Disclaimer: I obviously don't own them, otherwise the trilogy would be a three-part gay porn movie focusing on the risqué sex lives of Aragorn and Legolas. *grins wickedly*
Warning: This is slash. Not only is this slash, but it's sexually explicit slash. So if the idea of Aragorn shagging Legolas senseless doesn't do it for you, then I suggest you run along to something safe, like The Care Bears or something.
Archive: I always say yes, but only to those who ask.
Summary: An erotic tale involving a masque ball, a beautiful Elven prince, and the handsome King of Men. What magic will the mystery of a masque weave for Aragorn and Legolas?
Notes: This little romp has absotively, posilutely nothing to do with my other Legolas/Aragorn fics. This is just another of my wild sexual fantasies involving the much beleaguered Aragorn and Legolas. Poor guys. They just *hate* being forced to have hot, steamy sex with each other. Hate it so much they tied me to my computer chair and forced me to write this story and wouldn't even let me up to pee until it got done. Horny bastards. This takes place after the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
He almost felt like a different person when he put his mask on.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, stared at himself in the mirror, frowning slightly. The mask was black, and black diamonds were embedded around his eyes and about his temples, from which stuck out wild black and gray feathers. It seemed overly extravagant, but Aragorn had taken a liking to it. His hair was slicked back, and held in a ponytail. Aragorn frowned even more at the visible gray streak that shot from his temple to past his ear. He felt the same as he did before he became King Elessar Telcontar, yet not even a decade later, he already had a shot of gray in his hair. It had to be the consequences of such a trying job.
He wore a wildly embroidered black silk cloak that gleamed in the light of his room. The designs were abstract and rather lovely, and tiny black diamonds were also embedded into it at pleasing intervals. Beneath the cloak he wore a ruffed black silk tunic, with a huge, glittering black diamond pinning the ruffs. Black lace cuffs for his sleeves, which hung over his hands. He wore tight pants made of leather, with knee-high laced leather boots that shone like his black diamonds. Not only did he feel like a different person, he looked like a different person.
Nobody was to know who anyone else was at this ball. Not even Arwen would be known to Aragorn. He had not seen her guise, nor had she seen his. It would be a mystery, and Aragorn could be anybody he liked. It intrigued him, this thought of being a free man, no more or less noble than anyone else. Even in his many guises, Aragorn was still saddled with responsibility and duty. For tonight, he was free of that, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Aragorn put a touch of cologne on and swept off to the masque he was holding, at his wife's insistence. The moment she had heard of what one was from the Lady Eowyn, Arwen hounded Aragorn until he relented and agreed to hold the ball. He idly wondered what his wife wished to be set free of.
He arrived in the ball, relieved that he did not have to suffer through a fanfare in his guise. He looked around, and was instantly enchanted.
The room was alight with crystal chandeliers, and gothic, if colorful decorations. Different colored pieces of glass hung from the ceiling, casting a rainbow cascade of light down on the ball. People dressed in guises more extravagant than even his swept around him, dancing wildly to the haunting, ethereal music that was being played by a band wearing disguises as well.
Aragorn amused himself as he walked within the crowd with his usual predatory grace, by wondering who was who. Here was a lady in a bird-like red costume, with long, flowing blonde hair, and Aragorn wondered if it was the Lady Eowyn. He knew who he invited, and yet he could not recognize anyone with their masks and costumes.
He watched with mild interest as the woman in the red costume, feathers trailing around her dress and in her beautiful hair began to dance with another woman with long black hair, wearing the white costume of a glittering, diamond-studded swan. The beauty of the two women dancing with each other burned into Aragorn's mind, and he found himself enraptured by how their slender arms wrapped around each other, their hands caressing soft skin, their curved bodies pressing against each other.
And then his view was blocked by a man wearing a gaudy purple costume, dancing with a woman in orange. Aragorn sighed and turned away, only to be confronted with a woman in pink, with long golden tresses. Aragorn wondered if perhaps this woman was Eowyn, but he had no way of knowing. She pressed against him eagerly, and Aragorn obligingly swept her off into a dance. She giggled in appreciation of his grace, her hands sliding over his clothed body. If she spoke, Aragorn could not hear her over the music and the babble of those around him.
