Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Only One
By : HollyHobbit13
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers
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Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Settling into the leather chair, Gregory folded his hands atop his polished desk and calmly regarded the man seated across from him. Amusement danced within his eyes as he beheld the determined set of his guest’s chiseled jaw. It disappeared when Duncan looked up at his host and gave him a wry smile. When Gregory reached up to scratch the side of his nose, the Highlander noticed the band on his host’s ring finger, for the stone winked at him from its gold setting.
                  “Nice ring.” Duncan commented, wanting to change the subject. He did not wish to burden Gregory with his concerns.
                  “Yes, isn’t it?” Gregory gazed fondly at the ring on his finger, a wistful smile on his face. The red gem glowed as if lit from within. “It was given to me by a dear friend; why, every time I look at it, it eases my heart – gives me strength.”
                  “I could use some of that right about now.” Duncan muttered under his breath.
“Pardon?” Gregory asked, peering at the Clansman.
“I was thinking I could use some strength myself right about now. So, how’s business?” asked the Highlander.
“Strength you have in great store, Duncan. You need not be told that.” Gregory said, giving the Highlander a meaningful look. Duncan didn’t know how to reply. What could the older man mean by that cryptic remark? He wasn’t allowed to dwell on the question, for his host spoke again.
                  “To answer your initial question, business has been quite good. