Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Taming Legolas ❯ Keep Him Close ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3 - Keep Him Close

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Arwen stood naked above him. She slanted her bright-eyed gaze over Legolas with unbridled lust. Legolas' heart refused to stop beating against his breast as if it were a beast caught in a trap. She stood above his head, tall and proud, majestic and unconcerned in her nakedness. With a sly smile she handed Estel the small jar of ointment that the Man had used upon Legolas last night.

Last night. The Council of Elrond. A world of time away from this that now bound them all. Legolas flexed his fingers in the fur soft weft of the carpet as he sought to break the spell that Aragorn bound the Mirkwood Prince with more surely than the bit of ribbon twisted about his wrists.

Before Legolas could struggle to an upright position, Arwen slid behind him, enclosing him in gentle embrace and arranging the elf upon her lap. Trepidation sent chills dancing along Legolas' spine and despite his love for Aragorn and his awakened desire Legolas again wondered at how much would be demanded of him.

Shaking her head amusedly, her raven locks danced like night's shadow against the milk white flesh of her shoulders, her lips twitched into a smile. "Estel, help me with your love. He seems most reluctant to find comfort in my arms."

Pinioned as much by her words as by the sure, predatory movements of the Man, Legolas lay as paralyzed and allowed them to arrange him to their satisfaction upon her lap.

Legolas' head nestled at her breast and her spread thighs supported his back and gave to his arms room so that they should not cramp in their bindings. He could feel the moist heat breathing from her furry mound against his curled hands and his pulse hammered erratically.

In spite of himself, Legolas felt himself respond to her scent and her moist invitation. With embarrassment he felt his rigid sex dance lightly upon his belly in firm approval. He could not help but fidget within her arms. In denial of what he had agreed to Legolas closed his eyes, shutting out her amused smile. Making to pull away from the Nis and unbind his hands, he was halted by the Dunédan.

"Do not move, pen-rhovan." Caught, Legolas stilled. Closing his eyes had been a mistake. His world suddenly reduced to the throbbing need within his body, the burning desire that raged chaotically throughout, the heat of the Nis. Small sounds and movements seemed magnified tenfold. There was an audible clink as the small jar of ointment was sat nearby.

When he felt Aragorn moving back between his legs, Legolas' eyes flew open. There was a proprietary heat in the Man's gaze that roved freely over Legolas' captive form. Yet, hidden deep within the flame burning fiercely within Aragorn's eyes, there lay a strange tenderness. Aragorn's voice was husky and coaxing as if he feared that Legolas might take flight if given the choice and the Man sought to soothe the Elf as one would a falcon caught in the wild.

Then, Aragorn descended upon him, his gaze burning hotter than Celebrimbor's forge. Legolas writhed beneath the heated gaze; his turgid arousal jumped and wept profusely as it curled upon his belly. Excitement unfurled like a dragon within his loins and his pulse raced with his vulnerability.

Aragorn gave to him a secret smile, the darkness of which raised the small hairs on the back of Legolas' neck. It was as if the Dunédan could read his desire to be taken and intended to fulfill every unnamed fantasy that Legolas had denied to himself.

Rough hands grabbed Legolas' legs, allowing no argument and spread them apart as Aragorn slid between, the Man's knees pressing tight against the soft flesh of the Elf's inner thighs preventing Legolas from closing his legs. "Estel... " The soft breathed word escaped Legolas as fear and desire warred harshly within him.

Falling upon Legolas, Aragorn claimed his lips in another soul stealing kiss, tongue invading the Elf's mouth as if only just discovering new territory. 'Twas as if the Man sought to devour Legolas whole. Aragorn kissed Legolas' eyes closed, tasted the corners of his mouth, and bit the Elf's lips until Legolas was afire. Legolas trembled anew, his blood burning for the Man's touch and leaned into the kiss, his hands twisting relentlessly in their satin bonds.

