The Nature of Fear
Caradhras had defeated them.
The retreat left a bitter taste in Aragorn's mouth. He knew their options were limited. The one they were forced to choose now was the least desirable. Even Legolas, for whom Aragorn was nursing a steadily growing resentment, had finally shown some emotion on the choice that had been made.
"I do not wish to go to Moria," he had argued with more vehemence than Aragorn had heard from him the entire journey. "There are other ways."
The decision was made regardless. Unhappy himself with the choice, the Ranger had looked to Legolas, hoping for reaction. He should have known better. The Elf retained his stony mask, not an eyelash flickering in response. Legolas, Aragorn decided with aggravation, had a heart of ice.
The climb down the mountain was fraught with growing tension. Gandalf seemed genuinely apprehensive at the prospect of taking the underground route and his concern was felt by the others. The Hobbits were nervous, their normal non-stop chattering subdued to nervous bantering amongst themselves. It was they, more than any others, who set the tone for the group. Even Gimli, anticipating meeting his cousins, could not remain jovial around the clearly frightened Hobbits.
Only Legolas seemed unaffected. As Aragorn expected, once his opinion on the choice of Moria had been rejected, the Elf had offered nothing else in the way of speech. As it had been since leaving Rivendell, he walked with them, but not a part of them. The graceful Elven features were alert to everything that went on around them but remained studiously oblivious to conversation within.
Nor did the Elf show fear that Aragorn could see. The Ranger recalled the tales of Elrond in the battle at Mount Doom and wondered now if this is how his foster father had been: controlled and disciplined, not a crack in the considerable Elven armor.
Nay, Aragorn decided, letting his gaze wander over Legolas' smooth features, as mighty a warrior as Elrond was, he had never lacked for warmth. Legolas, as far as Aragorn had seen, had a demeanor as frosty and unbreachable as Caradhras itself. It made him want to seize a handful of that pale hair and crack through the icy composure to the heat he hoped might lay within.
"You would do better to make love to the mountain we just abandoned," Boromir said dryly, stepping next to him. He nodded towards Legolas. "Pretty, but cold. Too cold for my tastes."
Aragorn wrenched his attention from the Elf. "My interest does not lie that way," he said evenly.
Boromir spared him a skeptical look. "Do not disrespect yourself by pretending otherwise," he said, picking up his pace to move ahead. "Your emotions are plain upon your face, Aragorn."
The Ranger looked after him thoughtfully. He did not think Boromir spoke true and yet...Aragorn let his eyes settle upon Legolas again. Now that he was open to the possibility, his interest was obvious. It surprised him, but it did not bother him. Legolas was beautiful. No Man could be faulted for succumbing to such a lure. How unfortunate, though, that such exquisite beauty must exist alongside such a chilly personna. What would it take to melt it? Unexpectedly, a waterfall of images cascaded through Aragorn's mind. Images of Legolas not as he was now, but warmed beneath the Ranger's touch, hot with need.
A sudden twitch of his body alerted Aragorn that he had gone too far. Exasperated with his train of thoughts, he drew his cloak tighter about him. His thoughts were pointless and would serve only to distract. Angry at himself and with Legolas, he followed the others in dark silence.
On they traveled, over the barren rocks and earth upon which the waters of the Sirannon once flowed. It was a dry, despondant land that only served to magnify the Company's growing fears. Gimli tried to break the silence by extolling the hospitality of his fellow Dwarves, but his words rang hollowly against the sharp rock until he eventually subsided into silence. When they broke for camp, it was a relief to all.
"The Sirannon has been dammed," Gandalf told them, "but its waters are foul. We will not sleep by the lake tonight. In the morning, we will skirt its shores and continue to the Walls of Moria just beyond."
Aragorn took first watch, staring up at the hard moon and listening to the wolves that howled in the distance. Unease left a metallic taint on his tongue. When he awoke Boromir for his turn, Aragorn did not think he would be able to sleep. But Caradhras and cumulative stress had worn him out. He slept deeply and awoke to the song of the wolves again. Purple hazed the edges of the sky as he sat up. He looked around him and noticed Legolas' empty bedroll.
Aragorn canted his eyes away, telling himself it did not matter. But it did. He could not pretend otherwise. Too long had he seethed with words unspoken. Now was as good a time as any to confront Legolas. He stood and paced out into the barren land in search of the Elf.
As he'd suspected, he found the Elf kneeling at the shores of the lake, staring into the murky water. He knew the Elf could hear him approach, but Legolas did not turn. Aragorn stopped behind him. Legolas was on all fours, his arms sunk past the wrists in the dark water.
"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked, distracted by the Elf's position at the water's edge. The slim curve of Legolas' hips drew the Ranger's gaze despite himself.
"The water does not reflect the moon," Legolas replied absently. "It is most curious."
Aragorn realized he was right. The water was as black as tar and as still as a mirror, yet held no image of the full moon above it. He shivered. "There is shadow here. Get away from it, Legolas."
"Is that your response to everything? To fear it?"
"Sometimes it is what keeps me alive," Aragorn returned, feeling his anger grow. "You would do well to heed such warnings yourself. You may be immortal, but you may still perish. Do you not fear that?"
"I am not afraid like you are, son of Isildur." Though his face could not be read, there was amusement in the Elf's voice.
Aragorn knelt behind the other. "Nay, you fear nothing, Legolas, do you?" The Elf remained silent, goading Aragorn to push him for a reaction. "You do not feel fear. You do not feel happiness so far as I have witnessed. What *do* you feel, Elf? Or are you as blank as this foul lake, unable to reflect a single emotion?"
Legolas turned his head slightly, his pale hair swinging free of his shoulders to curtain his face. "I do not share in your lust, if that is what you are asking."
Aragorn found himself without voice. He stared at Legolas, following the curve of the Elf's hips up the long, slender back that fanned into slight, but strong shoulders. He was embarrassed that the Elf had read him so easily. And angered that it would be used against him in such a casual fashion.
"That is not what I was asking, but mayhaps it is what I was thinking," he ground out between clenched teeth. Spurred by frustration, he moved forward swiftly, draping himself over the Elf's back.
Legolas stiffened. He started to draw his hands out of the water, but Aragorn caught his elbows, holding the Elf's arms extended beneath the surface.
"You mistake your fantasies for reality," the Elf snapped in clear warning. Ripples broke the water around his arms. "As befits a Man, you have lost control."
"And you possess too much," Aragorn retorted breathily. Legolas' body beneath his own was arousing him more than he had expected. He was stiff and aching in his breeches. Heat suffused his body, bringing the flush of arousal to his cheeks. He lowered his head until his breath stirred the braids tucked behind the Elven ear. "What does it take to break that control, Legolas? What does it take to make you one of us?"
Legolas shifted, then froze as his buttock brushed against the steel in Aragorn's breeches. "One of you?" he asked, his voice scornful like ringing metal. "What does that mean? To be afraid like you? Impulsive?"
The Elf was deliberately prodding him, but Aragorn could not help responding. He pushed his hips forward and held the hard bulge of his erection against the curve of Legolas' buttocks, forcing him to feel it. Aragorn smiled grimly as the Elf jerked. "How about alive, Legolas? You are too cold, by far. I would mistake you for dead sometimes did I not know you are immortal." Aragorn rolled his hips, sliding himself deliberately between the cleft of the Elf's buttocks. "What is so wrong with feeling alive? Feeling passion? Surely it is in you?"
"Your concern for me is a poor disguise for your true intentions," Legolas shot back, trying to lean away from the intimate contact. "Do not insult me with deception, Aragorn."
Stung by the Elf's words, Aragorn bit at the back of the vulnerable neck, causing Legolas to hiss. "Of us both, I think it is *I* who is being the most sincere with his feelings," he grated. He bit again at the tender skin. "You hold yourself back. It is you who are being untruthful."
