So Far Away | By : RavenWolf Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1972 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: So Far Away
Author: RavenWolf
Pairing: F/A
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There is nothing to save them from each other.
A/N: This is what happens when I’m depressed and allowed near a computer.
Warning: This is DIRTY. Don’t expect love-making here.
~*~
Aragorn ached to touch his Frodo from the moment he entered the room. But he distanced himself, bit his tongue, and watched as if through a telescope as Frodo cordially greeted the Lady Arwen, and as introductions were made. He watched Sam whisper something intimately into Frs eas ear, and watched as Frodo laughed.
/Wrong/, he thought. /Thi wro wrong./ But the voice was not his own and it couldn’t stop the bulge that was growing in his pants. He hid it with his robes, but they were so unbearably hot. The circlet on his head felt suddenly heavy.
Frodo walked down the long hall toward him. Slowly. Frodo avoided his eyes, looking at the statues that lined the hall of kings. /Look at me, love. Please.../
Finally, their eyes met. Aragorn’s eyes were gray and wise, but misted over with confusion and lust. Frodo’s blue eyes were cloudy with guilt and love. It was as if their gazes kissed, and it felt like holding hands through the space of society and obligation.
There were no excuses to be made. They would have to wait until night fell and all were asleep to resume their tryst. It was agony, but it was also part of the game. The desire between them grew like a delicate, dirty flower. The hairs prickled along the back of Aragorn’s hand as he discussed the kingdom’s state of affairs, and the tips of Frodo’s ears flushed red. He touched Aragorn’s knee accidentally under the table during dinner. Aragorn walked a little too close to Frodo as he showed him the gardens.
They were never alone together. They made sure of it. The others knew, somehow, though they said nothing. To leave them alone was to invite disaster. Arwen stayed close to her husband, Sam stayed close to his mate. This was another rule of the game. No one else could ever know. Their little secret was hidden well, close to their chests and hearts.
The sun died gracefully behind the horizon, and night brought on a different kind of heat. Frodo’s eyes burned, and Aragorn found himself staring far too often. Minas Tirith fell slowly to sleep, and Aragorn and Frodo sat in different bedrooms, silent pyres of love, guilt and desire.
Sleep was like a poison veil. It clouded Sam’s eyes and lured him into rest. Frodo knew the instant Sam relaxed. His breath caught in his throat, and there was a pressure in his chest that manifested in tears. He was crying fom, bm, but he left anyway.
The moonlight was seductive and dangerous. Everything it touched turned dreamlike and sexy. Frodo felt like a whisper as he slid through the dark and light patches on his way to the garden. His sensitive hobbit ears heard nund,und, and his padded feet made no noise. He ghosted through the corridors of the citadel, sure as a cat, on his way to their secret rendezvous.
Aragorn set his crown down gently. He covered it with a light cloth, disgusted with himself even as he desired Frodo. The weight was gone, and it was time.
He cut through the hallways to the garden quickly. This was not allowed, he knew. Even the king could not condone such activities. But no one saw, and no one protested. They could not stop him, anymore than he could stop himself.
The earth was warm and welcoming, and it promised to keep their secret as Aragorn laid Frodo gently down on it. Frodo’s eyes were wide and he touched the rough hair on the man’s cheeks and chin. The night was cold, reproving. She didn’t want this anymore than she could stop it.
Aragorn’s limbs felt heavy, and his mind told him that it was a dream. But then there were the moments when he would touch Frodo, and his skin would come alive. A hundred sensations dancing like fire along his arms, his chest, his member. They burned.
Aragorn’s mouth was soft and desperate as he ravaged Frodo’s. /This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong so good ah no this is wrong stop no don’t stop keep going i love you i love you this is wrong.../ Their hips ground together magnetically, surging with energy. Frodo fell back, gasping, and Aragorn sucked on his neck, creating raised, red spots. Almost against his will, he was trying to compromise their secrecy.
Of course, no one would ask about the red marks. That was another rule. No one would ask about the dirt in Frodo’s hair or the bruises on Aragorn’s hips.
Frodo twisted like smoke beneath Aragorn. It was almost too much. Aragorn trapped his wrists to hold him still and groaned as they slid together in the dirt. Down on the ground, writhing around like animals without dignity or guilt. No words, just moans and growls and grunts.
Frodo’s eyes flew open and he snarled with the pain of entry. His eyes were wild and he clawed at Aragorn’s back, thrusting upward, trying to make Aragorn feel the way he felt. His nails left red welts on the king’s naked back. Aragorn’s beard scratched Frodo’s face as he kissed him desperately, trying to soothe the furious fire that burned them both. Frodo would not be soothed.
He bit Aragorn’s shoulder, gently, but enough to leave a bruise. He rubbed his face against Aragorn’s face and neck. His small hands stimulated Aragorn’s chest, clawing and petting alternately. His cock throbbed with heat and lust.
Aragorn held him down, knowing that their time together was running out. The pleasure was so intense, he felt like he was dying. It felt so good.
Frodo surprised him by rolling him over. Now Frodo was on top, and Aragorn was in the dirt. Frodo threw his head back and cried out as he came, his seed mingling with dirt on Aragorn’s stomach and chest.
Bemused, Aragorn touched himself, feeling the air slowly dry the come on his body, sending chills up and down his spine. Frodo stroked Aragorn’s lower stomach, coming dangerously close to where they were still connected by enlivened flesh. Aragorn felt his stomach muscles flutter like butterflies, beating their wings against him in retribution for their capture.
Frodo’s eyes met his and they both knew what they wanted. It was wrong and deceitful but they could not deny it and Aragorn came hard and crushed Frodo to him. /Arwen/ /Sam/ /love you.../
It was too late for all of them, and it had been too late a long time ago. The only thing that could save them now were the limitations of society and space.
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