Title: The Archer and the Warrior
Author: Nyssa (devildog2001@gmx.net)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Aragorn gets wary. What happens when his suspicions prove true and he 
suddenly finds himself confronted with a piquant offer? (Formerly titled 
"Invasion of Privacy")
Site: http://home.arcor.de/archer_and_warrior/


Part Three: A Little Less Conversation

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A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me, baby


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Chapter One

"What took you so long?" Legolas asked as he hastily grasped Boromir's head and
plunged into a passionate kiss. Taken by surprise by this stormy attack, the 
human warrior began to sway a little but instantly found himself steadied by a
tight embrace.

"Aragorn..." Boromir breathed into the fiery kiss as he closed his arms around 
his lover's slim figure to catch him in an equally strong hug. "He saw how I 
wanted to sneak after you and kept asking questions. I had to make something up
so he would let me go."

"I'm glad you're here now," Legolas replied in a heated whisper and ran his 
hands down Boromir's back to grab his firm buttocks and pull the human's groin 
against his own.

"I think he suspects something," Boromir muttered and then groaned faintly when
Legolas stroked the tip of his tongue along the warrior's upper lip. "Have you
not noticed that he started to keep a wary eye on you ever since you hollered my
name? I fear he assumes that I caused you serious harm that day, or worse, tried
to kill you... He doesn't trust me."

"Boromir, please," the elf said and drew Boromir's lower lip between his teeth 
to gently nibble on it for a second. "I don't want to talk about Aragorn now. We
have only a little time together. Let us not waste it with discussions about 
him."

Boromir didn't need to be told twice. In less than a second, Aragorn was 
forgotten and he fully concentrated on resuming their wild kissing. Their mouths
linked in such a turbulent and consuming way that their teeth clicked together 
and the elf's soft lips were cruelly irritated by Boromir's rough stubble. The 
human warrior knew that Legolas wasn't frail, and this very moment he was more 
than grateful for this circumstance. He just needed to feel Legolas' body 
crushed against his, he needed to grab him, hard, to mark him with bruising 
caresses and possessive kisses.

It had been quite some time since their last encounter at the river. Many days 
had passed in which the two of them had only cast meaningful gazes at each
other, maybe traded a quick and discreet touch when they thought nobody was 
looking. Far too many days, Boromir thought as he felt liquid fire surge through
his veins and throbbing tension settle between his legs. Desperate for a more 
intimate connection, Boromir ground his hips into Legolas' with a low, guttural
sound that vibrated from his throat into the warm cave of the archer's mouth. He
felt the elf's hands slide from his buttocks all the way up his back and then 
clamp around his shoulders with significant pressure, but he just couldn't stop
himself from rubbing his growing erection against his lover.

"Kneel down, Boromir," Legolas urged while his hands pushed harder onto the 
broad, strong shoulders, attempting to motion the warrior to the ground. The 
human detached from Legolas' lips reluctantly and opened his eyes to look at the
archer for a short moment. To see the beautiful elven face glisten with pure
desire was so enticing that he couldn't help slamming their lips together again 
with such haste that Legolas moaned at the gruff assault on his mouth, half in 
pleasure and half in discomfort. Boromir tried to dart his tongue past the 
archer's lips, but Legolas pulled back and quickly placed a hand over the 
human's throat to keep him from following. He was attentive to not throttle his
lover, but there was enough pressure behind his grasp that he felt the man's 
pulse hammer against his fingers. Boromir didn't do anything to free himself 
from the unpleasant lock of Legolas' hand but tolerated it in silence. He stared
at the elf with passion in his eyes, waiting, broad chest heaving.

"On your knees, son of Gondor," Legolas repeated his demand with a tone in his 
voice that made clear he wouldn't accept contradictions. Without saying a word,
Boromir backed away, slipping out of the elf's resolute grasp on his neck, 
turned around and sank down on one knee. While he lowered himself, his fingers
fumbled at his belt in order to expose his rear before getting down on all fours
and allowing Legolas to ravish him senseless, but he hadn't even managed to snap
the heavy clasp open when he felt the elf's strong hand on his back.

"No," the archer said simply, slid his hand up to Boromir's broad shoulder and 
squeezed gently. Confused, Boromir straightened up again and turned back to 
Legolas to look at him wonderingly.

"I thought..." the warrior began perplexed, then paused to clear his throat when
he noticed that his voice was more than hoarse from his craving.

"You thought wrong," Legolas replied.

"You don't want me?" Boromir asked bluntly, his voice as well as his eyes 
revealing huge dismay. For a moment, he seriously believed that Legolas wanted 
to quit their intimate relationship and go on as nothing more than comrades 
again. The archer smiled at the concerned facial expression that showed plainly
on the human's face which he quickly framed with tender hands.

"Nonsense," the elf said gently and bent forward to present his human lover with
the deepest and most loving of kisses. Legolas ran his hands from Boromir's face
to the small of his back in order to enclose the man in an affectionate embrace.
He felt how the strong body went weak from his touch, how the human melted under
the hot, demanding elven lips. It always amazed him which massive effects he had
on the tenacious, rough warrior.

"I want you, Boromir. More than anything," the archer explained once the 
impassioned kiss subsided, another tiny smile gracing his features when he saw 
the genuine relief on the man's face. He placed one more soft kiss on the 
human's lips, slowly, carefully. The next sentence came out in nothing more than
a whisper that softly brushed warm air against Boromir's longing mouth, sending
small shivers of need down the human's spine. "But your fair body has more than
just one opening, hasn't it?"

Boromir only stared numbly when he realised what exactly Legolas was suggesting.
Before he had the opportunity to decide whether or not he wanted to do this, or 
actually could do this, the elf pulled him from his thoughts with his melodic 
yet commanding voice.

"Down now, Boromir."

The human obeyed without hesitating, without thinking. He lowered himself on his
knees in front of the elf who stood completely still and didn't give a single 
reaction, not even when Boromir started to slowly reveal his lover's flawless 
body. Gingerly, almost as if unwrapping a fragile gift that would be ruined if 
handled too harsh, Boromir opened Legolas' belt and slid it from the slim waist.
After discarding it to the ground, he lifted his hands to the elven tunic and 
slowly pushed the fabric up, exposing a flat and pale stomach. He cast a quick 
gaze up to Legolas and when he didn't see any signs of disapproval on the 
archer's fair features, he closed his eyes and leaned into his lover's body.

When he lay his face against the creamy skin and planted a loving kiss right 
next to Legolas' navel, the elf quickly lowered one of his hands on Boromir's 
head and plunged long fingers into the human's messy hair to hold him against 
his yearning body. Boromir's hands found Legolas' hips and held him gently while
he placed a trail of tender kisses and nips that contrasted sharply to the 
scraping of his short beard. The human breathed deeply through his nose while he
rubbed his face against his partner's belly, inhaling the sweet, unique scent 
the archer's smooth skin emitted. As his mind slowly turned to haze from the 
intoxicating fragrance, his tongue slipped out from between his moving lips and
snaked along firm pectoral muscles that twitched faintly from the combined 
sensations of moist caresses and rough scratches.

When the luscious aroma that filled his nostrils also flooded Boromir's mouth, 
exploding on his sensitive tastebuds, he hooked his fingers with the waistband 
of Legolas' pants and tugged them down briskly until the garment made a crumpled
bundle at the elf's booted feet. Legolas didn't make the effort to sweep it 
aside and Boromir didn't seem to care since his hands didn't waste any more time
on his lover's clothes but were up at the archer's now naked hips again in a 
matter of seconds. While he circled his tongue around Legolas' navel in small, 
teasing rotations, occasionally dipping it into the tiny pit, his fingers 
travelled from the slim hips to the centre of the elf's lust.

Legolas' member was swelling but not fully aroused yet. With the intention to 
stroke him to complete hardness, Boromir closed his right hand around the semi-
erect shaft of his lover, but before he could begin with the stimulating 
caresses, Legolas' hand twisted in his hair and the archer voiced another 
request.

"Use your mouth," he breathed, somewhat impatiently.

Boromir obediently withdrew his hand, swallowing nervously. He was a little 
worried that he would embarrass himself, maybe even fail horribly, after all 
Legolas had had more than enough lovers he could compare Boromir's skills to, 
and the human warrior was sure that he couldn't match one of them on this 
particular territory. On the other hand he was extremely curious, and the 
thought of tasting Legolas in such an intimate way was breathtakingly exciting.

Boromir shifted a little to find a steadier position and raised his hands to put
them on the back of Legolas' thighs, but as soon as his palms and fingers made 
contact with the smooth skin, the elf brushed them of resolutely.

"Only your mouth, Boromir. No touching."

The man from Gondor complied, reluctantly at first, but when he guided his head
a little deeper and felt the heat of Legolas' groin radiate against his face, he
lost the ability to think clearly and forgot all concerns. He darted out his 
tongue and experimentally lapped at the tip of Legolas' length, simultaneously 
closing his eyes again to concentrate only on the feel, taste and scent of the 
elf. Legolas' hands wound themselves into Boromir's hair again, and when they 
encouragingly pulled his head closer, the human opened his mouth wider and took
his lover in completely.

The intense aroma he was confronted with wasn't bad or repellent at all, but 
neither was it the most delicious thing Boromir had ever come across. It was 
somewhat salty, but luckily to a quite bearable degree, and the mere thought 
that it was the elf's cock he was relishing was everything it needed to make it
an arousing experience. The half erected shaft neatly fit itself into the cave 
of his mouth, but when Boromir started to suck gently, the flesh quickly swelled
to full extent. The solid shaft pressed hard and hot against Boromir's coy 
tongue and the back of his throat, and the human thought that if it grew any 
more he would be very likely to choke. He paused for a moment to get used to the
unknown sensation, and Legolas waited silently, granting him the time he needed.

Finally, Boromir took a slow, deep breath through his nose, and when he let the
air stream out again he simultaneously started to move his tongue around 
Legolas' erection in slow, testing circles. He explored it thoroughly, running 
the tip of his tongue along every millimetre of scorching flesh, giving generous
attention to every curve, slit and even section. When Boromir flicked his tongue
over the tiny rift at the tip of Legolas' length, he heard the elf moan quietly.
He repeated the motion but this time applied a little more pressure to the 
intimate stroke and was immediately rewarded by a more uncontrolled, somewhat 
louder gasp. Animated by the low, soft pants that escaped from the elf's mouth 
every now and then, Boromir's self-confidence grew and he got more creative and
intense with his services. Despite the great care and effort he put into his 
actions, he just knew that he wasn't really a natural talent, but the elf didn't
complain.

Legolas tried his best to guide Boromir with his hands, either urging him to go
faster or slowing him down. While Boromir's hips had moved expertly when he had
taken Legolas the other day, his oral ministrations were, to a modest extent, 
uncoordinated. His motions were either a little too harsh or too soft, his 
tongue a little too quick or too slow, and there was no scheme to it at all. But
exactly this unpredictability added a very thrilling element to the situation. 
Legolas never knew what Boromir would do next. When he expected him to fervidly
swirl his tongue around his aching flesh, Boromir placed the gentlest of kisses
on the tip of his swollen member, and when he thought he would present him with
a tender caress of his soft lips, the human instead gulped him in and sucked him
hard. A throaty groan wrenched itself from Legolas when Boromir grazed his teeth
along his solid shaft. To his great disappointment, the human let him slip out 
of his pleasantly warm and moist mouth and looked up at him with concern in his
eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" Boromir asked in a low voice and gently placed his right hand
on Legolas' left calf.

"No," the archer breathed, his voice shivering with raw lust. "No, that was 
wonderful. Please continue."

While he again enveloped Legolas' hard-on with eager lips, Boromir lifted also 
his second hand to the archer's body, and this time the elf did not protest. He
let his fingers travel up the elf's slim but strong legs, his palms sliding up 
firm, long calves in a tender caress, passing the heavenly soft hollows of the 
archer's knees, reaching solidly muscled thighs. For a moment he lingered there
and focused only on pleasuring Legolas with his mouth. Boromir could hear the 
archer's breathing vary erratically from deep, heavy inhalations to quick, noisy
pants, depending on how intense he worked on him. When the elf finally voiced 
constant, rhythmic moans of sheer delight, Boromir moved his hands further up. 
He placed them on Legolas' smooth buttocks and pulled him even closer to his
face, deeper into his mouth, simultaneously sucking a little more intensly. 
Legolas' long legs started to tremble slightly, threatening to give way, and his
groans became louder, almost desperate. Satisfied with this strong reaction,
Boromir stroked one fingertip along the elf's cleft, hastily searching for the 
narrow entrance to his partner's body. He found it quickly, dove in with a rapid
but heedful motion, and Legolas' hissed out his enjoyment. The archer's legs 
buckled, and he had to move his hands from Boromir's head to claw them into the
man's shoulders in order to maintain his balance.

The human felt Legolas' weight press into him as the elf leaned on his shoulders
for support, and somehow he was heavier than Boromir would have expected. But 
under the given circumstances it was a very welcome burden to bear. Eliciting
wanton sighs and heated murmurs from the elf, Boromir groped his way to 
sensitive areas inside the ethereal body. The intensity of his oral efforts 
never ceased, not even when he tried hard to find the special spot that would 
make Legolas see stars dance in front of his eyes. To facilitate his search, he
soon added a second finger and slid both fingertips along the slick, hot inner 
skin that flexed under the soft pressure of his intimate touch.