She was soon taken away by a man wearing a simple black costume, and Aragorn was left alone on the dance floor. He sighed and weaved his way through the crowd to the banquet tables. People were laughing loudly, women brazenly sitting on men's laps whilst they drank cherry wine and ate of the fruits and sweets on the banquet. Off to the sides, he discovered that the side rooms were covered in semi-sheer curtains of varying colors, and filled with plush pillows and bedding. Many people had already moved off to the side to fulfill their lusts.
Aragorn wondered if Eowyn or Arwen were aware of the debauch nature of a masque, or how risqué things would become. And if they did know, Aragorn wondered what secret desires burned in his wife's heart to press him to hold one. Was he not satisfying her? Was he not pleasing her in bed? He tried to be a gentle and considerate lover, and the thought that Arwen wished for something more, or something else, stung a bit.
He grabbed a goblet full of wine, tasting something heady, no doubt made from the finest grapes. It had been some time since he last drank something so rich, and he reeled for a moment before recovering himself, his body quickly adjusting to the alcohol. Another woman was soon pressed against his backside, rubbing his stomach and threatening to go lower. Time had been lost, and Aragorn pressed back against her, enjoying her touch. How long had it been since Arwen last touched him with such desire or fervor? Already, in a mere decade, their sex life had become routine. No doubt, before he knew it, they would only meet in bed to ensure there were heirs to his throne and to create children for Arwen to distract herself with. Aragorn wondered why that was. He loved her still, as greatly as ever, and yet...he no longer truly desired his wife. For his love had already cooled and become like that of a brother for a sister. And Aragorn suspected Arwen's had done the same. There was love, and then there was desire. It was separate for them now.
But then what was left to him? To do as all other kings did, and accept a string of lovers, each more vacuous than the last? Should he dally with the more-than-willing maids, or even the more-than-willing Eowyn? Neither thought truly appealed to his senses. And then he had an epiphany.
Or rather his epiphany walked by, waiting to be had. Just as the girl behind Aragorn slid her hands over his warming groin, a vision of beauty walked by him. Aragorn gently pushed the girl away from him, following the beauty with his eyes eagerly.
He was unsure whether the creature was male or female, though judging by the set of shoulders, and the lack of breasts, Aragorn thought the mysterious beauty to be male. He wore a green costume, with an ornate mask resembling a dragon's covering his face. His costume was made of silk, and blended the color of cream and green well, accented by lovely gold jewelry. The lower half of his face that remained bare was fine and well-sculpted, his lips full and sensuous. The creature had long, golden hair that shone underneath the wild lighting, and his neck was long and pale, revealing an Adam's apple. Upon closer inspection, the beauty was definitely male.
Aragorn was unsure why he found this creature so enticing. He had fancied males before, even loved one once, and had even acted on his impulses once or twice. But it was not a driving desire in him, at least not until that moment.
Perhaps it was the mystery of the masque, or the wine burning through his body, but regardless of why, Aragorn pursued the creature in green. Women were practically throwing themselves at him, and indeed, even a few men surrounded him. As he entered the full swing of the crowd, it seemed he would be accosted for his beauty, as those who desired him clamored for his attentions. The beauty in green backed away, trying to push the more aggressive ones away from him, his dark blue eyes darting around in fear, obviously overwhelmed and unsure of what to do.
Aragorn slid his way through the crowd, none of his skills as a ranger having faded over the years. He grabbed the beautiful man in green and disappeared quickly into the veiled, side area. He found an unoccupied room and brought the mystery beauty with him, avoiding the crowds eager to touch him. The room was covered in the same, sheer curtains, and pillows covered the floor. Aragorn kicked aside the ones that looked used.
The other man caught his breath, putting a delicate hand on his chest. "I thank you, sir, for your help. I did not know that a masque was just an excuse for debauchery. I thought King Elessar had greater taste. I shall speak to him about this," the man sighed, his voice melodious and full.
Aragorn narrowed his eyes, nearly positive he knew that voice. And the hair. And the eyes. And the graceful way of moving. It all fell into place once he was closer to...Legolas. He smiled slightly, once he recognized his old friend, and impulsively decided to see how things would progress if Legolas did not know who he was.
"You know the king, then?" Aragorn asked, altering his voice to sound deeper and more from his belly rather than his throat. He knew how to disguise himself from anyone, and it was a simple matter to remove the normal inflections of tone he spoke with and sound like someone different.
