesser pace, then we’ll act each position out.”
Orlando watched with total concentration. The display looked so marvelous that he almost forgot about what might happen afterward.
The palace bell rang one deep chime. Upon hearing the tone Legolas looked up and gasped. “Aii, I promised to teach a few advanced guards at 1:00. I must flee! Forgive me.” Legolas sheathed his sword, saluted Orlando, and hugged Aragorn then he slipped out the gate.
What a wonderful Elven actor! As he leaned on his sword Aragorn pretended to sigh in dismay. “Hmm, too bad, we have lost our esteemed teacher. But no matter... come, Orlando, would you like me to teach you the move’s basics?”
“Oh yes, Sire.” Orlando rose and picked up his sword. He patiently watched as Aragorn slowly performed the maneuver against his blade yet the Haradrim still could not comprehend the intricate concept.
Seeing Orlando’s puzzlement made Aragorn almost hum in delight. Perfect. Yes, now he had the supreme opening. “Orlando, come and let me move your arm. As you felt yesterday Legolas swears by the physical technique.”
A firm lump gathered in Orlando’s throat. He could barely speak. Please, he knew what this might lead to... but... just calm down. “Yes, Sire, that technique does indeed work.” As he backed against the King’s tall body the Haradrim desperately tried to relax. He felt Aragorn’s powerful hands slide along his bare flesh in a manner that felt more seductive than instructive. Oh no.
Aragorn’s next words breathed into Orlando’s ear. The King’s breath smelled like he had enjoyed an apple or pear before the practice; a natural sweetness graced the warmth. “Relax more. Come now. There. Now shut your eyes and let me guide you.” Aragorn somehow actually guided Orlando’s slender arm through one entire maneuver before his will broke and he began kissing the ear moving near his lips. Yes, Legolas was right; this lad smelled so dangerous and alive and mmm, a light spicy scent flowed from his long dark hair.
A taut whimper escaped from Orlando’s full lips. No, it was actually happening. What should he do? Should he refuse? Should he create a scene and stalk away from this situation? No! Why should he let his past ruin his future? A King wanted to love him, a brave, handsome King. This could be the opportunity to forget his past.
Instead of rebelling Orlando relaxed his tense neck and let his head fall back to Aragorn’s right shoulder, he surrendering his cheek for a kiss. Not even a second passed before he felt Aragorn’s firm lips trace across his damp flesh and suck on his cheekbone. A warm tingle raced through his still limp body. The passion rippled down his cock. Keeping his eyes shut Orlando shifted his head and felt his lips teased and tempted. He opened his mouth to receive a royal tongue.
Aragorn dropped Orlando’s sword to the sand and ran his hands over his leather-clad chest. Enough of standing here being tantalized. “Walk with me, Orlando. Keep your eyes closed and let me guide you.”
Orlando’s low voice barely broke a whisper. “Yes, Sire.” They walked across the warm sand then he sensed the coolness of surrounding stone. Being guided by another made him feel uneasy. A subtle glow suddenly teased his eyelids. Aragorn halted.
“Let me remove this distracting thing...” Aragorn’s strong fingers swiftly undid the jerkin’s buckles. Gods, seeing this beauty standing here so still tortured the King’s inflamed senses. He tossed the jerkin to the floor and almost ripped the baggy cotton trousers from those narrow hips. No. This was a seduction, not a rape. Act civilized; deep in his soul Aragorn knew to move slowly. This boy would not endure roughness. Aragorn felt that truth. “Now I shall lower you to the cushions.”
Cushions? Orlando allowed himself to drop downward until he felt softness under his body. Acting on a whim he laid back and stretched his tall body against the fluffy cushions. A pleased gasp told him he performed the correct gesture.
The King’s voice defined desire. “Open your eyes for me, my beauty.”
Orlando parted his thick lashes and smiled in delight. “Oh how wonderful!” More vines stretched overhead but these vines dripped vivid turquoise blooms. The small elegant room’s walls were entirely crafted from jade-toned marble. Cushions occupied the floor along with a low wooden table supporting goblets and a tray of grapes and cheese. After Orlando filled his gaze he smiled up at the watchful Aragorn. “Sire, how can you call me beautiful when you are so often surrounded by true beauty?”
“Because you are beautiful to me.”
Orlando’s smile widened. “Ha, if I am beautiful then what is Legolas?”
Aragorn dropped down to the cushions. His gaze crept across this boy’s stunning face. “Legolas is an Elf yet I... see some of him in your face. There’s a special way the sun captures both your cheekbones that drives me mad.” A callused finger lightly touched Orlando’s skin. “Among Elves Legolas’ light personality makes him so marvelously unique; it makes him more than beautiful.”
“I fear my personality is not so light.”
“Today I can say little of your true personality but I plan on becoming knowledgeable about it. But first I...” Aragorn paused and turned to pour out the rich red wine. “I know it is early but suddenly I feel in need of calming nectar.”
Orlando couldn’t control his mocking laugh. “Sire, do I make you nervous? Are you frightened of me?”
“Should I be frightened of you?”
Pushing up from the cushions Orlando accepted the offered wine goblet then he supplied Aragorn with his sharp smile. A sudden mood seized him. “Surely you know, King Aragorn, that I am a lethal Haradrim assassin. I make it a point to appear in royal courts and entice Kings so I can remove them from Middle Earth.”
Their gazes locked until Aragorn sighed and slowly shook his head. “Young one, to even joke about such a thing is immensely rash.”
“Am I joking?”
Prickly, so prickly, proud and sadly foolish. Aragorn returned his steady gaze to Orlando’s dark eyes. He kept his husky voice neutral. “Orlando, why do you seek to push me?”
A lick of anger pushed at Orlando’s mind. “Why did you send your cold advisor down to question me, Sire?”
Damn, Aragorn knew Halbarad’s action was going to have repercussions. Dropping his head back he sighed in angry frustration. “Believe me, I did not sanction that unfortunate event. Halbarad is... over protective of me. He told me what he did and I was not happy with him.”
“Nor was I, Sire.” Orlando set his wine down on the wooden table and frowned in frustration. “He treated me like I was a base criminal. He also knows nothing about the other Haradrims yet he singles me out merely because you fenced with me. How unfair! That cruel man acted like I stripped naked to seduce you.”
A little smile twisted Aragorn’s lips. “You may do that now if you wish.”
Orlando blinked in surprise and continued frowning. His next words emerged in a low growl. “Is that an order, Sire?”
Despite his best effort to control himself Aragorn’s temper sparked free. “By the Valar, you annoying young savage, if you don’t want to be here then leave! I am hardly forcing myself on you!” As Aragorn shook his head he swallowed his wine then he sternly pointed at the arched doorway. His next words almost choked him but they needed to be said. “Your sword and tunic are back in the practice ring. If you don’t want to be with me then collect them and go.”
No. What was happening here? Why did he react so badly to this handsome King’s advances? Well he knew why but... why did he always try ruining his own life? Orlando drew in a shuddering breath and urgently shook his head. No. Not this time. “Sire... I... please don’t send me away. I do want to stay. I... I... forgive me. Sometimes... I...” Be still. Orlando shook his head again and cast his tormented gaze to the safe cushions.
Relief gripped Aragorn’s tense heart. Once again he reached out and caressed Orlando’s perfect cheekbone. “Sweet youth, believe me, I do not want you to leave me. Forgive my harsh tone. Please know that I trust you and I want you here of your own free will.” Picking up his wine goblet Aragorn held the silver rim to Orlando’s lips. “Drink from my goblet. Share with me.”
This man was truly a noble being. “Sire, you are a remarkable King for not having me beaten for my foolish words.” Orlando opened his lips and accepted the wine’s rich kiss. Ohhh... Aragorn deliberately tilted the heavy goblet too quickly. Ruby liquid spilled free and trailed down Orlando’s chin, dribbling down to his lean chest.
How delicious. Aragorn quickly set the goblet down. “Oh no, look, I have made a dreadful mess. I must clean you up.” Leaning forward Aragorn swiftly ran his tongue over Orlando’s firm chin. His eager tongue captured the wine from smooth, slightly sweaty young flesh. A low moan hummed in his throat.
In response Orlando moaned in sincere appreciation. This King was well-versed in seduction. “Yes, Sire, please, I need to be cleaned off.” Reaching out he clutched at Aragorn’s muscular upper arms and dropped them back to the cushions. As Aragorn’s tongue continued down to Orlando’s chest the young Haradrim moaned again. When the King’s tongue traced each straining nipple Orlando’s back arched in responsive joy.