He began to thrust steadily against Legolas, rocking the slender body forwards and back. Legolas had ceased trying to escape and kept his body passive as Aragorn pumped against him. The pale curtain of hair swayed with the movement, its tips dragging ripples across the surface of the dark water.
"Think of what you do," Legolas murmured, his voice sheathed in so much care that it was as empty of emotion as air. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Aragorn had no answer for him. He did not know himself. All he did know was that Legolas infuriated him. And if it took this crude act of lust to draw a response from the indifferent Elf, so be it.
Aragorn shut his eyes as his desire welled thick within him. He wished he could touch Legolas, urge the Elf into movement. But he knew that if he released the Elf's arms, Legolas would fling him off in an instant. Frustrated, Aragorn settled with sucking upon the exaggerated tip of Legolas' ear. He curled his tongue around the intriguing point, straining to hear for response. He imagined he heard it: a faint, tremulous sigh that drifted across the surface of the water. Aragorn imagined, too, that the strong body beneath him trembled ever so slightly as he ground his erection against it.
But all he could do was imagine. Unable to see Legolas' face or feel his body where the Elf's desire would be most evident, Aragorn could only hope. He moved his knees in between Legolas' and held the slender legs apart. Panting with growing excitement, the Ranger angled himself to brush the head of his erection against the part of Legolas he yearned to pierce.
It was too torturous by far. It was not enough. Clenching his jaw so tightly he feared his teeth might crack, Aragorn drove himself harder and harder against Legolas' body, the friction maddening him. He knew he rutted like a beast against Legolas, but he did not care in his blind pursuit of pleasure.
"Gods, Legolas," he gasped, gripping the Elf's arms so tightly he knew he must be causing pain. "You undo me."
His release came upon him suddenly, like torrential flood from the highlands. A gutteral moan rose from his throat. He dropoped his chest against Legolas' back and thrust one final time against the captive body. Heat warmed the front of Aragorn's breeches. His breath left him in a ragged sigh.
Stunned at himself, he released Legolas' arms and cautiously moved back. The Elf was shaking. Mortified that he had somehow hurt or traumatized the Elf with his assault, Aragorn began to reach for him.
Until he realized Legolas was laughing. Not aloud, but the muffled sound was obvious. Heat of a different sort lit Aragorn's face. He staggered to his feet and looked down at the Elf kneeling before him.
"Be like one of you?" Legolas repeated in a strangled voice. His laughter broke free, harsh and ridiculing. "Is that the example I am meant to follow? Forgive me if I find it less than appealing."
Aragorn's look turned to one of hatred. He spun on his heel and strode down the hill, abandoning the Elf to his laughter. He had heard once that Elves could perish of heartache. He did not think Legolas would ever be in danger of that.
In the darkness of the Dwarf halls, fear was not an option. As Aragorn swiftly discovered, it was proof that one yet lived.
Moria embraced darkness with jealous arms. No light was allowed to pierce its intimacy save the single glowing stone atop Gandalf's staff. The result was that their universe narrowed to the wizard who led them. It was the claustrophobia of the womb. It was enough to drive one mad.
Aragorn looked about him at unfriendly stone walls and saw that they yielded nothing of their former carvers. The architecture--what hadn't fallen into crumbled mounds of stone--was impersonal and grave. How the Dwarfs had managed to live here for so many years was beyond his comprehension. The Fellowship had traversed Moria for only two days and already he yearned to be free of its oppressive, tomb-like walls.
Desperate for something to relieve the gloom, he joined Boromir. His fellow Man had stopped to inspect yet another of the fallen corpses that littered their path. This one had been felled by a goblin arrow to the eye.
"I do not care much for the company that we keep," Aragorn commented sourly, kicking at the victim's axe lying useless by skeletal hands. "There is more than death awaiting us here. I sense a deeper darkness."
Boromir nodded, his gaze fixed past Aragorn. "Aye, there is that. I also begin to fear that one of our party is teetering on the edge of a decidedly inelegant breaking point."
Confused by the other Man's words, Aragorn followed his gaze to Legolas. The Elf stood apart from the others, hugging the edge of light cast by Gandalf's staff. In the uncertain glow, the Elven features were sharp with a nervous tension Aragorn had never seen there before.
"I have been watching him," Boromir continued, "thinking he would be affected most by this place. I was right. A week ago I would not have thought it possible, but he is breaking, Aragorn. If he snaps, it may adversely affect us all."
Legolas snapping? The prospect would have seemed laughable had Aragorn not seen the Elf's strained face for himself. It made sense, when he considered it. Of them all, it was Legolas who was most used to the openess of the forest. The Elf thrived on all things living, leaf and animal alike. He seemed to draw his energy off them. To be shuttered down here, in a place entirely devoid of life and light, would be nothing less than torture for the wood Elf.
"I will watch him," Aragorn promised quietly. As much as he hated Legolas for what had happened beside the lake, Aragorn acknowledged that much of it was his own fault. He would not place the quest at stake because of his own misguided anger.
They walked for miles that day, or for what passed as the length of a day in this place without sun. Gandalf had led them steadily upwards and now milky light--moonlight or otherwise--shot through cracks in the rock like the spurting blood of a great stone creature. By fortune, they found a chamber off the main hallway. It provided them with some sense of security to bed down for the night.
Aragorn saw them all safely inside the dimly lit room. All except Legolas. He noticed the Elf pacing restlessly outside the doorway. He left the chamber in time to see the Elf turn on his heel and move swiftly down the abandoned hallway. Aragorn watched him go, his eyes fastened on Legolas' less than graceful walk. The lack of sunlight must be eating away at the Elf like a pestulant infection. The thought of Legolas unnerved was strangely intriguing. Aragorn followed him.
Legolas left not a mark upon the dusty floor, but Aragorn could hear him. The Elf's breaths were shallow and quick. It was like following in the wake of a wounded animal. The hallway ended in a circular room. Aragorn found Legolas pacing the short curve of one wall, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.
The Elf looked up, startled. It was one of the few times any of the group had caught him unawares. It was telling. Aragorn studied the faint moistness that glistened on the Elf's brow, the spots of color that highlighted the sharp cheekbones. Legolas' eyes were bright in the gloominess. They touched briefly on Aragorn before darting away.
"Leave me, Aragorn. I have no wish for company," the Elf bit out.
"On the contrary," Aragorn replied, stepping into the room, "I think the very last thing you want is to be left alone. Alone in the dark."
He'd said the last very purposefully, fishing for reaction. The Elf shot a panicked look at him before quickly schooling his features. "You are not wanted here, Aragorn. Do not make me use force to evict you. Your presence is bothersome to me."
Though he knew the Elf's words were drawn from the fear he would not admit, Legolas' condescension pricked at Aragorn. Here again was the icy arrogance that the Ranger detested. He crossed the room and stepped deliberately into the Elf's path, forcing him to stop. Legolas glared up at him. "Do not push me, *Man*."
Aragorn welcomed the insulting tone. He smiled darkly at the Elf. "Make me, Legolas. Prove to me there's something other than ice beneath that fair skin."
Aragorn saw the rising fury in the cool blue eyes and found himself awestruck by it. Legolas stirred to anger was nothing less than breathtaking. The lust Aragorn had tried to forget blazed anew. He saw the moment Legolas recognized it. The Elven lips curled with scorn.
"More impure motives?" he taunted. He tossed his head back with forced bravado. "You aim to be a master of deception, Aragorn. It is all you seem to practice."