"I, er, well, yes," Legolas answered slowly, looking flustered. It was a rare sight to see Legolas in such a predicament. Aragorn applauded himself for being able to break through Legolas' normally imperturbable nature.
"I see. You must be some sort of lord, then," Aragorn continued, leaning back against the wall casually, giving Legolas a chance to recover.
"Something along those lines," Legolas said, quickly regaining his usual mask of ice. It was odd, how he could not hide himself with his dragon's mask, but his normal Elven mask was near infallible.
"Is he interesting, the king? I have never met him," Aragorn said just as casually. Legolas was just beginning to notice where he exactly he was, judging by the sounds of pleasure outside the door.
"Well, yes, I suppose. He certainly did not seem the type to enjoy something so...sexual," Legolas sighed.
"Truly? Perhaps you do not know him as well as you think," Aragorn said idly, smiling just a bit.
"Perhaps," Legolas frowned, pushing open the door, and looking outside dubiously at the hungry crowd. Aragorn looked outside from standing behind Legolas. It seemed the debauchery had only progressed farther. Just at the entrance to the curtained area was a man having his way with a woman wearing naught but her mask.
"I think I shall wait until they are quite done out there. Men are such a primitive race," Legolas said with disdain, gingerly sitting down on a pillow, after locking the door, as if to block the wild party.
"You speak as though you are not one. Not that I deny that my race is hungry, for all things, not merely to sate their carnal desires," Aragorn said, returning to leaning against the wall, careful not to let Legolas think he was crowded or forced. Elves hated crowds, and being crowded.
"Well, to be honest, I am an Elf," Legolas shrugged.
"Do Elves not have carnal desires then? How ever do you reproduce?" Aragorn asked, enjoying his game.
Legolas shrugged. "We have desires. But to us, the completion of a sonnet is no less a pleasure than the completion of an orgasm. Sex is part of our lives, true, and we do have desires. But we are not so hungry as people think. I, personally, have not had sex in nearly four centuries," Legolas shrugged.
Aragorn balked at the thought of not sharing pleasure for that long. It would drive him mad, and though he knew Elves were ageless, he could not fathom living without intimacy for that long.
"And this is a short time for your people?"
"Nay, it is actually quite a long time to abstain, even for an Elf. I am quite fussy about my lovers," Legolas shrugged, and removed his mask.
Aragorn sucked in his breath. How could he have forgotten how beautiful Legolas was? Truly, dreams of Legolas had filled his lonely nights as a ranger as often as had dreams of Arwen. The Elf's face was like a sculpture, flawless and eternal. Without his mask, his masculinity was far more visible, for Legolas, despite his beauty, was not feminine at all.
"I have no need of this any longer. I do not like this 'masque ball', and I shall tell Elessar that he should perhaps warn his friends a little better next time. I am not some piece of meat," Legolas said with a proud toss of his head.
"You are truly a vision of perfection, my friend. Since you cast aside your mask, might I have the pleasure of your name?" Aragorn asked.
"Legolas," the Elf shrugged.
"You were one of the Fellowship, then. One of the companions of the king."
"I do not recall in the songs of your heroism, anything pertaining to your beauty. How could they ignore it?"
"You flatter me, sir. Have you brought me here to seduce me, then?" Legolas asked suspiciously, eyeing Aragorn doubtfully.
"I admit my thoughts are not pure, Master Elf, but I shall not do anything to you without permission."
"Well. Why, then, do you hide in here with me? Why do you not go sate your desires out there?"
"To be honest, Master Elf, I like privacy for my liaisons. I did not know a masque would be so debauch and wild. Parties, much less of this nature, are not my sort of thing. In fact, the only thing I enjoy about it is the mystery of the mask I wear," Aragorn shrugged.
"You will not remove it then?" Legolas asked, cocking his head up at Aragorn, his hair spilling across him.
"Nay. I enjoy it."
"As you wish, oh Lord of Mystery," Legolas shrugged. Aragorn found the constant movement of the Elf's shoulders enticing.
"You did not enjoy your mask?"
"I am an Elf. I have no need of a mask to be mysterious."
It took Aragorn a moment to realize Legolas was jesting. He began to laugh out loud, throwing his head back in mirth. "Well said, Master Legolas, well said!"
"I have my moments, it seems," Legolas smiled.