Aragorn received yesterday’s wish. Once he savored those tight nipples his tongue carefully traced the elaborate tattoo, starting with the spiral and descending down across Orlando’s taut stomach. As Aragorn licked the decorated flesh Orlando’s firm muscles twitched and rippled. Fingers suddenly raked through his long hair. The lusting King worked lower, lower until halted by black cotton. Be gone. His fingers undid the ties that jealously hid glory from his eyes and mouth then he drew back and shucked the cloth from elegant limbs.
Oh yes. Aragorn controlled his lust for a stern moment. He must look. Rising to his knees he swept his burning gaze over the long swarthy expanse of Orlando’s supine body. The trailing shapes that Orlando’s long mane created against his bare shoulders reminded Aragorn of sinuous river grass waving in the cool Bruinen. Look at how those prominent collarbones willingly gave way to a dazzling plateau of proud young flesh. Yes, a sculptor might weep in joy.
Profound masculine perfection seared into Aragorn’s pleased mind. He knew it would be so... he knew it. As his cock stiffened further Aragorn’s rough fingers lightly traced over the smooth warmth. “I shall say it again, Orlando; you are beautiful. You are like an untamed young force encased in perfect sleek maleness. I...” After shaking his head in wonder Aragorn lunged down and captured Orlando’s beckoning cock between his lips. The taste of divine musky boy flesh captivated his senses.
Orlando cried out in stunned surprise and arched his lean hips up. The King was... by the Burning Sands...unnngh. The unexpectedness of the seductive act heightened his already stroked desire. His entire body clenched like a trap and began throbbing in time with his heart. As he thrashed in joy Orlando leaned up and once again filled his hands with Aragorn’s thick hair. Yes, King, yes...please... wash away memories...
Aragorn’s world eclipsed down to caressing and bathing this stiff warm flesh. He ran his fingers along Orlando’s quivering thighs then he slid them against this beauty’s heavy balls. First a gentle squeeze then a rolling caress concluded by an aggressively firm massage. Again those strong fingers gripped his hair and tugged. Aragorn responded by tugging hard on the warm gift held between his lips.
Another aching cry ripped from Orlando’s panting mouth. He flung back against the cushions and reached his arms toward the sky. His slim body swayed against the silken cushions in wanton abandonment. Control slid from his muscles and flared up into the vines. Never had Orlando imagined such a magnificent release. A King adored him. A King paid him homage. A King accepted him for himself, not what he might be.
A King now welcomed Orlando’s searing orgasmic rush into his mouth. And a King felt pleased.
Orlando’s ecstatic cry shimmered down into low breathless panting. He could hardly move; his entire body felt full and heavy with desire. Five more sucking kisses teased his cock then he watched as Aragorn stood and removed his leggings. A limp Orlando languidly gazed up at the powerful King and smiled. “Truly a royal sight, Sire.”
Aragorn ran his hand over his still taut abdomen. “Thank you, young one.”
“I can scarce believe that I look upon a man who has seen 132 summers. Tis truly miraculous.”
A slight wince crossed Aragorn’s face. “I should have never told you that detail.”
“Why, Sire?”
“Because... I... bah, how silly to stand here wasting time complaining about my age.” Laughing softly Aragorn dropped down to the cushions and gathered Orlando’s lazy body close against his own flesh. “Instead I should celebrate having such a beauty cuddled close to me. Oh, and stop calling me Sire. I am not a king here; I am your new lover.” He ended his words by lightly licking Orlando’s lips.
For once a stunned Orlando could think of nothing to say so he succumbed and enjoyed this fresh assault. Their kisses deepened into long sensual explorations. Hard bodies twisted and slid, flesh caressing flesh. Aragorn suddenly found himself flat on his back. Orlando smiled down at him and gently caressed his bearded cheeks. “Now, my royal new lover, it’s time for my exploration of your powerful body.”
When Aragorn’s pulsating cock entered the Haradrim’s knowing lips the King decided that someone would advance into the palace guard with unusual speed. And before that he’d make sure this someone occupied his royal bed as much as possible.
The King’s fierce orgasm claimed him entirely too fast. Ah well, what should one expect after living over 132 summers?