Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Without You ❯ Without You ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

He couldn't quite explain why the shift in scent held such interest to him, as he entered the room. It wasn't as if he'd hated the scent that had seemed to cover his human lover in the past - a heady, musky scent that was both earthy and clean. It had been on his mind for months in the past, during the long stretches between their opportunities to see each other.

Now, however, as he moved through the large chamber that they were to share with Gandalf and Gimili, a new scent caught his nose and kept his interest. It was similar to the smell of damp soil and dark trees, but was overpowered by the smooth smell of leather, sweat and horses. It was an intoxicating aroma, and he found his footsteps drawing closer, though he couldn't remember making them do so.

He could hear the water splashing quietly from a pitcher into the basin at the bottom, and knew instantly that the reason that the smell was so heavy in the air was because it was no longer clinging to that golden skin. As he shifted closer and moved onto the balcony through the open door, he was able to see the outline of his lover's shoulders, resting against the back of the metal drum, used for taking a bath. A cloth rested over the side, and it was dark with the grit that they'd all gathered while traveling. He'd enjoyed a bath himself earlier that day, while Aragorn had been out speaking with Théoden and Gandalf about their plan of action.

He made no sound as he slipped across the chamber. Somehow, as always, his lover caught wind of him. He could tell by the man's posture that he knew he was being watched. "...Legolas." Once he'd felt the presence more surely, he went on, moving into the language that was least likely to get them into trouble.

"No need to sneak up on me. It hasn't worked in the past, and won't work now." The words made him grin, and he knelt slowly beside the basin, looking downwards at Aragorn's tilted head.

"Indeed, there is never a need for us to do half of the things that we do. And yet, here I am." Brushing a hand through wet, dark curls, he stole a brief kiss while the Ranger's head was still tilted back. Taking advantage of their position, he reached out to run his smooth fingers over the muscled expanse of chest displayed before him, slowly working his fingers back up under Aragorn's chin. He could feel his arousal starting to grow, and couldn't help a mild smirk that stole its way to his lips.

Breathless, the only response he received was: "I wonder, what is it that has fanned your desire so quickly? Surely, you're tired from our long journey." It was a playful admonishment, but he went along with the charade for the sake of amusement.

"You wound me, Melamin**! I'm never too tired for these sorts of things. The mere sight of you, at times, is enough to give me pause." He chuckled, letting Aragorn sit up again as he lowered his hands to his shoulders, kneading the muscle there with strong fingers. The rather throaty groan that he got in return was enough to shift his arousal from a passing interest to full-fledged desire. "It would seem to me that you are the tired one, old man."

"Mmmn...You’re far older than I, but I shall forgive that, in light of your obvious fervor for...certain activities." A sigh followed the admission, and Legolas felt another smirk lighting his face.

"I must admit, there is something about the smell of your sweat, mixed with the leather of your saddle that makes me far more incorrigible than usual." He leaned forward, drawing the rounded ear before his eyes between his teeth, lightly drawing his tongue across the shell of it, breathing out a sigh of his own. He detected the slight prickling of goose flesh over his lover's skin and repeated the process, earning another chesty grumble.

"I shall have to try and ride harder tomorrow, if that is what it takes to make you touch me so." The response made him close his eyes, shivering anew at such a prospect.

"No...I think you shall be riding tonight. I expected to be thoroughly ridden before the others return from the burial of the fallen Prince." He moved back to stand. "You should dry yourself and get moving, so that no time is wasted." He advised, moving back to begin unlocking the straps and belts that held his tunic in place.

He was surprised by the speed with which Aragorn moved. As soon as his back was turned, he heard the soft swishing of water, and his middle was wrapped in a pair of strong arms. He felt hot breath on his ear and his knees went weak beneath him. "No need to be dry. With what I expect us to be doing, I'll need another bath before this is over, lest I give us away with quite a different scent." The husky, growling tone left no room to doubt what was meant to happen to him. It was enough to bring the growing shaft suppressed in his leggings to full attention. A hard palm found this new development and rubbed against it, making the elf whimper helplessly in his grasp.

"...wet it is." He managed, his mouth gone dry and his cheeks starting to flush a soft rose. "...Come, then...don't play with me any longer." Reaching out, he pulled at the dark locks surrounding Strider's face, bringing him close enough to taste his lips again. Those large hands that he'd come to love for all of their rough patches and scars, moved over his tunic, making quick work of what was left to bar him from his target. A few moments later, the green fabric fell to the floor, pooling at his feet. As his hands moved lower, Legolas leaned forward and savored their first bare contact - chest to chest, smooth skin met the soft dark curls that covered Aragorn's chest. His leggings followed the tunic, hitting the floor and pooling around his ankles.

The sensation of cool air against the burning object of his need tore another moan from his throat. A quick thrust forward remedied the cold, and he was pressed full length against Aragorn's wet flesh. He stepped out of his remaining clothing and reached back to wrap his arms around his back, pulling them both towards the low straw mattress in the corner of the room. With another tug, he fell back, pulling them both down onto the soft cloth covering the bed. The sudden pressure made them press together harder, and he felt his back arch as his legs curled up and off of the bed, settling around Strider's hips.

He felt lips at his neck, teeth occasionally darting from behind plump flesh to tease his sensitive skin, as Aragorn worked his way downwards. With a reluctant hand, Legolas stopped him, pulling him back up to taste his lips again. "Much as I enjoy being savored...we haven't time for such pleasant bonding." He muttered, between harsh kisses. "At another time, perhaps, when danger has passed and we aren't reduced to stealing moments here and there." He sighed, feeling Aragorn nod his agreement. "Right now, I need you...don't keep me waiting."

It was enough to steel his lover’s course of action. Moving with a forceful, almost painfully rough precision, he lifted Legolas’ legs higher, placing them over his shoulders. The elf tilted his head back, one fist knotting in the sheets as the other moved over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping. He had no fear, but he knew what his body could and couldn’t handle without pain. In position, he looked up to see Aragorn’s eyes watching him with that steady gaze as his lips moved to place a final, contrastingly gentle kiss on the inside of one pale thigh, before he felt the pressure of his lover’s hardness against his opening.

Closing his eyes and willing himself to relax, the feeling intrusion lasted only a few moments. Each time that they did this, it seemed, it got better, and this was no exception. The pain lingered only a few moments after he felt the heavy press of Aragon’s hips against his own. After that, everything seemed to shift to pleasure, swelling upwards from a warm undercurrent to a strong, sultry mix of being stretched so exquisitely. Lowering his arm, he pressed it against the wall over his head, making sure that if he went that way, he wouldn’t collide with the hard surface.

“Mmmn…so good.” He managed despite the shake in his voice, rolling his hips back and arching into the contact. Aragorn took that as a sign, and slowly withdrew, making shallow thrusts. The renewed movement sent a jolt of pain up his spine for an instant, before it all turned to liquid fire again and he was lost in the rapture of being taken.

Their pace increased, as those calloused hands roamed over his shoulders, arms, chest and stomach, drawing out further responses. Soon enough, every sensation was intense enough to allow him to move back in time with the thrusting motions. His world narrowed to the space between his legs, and everything else was forgotten. There was no quest for the Ring. There were no dead Wizards, or whispers of past hurt emptiness. All that was, was in this room; the universe, in those piercing blue eyes which held him on this plane.

He felt, rather than saw, the tension starting to build in Aragorn’s muscles. With a soft hand, he reached down to take hold of his own hard need. Squeezing softly, he arched his back as he worked his hand, knowing how much Aragorn loved to watch him do so. Leaning down, so that his legs were bent nearly double, he felt Aragorn’s lips at his throat, biting at the flesh near the hollow of his shoulder hard enough to leave a red mark. The pain and pleasure mingled, causing his world to go white for an instant. He couldn’t quite tell what was happening for a moment, and then he crashed over the edge. Every fiber of his being screamed with his release, and the world went dim as his eyes slowly came to a close.

He was vaguely aware of the heavy presence on his chest, pressing him down into the mattress. His legs and been released, and now clung, seemingly of their own accord, to the hips of the man who lay on top of him. Reaching up, he brushed back still-wet curls from Aragorn’s brow, and leaned up to place a kiss there, before he wrapped himself completely around his heaving torso.

They lay in silence for a few moments, Aragorn’s arms finally regaining enough mobility to bring his hands up to wind in Legolas’ hair, before he withdrew and headed over to the tub. Grabbing the rag from his previous bath, he flipped it over and inside out, rewetting it, and brought it back. With care, he cleaned the evidence of their previous actions away, and then started to dress.

Sated, if a bit sore, Legolas slowly stood and moved to collect his own clothing. Pulling his leggings on, he paused a moment. “…there will come a time, when none of this secret business will have to happen. When we won’t have to hide in the shadows, or steal moments in shame.” He assured the other man. He watched as some of the tension drained out of his shoulders and smiled a bit, if only to himself. So…at least he wasn’t the only one who fretted over such things. Turning, Aragorn crossed the space between them and placed a kiss on his forehead in return.

“There will never come a day when I will regret knowing you, exactly the way that I do.” He promised quietly, buttoning the last few places on his shirt, before moving out of the room and down into the main hall.

“…let us hope so.” Legolas paused, feeling his heart give a pang of pain. With an idle hand, he massaged the ache away and finished dressing.