Suddenly the hands on his shoulders gripped violently, pressing fingertips 
through his cloak into his skin. A quick convulsion rippled through the elf, 
accompanied by a long groan of relief, and before Boromir realised that Legolas
was coming already, he climaxed into the warrior's mouth. Legolas' essences 
spurted over the human's tongue, the inside of his cheeks and the back of his 
throat in powerful and long gushes. The creamy body fluid was thick and hot, 
somewhat bitter and extremely salty. Boromir pulled back out of reflex, but 
swallowed.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you," Legolas panted as he watched his lover 
lifting a hand to his mouth in struggle with an unpleasant combination of nausea
and a fit of coughing.

"No, I'm fine," Boromir replied a little breathlessly when his senses had calmed
down again. Legolas pulled up his pants as the human continued speaking. "I just
hope you enjoyed it, I wouldn't fancy the idea that I did this for nothing."

As a response, Legolas laughed lightly, ran his hand through Boromir's hair 
devotedly and bent down to kiss him on his mouth that was still slippery with 
traces of the elf's liquids.

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Aragorn was restless. This was already the third time that Legolas and Boromir
didn't spend the intermission of their journey with the others at the campsite
and the Ranger was getting worried. He hesitated for quite some time but finally
couldn't stand the bad feeling in his stomach anymore. He excused himself and 
went to look for his comrades.

He didn't have to search long, though. He soon could hear low noises, as if 
somebody was whimpering or groaning in pain, and immediately knew that the voice
belonged to his friend Legolas. With growing anxiety, the ranger quickened his
pace, but before he reached his companions the low sounds so full of emotion
stopped.

Aragorn arrived just in time to see Legolas turn away from Boromir who was 
kneeling on the ground. When he was noticed, Legolas just looked at him with no
expression on his features at all while the man from Gondor quickly dropped his
head, one of his hands shooting to his face. With a frown on his forehead and 
narrowed eyes, Aragorn witnessed how Boromir swiftly scrambled to his feet and 
in the abrupt motion wiped the back of his hand over his mouth hastily.

"What is happening here?" Aragorn wanted to know.

"Nothing," Boromir said with a firm but tense voice, turned away and headed back
to camp without losing one more word.

"Legolas, he didn't do you harm," Aragorn said in his elven comrade's native 
tongue, "did he?"

"Nay," Legolas answered in a clipped manner.

"Did you two fight again?"

Legolas looked at Aragorn, his eyes wide in astonishment for a second. He almost
laughed out loud at the man's question, but managed to control himself and keep
a straight face.

"You do not need to know everything, Estel," he told his friend. "Can't an elf 
have some privacy?"

Baffled, Aragorn watched Legolas walk away until he vanished behind a group of 
trees. He stared after him for almost a full minute, then gave a snorting sound
of disbelief. Legolas keeping things secret from him? Things that, of all 
people, Boromir obviously knew about, or maybe even was involved in? This was 
ridiculous.

The ranger let his gaze wander over the spot he was standing on in search for 
something, anything, that would maybe help him see through it all. He found only
one single thing, so simple yet brutally significant. Aragorn gritted his teeth
as he tried to control his body that was bringing shame on him by reacting to
his discovery and the colourful images that came with it.

In the grass lay forgotten Legolas' belt.


Chapter 2

Even before Aragorn arrived at the campsite, the sound of light-hearted laughter
and metal blades clashing playfully reached his ears. When the resting 
fellowship was finally in his sight he saw that his assumption had been correct
- Boromir was again trying to teach the hobbits how to attack and parry with 
their swords. Aragorn was glad the man from Gondor was so caught up in his 
tutoring efforts - or pretended to be so - that he didn't look over to see the 
ranger approaching Legolas, who sat a little aside, on a great rock. As soon as
he stood on the stony surface, next to the elf, whose gaze was aimed at the 
horizon, he wordlessly dropped the belt right into his friend's lap and waited
for a reaction.

"Thank you," Legolas said calmly and slowly wrapped the belt around his waist. 
Aragorn stared down at him, speechless for a second.

"That's all you've got to say?" he asked when he found his tongue again. "Thank
you?"

"I'm not blind, Legolas," Aragorn continued when the archer didn't respond. "I 
can distinguish bruises from love bites."

Finally, Legolas gazed up at his human comrade and Aragorn could have sworn that
there had been a tiny grin on the fair face, if only for a split second.

"A love bite is but a bruise," Legolas replied matter-of-factly while Aragorn 
sat down next to him.

"You know what I mean," Aragorn said, to his own surprise with a much harsher 
tone than he had intended to.

"And this," the ranger added with a lower, more controlled voice and grabbed his
comrade's chin to tilt his head to the side, exposing the delicate, long curve 
of his pale neck, "is a very impressive love bite, my friend."

"Since I can't look at my own neck I can't judge, but I think it must be very 
impressive indeed, regarding how greatly it annoys you," Legolas pointed out, 
freeing his chin from Aragorn's rough fingers. He moved his head in a way that 
made some of his hair fall to the front, down his chest, some light strands 
hiding the spot on his neck where Boromir obviously had marked him with his 
affection mere moments ago. He was glad that it would be gone in very short time
again, thanks to his origin. Compared to humans, his elven body recovered 
stunningly fast.

"I'm not annoyed," Aragorn said through gritted teeth.

"Yes you are."

"No," the ranger denied and silently scolded himself. Not only did he spy on one
of his best friends, now he started to lie directly into his face too. How low 
could he get? "I'm only... worried."

"Worried? About what?"

"About you of course. Boromir is a noble man, but he easily loses control over
himself."

"What exactly is it you're suggesting?" Legolas asked, slightly arching one of 
his eyebrows.

"I just don't want him to be consumed and corrupted by his emotions. I don't 
want you to suffer from his... lack of self-control."

To his surprise, Legolas couldn't suppress a faint chuckle. "I don't want to 
speak ill of Boromir's skills, after all he is a very strong and able warrior 
among his - your - kind, but do you seriously think he could overpower me? No, 
that is very unlikely. Don't fret, friend. Trust me, your concerns are wasted 
here."

"I didn't speak of physical harm, Legolas. There are other ways to hurt 
somebody," Aragorn said gently, causing Legolas to avoid his gaze by turning his
face towards the horizon again. A mild breeze played with his golden hair, 
tousling long strands so silky and soft that the ranger almost sighed out loud 
at their beauty. Even for Aragorn, who was betrothed to the prettiest elven 
maiden upon the whole of middle-earth, it was easy to understand why Boromir 
felt drawn to Legolas. The wind was gone again in a short moment, and Aragorn 
watched in amazement as Legolas' hair fell straight again, miraculously 
cascading into the right places all on its own, perfectly orderly.

"Boromir is a man of high status and power," the human continued in a low voice.
"He is used to being admired by many, and I am sure he is well experienced in 
taking what he wants and then, after growing tired of it, dropping it without 
remorse."

"Maybe you think wrong of him," Legolas said.

"Maybe. But maybe not."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you," Aragorn snapped, his voice still low yet with a sharp 
undertone.

"You sound not only vexed, but also jealous."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Legolas asked and Aragorn was embarrassed to feel the heat of a blush 
creep over his face. He hoped the elf would misinterpret the reddening of his 
cheeks as a flush of anger.

"Do you want to risk being used, like some toy, and then being discarded after 
you satisfied his needs?" Aragorn continued, ignoring his comrade's teasing 
question.

"Did it occur to you that maybe it is Boromir who's the toy here?" Legolas asked
and shifted his gaze back to his human companion. He was content to see that the
ranger was puzzled.

"Maybe you should think about that possibility for a while before you continue 
giving me advice on this matter," the elf said and raised to his feet in a 
fluid, swift movement. "Excuse me, I'm going to have my meal."

"Sure," Aragorn muttered, still perplexed by his friend's unexpected remark. 
While he watched Legolas joining Gimli and Gandalf at the campfire, his thoughts
still revolving around the elf's last words, he suddenly felt an uncomfortably 
penetrating stare boring right through him. Out of reflex he turned his head, 
and his eyes instantly locked with Boromir's. The man from Gondor abruptly tore
his gaze away the moment he realised Aragorn had noticed that he was watching 
him. The visual contact between them had lasted for less than a second, but it 
had been long enough for Aragorn to see the emotions flicker in the other man's
eyes. And the expression he had discovered there promised nothing good.

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After another long and exhausting march during which Aragorn avoided talking to
either Legolas or Boromir, the fellowship set up camp for the night. It was 
Gimli's turn to keep watch first. Aragorn noticed that Legolas moved to lie down
next to Boromir for the first time since they had started travelling. The two of
them had usually rested on the very opposite sides of the camp. The ranger 
watched them for a while, but nothing happened. They just lay next to each 
other, not even glancing at one another for the briefest of moments. Boromir, 
worn out from the strain and toil of their exhausting journey, fell asleep 
quickly, and Aragorn soon followed suit.

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Boromir slowly woke from his deep slumber when he felt something, or rather 
someone, groping his way inside his pants. He was pretty shocked to suddenly 
feel a hand closing over his quickly swelling length and would have gasped if 
there hadn't been a second, more resolute hand sealing his mouth. Boromir wanted
to move and wind himself out of the lock of the strong hands that held him 
captive, but quickly found out that he was trapped. He was enveloped in a rigid,
intimate embrace from behind, his body captured in the tight lock of very 
determined arms.

"Shhh," a soft voice whispered, so very close to the nape of his neck that the 
hot breath of Boromir's nightly visitor caressed the sensitive skin, causing the
fine hair there to stir. His mouth was released and the hand that had covered 
his lips came to rest on Boromir's heaving chest. The nimble fingers inside his
clothes didn't waste any time and caressed him to full hardness within seconds.

"Legolas," Boromir muttered as low as he could, a feeble protest against the 
intimate ministrations he was presented with.

"Be still," the elf whispered in return and pressed his body closer to Boromir's
back.

"But -"

"Quiet," Legolas cut Boromir's words and gently kissed the outer line of the 
human's ear. "You pleased me greatly today. Please allow me to return the 
favour."

"But the others..." Boromir managed to breathe and then choked back a groan that
tried to make its way out of his mouth when Legolas squeezed his erection a 
little tighter.

"...are sound asleep," Legolas finished the sentence. "It's my turn to keep 
watch. Now hush and let us seize the opportunity as long as everybody else is 
resting."

Boromir didn't reply and Legolas took his silence as permission to proceed. 
After performing some firm and constant strokes that made Boromir's breathing 
turn heavier, he loosened the hard grip until only his fingertips were touching
his lover's solid member. Slowly, he let them dance over the hot, silky skin, 
barely making contact, from tip to base and back, again and again, until Boromir
was trembling from the teasing. With deliberate tenderness, the archer ran his
fingers up the human's shaft one more time and then lingered at the head of his
arousal. There he paused and held completely still, his fingertips resting on 
smooth, scorching skin. Legolas allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment 
and concentrate just on the feel of his lover's form in his arms. He loved the 
way the vigorous body raised in his embrace, with every deep breath Boromir 
took. He loved the way the hard curve of Boromir's bottom pressed itself into 
his lap, the arched line of the warriors backside perfectly fitting into the 
bend of Legolas' own body. He loved the spicy, manly fragrance the human emitted
and the way it always seemed to get somewhat more intense when Boromir was 
aroused. He even heard, felt his lover's heartbeats, so strong and fast... 
Legolas wouldn't have minded lying like this for a little longer, but Boromir 
didn't seem to share his thought.

Desperate for release, the human angled his hips in an attempt to push himself 
into the stimulating lock of Legolas' hand. In need of harder friction, Boromir
began to move, forcing the elf's hand to join into a steady rhythm. A tiny sigh
escaped Legolas' lips when Boromir's buttocks rubbed over his groin, and his own
growing desire made him pick up pace to stroke his quaking lover to fulfilment.
Not yet satisfied with the intensity of the archer's ministrations, Boromir 
shoved one hand into his trousers and clamped it over Legolas' much more 
delicate one, directing the archer's fist into a tighter grip. He knew he was 
rough and also egoistic, it was almost as if he was using Legolas' hand as some
sort of masturbation device, but he couldn't help it. Here, in the middle of the
sleeping fellowship, he felt too uncomfortable to really enjoy and relish 
Legolas' caresses, but the elf's touch was too good and stimulating to just stop
and ignore it. He wanted this to come to an end as quickly as possible and was
relieved to feel that he was very close already. Determined to reach climax with
the next few strokes, Boromir squeezed Legolas' hand a little harder, 
simultaneously guiding it up and down his straining member with more force, but
then froze in his movement when there came a strange sound from the opposite 
side of their camp.

Frodo...

Holding Legolas' hand, his own erection and also his breath, Boromir didn't dare
to move. He felt how Legolas raised his head to look over to where the hobbits 
were sleeping, but he didn't make any attempts to pull his hand away.

"He's asleep. Only dreaming," Legolas whispered as he lay his head back down on
Boromir's shoulder.

"We should stop," Boromir whispered back breathlessly, sobered up by the sudden
 shock.

"Now?" Legolas almost had to laugh.

"Why not?"

"I don't think you will be able to find any sleep in this condition," the elf 
pointed out and started to move his hand again, but Boromir quickly tightened 
the lock of his fist and stopped him.

"What if one of the others wakes up?"