The tenderness with which Aragorn explored his body imprinted itself deep within his mind beyond denial and left him shaking.

Legolas, already athrum with the heat of his desire and the taste of Aragorn upon his lips gave a tiny sound of protest, his fists clenching spasmodically. Awareness of Arwen's femininity rolled through him at the light brush of dampness against curled fingers and the soft swell of breast against his cheek. She smiled into his lust-hazed eyes and brushed his hair from his face.

Panic suddenly swelled within crashing over him with the violence of a storm-wracked sea. "Set me free!" The unbidden call flew from him as he writhed beneath Aragorn's touch.

"No." Passion dark and firm, Aragorn's voice stilled the panic fluttering in Legolas' breast. A stern reminder that this the Elf had agreed to. In deep wine-sweet tones, Aragorn's voice ran over him, "Your choice is now gone in this matter, lirimaer. You no longer have voice in what happens within these chambers."

What had been a slow rekindling of the Elf's arousal burst through him sucking all the air from his lungs in a scorching conflagration of unyielding passion that shook the youthful Prince to the very core of his being.

Legolas gasped, drawing in a desperate breath and Aragorn at once plundered his open mouth, neither seeking nor asking permission. This was his Elf and every movement of demanding hand across the fine pale-skinned flesh, every touch of mouth upon mouth, every guttural growl showed the power of his possession.

Tangling his hands into the mass of blond hair, Aragorn controlled the kiss with ruthless intent, refusing to relinquish the feel of Legolas' lips pressed hard against his even when the Silvan Elf began to squirm and wriggle beneath him. Legolas' abortive movements only served to incite the flames of Aragorn's lust further.

Passion wracked Legolas and he was helpless before it, his body shaking in uncontrollable response to Aragorn's dominance. Never before had he felt so utterly lost beneath the hands of a lover, never before had he felt as if his very existence hinged upon the next touch, the next kiss. Legolas sobbed into the kiss, feeling as if he was being stripped bare, his hidden secrets exposed to the view of all.

Urgency possessed Legolas and an ever-growing need to be able to return Aragorn's caresses thundered through him. He wanted--no needed to, as Elves need the Trees--touch Aragorn. He desired with every ounce of his Immortal Life to stroke the tawny dark flesh, to run his hands along the sculpted chest, to bury his face in the dark hair that curled there, to nuzzle the dark nipples that were drawn erect begging for his mouth to suckle. With desperation born of want and love, Legolas had to twine his fingers in the dark waves of hair surrounding Aragorn's face. He needed with a ferocity that burned, to pull the Man against him, to take control of the kiss; and make Aragorn indisputably his, even as he was helplessly bound to the Man. Desire raged through Legolas, filling and lengthening the flesh between his legs and the Elf arched upward in helplessness, seeking greater contact with his tormenter.

Twisting and writhing with need, Legolas fought to loosen his bonds, the need to become one with Aragorn thrumming through him with the strength of the song of Creation. Arwen leaned forward linking her arms through his, locking their arms together and making him prisoner, unable to get enough slack to undo the knots that held his hands bound. Her voice came to him as if from afar, "Shhh... shh... lirimaer... 'tis what you wanted. 'Tis what you desire." Legolas clenched his hands tight about the satin bonds.

Being restrained and thus made to accept the pleasures that wracked his body mercilessly drove Legolas to wild abandon as he sought his ease. He thrashed in the Lady's arms as much as his pinned condition would allow. Aragorn's legs tight pressed into his leaving him spread wide and helpless, his vulnerability made more apparent as each separate bid to be free, to be loose, to claim some small part of dominance in this passion's game were met and countered. It was as though being hindered in such manner transmuted into an intensity of sensation and want that slammed through him with the raging waters of a spring thaw. His arousal, already rigid with need stood proudly erect from his stomach, aimed with unrelenting insistence at the Man who could master him with but a touch.