Aragorn's hand shot out, fisting in a mass of pale hair. "I am not alone. What of the fear I sense in you? You pretend that it does not exist but I see otherwise." He tightened his grip when Legolas tried to pull away, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. "I see it in your eyes and in your body, Legolas. You are afraid to be here. You are becoming one of us." He began to pull the Elf towards him. "There is no shame in that--"
Legolas jerked away, his hair tearing within the Ranger's grasp. Surprised by the Elf's violence, Aragorn threw his arms around the slender body, trapping him immobile. Legolas howled, a keening cry that raised the hair on the back of Aragorn's neck. The Man tightened his grip with all his strength as Legolas thrashed against him, struggling to be free.
"Noo!" the Elf cried, blind panic making him thrash mindlessly. "Do not hold me! Let me go!"
Aragorn cursed as a flying fist split his lip. He barely managed to dodge a knee to the groin before he decided he had had enough. With all his strenth, he shoved forward, slamming them both to the curved wall. Legolas' breath burst from him as Aragorn crushed him against the stone. But the Elf's struggles did not cease. If anything, being trapped between the Man and the wall intensitified his fears. Aragorn blinked dazedly as the Elf smashed his forehead against the bridge of the Ranger's nose.
"Damn you, that's enough!" Aragorn growled, blood trickling down the side of his nose. Angling himself so that his entire body was holding Legolas pinned to the wall, he freed a hand and brought it up to the ivory curve of neck.
Legolas' eyes widened as Aragorn caught him by the throat and began to choke him. Aragorn watched Legolas' face as panic turned to genuine fear. Slender fingers scrabbled at his wrist. He continued to squeeze, feeling the violently trembling body slowly begin to weaken. Legolas' eyelids fluttered and lowered. His hands fell limply to his sides. When the blue eyes began to roll back, Aragorn released the pressure against the slim neck.
Aragorn shifted, holding the limp body propped against the wall. Arousal burned strongly within the Ranger as he studied Legolas so helpless within his grasp. The sight of that strong will brought to such utter defenselessness was unbearably tempting.
He should not...
He could not help himself. Holding Legolas lightly by the throat, Aragorn trailed his fingertips down the side of the flushed face. Legolas' skin was soft, impossibly so for one Aragorn had likened to hardened ice. Faint downy hair lined the fair cheek. Aragorn bent his head and ran his tongue across the softness. Legolas tasted of salt and an indefinable spice. Hungry for more of the taste, the Ranger dragged his tongue across Legolas' cheek to his slack lips. Aragorn groaned as he slipped his tongue between the soft pillows of flesh. He easily pushed past the unresisting barrier of teeth and plunged his tongue into the Elf's mouth.
Moaning, Aragorn explored the depths of Legolas, moving his mouth feverishly against the unresisting lips. He lapped greedily at Legolas' tongue, sucking it between his lips as desire grew heavy in his loins. His free hand crept of its own accord to the junction of the Elf's thighs.
Legolas stirred against his mouth as Aragorn pushed his hand beneath the tight leggings. Breath puffed rapidly across the Ranger's lips. Aragorn lifted his head to find the Elf's blue eyes focusing upon him. Awareness returned to the Elf in a swift rush. He heaved against Aragorn and were it not for the grip on his throat, might have dislodged the Man completely.
Aragorn tightened his hand once more, choking Legolas. "Do not fight me," the Ranger whispered against the Elf's ear. "For once, Legolas, do not be afraid to feel. 'Tis not such a bad thing, as you will discover."
"Let me go," Legolas demanded, bucking against the hand in his breeches. "You have no right to touch me so." Aragorn curled his fingers around the Elf's shaft, stroking it to fullness. He smiled as Legolas shut his eyes. "Hide all you like, fair Elf. You may not grant permission this time. But you will later. That I promise you." His hand moved skillfully over the Elf, drawing his erection firmer and stiffer. "Give in to it, Legolas. It will not hurt you."
The Elf's eyes shot open defiantly. "Never," Legolas gritted. "You will not force this from me." Yet even his indomitable will could not fight the reactions of his body. Legolas' hips unconsciously pushed forward into the Ranger's hand. Aragorn read the shame that stained the fair cheeks red.
Encouraged, he began to tighten his fingers around the Elf's throat. Confusion and fear were sharp in Legolas' eyes as he locked gazes with Aragorn. The Ranger merely smiled, his fingers tightening. The alarm in the blue depths began to dull as Aragorn increased the pace of his strokes on Legolas' erection. Faster Aragorn stroked, all the while gradually restricting the Elf's air passage.
Legolas whimpered, his hands pulling at Aragorn. The hot flesh within the Ranger's grasp pulsed and stiffened with rising desire. With his other hand, he squeezed Legolas' neck a little more, making the Elf's eyes roll, disoriented.
"Do not fight it," Aragorn urged, aroused by the sight of Legolas weak from desire and lack of air. He could see the dizziness that spun in the blue eyes and loosened his grip on the pale throat just slightly.
Aragorn held himself still, waiting for the Elf to recover. When coherency had returned to Legolas, Aragorn began to swiftly stroke the Elf's erection once again. Legolas moaned miserably, biting his lip. The hand about the Elf's throat tightened, cutting off the air flow.
"No more," Legolas whispered, panting for air he was not allowed. "I cannot take this." Aragorn's knees shook at the plea that filled the wide eyes.
"Just once more," Aragorn coaxed, dipping his tongue into the hollow of the Elf's ear. Legolas shuddered. "I'll stop when you come for me, dear Legolas. Make me stop."
Legolas moaned weakly, his eyes glazing as the pressure on his windpipe gradually increased. Aragorn timed his strokes carefully, bringing Legolas to the edge of his orgasm just as unconsciousness blackened the edges of the blue irises. When the Elf was on the verge of fainting, Aragorn released Legolas' throat and pulled his hand swiftly up and down the length of Legolas' erection. Legolas cried out, breathless, his entire body pulsing with tremors as he exploded within the Ranger's hand. Aragorn pushed his tongue between the Elf's lips, plundering the unresisting mouth.
Aragorn's body was afire with unspent passion. Legolas' release drove the Ranger wild with need. Harsher than he'd intended, he grabbed the Elf by the shoulders and pulled him down to the hard stone floor. Legolas was too worn to fight him as the Ranger pushed him onto his back and stripped off the tight-fitting leggings. In seconds, the Ranger undid his own breeches and allowed his aching manhood to spring free.
Aragorn pulled the slender thighs over his shoulders and leaned forward, opening the Elf to him. The tiny pink opening called to him. Wetting a finger in his mouth, Aragorn pressed the tip against the puckered opening, pushing inside.
Legolas jerked, his eyes flying wide. "No!"
Aragorn reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair to hold the Elf still. Then he pressed down with his weight until Legolas' knees were crushed back against his chest. Confident that he'd secured the Elf, Aragorn twisted his finger within the tight opening. Legolas gasped, hatred and desire warring across his face.
"You like this," Aragorn remarked with satisfaction. He pushed his finger in deep, his own body swelling as Legolas opened his mouth in a silent cry. He added a second finger, stretching the too-tight opening. Pain darkened the Elf's blue eyes but he did not emit a sound. Aragorn shook his head at the other's resistance. "It takes more to break you, it seems."
Aragorn gave the Elf no time to prepare. He pulled his fingers free and immediately gave a ringing slap to the bare buttocks. Desire was swiftly replaced with humiliation on Legolas' face. He struggled anew, but his position beneath the Man's heavier weight offered no escape. The fair face twisted away on the stone floor as Aragorn's palm connected again with a pale buttock.
"How long will you continue to fight me?" Aragorn grunted, spanking the Elf beneath him so hard his palm stung. "What does it take to make you give in and feel something, dammit!"
"I will not--" Legolas choked out, his fingers dragging across the stones.
Angered, Aragorn landed a series of stinging slaps to the vulnerable flesh, each harder than the last. Sweat stung Aragorn's eyes. His hand was afire and he could only imagine how Legolas' fair skin must feel. Moving quickly, he switched hands, burying his tingling hand into the Elf's hair and beginning painful slaps to Legolas' other buttock.