"If you didn't talk so much we would have been finished with this long ago," 
Legolas pointed out. "And now shut up, close your eyes and enjoy."

Boromir hesitated at first, but when Legolas started to gently kiss and nibble
at his neck, his eyelids fell close and his lips parted to release an inaudible
moan.

"Relax, Boromir. Let go and let me do the work," Legolas breathed against the 
human's neck, then slid his tongue up, behind his ear. "Trust me, I know what 
I'm doing."

Once Boromir obeyed and withdrew his hand, Legolas carefully dipped the tip of 
his index finger into the small puddle of sticky pre-cum that had gathered on 
the smooth head of the human's erection. Slowly, he spread it over the hot, 
swollen flesh with rotating, teasing motions, using just his tender fingertip. 
Since Boromir was so very close to orgasm already the gentle ministrations 
affected him greatly, but they were too soft to bring him over the edge. The 
archer drew one circle after another, increasing speed and pressure with every 
second, until the human warrior's body was shaken with another raw but short 
convulsion and Legolas felt some more liquid well up under his caressing finger.
He dragged his hand over the dripping tip of Boromir's hard length, hastily 
rubbing the pre-orgasmic, tiny gushes of the human's essences into his palm and
fingers. As soon as the inside of his hand was all moist with Boromir's fluids,
he fully enclosed the human's solid shaft and stroked it with long and intense, 
almost harsh movements.

The abrupt, extremely firm and slippery massage of his sensitive flesh almost 
made Boromir cry out loud. He came hard. His climax crashed down on him and took
complete control over his body, making it tremble and tense forcefully. He 
exploded in Legolas' hand, setting free the enormous pressure that had built up
in his body, and everything he wanted to do that very moment was to groan out
his release. Boromir had to lift a hand to his face and bite down on the 
knuckle of his index finger in order to suppress any sound that threatened to
burst from him. He squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath and bit down on his 
own flesh, hard, trying to concentrate on holding back the loud noise that tried
to break free...

Nonetheless a tiny, guttural sound became audible when his milky liquids spilled
over Legolas' slender hand, but before it could develop into a loud, full groan
of pleasure, the elf used his free hand to turn Boromir's head towards himself 
and smothered the noise with a kiss. Drunk with lust, the human warrior deepened
the kiss instantly, almost devouring Legolas who willingly opened his mouth to 
let his lover in. A few more spasms ran through Boromir's body, weaker now, 
while Legolas held and kissed him affectionately, and then it was over.

"I guess now you won't have any problems going to sleep," Legolas whispered with
a small grin as he gently withdrew his messy hand.

"Don't stop, please," Boromir whispered back without opening his eyes.

"What?" Legolas asked, surprised. "Don't you think you need to recover a bit, 
first?"

"To kiss me, I mean. Don't stop kissing me."

"Oh." Smiling, the elf bowed his head and presented Boromir with a very slow yet
deep kiss, his hand making its way to frame one side of the human's flushed 
face.

"What if one of the others wakes up?" Legolas breathed into the kiss, mocking 
his lover.

"I don't care," Boromir replied. "Your kisses are addictive. You are addictive."

Legolas broke from Boromir's lips and looked him in the eyes for a moment. The 
deep, genuine emotions he discovered there almost scared him. Suddenly, he had 
to think of Aragorn's words to him. And he had to think of his reply. What a 
cruel reply it had been! Not towards Aragorn or himself, but cruel towards 
Boromir.

"Boromir, I..." Legolas started and then stopped again to swallow. "I'm afraid I
can't give you what you are obviously searching for in me."

"What do you mean?" the human breathed. His low voice sounded a little alarmed 
now, but the tender expression in his eyes was still there.

"I don't know how to put it without... maybe... hurting you."

"I am not easily hurt. Please tell me."

Legolas nodded and gently wiped back a few strands that had fallen into 
Boromir's face.

"I'm glad that you are on this quest, together with me. And I like to be with 
you. But I am not in love with you. I can offer to share my body with you, like
you share yours with me, but not my heart and soul."

There was a quite long moment of silence between them and Legolas didn't know at
all how Boromir would react to his announcement. When the human finally replied
he was surprised by his words.

"Then I guess that will have to do."

"I'm sorry," Legolas whispered.

"Don't be," Boromir whispered back. He made great effort to control his voice, 
but Legolas was too sensitive to miss the tiny indication of dissappointment, 
maybe even hurt, that he didn't manage to cover up completely. He saw that the 
elf wanted to say some more and quickly raised his voice again to cut him off.
The last thing he wanted was being pitied.

"Good night," the human said with stiff politeness, avoiding to meet Legolas'
eyes. The elf understood and nodded faintly.

"Good night, Boromir." 

As soon as Legolas had gotten up to resume his watch, Boromir rolled back on his
side, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. Just when he wanted 
to close his eyes and let his exhaustion overwhelm him, he saw something that 
made his heart skip a beat, his breath catch in his throat and blood surge to 
his cheeks.

Aragorn was staring at him.




Chapter 3 (Boromir's point of view)

He saw us. I don't know for how long he had been watching, whether or not he had
seen the whole incident or just the finale, but it wouldn't make a difference 
anyway. Aragorn saw us and now I feel like I'm suffocating from his cold stare.
This is the first time in my life I wished that I could just disappear into thin
air. The urge to run away and hide is new to me and I don't like it at all. Of 
course I can't just get up and flee this place, no matter how strong the urge 
is, and so I just roll onto my other side, presenting Aragorn with my back. He 
doesn't stop watching me though. I can't see him anymore, but I feel his stare 
boring into me.

I close my eyes and try to calm down from the shock of being discovered. It 
doesn't work very well. My heart is still pounding madly, and not only because 
of the expert ministrations Legolas had just served. I wonder whether he knows 
that Aragorn had seen it. Probably he does. He is an elf with excellent senses 
after all, and he hadn't been half as distracted as I.

After long minutes of pondering I come to the conclusion that these encounters 
with Legolas have to stop. We can't go on like this. I can't go on like this. 
It's only a matter of time until the whole fellowship finds out about us and I 
really don't want that to happen. Maybe I would think differently if Legolas had
deeper feelings for me... Maybe if he loved me, I wouldn't care about the others
so much. But he doesn't, he made that clear last night. And I don't want anybody
to think, to know, that I'm nothing but a plaything to the elf. Because that's 
what I am to him. A willing body he can satisfy his carnal needs with. Nothing 
less, nothing more. I would lie if I said that I didn't feel abashed by this, 
and that's why it has to stop. Legolas may be a prince, son to the king of 
Mirkwood, but that doesn't mean he can do with me whatever he wants to, 
humiliating me in front of everybody else. After all I, too, have a title, and 
one does not simply use and humble the future Steward of Gondor. Legolas will 
have to learn that I'm not someone he can toy with in such way.

Contented with my new found confidence, I fall asleep quickly. But when Gandalf
wakes me in the morning, I realise that it had been a very light and troubled 
sleep as I still feel worn out, my whole body hurting. I actually feel as if I 
hadn't slept at all this night.

Legolas on the other hand seems untroubled and serene. His movements as graceful
and lissom as ever. I try to avoid watching him while we're packing our 
equipment, but I can't help throwing a quick glance when we finally depart from
our nightly campsite. He passes me to head to the front where Gandalf is leading
the way and my eyes are pinned on his slender yet strong form. His limber, 
dainty body... his unbelievably creamy, delicate skin... I feel a lump in my 
throat as I understand that I'm yearning for him already, although it's mere 
hours ago that I promised to never again let him touch and influence me. I had 
been so convinced about it last night, but now as he's striding in front of me
I'm not so sure anymore...

We're walking and walking and I'm brooding and brooding until the fellowship 
settles down for meal. I'm still caught up in my reflections in such a strong 
way that I don't even notice my own exhaustion and appetite, and so I refuse to
sit down with the others. I'm not in the mood for company right now. Pippin 
tries his best to talk me into eating with them and I have to smile at his 
charming attempts, but tell him no.

"I'm going yonder, to see to my armour. I think my chain-mail needs a fix," I 
hear my unintentionally harsh voice telling my comrades and then I turn my back
on them and leave. This time I feel not only Aragorn's stare penetrating my 
back, but also Legolas'. The uncomfortable feeling of being observed by both of
them drives me to put more distance between myself and the campsite than I had 
originally intended to, and suddenly I find myself out of sight and hearing 
range of the others.

Deep in the woods, I come to a halt next to a large tree and put my gloved hand
upon the bark as if I was fearing that I could lose balance otherwise. I'm a bit
dizzy indeed and as soon as I have found the little support the tree can offer,
I close my eyes and inhale deeply to calm myself down and regain my composure.
I'm standing like this for quite some time, and after a few more moments I sense
that he is here.

I can't see him, my eyes are still closed. I can't hear him either. But I know 
he's here with me. I just know it. What I don't know is whether I'm fond of his
presence or whether I'd rather hack him to pieces. All too soon he teaches me 
that it matters not whether or not I like it. It is not me who is to make the 
decisions here.

My eyes shoot open the second his hands grab my shoulders and I stare directly 
into his pretty face. He tries to push me into the tree but I manage to direct
us past the stem and his unchecked shove knocks us both down to the ground. He 
lands on top of me with quite some impact, mercilessly reminding me of how 
amazingly supple his body feels against mine.

"Get off me!" I practically bark at him and for a second I see astonishment in 
his beautiful eyes. He obviously didn't expect me to be so disobedient. I can't
blame him for being startled. After all I had told him last night that it was 
fine with me to have intimate contacts just on a physical basis... to share our
bodies without obligation. But a man can change his mind, can't he?

Apparently Legolas doesn't think so. He decides to simply ignore my outburst and
bows his head in an attempt to kiss me on my mouth, but I turn my face away and
fling him half off. While he clings to me with only just one hand, I roll around
onto my front to get up and away with a strong, efficient movement that will 
shake him off completely, but when I prop myself up onto all fours I virtually 
rise into the unyielding lock of his arms. He leans on me with nearly all his 
weight and his chin moves to hook over my shoulder, his warm breath caressing my
cheek and his fair hair cascading down to the ground in front of us. I'm 
trapped.

"No, Legolas... let go of me," I manage to say and to my great horror my voice 
is nothing more than a hoarse whisper. Again I try to free myself, but for some
reason I can't get my body to develop the strength it is capable of. Instead of
struggling myself out of his tight embrace, I let the elf drag me up with him
until we both stand on our feet again, his chest pressing up against my back.

"You want me to stop?" he asks, but it's clear that he's not expecting an answer
from me. 

Not even a second later I feel one of his hands snaking its way down my stomach,
determinedly aiming at the one part of my body that will definitely prove just 
how badly I want him to continue. Driven by despair and fury, I let myself fall 
forward, hoping that my weight will break his hug. I slip from his arms indeed,
with such force that I almost plummet back onto the forest floor, but his 
reflexes are stunningly quick and before I have the chance to get out of his 
reach entirely, he grabs me again.

He hauls me back into his embrace, and the next thing I feel is his erect shaft
pressing against my backside. He is very hard, and I can feel the heat of his 
desire on my skin, through all the layers of our clothes. I freeze in my efforts
to break free and hold my breath without even wanting to. I'm no longer in 
command of my body and I loathe myself for that. Legolas angles his hips and 
pushes his groin forward, making sure that I really feel his hunger for me. He 
presses harder and harder against my flesh until my whole body tenses with 
growing desire. Then he starts rubbing his arousal against the curve of my rear
and I catch myself wishing that there weren't so many clothes between us. I 
can't help gasping softly as he moves against me like this, each slow rub of his
a little promise of greater pleasures to come.

The conflict that is raging inside of me fades continuously as I find it more 
and more difficult to think straight, until I finally surrender to my desire. I
don't even try to hinder him when he unbuckles my belt and busy hands start to 
tug my garments down to my thighs. The soft breeze is cold against my skin that
lies bare now, but I know it'll heat up soon. And indeed, Legolas doesn't waste
any time and begins to meet my expectations right away.

I only realise that he got rid of some of his clothing as well when I feel the
length of his hot and hard arousal nestling itself against my backside, slowly 
pushing between my exposed buttocks. For a few moments he seems fully content 
with just rubbing himself against my naked skin and I have to agree that it 
feels rather nice indeed. But nice is not enough, not for either one of us, and
I don't have to wait long until Legolas intensifies our encounter. One of his 
hands that are clasped to my sides lets go of me and I feel him shift behind me
as he again angles his hips, guiding himself to a more secret place of my body.

I can't suppress a soft pant when the tip of his erection touches my opening. It
is so hard yet so gentle and smooth, and also hot and moist. I brace myself for
the ultimate assault on my backside, holding my breath and waiting for him to 
shove into me, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts to slowly stroke me with the 
slick head of his member, gently spreading his essences on my most intimate 
regions. It feels like nothing I have ever experienced before and I release a 
few soft moans when his teasing gentleness becomes almost unbearable.

The tenderness is only temporary though. Very soon, too soon, he pushes forward,
demanding entrance. I try to relax, to let him pass and fuse with me, but I 
can't. My muscles tense involuntarily and deny him access to my body although I
long for the feeling of him inside me. I probably would have told him to pay no
attention to the protests of my body and to just take me without consideration, 
but I remain silent because I know that's exactly what he will do anyhow.