Aragorn swallowed his loud cries of protest and soft mewled pleas, thrusting his tongue past the Elf's panting lips, conquering anew the torn and fractured Prince of Mirkwood, branding him with his passion so that after this day, Legolas could never walk away proclaiming himself apart and aloof from him.

Thought, doubt, and coherency were swept away in a groundswell of passionate longing. Legolas was awash in a storm of sensation, being thrown hither and yon upon passion's crest. Shame had long since fled and the Wood Elf was no longer aware of Arwen as she released her hold upon his arms. All his thoughts were focused upon the Man, his body raging and needful for completion. The desire to be taken flooded through him.

Arwen used his distraction to touch him lightly. She swept the wet hair from his forehead and gently kissed his temple, her lips curved in a smile felt upon some deep, inner part of Legolas' being rather than impinging upon his awareness. A delicate exploration of the points of his ear sent tingles dancing lightly through the maelstrom of sensations sweeping ruthlessly through his helpless body.

He cried out in dismay at the loss of Aragorn's mouth when the Man pulled away. Legolas sought blindly to recapture those lips struggling awkwardly upon Arwen's lap, the warmth of her flesh and her soft scent pervading the air about him. Aragorn's scent mixed with hers and the musky smells of sex and need created an intoxicating haze that hammered at Legolas with the potency of a geas.

Aragorn lay his roughened palm against the pulse of Legolas' throat, fingers and thumb framing the Elf's jaw. Aragorn's fiery gaze traced the well-loved features and lingered on the Elf's bow shaped mouth. Legolas' pulse beat a wild tattoo beneath the Dunédan's careworn hand.

Sweat made the Man's hair hang in dark tangled curls about the bearded face; his jaw was set in determination. A shudder ran the length of Legolas' body as on some unacknowledged level he realized that there would be no turning away from this moment.

With a gentleness belied by the wildness of his eyes, Aragorn pushed Legolas back into Arwen's arms. "Shhh." The Man shook his shaggy head when Legolas arched his back over his bound hands and made a small begging sound. "No, lirimaer. I would see you like this still." Aragorn glanced beyond Legolas' head, a loving smile brightening the heated features, adding, "As would the Lady."

It was as if his wild struggles for freedom goaded Aragorn on. The Dunédan fell upon Legolas once more with lips and teeth and tongue, increasing his demands for Legolas' utter capitulation. Rough, demanding kisses and ardent bites moved down Legolas' body, marking the Elf as Aragorn's even as the Man worshipped every exposed inch of Legolas' unprotected body with harsh reverence.

Legolas furled and unfurled his hands in unheeded helpless entreaty. Everywhere that Aragorn had seared the feel of his lips into Legolas' hot flesh, Arwen touched but lightly, following the trail of bruises left in Aragorn's wake.

Unable to turn from Aragorn, Legolas felt unbearably vulnerable. His chest heaved as if he had run to Imladris all the long way from the borders of his beloved Greenwood. Fear flavored his passion and tinged his desire, so that all sensations were sharp and clear, his mind fogged with need. Arwen continued to explore his body whilst Aragorn fed upon him, the Man's eyes burning with sure knowledge.

Aragorn tongued his nipples and Legolas gave a shout that was muffled by the Lady Arwen's mouth covering his. He shook his head, but she persisted whither he would give of himself or no. Aragorn bit at the tight nub in his teeth and Legolas twisted, pain and pleasure inextricably entwined as they darted through the raging flames flooding through him.

As Aragorn moved away from the torture of his teats, Lady Arwen's fingers immediately laid claim. She circled the pale crinkled flesh tight about the bud with one finger before tweaking it sharply between her fingers; rubbing, pinching and teasing until Legolas smothered a cry as he arced upwards in undeniable response.

It was like the tides, one wave of pleasure not fully receding before another leapt to take its place as Aragorn left marks blooming upon his body. The brief flares of pain twining with surges of rapture flooding over him, leaving Legolas quivering helplessly and calling out Aragorn's name in a sweet begging litany.

Arwen's panted breath and sweetly murmured encouragements lapped gently over his raging flesh and danced star-bright in his passion fogged mind. Her gaze never wavered as she sought the pleasured pain revealed in his over-bright eyes.

A shout reverberated through the room, when Aragorn breathed but lightly across the orbs pulled so tight to Legolas' body. So taut were they that Legolas could feel them quiver and move at the lightest of touches. With wanton fervor, Legolas spread his legs wider, an unvoiced appeal begging in his dark indigo gaze. Desirous past all knowing for Aragorn's touch Legolas' hips were moving of their own volition, describing small seeking arcs in the air. Yet Aragorn determinedly ignored the rigid shaft that danced with each caress and leaked profusely with its need.

Legolas could no longer hear. The blood pounded through him like the steady beat of a drum deep within the bowels of Arda. His heart raced and sweat glistened upon his skin making the Elf shine in the morning light, his passion a beacon that drew Aragorn to him. Legolas no longer sought to free his bound hands; rather he tossed his head helplessly upon the Lady Arwen's breast, infrequent pleas pulled from him unknowing as the twain fondled and stroked, touched and teased his quivering body.

A mild fragrance of athelas and mint suddenly filled Legolas' nostrils and he gave a needy moan, a small wave of hysteria making him wonder if he would become rampant with need each time thenceforward should the aroma of athelas tease him. He raised his hips in abandoned supplication. "Saes--" a whisper of a breath drawn out long and low wavered from the young Prince's throat. Aragorn's deep chuckle--more a triumphant touch--threaded through the Elf's body in answer.

Without warning, a gel-slicked finger breached the shadowed entrance to the Prince's body and Legolas cried out, his hips rising up and near dislodging the insistent intruder. Aragorn placed one palm flat above the Elf's begging arousal and pressed his hand firmly against the taut belly as he began to prepare Legolas for Aragorn's possession. Aragorn's eyes flamed darkly and his tongue flickered wetly over his lips as Legolas strove to pierce himself on the probing digit.

"Saes! A'maelamin!" Legolas beseeched in naked longing.

With a quiet laugh, Arwen caught the tormented Elf's attention, drawing Legolas' pleading gaze to her. "Do you wish to be taken, my prince?" Her voice was a soft taunt inflaming Legolas' already raging desires. "Will you do this for me?"

His nostrils flared in rebellion, his love and pride at war within him. Anger flecked his speech and passion roughened his voice until his silver tones were but a hoarse rasping, "I do not do this for you!"

Arwen seemed amused, and Legolas struggled to think clearly, yet found it difficult with Aragorn's searching finger within the tight channel of his body. The Man's finger was soon joined by another; and Legolas flung his head back against the Lady's breast, panting desperately. Aragorn slowly twisted the digits deep within the Elf's body, the Dunédan's rigid control strained past reason.

Legolas could hear Aragorn's breath like a bellows and he could feel the tremor of the Man's body transmitted through his touch. Arwen spoke softly, almost as if to herself, yet her words flayed Legolas and made him cringe and turn upon the fingers invading his body. "Why do you then, lirimaer?"

Eyes widening, Legolas saw the trap he was perilously close to entering too late. His voice barely above a whisper, he answered, "I cannot say."

"Cannot? Or will not, little Elf?" Aragorn sounded angry, as frustrated as Legolas. Removing his finger from the determined clutch of Legolas' body, Aragorn lifted the Elf's legs to his shoulders. With a sure grip upon his raging sex, Aragorn placed the weeping crown of his rigid shaft at the tight pucker, waiting.

Legolas shouted in frustration and canted his hips thrusting himself onto Aragorn's erection. "I will not!" Legolas declaimed even as he was pierced.

Aragorn cried aloud his passion as Legolas took him into his body. Pain bloomed bright behind Legolas' eyes and the Elf caught his breath holding rigidly still while waiting for the hurt to ebb.