A stifled whimper leaked past Legolas' tightly pressed lips. Aragorn spanked him harder, using all his strength so that Legolas rocked beneath him with each blow. A single tear slid from the tightly clenched eyelids, disappearing into the fair hair. Another tear slid free, then another. Legolas began to openly cry, his eyes opening into bottomless pools of liquid.
Aragorn felt his heart spasm as he watched Legolas. The fair face was flushed red with humiliation and desire. Tears spilled like tiny rivers from the corners of eyes that were now the warm blue of a summer's day. The pink lips parted, small cries of pain and entreaty falling from Legolas' tongue.
"Please, Aragorn," he cried weakly, "no more. I beg of you."
But Aragorn found he no longer wanted Legolas to beg him. He wanted to hear cries of passion from the tightly bound Elf. He dropped his hand, smilng inwardly as Legolas sighed with relief. Then without warning or preparation, Aragorn took his weeping desire in hand and drove it into the Elf's body.
Legolas cried out, his head arching back against the floor. Aragorn paused a moment to regain his scattered senses. Breathing roughly, he loosened the hand in Legolas' hair and traced the trails of moisture that streaked the Elf's face. Legolas turned pain-filled eyes upon him.
"You are hurting me, Aragorn," he whispered. "Please stop."
Aragorn closed his eyes against the guilt those words threatened to incite in him. He pushed his hips forward, burying himself into a heat that squeezed him tight and hard. He drew back until the head of his erection hovered at the ring of tight flesh, then thrust forward again in a long demanding stroke that tore a groan from his throat. Legolas sobbed as the Ranger began to pump needfully into him.
"It won't always be such," Aragorn murmured, leaning forward to suck the Elf's lip into his mouth. "There is pleasure to be found in this. Trust me."
To prove it, the Ranger rotated his hips, moving his shaft in a tight circle within the other's body. Legolas arched beneath him as Aragorn's erection brushed against the sensitive nerves deep inside. "See?" Aragorn said, repeating the motion until he had Legolas writhing mindlessly beneath him. "Much pleasure, indeed."
"Oh, Aragorn," Legolas panted, clutching at the Ranger's shoulders. "Oh, please--"
Aragorn pumped furiously into the Elf's body until Legolas' cries were those of pain mixed with pleasure. He bent and licked the tears that wet the Elf's beautiful face, tasting Legolas' torment.
"You are alive now," Aragorn gasped, driving harder. He was as hard as stone within Legolas' body. "*This* is what it feels like." Legolas sobbed as Aragorn put his entire weight behind thrusts that sought to split the Elf in two. Their breaths mingled, filling the dead chamber with the sounds of passion. "Feel it," Aragorn demanded, finding Legolas' pulsing erection and squeezing. "Come for me. Now!"
Legolas shrieked. Aragorn slapped his palm over the open cry, muffling its stridency. The Elf shuddered as if he would shatter into a million pieces. Aragorn groaned deep in his chest as incredibly tight contractions milked his length. He thrust forward, spilling his seed into the ravaged passage.
Legolas was sobbing and gasping beneath him. The silver evidence of his release was sticky between their bodies. Aragorn kissed him gently upon the brow, soothing him with light touches. "You have feared to lose control," he murmured quietly. "Now you know that you can survive it."
Blue eyes sheened with moisture looked up at him. Tears hung on the thick lashes. "Surely there could have been other ways to teach me, Aragorn."
Amazed, Aragorn realized Legolas was jesting with him. He smiled. "Perhaps so," he replied, tracing the curve of lip. "But none as enjoyable as that. Don't you agree?"
Legolas's contented sigh said that he did. Aragorn continued to caress him. He looked past the Elf to the shaft of light that had dimmed to mere shadow in the past hour. Aragorn smiled. It was becoming as black as pitch within the room. Legolas had not even noticed.
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