Legolas doesn't contradict my presumptions. He's obviously not at all impressed
with my body's denial as he pushes harder and harder until his patience comes to
an end and his hands clench my hips to draw me back into his not so gentle 
thrust. I can't help jerking when he breaches the tensed ring of muscle, sending
a flash of burning pain through my nether regions, but I don't make one single 
sound. While I am concentrating on biting back a moan of agony he proceeds. His
hips push, pressing him into me, and his hands pull, sliding me onto him, and 
before I have the chance to acclimate to the harsh invasion, he is in all the 
way, buried inside of me as deeply as he can go.

Then he starts moving. He's energetic, forceful and commanding, in perfect 
control of not only his but also my body. He leads me through our rough and 
hasty coupling, directing my weakened form into the position that pleases him 
most. It doesn't please me much, but that's unimportant. The mere sound of his 
fevered pants is enough to make me abandon myself willingly, letting him bend me
as he wishes. When he's finally fully content with the arrangement he has guided
us into, his hands start to travel over my body.

"I want to touch you too..." I somehow rasp out.

"Later," he replies in a rushed moan and leans forward, pressing himself onto my
moist back. Simultaneously, he runs his slender, long fingers down my arms, 
grabs my wrists and gathers them together to pin them onto the forest ground in
front of us.

"But -" 

"I said later," he interrupts and then silences me with thrusts that drive into
me with such sharp harshness that it takes my breath away. Tears spring to my 
eyes and I squeeze them shut instantly, too proud to let even one of them slip.
I wonder whether he would stop if he knew the pain he causes me... if he were to
know how I feel this very moment. I wonder how he would react if I told him what
was going on in my mind and how I truly felt about him... I will never know 
because I will never ever let that happen. I won't lay my feelings bare in front
of anybody, and certainly not in front of Legolas. While he pumps into me faster
and faster, his hands clenching and unclenching my scorching and sweating skin,
I swear to myself that this will be the last time I allow him to use me.

When he climaxes inside of me an unexpectedly short time later, a plainly 
beautiful moan slipping from his mouth and his hands almost crushing my wrists,
I know he will have me again, as often as he wishes. Because I will never be 
able to deny him.

A few weeks ago, I let myself in for this game, convinced that I would gain from
it. I had thought I'd obtain pleasure, delight, satisfaction... maybe even love.

Now I realise this is his game, he alone sets the rules.

And Legolas alone is the winner.




Chapter 4 (Legolas' point of view)

I’ve always taken huge interests in studying humans and their behaviour. They 
are intriguing, complex creatures, yet easy to manipulate and see through. Even
him, although he was fostered and brought up by my race. He talks my tongue as 
though he was one of us, carries an Elven name when he’s among my people and his
betrothed is a princess of my kind… But after all, he can’t deny who he really
is. Aragorn. Son of Arathorn. A Man. Easy to manipulate and see through.

Ever since he almost caught Boromir and me in the act I can feel his unease, his
tension, when I come too close or just stare at him. After our little 
conversation atop the rock, he changed. Only slightly, but I notice. He’s wary 
and unsure but tries hard to not let it show. He doesn’t know what to think of 
all this. Of Boromir and me. Of the things we do together, to each other. Even 
though he didn’t catch us at it, he must have known what’s going on. He’s not 
stupid. He just doesn’t know what exactly to think of it. And so I decided to 
confront him with his feelings, to help realization hit him. With full impact. 
Right in the face.

I knew that he would be watching, that he wouldn’t be able to ignore it. And 
indeed he watches. As I said, Men are easy to manipulate.

Aragorn has been eyeing us for quite some time already. Boromir hasn't noticed 
yet. I can’t blame him really since I’m doing my best to distract him thoroughly
. His broad, warm body occasionally trembles in my embrace and every now and 
then he pushes into the lock of my moving hand, but apart from that he is in 
stunning control of himself, not making a single sound. If it weren’t for his 
heaving chest I wouldn’t be able to tell if he is breathing at all. Aragorn is 
both deadly silent and motionless. Even his eyes are fixed in one place, not 
shifting an inch. He’s staring at Boromir’s face, at the passionate, beautiful 
mixture of despair and pleasure that I know is written all across his virile 
features.

As I feel Boromir’s tense body shake in pre-orgasmic convulsions and hot, tiny 
gushes moisten my busy hand I make a movement so abrupt and forceful that it 
sweeps the cloak that serves as his blanket away from over his crotch. It also 
draws Aragorn’s attention and he drops his gaze just in time to catch my hand 
performing the harsh, long stroke that finishes Boromir off. For a second, I 
watch him. Watch the battle of opposing emotions flutter over his rugged face as
he witnesses Boromir’s extremely hard and sudden climax. Abhorrence and disdain
on the one hand, thrill and desire on the other, all mixed with shock, jealousy
and anger. So many feelings on a face that’s usually calm, not revealing 
anything.

Before I can see which of his emotions finally overpowers the others, I hear a 
groan of pleasure erupting from Boromir’s mouth and quickly turn his face 
towards mine in order to crush my lips over his. It wouldn’t be very helpful if 
my Gondorian warrior woke up our comrades with his vocal outburst and I’m 
reliefed that I manage to smother the low sound before it develops into 
something more wanton. I feel his moan vibrate against my lips, his hot breath 
in my own mouth, and then he kisses me with such overwhelming fervour that for a
short moment I totally forget about Aragorn. While the human in my arms shudders
and whimpers in the throes of orgasm I respond to the searing kiss with equal 
passion, closing my eyes and holding to his heated face.

Then he stills and I softly withdraw both my hands and my lips. Aragorn is still
watching, I feel his stare on us. When Boromir asks me for another kiss I comply
eagerly and kiss him for all I’m worth, as affectionately as I can. This just
has to work on this cursed, controlled ranger… I wish I could look at Aragorn’s
face right now in order to see what he’s feeling, but when I softly break from 
the passionate kiss the expression on Boromir’s face captivates me instead. I 
stare at his deep and brilliant eyes for a few silent seconds, my lips slightly
parted in astonishment and disbelief. Do I really see what I think I’m seeing…?

I try to swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat, but it only seems to get
bigger. Under different circumstances I probably would have felt more than 
flattered from the adoration and affection in his gentle gaze, but this very 
moment his obviously deep and genuine feelings for me scare me. Suddenly my 
conscience is pricking at me. I never meant to hurt him. Not in this deep, 
emotional way. I realize that I owe him the truth – or at least part of it.

“I'm glad that you are on this quest, together with me. And I like to be with 
you. But I am not in love with you. I can offer to share my body with you, like
you share yours with me, but not my heart and soul,” I tell him, gently stroking
dirty strands of hair from his moist forehead. I’m beyond relief when he tells 
me that this is fine with him. I can see that he’s disappointed, though he won’t
admit it, but the last glimpses of the little remorse, pity and bad conscience 
that were left in me die away a few moment later when I finally get up to resume
my watch and feel it happening: Boromir notices that Aragorn is watching. At 
last! I had almost stopped to hope for it.

The memorable event happens behind my back, but I can feel it with every fibre 
of my body. I sense the great tension between them as they glare at each other 
in a silent staring contest. Sparks fly between them in such an intense way that
a smile graces my features. They are both so passionate in their dislike towards
each other, so full of ferocity and fire… I almost don’t dare imagine what it 
would be like to unleash this almost painful tension.

I will have them both. They just don’t know it yet. I will have them and I will
make them convert their hate into blazing passion I know they both carry inside.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day starts like every other day on this journey. We get up, pack our 
belongings and set out. Most of the time I’m marching next to Gandalf who’s 
entertaining me with some stories, perfectly distracting me from my musings over
Boromir and Aragorn. My thoughts only drift back to those mortal objects of my 
desire when we settle down for our meal.

"I'm going yonder, to see to my armour. I think my chain-mail needs a fix," 
Boromir tells us and walks off awkwardly. What a lame excuse, I think to myself 
as I stare after him. When he finally vanishes in deeper parts of the forest, I 
quickly put down my food and rise. Aragorn’s head snaps up and he glares at me.
He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are so easy to read. I smirk at him.

“A chain-mail is tricky to fix. He might need help,” I say, causing the colour 
of Aragorn’s eyes to darken.

“Sit and eat, Legolas,” he commands quietly.

“None of us should stroll through the woods all on his own,” I reply matter-of-
factly.

“Legolas is right, Strider,” Pippin interferes in our private little combat, 
“And you wouldn’t want anything to happen to Boromir. Right, Strider?”

"Right,” Aragorn agrees dryly and from the innocent expression on Pippin’s small
face I know that he doesn’t notice the ranger’s sarcastic undertone.

“Don’t worry, Pippin. Boromir will be sound and safe,” I assure the halfling and
then shift my gaze back to Aragorn. My eyes bore into him and he holds my 
intense stare as I say: “I will take very good care of him.”

He doesn’t bat an eyelid at my comment, but I believe his ears have turned a 
light red. I smirk again and then break our hard gazes to head after Boromir. He
has gone unexpectedly deep into the woods but finally I find him. He stands, 
leaning on a large tree, his eyes closed as if he tries to regain lost 
composure. I approach him silently and as I reach out for his shoulders his eyes
shoot open, regarding me with a strange expression. Is he… startled to see me? 
But he expected me, didn’t he? Why did he make up this excuse to withdraw to the
forest if not to spend time with me? He practically invited me to follow him 
when he threw me that meaningful gaze, just before he wandered off… didn’t he? I
move forwards in order to push him against the tree but suddenly find myself 
atop him, on the forest ground.

"Get off me!" he demands gruffly, his voice full of fury and denial. Now it’s my
turn to be startled and for a second I can’t do anything but stare at him in 
shock. I’m at a total loss, utterly confused by his aggressiveness. In my 
helplessness I simply ignore what he just said and lean in, attempting to force
him into a kiss. But again he surprises me with unexpected resistance and even
tries to shake me off. He turns and wriggles underneath me but I’m not willing 
to let him get away.

"No, Legolas... let go of me," he pleads when he finds himself captured in the 
lock of my arms. He struggles against my embrace, but his protests are too weak
to be taken seriously. He’s just playing.

"You want me to stop?" I ask him, but I’m not really expecting an answer. 
Quickly, before he can say any more, I run my hand down his stomach, heading for
the centre of his lust. Two can play this game…

Boromir bends forward abruptly, trying to break out of my resolute hug, and when
he bows the promising swell of his backside shoves into my groin. Delightfully 
distracted for a second, I almost let him slip from my arms. But only almost. 
Just when he is about to drop from my touch, I snatch him back.

I yank his body against mine, gathering his form into my arms with even more 
tenacity than before. From the way he goes completely still all of sudden, I can
tell he feels my erection that had sprung to full attention. I hold him, as 
close and tightly as possible, and press against the muscular curve that nestles
against my groin. He doesn't react. I press harder. In fact a little too hard.
My solid member hurts from being wedged so firmly between my own stomach and 
Boromir's perfect rear, but it affects him at last and that is worth the pain. 
He tenses. I start to move against his admirable buttocks with slow yet 
domineering rubs, causing the solid muscles there to tauten even more.

He gasps, finally. It’s such a soft, low pant that slips from his mouth, but 
it’s one of the most erotic sounds I have ever heard.

I need to take him. Right here, right now.

Hastily, I open the buckle of his belt and tug down his clothes only enough to 
lay bare his bottom. Within seconds my garments are down as well and I’m more 
than grateful that Boromir doesn’t try to flee when I take my hands off his body
to release my aching erection. I can hardly suppress a sigh when we make contact
again, now naked skin on naked skin, and I push my hips forward in search for 
the wonderful, addictive feeling that always conquers me when I am this close to
him.

I move rhythmically, rubbing the full length of my aching member along the 
inviting chink of his backside. Soon, my desire for hotter and harder friction 
can't be ignored anymore, so I take hold of myself and guide my erection into 
another position until the tip is hovering over his opening. When I push a 
little forward, touching him gently, he pants and I can hear how excited he is.
I want to ram into him so badly, but manage to restrain myself. Instead of 
plunging into him, I move the tip of my member over his tight entrance, tenderly
smearing my pre-cum against and into the tiny orifice that is waiting for me to 
widen it.

After a few moments of lubricating him with the small amount of slippery fluid 
that's leaking from me, I angle my hips to get better access and then lean in. 
He tenses again. Not as badly as the first time I had taken him, but there is 
still enough resistance to keep me from sliding in effortlessly. I push with 
more force, trying my best to be energetic and heedful at the same time, but he
obviously can't get his muscles to relax. The resistance I am confronted with 
only gets worse the stronger I push. Determined to eventually invade him, I grab
his hips and pull him back into my thrust. I can't help gasping softly when the
unbelievably tight ring finally gives way and grants me entrance. I feel Boromir
jerk under me, but all I can do is hold him tighter and proceed. Once I have
broken through the firm barrier, it is easy to slide up into him all the way, 
into his tight and slick inner heat. He feels amazing, better than anybody I 
ever had in my whole long life, and for a split second I catch myself wondering
whether Aragorn would feel just as breathtakingly wonderful around me. Then my 
mind turns hazy from unbearable pleasures and I don’t think of anything anymore 
while I hurtle towards my climax…

After I spent myself in my comrade’s body and my ability to think returns to me,
the first thing that comes to my mind is that I wasn’t gentle with him and that
in the end he didn’t complain at all. That he completely stopped to resist. He 
stopped to struggle against me. But he also stopped to move with me, like he 
used to during our previous intimate encounters. He stopped to take part in 
this. He’s just there. Tolerating my sexual onslaught in total passivity. This
is definitely not the way I had wanted this to be.