Aragorn grasped the Elf's hips, when he felt the hot passage ease its grip upon his sex he began a long slow slide into the Elf's body locking his gaze with Legolas'. Legolas threw his head back in helpless ecstasy, needing to touch, to feel, to be touched; he turned his head and nuzzled desperately at Lady Arwen's breast.

Arwen gasped with pleasure and rewarded him. Tracing his lips with cool fingers that had been anointed with the water from the dish that she had set by her side so long ago. Legolas parted his lips thirstily, eagerly sucking upon her fingers, letting the slide of her fingers in and out of his mouth mimic that of Aragorn's possession of his body.

With tantalizing concentration, Aragorn slowly withdrew his engorged shaft, stopping when the very tip of his erection was all that remained within the confines of Legolas' fraught body. Every muscle in the Man's body stood out with his restraint. Blue fire danced about a dark void so black that Aragorn's gaze threatened to swallow the Prince whole.

Legolas was a-thrum. His body vibrating beneath Aragorn's in anticipation of his taking. He could not countenance this. Could not withstand it.

There were too many hands, touching, gentle and persuasive in their insistence. Arwen's gentle administrations were a counterpoint to Aragorn's rough possession. Her soft hands would smooth and caress. Deftly Arwen would tease and feather sensations across his face, his eyes, his mouth and his teats even as Aragorn's hard hand stroked his flank and yielded not to Legolas' attempts to rise and spear himself continually upon the shaft teasing the entrance to his body. He could scream his frustration and curse the Man who showed uncommon restraint when he himself had none.

Sensations conflicted one with another, pleasure and pain sang through him and still Aragorn would not move! With the bludgeon of Aragorn's arousal piercing his body with pain so sweet that Legolas wished he could cry, he could feel each pulse, each beat as a separate torment through the guardian ring locking Aragorn tightly within him.

Legolas moaned long and low and needy, "Do not stop now!" Incredulity and disbelief colored his words. Whence had Aragorn learned such restraint and whence had the Man come upon this skill to torment with such pained delight?

Holding steady, Aragorn demanded of Legolas that which he wanted to know. "Tell me, melme! Think you I cannot keep this pace for longer than you desire?" And again Aragorn began to take Legolas' body with a slow steady advance.

Groaning in an agony of desire Legolas cried aloud, "'Tis already longer than I desire!"

"Do you want this, pen-rhovan? Do you want me? Tell me!" Again, Aragorn stilled.

Legolas wailed his protest, words lost. He wanted none of that, he wanted to be taken, to be used, to grasp to him this memory as if this was all that there was; all that there could be, though why that was, he could not remember, now.

Shifting, Aragorn slid his hands down to clutch at Legolas' hips holding the Elf forcibly still, as he began again the long slow advance into the welcome heat of the Elf's body. Changing the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly, the Man stroked the bright starry center of Legolas' body causing the Elf to shake and scream with paroxysms of ecstasy.

Legolas shouted in his surrender as pressure built within him with terrible urgency. Wanton in his need he begged shamelessly, "Yes! Sweet Elbereth! Estel! Panna-enni! Noro-enni!"

As if those were the words that Aragorn had been waiting to hear, the Man released his confining hold upon Legolas' hip. Legolas rose up like a wild thing and impaled himself with all the desperate grace of a cat in heat.

Even now, Legolas could not free himself to ride Aragorn as his body so desperately craved. Need more powerful than thought sang through his body and Legolas became a vessel for Aragorn's use. Rising up as much as his restrained position would allow, he met each forceful thrust with an inarticulate cry as Aragorn slammed into him. The slap of the Man's furred orbs against the curve of his buttocks rang loudly in Legolas' ears.

The Prince of Mirkwood was reduced to a frenzy of need. He bit wildly at Arwen and suckled upon fingers and breast, whatever should come to his mouth, her cries were like the calls of wild birds and a hand twisted in his hair and he cared not. Too soon he could feel the gathering flood burst from its enforced containment, coursing through him without control and ripping his release from him. Beyond caring, he cried aloud his love for Aragorn, Estel's name torn from him and swallowed by the Lady Arwen's fulsome lips upon his.

Almost immediately, Legolas could feel the purging fire of Aragorn's seed, a searing essence filling him in rapid pulses as Legolas' body arched upwards, an overdrawn bow of rapture.

Leaning over Legolas, her hand tangled in the mass of his hair, her lips branded his. Her dark hair fell in soft waves about them, veiling Aragorn from him. Legolas cried out his disappointment, his thwarted desire to see Aragorn deep buried within him and claiming the joy of release. Even this, Arwen swallowed, drinking delicately at his lips and refusing to free him. As his body trembled with pleasure, it was Arwen's face that rose up before him, Arwen's eyes that bore into his own until his lids fluttered shut locking away that knowing gaze from his. And though Aragorn's essence burned within him, the pleasure of Legolas watching Aragorn claim him in such a way was denied. Twice, now he had been taken, and twice now he had been blind to Aragorn. The Man spoke words of love to him, yet he had never said so. The Dunédan called him 'a'maelamin', yet he did not say simply, 'I love you.' Why? Why had he not been allowed to view Aragorn in that most private of moments? Surely Aragorn had seen all that Legolas would offer, willing or no. It had to be writ large upon his face at the lightest of touches, and when in passion's relentless throes he was unable to deny this Man anything.

Legolas collapsed back against Arwen, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lay sated and wanton, legs splayed to either side of Aragorn. Aragorn traced the finger-shaped bruises upon one of Legolas' hips, watching the Elf through heavy eyes filled with the languor of completion and the triumph of a King.

Legolas cared not. He pushed the worrisome thoughts from him and wished nothing more than to curl up next to Aragorn and rest. Thinking was something that could be done another time. Now, he would lie here calmly and rest.

Lying atop Legolas, his softening member slowly slipping from the grip of the Elf's body, Aragorn paid homage to the bow-shaped lips with tender kisses and gentle nibbles. Legolas obediently parted his lips granting the Man entry to his mouth and returned the kisses with quiet acquiescence, the love blooming between the two apparent in the soft caress as Aragorn gentled the tired Elf.

Laying Legolas' head gentle upon the carpet, Arwen rose. Moving with an easy grace through the room like one with sure knowledge and long acquaintance; she refilled the silver bowl with water from a pitcher sat upon a table near to the bed. Her long arms were graceful in their movements and precise as ritual. She knelt by his head and lifted her damp and dripping fingers to his mouth.

Legolas nuzzled tiredly at the cool fingers tracing his lips, thirst a need so great that even had he been aware he could not refuse to sup from her hand. When he had done licking at her fingers, Arwen offered him the dish from which to drink whilst Aragorn held his head. He swallowed thirstily, feeling as if no amount of liquid would quench the dryness of mouth and throat.

When he had finished Arwen kissed his forehead; as if knowing that to salute his lips would be too much now that awareness tickled about his consciousness and he was no longer lost in ecstasy. She brushed his hair back from his forehead as Aragorn pulled him into his lap.

Reflexively Legolas went to wend his arms about Aragorn's neck and found his hands yet bound. He looked to Aragorn speaking plaintively; "Will you not now release me?"

Aragorn breathed against Legolas' neck deeply, as if seeking to memorize the smell of his lover. "Perhaps--after."

A frown graced Legolas' fair features as he studied the Man who regarded him with equal contemplation. From the corner of his eye, Legolas caught a glance of anticipation upon the Lady Arwen's face. An uneasy doubt lingered in his breast. "After?" He inquired, misgiving rife in his voice.

"I need to check you for any injury, pen-rhovan. I was less than gentle with you."

A growing sense of dread dawning upon him, Legolas shook his head slowly. Aragorn could not be saying what he thought. Yet, the Man's intense gaze and the Lady's flushed glance underscored his developing comprehension. Wriggling uncomfortably in the Man's lap, he could feel Aragorn's lax genitals riding against the crevice of his buttocks and evidence of their union trailed wetly from the hidden door of Legolas' body.

Even the tips of Legolas' ears burned as he began to murmur in alarm. "You need not worry. I am fine. I feel no tear, nor blood--"

Ignoring Legolas' protestations, Aragorn turned him across his lap with ease. Legolas gave an undignified squawk as his buttocks were presented for easy viewing. "Aragorn!" His furious cry was likewise ignored as Aragorn parted his buttocks and probed the entrance to his body with a light finger. Legolas shuddered slightly, the memories still too new and precious to him to disregard. Legolas squirmed away from the digit.

Aragorn gave his upturned rear a sharp warning slap, sending phantom echoes of last evening dancing warningly through the Elf. Legolas bit his lip to keep from disgracing himself further and allowed his head to hang, hiding his face once again beneath the fall of his hair. He wondered distractedly if he would ever be able to unknot the tangled tresses.

Making a sound of approval, Aragorn announced himself satisfied that Legolas was, indeed, unharmed as his hand kneaded the bunched muscles of the Elf's neck. Legolas relaxed beneath his grip and remained where he was, sensing that should he try to sit or remove himself from this undignified pose that Aragorn's grip upon his neck would become immediate and forceful.

The Dunédan's amused chuckle quivered through Legolas and he sought to ignore it. "You learn quickly, a'maelamin. I think he should be rewarded. Do you not, beloved?"

Aragorn tilted his gaze to Arwen who had stood raptly by watching her betrothed and his lover. "What would you have of us, Legolas?" Her voice was sweet and caring and Legolas wondered if she were yet content or merely bided her time until she sought her satisfaction with Estel. He found he did not wish to think upon that. And rather, he thought longingly again of time alone. Time where he might sort the confused jumble of thought and feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

"May I sit?" Legolas queried somewhat petulantly.

Laughing, Aragorn pulled Legolas back upright upon his lap. "If you can."

Legolas flushed deeply at the implication in the Man's words but decided 'twere best to not heed them for the nonce. Rather, he lifted his sore arms as best he could, presenting his wrists to Aragorn.

This time, Aragorn did not refuse him, but undid the satin bonds with deft fingers. With tender regard, Aragorn brushed his lips across the red marks circling each of Legolas' slender wrists.

Legolas wondered at the Man's stamina, but realized in some dim recess that Aragorn had made sure to keep him tired and on edge since their first meeting at the Council. And Aragorn had been over-generous in his gifts of pleasure, assuring that Legolas had been spent twice for each single release of the Man's own.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the Man, suspicions beginning to ring once more in the corners of his mind. This too was a puzzle that needed resolving. Licking dried lips, Legolas wondered if either Aragorn or Arwen had plans on leaving him time to find solutions to these many riddles.

Aragorn tipped Legolas' chin up to view the doubtful eyes of his beloved. "You did not answer, Legolas. What would you desire?"

At that moment, an impromptu trickle brought home to Legolas a most desirous need, and one that he thought would also lead to time alone. "I would bathe before aught else."

Spoken with such calmness, not a betraying quaver of the plans that were only now forming in his mind entered his voice. He would retire to the bathing chambers from whence he could escape the company of his lovers.

He ducked his head, evading Aragorn's eyes, for Legolas could not lie to himself. They had both touched him, and tasted him and he had tasted of both. How that fit in all that he had been taught by his Father, he knew not, yet he hungered still for Aragorn.

And, Legolas was sure, if he did not quickly make his escape that he would no longer be able to deny this part of himself. He needed to put distance between himself and Aragorn. Rising on shaky legs, Legolas gave a brief embarrassed smile to the Lady Arwen, whose avidity unsettled him still. His gaze rested almost longingly on Aragorn as he remembered the muscle-limned flesh heated by fire and delight.