Aragorn bent down suddenly, his masked face level with Legolas' bare face. "Tell me, fair one, would you care to break four hundred years worth of abstinence?" he purred out with every ounce of seduction he had in him.
Legolas blinked and tilted his head back, studying Aragorn intently. "With you?" he asked scornfully. "I don't even know you."
"Doesn't that make it even more delicious? Or am I not appealing to you?" Aragorn asked casually.
"What I see is certainly appealing, Lord of Mysteries, but I cannot see all your face," Legolas said reaching up to pull the black mask from Aragorn's face, but the king was fast enough to catch the Elf's hand and pull it away.
"The pleasure would be lost for me, at least at this moment, if you de-masked me, Prince of Elves. Let me pleasure you. You will not regret it, I assure you," Aragorn said softly, bringing the hand he had caught to his lips and kissing it gently. "That you will taste my lips is enough for me."
"What do you mean, Lord of Men?" Legolas asked suspiciously as Aragorn knelt down in front of him.
Quick as any Elf, Aragorn reached behind Legolas, binding the Elf's hands behind him with the silk sash Aragorn had been wearing around his waist. Legolas squirmed, his eyes widening and then narrowing.
"I do not recall giving you permission for any of this, Man," Legolas hissed.
Aragorn brought his masked face close to Legolas, brushing his lips against the Elf's. They felt soft, and moist, and Aragorn's body swelled, desiring to taste so much more of Legolas.
"You are a proud prince. Strong and unyielding, brave and skillful. You wear a mask frozen in ice, even when your face is bare. Even now, you wear this frozen mask, preventing you from betraying any emotion. Take your mask off for me, Legolas of Mirkwood, and I will show you splendors that will make you beg Illuuvatar to never let it cease," Aragorn whispered huskily into the delicately pointed ear of the Elf.
"You speak as though you know me," Legolas whispered.
"Yield to me. Let me pleasure you."
"Who are you? I feel as though I know you," Legolas said huskily, drawing back from Aragorn's face, but Aragorn held his arms tightly about the Elf. To his surprise, Legolas was not struggling to get away, just trying to size up the Man holding him captive.
"It does not matter. Settle for the knowledge that I have long desired to taste you on my lips and pour myself deep within you."
"Think you I am some maiden you can ride like an animal and then boast of your conquest?"
"Nay, I think you the fair Prince of Elves I wish to sup on tonight, and ease my hunger pains."
"Are you a cannibal or a sexual predator? I have yet to fully understand you," Legolas said with a toss of his blond hair.
"You wish me to spell my desires out in crude form? I desire to drink you like a flask of wine and then sheathe you with my sword."
"Your metaphors tire me."
"Then fill my mouth with other things. Do you yield, fair Legolas?"
"Why must I yield?"
"Because I wish to conquer you," Aragorn shrugged, pulling tighter on the sash, binding Legolas' wrists behind him tighter.
Legolas turned his face from Aragorn, and for a moment, he looked sad. "I might as well," he said, sounding lost for some odd reason. "The one I love shall never desire me, so it matters not if I am conquered."
Aragorn paused, finding the distant, sad emotion in Legolas to be disconcerting. "Who?" he asked softly.
"Secret for secret, Lord of Mysteries. I shan't tell you who I love until you remove your mask. You wish to have your way with me? So be it," Legolas said.
Aragorn was filled with an unexplainable jealousy. He leaned forward, and nibbled on Legolas' yielding jaw. "Can I make you forget her?" he whispered.
"I doubt it. But you can make me not think of him for a time, if you are as good as you boast," Legolas whispered back.
" 'Him'?" Aragorn pressed, even more jealous to think that Legolas loved another man or Elf . He moved his hands up to the buttons on Legolas' shirt, and without ceremony, tore the shirt open, popping the buttons.
"Concern yourself not with the affairs of my heart, Man," Legolas whispered as Aragorn lowered his lips to the heated flesh of Legolas' chest.
But it drove him mad, this thought that Legolas loved a man, perhaps even another Elf. Where did this possessive feeling for Legolas come from? True, he fancied the Elf as a youth, but...did he care that deeply for Legolas? Aragorn dove with vigor onto one of the small brown nipples on Legolas' chest, eager to drive the thoughts of this man or Elf from Legolas' mind.
Legolas' breath hitched as Aragorn's tongue ran over the sensitive nub of flesh, circling and licking it. The black-clad Man nibbled on Legolas' nipple, and then sucked gently on it, pulling Legolas' flesh into his mouth eagerly. Legolas breathed heavily, arching slightly against Aragorn's mouth.
Aragorn pulled and smiled. "Enjoy that, Master Elf?" he purred, pushing Legolas back against the pillows and tearing open the delicate Elven silk of Legolas' pants.
"Your tongue is skillful, Lord of Mysteries. But I am nearly three-thousand years old. You will have to try harder than that to impress me," Legolas smirked, his full lips curving in a pleasing manner.
Aragorn bent down and caught the soft lips with his own, pulling Legolas into a fervent kiss, their lips bruising each other as tongues darted out to play between their mouths. Aragorn reluctantly pulled back, and tied another black sash around Legolas' mouth, effectively gagging the Elf. Legolas said something, but it was muffled, so he settled for glaring hotly at the Man smirking above him. Aragorn kissed the sash where it lay over Legolas' mouth and then pulled Legolas' pants from him roughly.
"I shall make you mewl like a great cat before the night is through, my prince," Aragorn smirked, leaning down to grip the Elf's heated malehood, sliding his fingers over it gently. Legolas' male flesh was not as wrinkled or coarse as a Man's was. It was smooth and fair, like all else about the Elf. His skin felt like heated velvet under Aragorn's rough fingertips.
Legolas turned his face, and pressed himself into the pillow he was lying on, breathing softly. Aragorn looked up, licking his lips at the sight of Legolas' long golden hair strewn about wildly. He truly was the most beautiful creature Aragorn had set eyes on. Even Arwen could not compare.
Aragorn bent down and placed his lips around the semi-erect shaft, engulfing the organ fully with his mouth. Legolas gasped underneath his gag and arched slightly. Aragorn put his hands on either side of Legolas' slim hips, stilling the Elf's lower body as he began to suck, quickly adjusting to the feel of another male's member in his mouth. Legolas moaned low in his throat, thrashing his head, as Aragorn rolled his tongue along the underside of the Elf's shaft. The task of pleasuring Legolas was not difficult, for Aragorn knew what he himself liked, and as it turned out, Men and Elves were not so different in that respect.
Aragorn drew back so his lips only suckled at Legolas' tip, and he lapped at the fluid that seeped from Legolas' slit. He expected it to be salty, like his own, but it tasted sweet, reminding Aragorn of the taste of honey. Legolas was moaning loudly now, the sounds muffled by silk, his wrists twisting against his bonds as he arched in pleasure. Heat flushed to Aragorn's groin, and his own arousal pressed against the leather of his pants, begging to be sated, but he ignored it for the moment.
Determined to make the Elf mewl, Aragorn moved one hand away from massaging Legolas' hips to cupping the Elf's balls. Even that hair was soft, and the skin felt almost smooth under Aragorn's fingers. Elves truly were a marvel. Legolas cried out into the gag as Aragorn rolled the flesh in his hand, returning to sucking eagerly on Legolas' shaft. Aragorn took the full length in his mouth again, sucking as hard as he could. He could barely hear anything with the blood pounding in his ears, but it sounded to him that Legolas was surely mewling in pleasure as he bucked into Aragorn's mouth and filled the king's mouth with Elven seed.
Aragorn swallowed the sweet liquid and sucked at the softening flesh until he had every drop of the Elf's seed. He withdrew with a smile, looking up at his Elf.
Legolas lay still against the pillows, his body flushed and heated with pleasure. A light sheen of sweat covered Legolas' body, and his hair was damp against his neck and in his face. Aragorn reached up and undid the gag, listening to Legolas' rapid breathing fill the room.
Legolas rolled his blue eyes over to study Aragorn from where he lay on the pillows, his mouth parted slightly. Aragorn smiled and reached up to assure himself his mask was still in place. It had held up remarkably.
"You have a very skillful tongue, my Lord. I am impressed," Legolas breathed.
"Ah, good. I promised you that I would make you mewl," Aragorn smiled.
"Will you untie my wrists then? Perhaps I could return the favor, as I see you have not spent your need yet," Legolas breathed.
"Nay, Elf. I rather like you bound, though I shall leave your gag undone, for I think I should like to taste your lips again," Aragorn purred, pulling Legolas to a sitting position and meeting the Elf's lips again.