While we stride through the forest together, wordlessly heading back to camp, I
come to the conclusion that it would be best if I just dropped my plans and left
Boromir alone unless I want to ruin the poor man.

But then I see the expression on Aragorn’s face when we reach the others at the
campsite. That envious look in his eyes feeds the flames of my desire and as 
they grow larger and hotter, my compassion for Boromir shrinks and then, when 
Aragorn lazily moistens his lips with the tip of his tongue, dies away 
completely.




Chapter 5 (Aragorn's point of view)

They return sooner than I had expected and at first I think this has to mean 
that nothing has “happened” between them this time, but when they finally are so
close that I can see their faces I understand that I’m mistaken. I cast only a
very discreet glance towards Boromir, long enough to notice that the man’s face
is still faintly flushed from what Legolas must have done to him, but too short
to catch the precise expression on his features. At the elf I look longer. A lot
longer. I didn’t intend to, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him once I gaze 
more closely.

The soft lips slightly parted, he breathes through his mouth. As if he was still
catching his breath and drawing it through the nose wasn’t sufficient enough to 
provide the needed air. And his eyes… Glazed over with heavy emotion, somewhat 
cloudy, yet they contradictorily shine and shimmer even more than normal. He 
seems very relaxed, almost a little exhausted. His skin is nearly as pale as 
ever, only his high, sculptured cheekbones sport shades of a delicate pink, and
there are absolutely no traces of sweat, but for some reason that I cannot grasp
he looks incredibly warm. Warm, spent and satisfied.

Beautiful…

I catch myself wondering what he looks like when engaged in carnal activities.
When lust and pleasure consume him completely. Does he make love with his eyes 
closed or open? Where and how deeply is his marble skin flushed from the 
arousal, and what does it feel like? Soft and damp? Slick and hot? What does it
look like when he writhes, sweats, moans, blushes, tenses… when he climaxes? I 
don’t think the word ‘beautiful’ would do him justice in that exquisite moment.
Not even nearly.

No, not beautiful. Far beyond beautiful…

I feel an uncomfortable emotion – maybe envy though I won’t admit it – stir in 
my belly as I realize that Boromir knows the answers to all these questions that
are nagging at me. He has seen Legolas in the throes of total passion. And he 
has not only been witness as the elf reached the pinnacle of pleasure and 
ecstasy. Boromir has been the reason. Is the reason. Will be the reason.

Our gazes meet. From the way the clear blue of Legolas’ eyes sparkles I can tell
that he notices my inner turmoil. We hold each other’s stare as he approaches 
and I slip out the tip of my tongue, slowly running it along my lower lip, 
though for moistening my skin or for provoking Legolas I do not know. However, 
the tiny motion affects him. His lids drop a little as his gaze shifts lower and
he stares at my mouth, eyes following the lazy track of my tongue. If we had 
been alone, he surely would have lunged at me. I can see it in his eyes, the 
greed and desire. I don’t know how I would react if he made unambiguous advances
to me, whether I would yield or refuse. But since we aren’t alone and Legolas 
doesn’t come to me I don’t waste any more thoughts on it.

While our archer settles down next to Gandalf and quickly is engaged in a quiet
conversation, I turn my head and find myself staring directly at Boromir’s face.
The man from Gondor instantly lowers his gaze, lashes fluttering down to cover 
his eyes, but he isn’t fast enough to hide them from my seeking glance. I 
clearly saw it. The despair. The shame. The anguish. This is the first time I 
look at Boromir and don’t see a bold, arrogant soldier, but a vulnerable, 
stricken man.

Alas, Legolas, what have you done…?


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Did you enjoy what you saw?" Legolas asks me the next day when the fellowship 
is resuming the journey. I hadn’t seen or sensed him approaching me and his bold
question that comes out of nowhere startles me. My heart starts beating faster,
 but I doubt that this is only because of the scare he gave me.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I lie stubbornly and quicken my 
pace in order to leave my elven comrade behind, but Legolas modifies his own 
steps and easily keeps up with me.

"You've always been a very poor liar, Estel. I know you were watching. I saw 
you," he continues in a low voice. I’m lost, I don’t know what to say, and so I
just remain silent. When Legolas understands that I won’t reply, he adds, "Why 
don't you just admit that you are jealous? I know you are."

Finally, I turn my head to throw a fierce, warning glare at Legolas, but the elf
doesn't recoil.

"I'm not jealous! How often do I need to tell you?!" I hiss under my breath,
refusing to spill out my true emotions, to surrender to my actual feelings, to 
admit my secret, deepest cravings.

"You envy Boromir," the elf states. It doesn’t surprise me that he sees through 
me. It rather annoys me.

"Surely not. If anything I pity the poor man!" I snap, provoked. Now that is 
something Legolas obviously hadn't expected to hear as he falls silent for a 
short moment.

"He became a slave to you and isn't capable of evading your sick lusting 
anymore. There's nothing to envy about that," I continue. When the image of 
Boromir’s distraught face sneaks into my memory, I can almost believe in the 
words I throw at Legolas’ face. Almost.

"At least you admit you snooped on us," Legolas says, ignoring my previous 
comment.

"I wouldn't call it snooping. Really, if you're working on him in the middle of
the camp one does not have to spy on you to notice what's going on," I say 
without thinking, not noticing that Legolas managed to bring our heated 
conversation round to the topic he wishes to discuss.

"Now that you acknowledged that you watched, you may very well answer my 
question. Did you like what you saw?" he asks, cracking a sly smile at me. Oh 
how I want to slap that small, provoking grin from his face! But instead of 
punching him with my fist, I take a deep breath and release a vocal attack.

"If it means so much to you I will tell you what I think of it. I am disgusted.
Not by the intimacy you two share, but by your cruelty, Legolas. I feel repelled
because of your ruthless selfishness, your roughness. By no means am I jealous 
of Boromir. If I were him, I would give you a thrashing so severe that you would
crawl on all fours for the rest of this quest.”

Legolas’ stupid grin dies away. Good.

“You think I’m selfish and rough?” he then asks, almost perplexed.

“You’re definitely not very caring and gentle with Boromir. You don’t want him,
you only lust after his body. You don’t have feelings for him,” I remind him. He
knows that I watched him bringing Boromir to release, he may very well know that
I as well listened to the words he told him afterwards. He swallows, slowly, 
digesting what I just had said, and then responds with surprising softness in 
his voice. His answer isn’t at all what I expected and catches me off guard.

“And if I had? If I was?” Legolas wants to know and quickly gets hold of my 
shoulder when I try to turn away in order to evade his suggestive questions. 
“Aragorn, what if I was caring and gentle? Would you then envy Boromir?”

“Let go of me,” I hiss, my voice as well as my body tense.

“I don’t have to be rough. I can be a tender lover. Maybe you would prefer to 
watch that? Would you prefer to watch me making love to Boromir, sweetly, slowly
and devotedly?”

I feel blood surge to my face when his whispered words sink in and successfully 
manage to suppress a tiny sound that catches in my throat. I’m grateful that I 
didn’t let it slip, although things couldn’t get much worse anyhow. Legolas 
knows my thoughts, even without that embarassing groan that I choked back. My 
heated face gives me away.

“Or maybe you’d rather join us?” he suggests in a low, meaningful voice, his 
hand still clasped to my clothes. I feel my mouth drop slightly open as I stare
at the elf in pure disbelief and shock. Before I regain my composure and manage
to respond, Legolas continues.

“Listen. Boromir and I will excuse ourselves when we settle down for rest 
tomorrow noon. Feel free to follow us,” he adds softly, his voice barely more 
than a whisper.

“Why should I?” I reply, finally finding my voice again. My tone is gruff, 
hiding the faint tremble in my voice.

“Because I want you. I want to feel you. And you want to feel me,” the archer 
states, his intense gaze penetrating me who returns the stare. I’ve lost control
over my boiling blood, but not over my gaze. My cheeks are flaming, but my eyes
are cold. I don’t want him to see how excited I am. I don’t want him to see how
tempted I am.

“You need to learn that not every being that lays eyes on you is bewitched by 
your oh so perfect beauty and oh so scintillating wits,” I say, but I can’t help
thinking that I try to persuade me with these words rather than the elf. “You 
can't always have your will, Legolas."

He doesn’t respond to this. He just lets go of my shoulder, slows down and 
silently allows me to put more distance between us. He already knows what I am
too proud to admit to myself yet. He just won me over.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I tremble. Only slightly, but I do. I tremble, I forget to breathe, and my heart
is in my mouth as I watch. The last minutes I had lived through like in a haze,
enveloped by thick mists that clouded my vision and mind. I don’t really 
understand why I’m here. How I got here. It is as though another man had been in
command of my body, following Legolas and Boromir to this place they had 
withdrawn to. But the man that stands here now and watches his comrades, half 
hidden behind a tree, is me. It’s my pulse that throbs madly, my mouth that is 
completely dry, my palms that turn sweaty. And my body that trembles.

The scenery I’m confronted with is breathtakingly beautiful – a small clearing 
dominated by lush green and kissed by the warming sun – but I’m oblivious to 
these simple yet awesome wonders of nature. I have eyes for only them who stand
in the middle of the little glade, bodies pressing close and mouths linked in 
something that looks like the mother of all kisses to me. It’s slow yet fervent.
Very seductive. Deep. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of their tongues that
gently probe, gyrate and caress, advancing or yielding. I can see the glistening
moisture on and around their kiss-swollen lips as they break apart and Boromir 
lowers his head to dip the tip of his tongue in the soft hollow of Legolas’ neck
where his collarbones meet. He lazily draws his tongue up along the milky 
throat, leaving a sheen of saliva on the marble skin, until he laps over the 
edge of the delicate chin and finally slides over Legolas’ lower lip to dive 
back into the warm cave of his mouth. I didn’t know witnessing a kiss could be 
so arousing...

I force myself to rip my gaze from their faces when I feel my member stir with 
need. I can’t get myself to turn away completely, and so I just shift my eyes to
Boromir’s back where one of Legolas’ hands is roaming. Since both males are 
stripped to the waist, the elf caresses and massages naked, sun-tanned skin. I 
watch as Legolas’ slender fingers follow Boromir’s spine, glide over strong 
shoulder blades, stroke over ribs and carefully trace a long, light scar that 
runs across the small of the man’s back – a souvenir from one of the many 
battles he doubtlessly fought. I see that Legolas didn’t lie. If he wants, he 
can indeed be gentle, considerate, giving. But it eats away at me that the 
loving tenderness he presents Boromir with is only a means to an end. These are
feigned emotions. Are they not?

Intending to search for any indications of Legolas’ genuine feelings I turn my 
gaze back to the elf’s face. I can’t supress a low gasp when I find him staring
right into my eyes, his lips still locked with Boromir’s eager mouth. I tightly
press my lips together as soon as I feel the sound slip out, but it’s too late.
The man from Gondor, always alert and vigilant, breaks from the kiss and twirls
into my direction. First we just stare at one another in deadly silence, both of
us frozen and holding our breaths. Boromir is the first to make a move. His eyes
narrow in wrath as he’s lunging out. I brace myself for his attack, preparing to
defend and strike back, but our brawl never comes to pass as Legolas catches 
Boromir from behind, keeping him from jumping at me.

“Are you not ashamed?!” my human comrade yells at me while he struggles against
Legolas’ relentless embrace. Of course I am ashamed. In fact more than I ever
had been in my life so far, but who am I to beg for forgiveness from an insolent
captain who hasn’t shown a modicum of respect yet, not even for his own rightful
king?

“It is new to me that it’s prohibited to walk these woods,” I reply as calmly as
I can.

“This is no walk in the woods!” Boromir hisses, his eyes darting right through 
me. “This is invasion of privacy!”

There is something about the way he accentuates his cocky speech, something that
never ceases to enrage me. My hands curl to fists as I return his icy stare and
snort in a most scoffing way.

“What a funny thing to hear this expression tumble from your mouth, my Lord 
Boromir, for I believe it was you who didn’t have any inhibitions when our 
friend Legolas fondled you to completion amidst the assembled fellowship! 
Besides, I am not entirely unwelcome here.”

“Don’t speak in such riddles!” Boromir demands angrily but stops fighting 
Legolas’ arms that still hold him back.

“Why don’t you ask your lover to help you solve them? I’m sure he can give you a
hint,” I reply, casting a glare at Legolas who hasn’t said a word so far. It 
seems that the elf isn’t planning to give any explanations as he simply starts 
to slide his hands from Boromir’s heaving chest to his flat, muscular stomach. I
follow the track of his slender hand with hungry eyes, catching myself wishing 
that it was my body he touched. Before the archer can prolong his intimate 
caress, Boromir clamps one large hand over Legolas’ and holds it in place, 
pressing it against his sun-tanned skin.

“What is this supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice revealing his growing 
discomfort and bewilderment.

“Are you really this dimwitted or are you playing coy now?” Legolas answers his
lover’s question with another question. I have never before heard so much 
impatience and annoyance in his usually calm, even-tempered voice, but my great
surprise is outdone by Boromir’s astonishment. His face expresses pure shock as
he slowly understands Legolas’ intentions. I probably would have smiled, maybe 
even snickered at the uncommon sight of a thunderstruck Boromir if the 
atmosphere hadn’t been so stifingly tense.