It was with something akin to both relief and regret that Legolas heard the Lady's approval. "Aragorn, it is a most excellent idea. Truthfully, I do not know how we could have forgotten tonight's feast."

If Elves had words with which to curse, Legolas knew he would not be loath to use them now. He had not remembered the feast that Elrond had announced after the Council session. Nor could he refuse to go, tired as he was, it would be a most grievous insult. Though he was sure that Lord Elrond would not be offended, it rankled the Silvan Elf to be thought boorish. He could not find it in himself to deny the duties of his House that proclaimed as Prince of Mirkwood and Thranduil's son he must attend such a function of state.

"I, too, had forgotten." Legolas moved swiftly towards where his garments had been tossed looking at them with fastidious dismay. The runnel down his leg was now an uncomfortable reminder and he could not wait to make his escape. He slid into his silver undertunic and pulled on his deep green leggings, brushing the hair out of his face, another minor irritant to be faced.

"There is no hurry, Legolas. We may use my private bathing chambers. Being Lord Elrond's foster son has its privileges." Aragorn stood apace of the startled Elf.

Legolas brows fairly flew the length of his forehead, so great was his consternation. "..."

Arwen laughed her delight, clapping her hands together like a child. "What a wonderful idea!" She spun about, her hair swirling about her like a living cloak of shadow, the pale slender curves of her body accented in the diffused light drifting lazily through the gauzy curtains.

Legolas felt a sense of absurdness wander unbidden through him as he stared at the two. "This is not what I meant. I am fully capable of bathing alone!"

Pulling Legolas into his arms, Aragorn smiled into the upraised face. "I am sure you can, but would you deprive us so soon of the pleasure of your company when we must share you late into the evening with others?"

"I--need to go to my rooms for clothing and more."

"Do not worry, melme. All of that will be taken care of." Again Arwen's voice rankled. The Lady stopped near Aragorn caressing his whiskered cheek, her fingers, dark for an Elf, yet pale as Ithil's touch upon the Man's cheek. "I'll go make the arrangements and join you quickly." So saying she dropped a light proprietary kiss upon Legolas' nose.

Legolas wrinkled his nose, watching her gather her scattered clothing and leave.

"No. I thank you. But I shall return to my chambers. We can meet up later, no?"

Frowning, Aragorn hugged Legolas tighter, holding Legolas' hands and binding him with his own arms crosswise. "You gave your word, Legolas. You have bound yourself to me, to us. You gave us your submission. I shall not let you renege."

Blinking in surprise, dread coiling loosely through his muddled thoughts, Legolas protested, "It was only for the moment!"

Aragorn shook his head. "No. I stated no limit."

"You did not say!"

"You did not ask." Aragorn turned Legolas roughly so that the Elf stood before him and stared at the captive images within the silvered glass upon one wall. "You are mine now. You have given yourself and given yourself fully. I will not allow you to take that away."

TBC

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Okay, there you have it. It's taken a twist and am unsure exactly how far Aragorn and Arwen will push Legolas, or if Legolas will push back. This was originally to have been a series of vignettes exploring D/s themes and now it's a little something more.

It may not be for everybody, so feel free to delete, stop reading, etc. I'm still having fun with it, and Yes, Arwen and Legolas and Aragorn are actually all three going to have sex. I just felt, given the circumstances it was a little early for a lot of action from Arwen. Poor girl, she's probably off somewhere relieving herself right now. <wink> CD

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Glossary

A'maelamin - beloved

Lirimaer - lovely one

Melethron-ne - my love

Melethron-nin - loved one

Mellon-nin - my friend

Melme - love

Nissi - she-elf, female elf (Morgoth's Ring)

Pen-rhovan - wild one

Saes - please (AJ Matthews)

"Panna-enni, noro-enni", - Fill me! Ride me! (AC, author of "The Folly of Starlight Series"-discussion on Sindarin sex phrases)