If possible, Legolas tasted better during the second kiss. He was near intoxicating. Aragorn's head spun as their tongues slid against each other, their lips moving in a secret dance. He held Legolas to him, cradling the slender, yet deceptively strong body against his. There was something to Legolas' kiss that spoke volumes to Aragorn, though he could not say exactly what.
"I want to be inside you, Prince Legolas," Aragorn whispered.
Legolas closed his eyes, his dark eyelashes smudging his fine cheekbones. "You'll need lubricant of some sort," he said softly.
Aragorn looked down, noting that he also needed to arouse Legolas again, for he wanted the Elf to enjoy the experience as much as he surely would. He smiled as an idea struck him. It was of an activity he had enjoyed once before, when he was on the receiving end.
"I'm not done pleasuring you, Master Elf," Aragorn smiled, lifting Legolas' long, slender legs over his shoulders.
Legolas made a small noise of surprise as the cheeks of his buttocks were spread and Aragorn's questing tongue pressed against his opening, wriggling viciously as it penetrated him. Legolasí bound wrists scratched at the pillow he was pressed into as Aragorn's tongue pierced him, coating him well with saliva. He moaned low and long, as Aragorn devoted himself to sliding in and out of Legolas' opening, and sucking gently on the soft flesh underneath his mouth, causing Legolas to gasp.
Aragorn reluctantly pulled away, enjoying the sounds of Legolas gasping in pleasure. His need ached more than ever, for pleasuring Legolas was arousing him just as greatly as the Elf. Aragorn pulled open his leather pants, letting his erection spring free. He caught Legolas peering over at him curiously, looking mildly impressed. Aragorn grinned wickedly, and pulled the Elf up to sit on his lap.
Legolas stared down at Aragorn's erection, licking his lips. Aragorn grabbed the Elf's naked hips and slid him along his leather-clad thighs so that Legolas' opening sat right on top of the tip of his erection, though Aragorn did not pierce the Prince yet.
"Do you think you can handle it, youngest Prince of Mirkwood?" Aragorn whispered.
Legolas closed his eyes and then re-opened them. "Do you?" he asked tauntingly.
Aragorn smirked in response, and sheathed himself fully inside Legolas, sparing the Elf no mercy. Legolas cried out in pain from the sudden intrusion, wriggling slightly. Aragorn held the Elf still, nibbling on the fine chin, murmuring platitudes to Legolas as he stroked the long, thick blond hair.
Legolas finally started to breathe after a moment, and relaxed. Aragorn delved once again at Legolas' generous lips, eager to rekindle their kiss. Legolas slowly responded, his tongue unable to resist the play of Aragorn's. The handsome Man wound his hands through Legolas' unbound hair, admiring the silky texture of it. He waited a few moments before rocking gently into Legolas, unable to hold back his desires anymore.
Legolas hesitated in their kiss, wincing slightly at the movement. Aragorn went slower, not truly wishing to harm the Elven prince, drawing Legolas back into the movement of their lips. The kiss slowed down, taking on a more passionate tempo that Aragorn found himself enjoying immensely. It seemed counterpoint to the rocking of his hips into Legolas, which were quickly increasing in rhythm as his desire demanded to be sated.
Legolas moved against him, rubbing his own renewed erection against the silken cloth of Aragorn's black tunic. Aragorn delved his tongue deeply into Legolas, moving his length within Legolas so as to please the Elf. Once he found the spot that made the Elf gasp, Aragorn renewed his thrusts into the spot, making Legolas moan loudly into his mouth. The Elf's fingernails dug into his shoulders and he pressed himself hungrily against Aragorn.
It seemed Legolas' endurance had been spent and he came shortly, crying out into Aragorn's mouth as his body stiffened and pressed against his. His lower muscles contracted around Aragorn's member, and Legolas lifted up and down as he came, bouncing slightly on Aragorn's lap, his seed coating Aragorn's silk tunic. Aragorn growled throatily as the actions drew his own seed from him and it seemed his body was turned inside out for a moment when he came. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell on his back, unable to move from the intensity of his orgasm.
Legolas laid himself on top of Aragorn, breathing heavily. "I am afraid I have ruined your tunic, Aragorn," he sighed.
Aragorn chuckled and pulled his mask off. "Did I ever have you fooled?" he sighed.
"I wondered, but I was not sure. Not until you called me the 'youngest Prince of Mirkwood'. Your voice slipped," Legolas replied from on top of him.
"Tell me then, Legolas, who is it that you love? Do I know him? Is it Haldir?" Aragorn asked. Even as spent as he was, he could not remove the ache in his heart at the thought of Legolas' love for another.
"You know him, but it is not Haldir."
Legolas looked up from where his head rested comfortably on Aragorn's chest to glare at him. "You insult me. The very idea repulses me," he replied.
"Faramir? Elrond? Gandalf? Who?"
"You seem very eager to know my private matters, Aragorn. Before, you could not have cared less who I was involved with. Why the sudden change of heart?" Legolas asked idly.
"Humor me, Legolas Greenleaf. I wish to know w ho it is who captured your heart."
"What does it matter? You've had your pleasure, and after this night, you shall forget it ever happened, and return to your wife's bed."
Aragorn studied the Elf's features. They were as bland and as expressionless as ever. Aragorn took the smooth face in his hand, cupping it gently. "My wife's bed grows cold, and very soon, she shall fill it with someone else. Though I love her still, such is the nature of our love that it has cooled to something a brother and sister would share. That leaves me with my own bed to fill. I think I should very much like to have you fill it, Legolas. I did not lie when I said I have long desired you. From the day we met, I wished to be able to touch you. But I kept silent, and tried to forget this desire, for I was afraid you would reject me. I have loved you for a very long time. But I am not an awkward youth intimidated by your beauty any longer. I am a grown Man, and I'm asking you who it is that you love, so I know who my competition for your heart is," he said seriously.
Legolas smiled. "Well, your competition is..." he said, trailing off while playing with the black diamond pin on Aragorn's tunic.
"Do not toy with me, Legolas," Aragorn sighed in irritation.
"His name is Strider. He doesn't bathe as often as I'd like, and he's badly in need of a shave, but I'm sure once he gets that position as King of Men he'll clean up rather nicely," Legolas laughed, the clearest, loveliest sound that Aragorn had heard in a long time.
Aragorn laughed as well, wrapping his arms around his Elf. " 'Doesn't bathe as often as I'd like'?" he asked after a moment.
"Well, you didn't. I had wondered if you were trying to make some sort of statement by not bathing until you became king."
"Am I sufficiently pleasing now that I am king?"
"You still need to shave."
"I always forget..." Aragorn sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
Legolas fell quiet and placed a kiss on Aragorn's forehead before lying his head back on the Man's broad chest, gently running his hands on Aragorn's sides. "We should get cleaned up...perhaps find somewhere more private and more comfortable. Like your bedchambers," Legolas suggested.
"Is this an acceptance of my offer, then?"
"I shall not sail the sea until you pass, Aragorn. I swear this. Until then, I shall remain to keep you company," Legolas said solemnly. Aragorn kissed his Elf and struggled upwards.
Legolas got up as well. Aragorn handed him his cloak, since he had torn Legolas' clothes. Legolas put back on his dragon's mask, and Aragorn returned his black mask to his face and tried to wipe off Legolas' essence as best he could.
"Well, let us return to my chambers and bathe, lest you complain about my filth again," Aragorn sighed, as the pair headed out back into the main room of the ball. By this time, most everyone was passed out drunk, or in the midst of drunken love-making.
"A wonderful idea. And whilst we're in the tub, I shall ensure you shave the fur from your face."
"I'll have you do it, since you are so eager for me to be rid of it," Aragorn said, smiling wickedly when he realized that Arwen was indeed the lady in the white swan's costume, and on top of her lay the Lady Eowyn, wearing pink. Both women were lying unconscious in a tangle in the corner.
"I shall try, as I've never had to shave."
"Just try not to slit my throat."
"It is good that you have that fur on your face tonight, though."
"And why is that?"
"Well, if you did not have it, I would have recognized the big crater in your chin instantly."
"Crater in my chin?"
"That's what it looks like. It is not displeasing, however," Legolas shrugged as Aragorn led him inside his bedchambers.
"Well, at least I can never be mistaken for a woman," Aragorn retorted.
"That was only once, and Eomer was obviously drunk!"
Aragorn and Legolas laughed heartily, both quite happy, as they softly closed the door behind them so they could love each other more privately.
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