“Don’t tell me you invited him here,” Boromir says in disbelief, his eyes locked
with mine.

“I promise you we are going to have a good time,” Legolas assures him, again 
attempting to bring his hand past the man’s waistband, but Boromir again stops 
him.

“I am definitely not going to engange in any carnal activities with this man!” 
Boromir presses, tightening his grip on the elf’s hand in such a strong way that
Legolas winces. “Nor am I willing to share with him! It’s either me or the 
ranger!”

“Have you already forgotten what I told you?!” Legolas hisses, his tone 
unexpectedly aggressive, as he rips his hand from Boromir’s hard grasp. He 
quickly grabs a fistful of Boromir’s dirtyblond hair at the back of his head and
pulls, forcing the man to his knees. I gape, mouth slightly open, as the 
fellowship’s second human gasps in pain and unsuccessfully tries to get rid of 
the harming elven hand. Legolas is unyielding.

“This man is your king!” he yells at Boromir and I feel my stomach clenching 
painfully at his words. I doubt I would manage to rein him back this time, like
I did at the council of Elrond. I’m not sure I want to, honestly. “You must not
shun or exclude him! Now demonstrate the allegiance you know you owe him!”

With these harsh words, Legolas deals Boromir an even harsher push, making him 
slump forward to his hands. The son of the Steward kneels there in front of me,
head hanging, gaze lowered, fingers digging into the earth as they curl, 
shoulders trembling with either wrath or humiliation – or both. I am too shocked
to say anything. I am too shocked to even breathe.

After a little eternity, the first word falls.

“Fine…”

Much to Boromir’s credit, he manages to develop a steady, firm voice. I have to
admit that I admire him for that. A little.

“If this is what you both wish, it shall be done,” the son of the steward 
continues as he rises to his feet again, straigthening his stance as soon as he
stands upright. “But my offer is subject to a condition.”

I swallow hard, wondering what it will be, while Legolas demands, “Bring it
forward, that condition of yours. We will see whether it is acceptable.”

“I will pull the strings,” he states, simply.

“And what exactly is this supposed to mean?” I ask, interfering in the 
conversation.

“It means that you will behave yourself until I tell you otherwise!” Boromir 
explains sharply, cold eyes stabbing right through me. “You won’t touch him 
until I allow you so, and you won’t stick any parts of your body into him until
I permit it.”

“Oh, please!” I sigh, rolling my eyes, and then look at Legolas, seeking his 
support. 

“As long as we are more than companions in arms, I don’t want him to have his 
way with you without my approval,” Boromir states, now addressing Legolas. 
“Either leave yourself and Aragorn to my command for the duration of this… 
agreement, or choose him over me and resign yourself to never again taking 
advantage of my flesh. Take your choice.”

I can’t blame Boromir for coming up with this stupid condition, after all it is
his desperate attempt to safe the last bit of dignity he has left, but I’m not 
at all delighted by the terms he set up.

"He is not your property!" I hiss before Legolas has the chance to speak, my 
dark eyes glaring at the other human. The angry words come fast and I can’t do
anything to stop them from falling. "You had him more than enough!"

"He didn't complain yet!" Boromir spits, returning the fierce stare, drags 
Legolas closer and wraps one arm around him possessively, provokingly.

"Would you two stop quarreling!" Legolas demands and I notice that the annoyed 
tone in his voice gave way to light amusement. He’s enjoying this, how Boromir 
and I court his favour like two rutting animals. This makes me so angry that for
a short moment I am inclined to return to the campsite and leave those two to 
themselves, but then Legolas suddenly bends his head and places a gentle yet 
determined kiss on Boromir's lips to smother the next tantrum, and I take root.
The human deepens the kiss instantly. Marks his territory with a hasty, ardent 
tongue and rough, demanding lips. Legolas doesn't back away but gives in to the
passion and returns the kiss with similar fervour.

Before I manage to pick up courage again, Boromir looks up without disconnecting
from Legolas' lips. Our gazes lock immediately. I know he can see the fury and 
humiliation in my eyes, but also the desire and arousal. I feel laughed at and 
abashed, but I can’t force myself to turn and leave. I am enthralled, 
captivated… This very moment, to watch seems to be of a greater necessity than 
breathing.

Suddenly Boromir’s eyelids flutter close and I hear a tiny, guttural sound 
escaping his throat. As I drop my gaze I see that Legolas’ hand finally made its
way into the man’s breeches and this time Boromir willingly grants him access. 
The slow, fluid strokes Legolas bestows bring me to full hardness, as though it 
was me he was touching, and driven by need and want I start to move towards 
them. As soon as I’m close enough I reach out for the elf, but before my 
fingertips make contact with his silky hair Boromir’s strong hand wraps around 
my wrist and stops me.

I growl in frustration, not capable of civilized speech anymore, and Legolas 
promptly breaks from Boromir’s plundering mouth and turns in his embrace to face
me. He frames my face with hands so gentle and delicate that I have to close my
eyes, relishing the whole extent of this beautiful sensation. A split second 
later his mouth is on mine, so soft, so luscious, so perfect. It is not so much
a full kiss, but rather a faint brush of his lips, almost like the caress of a 
feather.

“Sit down, Estel,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my face. A tiny, 
protesting whimper slips from my throat. I had been hoping Legolas wouldn’t 
agree to Boromir’s condition. Now as I have tasted and felt him, I can 
understand that the son of the steward didn’t want to share. I don’t want to 
share either, but it seems that I don’t have a choice.

“Do as Boromir wishes and I shall be yours when the time has come,” Legolas 
mutters under his breath and leans in to place a harder kiss on my mouth. His 
tongue is slow, teasing and delicious as it slips between my lips and my head
starts to spin as my erection grows even harder which I thought impossible. When
I push in, starting to explore him in return, I taste the masculine, raw flavour
of Boromir in the sweetness of his mouth, and I find it a strange thing that 
this only adds to my arousal. I groan weakly and involuntarily as Legolas 
disconnects from me but let him push me down to the ground until I sit on my
heels.

“Patience, Aragorn,” are the last words Legolas whispers to me before he pulls 
away and concentrates on Boromir’s needs. I take a deep, shivering breath in a 
hopeless attempt to calm myself down. When I raise my head and start to watch 
and wait, I pray to heaven above that Boromir possesses less endurance than I 
do. If that’s not the case, I don’t know how I will ever survive this.




Chapter 6

With an almost painful feeling of torturing anticipation, Legolas wanted to 
nestle against Boromir in order to resume the deep kisses they had been sharing
just before Aragorn had interrupted them, but the man from Gondor backed away. 

“Undress,” Boromir ordered before the elf had the chance to say anything. 
Legolas complied wordlessly and opened the laces of his trousers with confident
but slow fingers, his deep, meaningful gaze focused on Boromir who stared back 
with a transfixed face. 

“What about you? Won’t you drop your clothes as well?” Legolas asked when he 
realized that Boromir didn’t move an inch while he was baring himself to both 
male humans. 

“Shut up and get naked. You tortured our poor ranger long enough with your 
teasingly nasty promises, it’s time to finally show him the prize he’s about to
receive.” Boromir noticed with satisfaction how Legolas clenched his jaw to 
swallow back words of protest. He wasn’t used to being talked to like that, but 
managed to stifle his rising anger and do as Boromir said until he had stripped
down every single piece of clothing. He felt Aragorn’s desirous eyes on his back
while Boromir’s hard, grim stare bore right into his face, but he didn’t flinch. 

“What next?” Legolas asked with a proud, steady voice. Even though he was
exposed and the others not, he refused to show any signs of vulnerability. 

Boromir answered by extending his right arm towards Legolas, palm facing upwards
in an alluringly inviting gesture. The elf stepped forward and took the offered
hand, only to find himself crushed against Boromir a split second later. The 
human pulled him close until the full lengths of their bodies were pressing 
against one another, chest against chest, thighs against thighs, groin against 
groin. Although the dark leather of Boromir’s breeches was sleek and cold 
against the elf’s bare legs, loins an genitals, Legolas was starting to burn up.
He shivered at the intense expression in Boromir's eyes, suddenly so full of 
desire and admiration, and then let his lids fall when the man drew his mouth 
into an ardent kiss. A small groan escaped from his throat when Legolas felt the
human's hands slide over his hips and cup his smooth buttocks with tender 
pressure. For a few moments Boromir massaged and caressed the delicate flesh, 
luring lovely sounds of pleasure from the elven lips he plundered so hungrily. 
When one of his fingertips brushed the elf's tight opening he felt that Legolas
held his breath in expectation of agitating stimulation. With a faint smile the
human warrior started to slowly trail the ring of muscle, drawing tiny, teasing
circles on the sensitive skin that was faintly jerking in response. After a 
while of intimate caresses, he felt Legolas shift and wind in his embrace in 
unsuccessful attempt to take in the toying digit. 

"Impatient, aren't we?" Boromir growled in a low voice, the weak smile still 
upon his lips, and tightened his grip on the elf's right buttock with his not so
busy hand. Legolas gasped softly when the human warrior then spread him 
leisurely, displaying the secret spot his rough finger was gently playing with 
to Aragorn who almost forgot to breathe at the sight of Boromir touching the 
blond archer in this way. 

Boromir carefully pulled the delicate buttocks further apart, widening the 
narrow, twitching opening a little, but still didn't enter it entirely. He 
started to slowly push into Legolas, but slipped in only to the first joint of
his finger, twisted a bit, and then pulled out again, ignoring the disappointed
grunt of the elf. He continued to rub and stroke his fingertip along and over 
the now expanded but still tight hole, occasionally dipping in only to withdraw
again a second later. Within seconds, heavy shudders rippled through the slender
body in his arms. The lustful, unsatisfied pants that hit Boromir’s ear only 
encouraged him to go on teasing his lover mercilessly, and so he continued until
the elf was shaking with unfulfilled need, his body rocking against the 
torturing hand in the desperate try to impale himself . 

“Please…” The plea slipped from Legolas’ mouth before he could think about it, 
but it didn’t have the desired effect. Boromir didn’t comply.

“Not yet,” he told the excited elf.

“Why not?” Legolas breathed, his voice shaky from the arousal.

“Everything at the proper time.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come first,” Boromir required. “And make it quick. We don’t have all 
the time in the world for this. We’ve been away from camp far too long already.”

Without the slightest hesitance, Legolas groped his way past the human’s 
waistband and closed a confident hand over the swollen hardness he found there.

“I see no difficulty about it,” the elf whispered back as his skillful strokes 
let Boromir’s breathing hitch. 

Aragorn’s breath got caught in his throat once more when he witnessed how 
Legolas’ hand vanished in Boromir’s trousers and instantly found a perfect 
stroking pace. Burning eyes fixed on the rhythmically moving bulge of Legolas’ 
working hand in the other human’s pants, he wasn’t even aware of his own hands 
loosening the straps of his breeches. Aragorn was painfully aroused just from 
watching the other ones’ foreplay and the touch of his own hand partially eased
the uncomfortable feeling of neglect and unsatisfied need. Once freed from its 
restraints of clothing, the hot, familiar solidness nestled against his rough 
palm as he closed his fist in a way he knew he would enjoy. He had to muster 
quite some self-control to resist the frantic urge to fall into a harder rhythm
that surely would unleash his pent-up lust within seconds, bringing it all to an
end for him before it had even begun. Judging from the intensity of Legolas’ 
ministrations and the tiny but hard to miss involuntary bucking of Boromir’s 
hips, Aragorn wasn’t the only one close to completion. Not knowing for how long
he could hold out anymore, the ranger was more than glad when he heard a muffled
groan fleeing from the other human’s throat. It was the first sound of arousal
that had come from Boromir since this had started and Aragorn assumed that it
had to mean he was very, very close. But instead of letting the elf rub him to
his climax, Boromir suddenly clasped his hand around Legolas’ moving forearm, 
and a sharp, startled sounding pant from the elf made Aragorn’s gaze snap up 
from Boromir’s crotch to Legolas’ head.

Legolas gasped in surprise when Boromir roughly pulled the elven hand from his 
straining erection, grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around in a more
than abrupt manner. The elf’s gaze locked with Aragorn’s while one of Boromir’s
hands clamped on his hip. The other large, warm palm came to rest between 
Legolas’ shoulder blades. Before the elf could fully take in the overwhelmingly
erotic sight of Aragorn stroking his own, fully erect member, the strong hands 
of his human lover forced him into another, more unfortunate position. Legolas 
could hear a strange, abrupt sound from the ranger – probably a blurt of protest
– as Boromir bent him over as far as the archer’s flexibility would allow it.

He didn’t have to brace himself for being claimed, his muscles were as relaxed 
as possible. No matter how brusque the invasion he was expecting was going to 
be, his body would grant it without difficulty. His opening was practically 
self-dilating in anticipation of accommodating Boromir’s remarkable erection. 
Shivers of lust vibrated through him when he thought of the filling sensation 
that had taken him by storm the one time Boromir had penetrated him the other
day. He was fed up with all the teasing and caressing, he needed more. More 
friction, deep thrusts, fierce rhythm and pace. But instead of hot and 
stretching solidness sliding deep into his yearning body, he felt a few warm, 
long spurts gush over the waiting crevice of his rear. Not even a second later,
deft fingers resumed their work and very patiently spread the sticky, thick 
liquid, slowly smearing it along the elf’s cleft as well as over and into the
with want pulsating orifice.

“Why… do you… torture me so…?” Legolas asked between heavy breaths and tried to 
sound annoyed, but his frustration didn’t manage to outdo his huge excitement 
and arousal.

“It would surprise me if you couldn’t answer this question for yourself, 
Legolas. After all it is you who mastered the skill of torturing other beings…”
Boromir said with a from his climax somewhat shaky yet dangerous sounding voice.
“You want to quit playing around? Then get on your knees! And open your eyes, I
want you to look at the ranger.”

Aragorn’s hand stilled around his still unbelievably swollen erection the second
their eyes locked. Legolas manoeuvred himself into a for Boromir more than 
inviting position, knees and hands stemmed into the earthy forest ground, legs 
spread, the promising curve of his rear pushed up and out as if begging for 
being taken. Aragorn was sure that this vision would haunt him for the rest of 
his life.

“What do you want me to do?” Boromir asked and sank down on his knees as well, 
right behind Legolas.

“Lick me… Like you did the other day… at the river,” the elf managed to voice 
his request, his cloudy eyes still focused on Aragorn’s face who wished for 
nothing else than to be in Boromir’s place right now.

“Lick you? Right after I came all over your sluttish backside? I don’t think 
so…” Boromir muttered and without warning slid the full length of his finger 
into the usually hidden opening of the archer’s body that now lay utterly 
exposed and at his mercy in front of him. The gradual, smooth motion caused a 
helpless, longing whimper to burst out of Legolas, who gratefully arched his 
back to grant the penetrating finger better access. Even though this wasn’t 
exactly what he had asked for, he gave a long, content sigh when Boromir started
to move his finger inside of him, pulling out and prodding in with unhurried, 
unsteady rhythm. Legolas was hot and slick around him, his narrow inner walls 
relaxed and slippery from Boromir's own essences that had been spent in this 
secret place mere moments ago.

After gently stimulating Legolas from the inside for a while, Boromir pulled his
index finger free and immediately replaced it with the middle finger of the same
hand. It went in dry but without any difficulty, and slid out again fully coated
with sticky, milky body fluid. For a moment, Boromir fingered the elf with an 
even slower pace than before, his two digits taking turns so they both stayed 
moist and slick instead of drying in the warm air of the sunny day, but he 
didn’t wait too long until he entered with both fingers at the same time. He 
closed his eyes for a moment to fully concentrate on the slithery, hot skin that
was clamping his exploring fingers, so soft and yielding yet tightly squeezing.
He couldn't keep himself from letting a small groan slip when he once more drove
his fingers into the willing opening, lunging into the firm lock of moist, silky
skin. When Legolas' rectal muscles twitched again, hard this time, and gripped 
the human's fingers in a rigid squeeze, Boromir lost control and quickly slid 
his left hand onto the elf's right buttock to spread the luring crevice and help
himself to even more access.

An abrupt, loud groan erupted from Legolas' swollen lips when Boromir slipped 
two additional fingertips into the nervously jerking opening. The elf writhed,
his trembling arms and legs threatening to give way, and the human held 
completely still for a few moments, allowing Legolas to adjust to the new 
sensation. When he felt the archer's tight ring of muscle relax a bit again, he
started to slowly urge both of the additional fingers towards the other two that
were waiting motionlessly, buried as deeply in the elven body as they would go.
The new intruders had a little more trouble gaining full entrance than the first
fingers since it was getting tight now, and Legolas' involuntarily clenching and
contracting inner walls didn't make things easier, but at last they glided up 
into the elf's body up to the hilt. Boromir's own liquids he had worked into the
elf not long ago were serving as most excellent lubricant indeed.

Once all four fingers stuck in Legolas all the way, Boromir slowly pulled back,
sliding out of the slippery, tight heat, just to plunge back in with again all 
slick digits at once. Legolas hissed sharply, his hands desperately curling into
the dark earth beneath them, but still held Aragorn’s burning stare. He started
to voice more constant and intense sounds of sensual pleasure when Boromir 
repeated the motion a few more times and then started to move his fingers deep 
within him, at first gently but all too soon with more pressure, pulling him 
apart with slow and careful determination, opening the elf up for what was to 
follow soon.

"Boromir!" Legolas blurted out when the warrior spread his fingers within him, 
stretching him wide open, and quickly moved one of his arms to claw his hand to
Boromir’s wrist, but his grip wasn’t firm enough to affect the human’s actions.
And then, in a shivering whisper: "Please..."

"Please what?" Boromir wanted to know, slightly curling up his fingers that 
impaled the elf. Ignoring the slender, trembling hand that was grasping him, he
continued to gently flex the elastic walls that surrounded his digits.

"I...this...please..." Legolas panted, his eyelids threatening to flutter close,
his hand clinging to Boromir's wrist in pure despair.

"Please what, Legolas?" the warrior repeated with another twist of his probing 
fingers that forced a beautiful moan from the elf's wet lips.

"More…" Legolas groaned, his hand leaving Boromir’s wrist in order to press into
the ground again so the elf wouldn’t lose his balance.

Boromir complied eagerly, prodding in as deep as he could possibly get. The 
harsh and abrupt movement of his hand thrust Legolas light body a little forward
and caused him to finally shut his eyes. The elf bit down on his lower lip to 
keep back a cry that lingered in the back of his throat and waited to burst from
him, produced by those filling, pushing and caressing fingers that wound inside
of him. It felt as if Boromir was about to tear him apart, each finger of his 
pushing and twisting, stronger and stronger. The restless fingers had worked him
open mercilessly by now and Legolas thought that he could take no more, that he
would split if Boromir proceeded. He never before had been opened up by somebody
like this, and the mere thought of Boromir enfolding him uncompromisingly in 
front of Aragorn's eager eyes almost made him come. His mind was clouded by the
delicious pain and his unsatisfied desire in such a strong way that he was 
hardly aware of Boromir talking to him. He could only focus on those torturing,
stimulating fingers that dove deeply, rubbed teasingly and twisted harshly.

“… want him?” Boromir’s voice reached his ears, very faintly. 

“What?” Legolas managed to ask in nothing more than a whisper.

“I said, do you still want him?!”

Another very hard stroke, exactly over the spot that made stars dance in front 
of his eyes, and this time, Legolas couldn’t bite back the harsh groan.

“Yes,” he answered then, his voice trembling with raw lust.

“You will get him,” Boromir assured him grimly, and before Legolas could react, 
manoeuvred him around so that the elf’s rear was no longer facing towards him, 
but towards Aragorn. Glistening blue eyes glazed with desire met flaming dark, 
green ones for the shortest of moments, but their gazes were torn apart when 
Boromir forced the upper part of Legolas’ body down by pulling the elven arms to
either sides, robbing the archer of his hold and balance. Once Legolas’ head was
pressing against the forest ground while his hips were still pushed up, Boromir
placed one of his knees in the nape of the elf’s neck to prevent him from 
straightening up again. The man from Gondor heard that Legolas muttered 
something that must be an elven curse, but the archer didn’t start any active 
attempts to free himself.

"Come closer," Boromir told Aragorn, the hoarseness of his voice revealing that
he hadn’t fully recovered from his climax yet. The ranger complied wordlessly 
and approached the couple, his heart pounding madly and his mouth totally dry 
from thrilling anticipation and excitement. Amused, Boromir watched Aragorn 
swallowing hard, concerned gaze ranging over the elf's arched marble back.

"What are you waiting for?" the man from Gondor asked, faintly smiling at 
Aragorn's hesitance. The ranger shifted his gaze from the heavily breathing elf
to Boromir's noble face and swallowed again, nervously.

"Trust me, he is ready for you," Boromir said encouragingly. "Go on, help 
yourself. And remember that he prefers it the rough way…"

Aragorn tried to read the expression in Boromir’s eyes, but it was impossible 
for him to tell what his comrade’s intentions were. The ranger wasn’t sure 
whether Boromir only told the truth, or whether he wanted to punish Legolas by 
inciting Aragorn to take the elf as coarsely as possible. A part of him wanted
to punish the archer as well, for his arrogance and brazenness to play himself
and Boromir off against each other, but another part of him was too decent to 
just give in to this carnal, egoistic urge. Not daring to breathe, he dropped 
his gaze from Boromir’s face to Legolas’ submissive body again and reached out 
with both hands, carefully touching the blond archer’s smooth and slippery 
buttocks. A small, hopeful sound slipped from Legolas’ mouth as Aragorn’s 
fingers fluttered over his sensitive skin in a wordless question for approval.

Assured that the elf was consenting to his plans, Aragorn edged closer towards 
Legolas until the tip of his erection easily slid into the inviting crack of the
elf’s rear. The ranger had feared that he wouldn’t find the entrance with the 
first try or that it would be difficult to penetrate this tiny hidden orifice he
was about to explore, but now as he was having a go at it, it felt like the most
natural and easiest thing in the world. As if this was what he had waited for 
his whole life. He didn’t have to think about what to do. He just followed the 
impulses and let his body dominate over his mind, let his hands hold Legolas’ 
hips as his own hips moved forward with determination.

Once his stiff member’s swollen head was in, tightly buried in moist warmth, 
Aragorn paused to let the consuming feeling of overwhelming arousal sink in 
completely. He had intended to stay still for a little longer, but when he felt
Legolas contracting around the most sensitive part of his body he couldn’t help
pushing forward with a groan, shoving himself as deeply as possible into the 
being that was stuck beneath him. Legolas, whose head was still pinned to the 
ground by Boromir’s knee, voiced a trembling, lustful whimper at this untender 
but most welcome intrusion. The ranger's shaft was long and hard inside of him
as it was embedded in his most intimate depths, surrounded by tight but soft 
inner walls that had been so thoroughly flexed by Boromir’s active fingers.

Decency was forgotten the second Aragorn actually acquired entrance into the 
wondrous ethereal body of his friend, and once his rationality was gone his 
inhibitions dwindled away, too. All too soon he fell into a forceful and harsh 
rhythm that left Legolas no time for adaption. He saw the elf arch his back in
attempt to adjust, but he couldn't stop himself from descending on the slender,
quaking form again and again, pressing and thrusting harder and faster with 
every heartbeat. Sensual pleasure was avalanching over him until every fibre of
his body was set on fire. The sensation was so overwhelming and intoxicating 
that Aragorn could not have curbed his desires if Legolas had screamed in pain 
and thrashed about in sheer agony.

Driven by the last small spark of propriety and concern that was still left, 
Aragorn leaned a little forward and slid one of his hands from Legolas’ hip to 
his front. Keeping up the intensity of his thrusts, he groped for the elf’s 
member and, when smooth, hot solidness nestled against his palm like iron 
velvet, closed his hand with just enough force to make Legolas whimper with 
need. Aragorn felt how the elf angled his pelvis in order to get the hardest 
possible friction from the ranger’s fist, and realizing that Legolas was more 
than enjoying their wicked activities, he slammed into the willing, pale body 
with even more impact. Beautiful, trance-like sounds erupted from the elf at 
regular intervals now, and soon elvish snippets mingled with the melodious 
groans. Boromir who couldn’t understand a word assumed that the soft babble was
just incoherent, feverish speech with no meaning to it. Only when suddenly 
Aragorn chimed in, Boromir realized that the elf was not launching out any 
nonsense, but was in fact talking to the ranger. Aragorn’s Elvish was pale in 
comparison to the dulcet, tender manner-of-speaking of Legolas, but it flowed 
off his tongue effortlessly, as if it was his first language.

Feeling more than uneasy with the current situation, Boromir wanted to put an 
end to the secret conversation of his comrades. Since Aragorn didn’t seem to
take any notice of Boromir anymore, the man from Gondor assumed that it wouldn’t
help if he just spoke to the ranger. Chances were high that he only would be 
ignored. With that thought in mind and the nagging wish to cut off a dialogue he
wasn’t able to follow, Boromir did something he never would have dreamed of. 
Before Aragorn could say one more Elvish word, Boromir leaned forward and kissed
him.

The ranger’s eyes shot open with a start, and when his lips parted in a 
surprised gasp, Boromir took the chance to intensify the kiss. He pressed 
against Aragorn’s open mouth with determination that didn’t leave room for 
denial, and his tongue penetrated virtually unhindered. Before Boromir even 
realized what he had started, Aragorn overcame the shock and reacted with 
surprising enthusiasm. He kissed back with rough passion, curiously meeting
Boromir’s exploring tongue with his own. Now it was Boromir’s turn to gasp 
softly, taken by surprise by the unexpected sense of delight that was washing 
over him. The ranger tasted so very different from Legolas, but not in the least
less interesting. And, Boromir noted, he was a very gifted kisser. In fact so 
gifted that Boromir sensed a comfortable, familiar heat slowly growing in his 
groin. Only few moments later, Boromir felt himself slowly but surely getting 
hard again which made him forget about Legolas for a moment. As a result, the 
elf easily managed to wind away from under the distracted human’s knee.

Once straightened up between the two broad, warm humans, Legolas let his 
forehead sink on Boromir’s solidly muscled shoulder. Neither of the Men 
complained about this new position, or maybe they were just to caught up in 
their excessive kissing to bother. One of Boromir’s hands had travelled up to 
Aragorn's head to pull him closer, and now as the new arrangement of the three
bodies allowed them to move closer together, his other hand grabbed the ranger's
waist, hard. Aragorn groaned loudly, half in pain and half in bliss, without 
disconnecting from the other human’s mouth. Greedily drawing Boromir's lower lip
in between his teeth, Aragorn tightly closed both his arms around Legolas’ 
ribcage to have a better hold on him while he took him.

Boromir shivered as he felt the elf’s lips brushing over his sensitized skin 
just before Legolas bit his shoulder in order to suppress a sob that threatened
to break from him. The impulse to pull away from the pain was smothered by more
pleasing sensations when Legolas pushed a hand between them and grasped both of
their erections at once, pressing them together while he rubbed them with fast,
firm strokes. Legolas was rocked up against him again and again with each thrust
Aragorn accomplished and the slender elven body was shaken violently by the 
overwhelmingly filling sensation of the ranger moving so forcefully inside of 
him. The archer felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and started to 
energetically suck on Boromir's neck to stifle a scream of both pain and 
pleasure. Eyes shut tight, Legolas felt Boromir arch his neck into the touch of
his bruising lips and nipping teeth.

Feeling his climax rushing in on him, Aragorn picked up pace. Driven by insane 
lust that was clouding his mind, he intensified his long, powerful strokes that
plunged into his elven comrade with almost brutal impact. With a guttural, loud
moan, he fully pulled out of Legolas, just to slam back in again totally 
unrestrained, hurling his entire length into the hot, narrow lock of velvety, 
clamping skin. Legolas groaned against Boromir's neck on which he had produced 
an impressive, purple love bite by now. While his right hand lay motionless on 
his own and Boromir’s erect members, the fingers of his left dug into the human
warrior’s taut flesh as he clung to him, his delicate frame quaking from the 
rough, deep pushes that seemed to split him. Then he felt one of Boromir’s hands
on the back of his head, holding him almost tenderly, and it soothed him 
greatly.

Legolas slanted into the easing caress of Boromir’s palm and simultaneously 
tightened his grasp around their erections, again starting to work his hand up 
and down with unsteady but intense strokes. When a grateful, relishing moan 
escaped the son of the Steward, Legolas turned his head and lasciviously wetted
his lips at the enticing sight of the two male humans sharing deep, intimate 
kisses, their mouths meeting over Legolas’ shoulder. He couldn't help leaning in
to them more closely, slipping out his tongue to graze it along the tight 
junction of the others’ bruising mouths. He was welcomed eagerly, both men 
opening their sore lips to him, inviting him to join in. For a moment all three
of them shared deep kisses, moist tongues sliding over and between glowing lips,
teeth nibbling on wet skin, greedy mouths sucking, exploring, moaning. And all 
the while Legolas was being pushed into Boromir's comfortably cushioning body in
a frantic rhythm, Aragorn's deep thrusts sending vibrations through all of them
in a passionate chain reaction. Together, the three spiralled towards release,
their climaxes building up with fiery pressure and burning fervour.

Legolas came first. He lost the last bit of control he had had over his 
trembling body and surrendered to the violent, enormous convulsions that took 
him over completely. His legs gave in, but he was wedged between his two 
companions so tightly that he did not fall. Limbs slack and frame quaking 
savagely, he hung between them and couldn't help screaming out his release that
claimed his body, mind and soul. His wildly contracting muscles clamped tightly
around Aragorn's hard, thick flesh, causing the man to pant in ecstasy and pump
even quicker and deeper, while the elf's milky essences shot from the hurtfully
swollen tip of his own erection in several long, lusciously painful gushes, 
bursting all over Boromir's front side.

Still flying with the onslaught of his fierce orgasm, Legolas felt Aragorn 
driving into his prostrate with each blustery plunge while Boromir got hold of 
his not yet softened cock and miraculously forced another surging flood of hot,
sticky liquids from him. The combination of both men stimulating him mercilessly
although he had already reached his peak elevated Legolas higher and higher and
he cried out again since it was everything he could do to somewhat 
counterbalance the immense sensual pleasure. The sensation was so intense that 
he feared he could faint from it. Stars were dancing in front of his eyes, the 
whole world was spinning around him and he heard himself groan and sob with 
terrifying force, almost not recognising the loud, whimpering voice as his own.
Suddenly a warm mouth closed over his, muffling his strong vocal outbursts. 
Legolas sucked on it in gratitude, clung his trembling lips to Boromir's in hot
despair, and the warrior’s hand that had never left the back of his head 
supported him, held him close.

Only seconds later, Aragorn lost his long battle with stamina and with one last,
powerful thrust spent himself in his elven friend. His climax was stressed by 
an animalistic groan and a rough, but short shudder, and his strong arms 
clenched Legolas' upper part of the body to force him still so he could press 
his final stroke as deeply as possible. Legolas whimpered into Boromir's 
cherishing mouth when the sweet spot inside of him was crushed with this last, 
ultimate shove, and then lost balance when the ranger glided out of his liquid-
filled opening. As soon as Aragorn let go of him, the needed support was lost 
and the elf instantly collapsed to the ground. Legolas felt both men grabbing 
him by his arms with startled gasps. They obviously hadn't expected him to be as
weakened and worn-out as he actually was, but he only shook his head and refused
to let them drag him to his knees again. There was no way he was going to take 
up an upright position in the next moments.

Legolas just lay there for some seconds, trying to catch his breath and 
relishing the post-orgasmic thrill that was sparking through his exhausted body.
The rough stimulation of Aragorn's cock and Boromir's fingers had led to a 
slightly burning sensation of being sore and overstretched. He felt the rich 
mixture of Aragorn's and Boromir's fused liquids leaking out of him in slow, 
gluey streamlets, and some of his own essences drying across his stomach. Eyes 
closed, he drew peace from the soft rustling of the leaves in the trees that 
surrounded them and the coolish blades of grass his recovering body was resting
on.

"Legolas...?" Aragorn asked softly, obviously concerned about the elf's 
condition. His breathing was still heavy, almost blatant in this sudden 
quietness that had come over them.

"Are you well?" Boromir added with a worried tone and touched the blond male by
his shoulder, gently squeezing. Legolas only nodded and then, after some more 
moments of appreciating the calmness, pushed himself up on his knees again.

“Stand,” the elf instructed Boromir who obeyed before realizing what Legolas was
about to do. The man from Gondor gasped softly when the archer grasped him by 
his slim hips, obviously planning to release Boromir from his lasting erection 
with his skilful mouth, but before he could take him in, the human captured the
elf's chin in his large palm and held him back. Confused, Legolas tilted his 
head back and looked up to his lover, brows furrowed in silent question.

"You don't need to, Legolas," Boromir said softly and stroked the smooth cheek 
with his big, rough thumb. "You are foreworn and exhausted. Don't do it only 
because you feel obliged to it." 

"Let me..." Aragorn suddenly said with a hoarse voice, drawing both Legolas' and
Boromir's attention towards him before the elf had a chance to react to 
Boromir’s statement. Legolas nodded faintly, a weak smile crossing his features,
turned his head to place a loving kiss on Boromir's finger and then limberly 
crawled aside again to rest on the soft, comforting moss of the forest ground.
Without further explanations, Aragorn stepped closer to the younger human and 
slowly sank on his knees in front of him. Boromir held his breath in both 
uncertainness and anticipation, his gaze full of disbelief when he looked down
to the dark ranger who returned the stare, only that his dark eyes were 
expressing hesitance and, much to Boromir's surprise, desire. It was more than 
clear that the ranger longed for the blond, beautiful elf, but that Aragorn 
would ever look at him like this, Boromir had never considered posible. 

"Will you let me taste you?" Aragorn asked in a whisper that sent shivers up 
Boromir's spine. He only managed to give a single, short nod, his breath still 
choked back in his throat while the ranger gently placed his rough hands on the
other man's damp, firm hips. 

The restrained breath broke free with a loud groan when Aragorn wrapped his lips
around the head of Boromir's erection and then slid down, abruptly embedding him
in the moist, hot cave of his mouth. He started sucking in an instant, causing 
Boromir to bury both his hands in Aragorn's dark hair with a throaty squawk.

"Careful..." Boromir instructed in ragged gasps, his hands winding in the dark
mass of dirty hair. Aragorn obeyed, doing what he could to swirl his wet tongue
around the other man's impressive erection as slowly and teasingly as possible,
savouring each and every inch of smooth, glowing flesh he explored. 

"That's it," Boromir muttered under his breath, his eyelids fluttering close in
sheer pleasure. "Oh, that's... don't stop, that's it... Aragorn -"

His comrades name burst from Boromir's lips, peaking in a heavy groan as Aragorn
slightly intensified his carnal ministrations and sped up his motions. The 
ranger moaned and closed his eyes too when the other human started to 
involuntarily thrust in his mouth, driving his hot, hard flesh into him as if he
wanted to spear the back of Aragorn’s head. The ranger passionately twisted his
tongue around the sleek, swollen crown and gingerly grazed his teeth along the 
thick shaft, relishing the deep, uncurbed groans that were high above him, 
encouraging him to proceed. 

"I wish you could see yourself right now," he suddenly heard Legolas' purring 
voice from his left. Aragorn opened his eyes and shifted his gaze towards the 
elf without stopping to suck on the man from Gondor. Legolas watched them, his 
usually starry eyes curtained with lust, his perfect lips slightly parted in 
concentration. In an odd way, the sight turned Aragorn on enormously, and he had
to dig his fingers into Boromir's taut skin more firmly in order to suppress an
evident shudder.

"Aragorn, please..." Legolas begged after some more moments of witnessing 
Aragorn's eager lips sliding up and down Boromir's solid erection. "I want to 
see him come to release in your mouth. Finish him for me." 

Determined to bring Boromir to his climax as quickly as possible, Aragorn put 
even more effort in his actions which, according to the tremors that started to
take over Boromir’s body, had the effect both Aragorn and Legolas were hoping 
for. The hands in the ranger’s hair closed to tight fists, painfully tearing at
dark strands in a to and fro of pulling close and pushing away, until Boromir’s
whole body froze abruptly, each and every single muscle tensing. Aragorn's eyes
fluttered open and he raised his gaze, never stopping to lick and suck fervently
at the swollen length that pushed into his mouth, just in time to catch the 
magical moment.

Pure emotion took control over Boromir's features, erratic pants erupting from 
his parted lips, while his body suddenly started quaking all over. Thick, hot 
liquid poured over Aragorn's ardently working tongue and showered his palate, 
quickly filling the cave of his mouth. Boromir's cheeks flushed, his eyes shut 
tight and his jaw clenched in strain, then loosened with relief, while his 
fluids streamed and pulsated into his rightful king. The gush of hot, bitter 
seed was so explosive and lush that some of it overflowed, dripping past 
glowing, sore lips and down a darkly bearded chin, and Aragorn couldn’t help 
wondering how there could be so much of it left after such a huge amount of 
Boromir's liquids had already spouted over Legolas’ backside not long ago.

With another deep groan, Boromir let his head fall forward, making his hair 
sweep over his shoulders, drop into his face and glue to the sweaty, flushed 
skin while calmer shudders and convulsions rippled through his body, slowly 
diminishing. Aragorn stared mesmerised, gently letting Boromir slip out of his 
mouth and absently swallowing the salty liquids, all the while clinging to the 
other man's hips. He found that Boromir had never looked more vulnerable, purer,
more glorious than in this very moment.

Suddenly, Boromir sank down on his knees in front of him so they were on one 
level. His eyes were still closed, his broad chest was heaving quickly and the 
peacefulness that emanated from him touched something inside Aragorn. He 
suddenly felt the urge to reach out and caress the younger man's hair and face,
to feel the heated sweat of ecstasy he had caused to arise on the sun-tanned 
skin. He expected Boromir to shy away from his touch, but to his surprise the 
son of the Steward cocked his head a little and leaned into the gentle caress. 
Before he knew what he was doing, Aragorn bent forward and lowered his lips on 
Boromir’s mouth. He felt a large, warm hand wind into the hair at the nape of 
his neck in wordless approval, but neither of them deepened the kiss. 

“I’m tired,” Boromir murmured once their lips were disconnected again, his 
fingers still playing with strands of the ranger’s dark hair.

”Doesn’t surprise me,” Aragorn said with a weak smile. 

“No,” Boromir agreed and returned the smile faintly, and only a few seconds 
later they both lay sprawled on the forest floor, face to face. 

“I’m not going to thank you for this,” Boromir declared in a sleepy voice when
he noticed the expectant expression in Aragorn’s eyes. 

“I know,” the other human replied calmly. Boromir’s hand was still fondling his
neck and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the tender sensation 
after all the rough, fast sex. 

“This won’t happen again,” Boromir added as he leaned a little closer and placed
a final, gentle kiss on Aragorn’s temple. Aragorn wasn’t sure whether his 
brother-in-arms meant the wild activities that had happened between the three of
them today, or the intimate tenderness that somehow had developed between only 
the two of them just now. But when Legolas crouched closer and wound his arms 
around Boromir from behind, causing the man from Gondor to turn in the embrace 
and face the elf, Aragorn understood that he meant both. 

He saw Legolas’ hands caressing Boromir’s broad back, heard the soft sound of 
lips engaging in affectionate kisses, and realized that after all, he was left 
out in the cold again. Eventually Aragorn understood that he was again where he
had started off, and although he was still gaining pleasant feelings from the 
aftermath of orgasm, the realization left a bitter aftertaste.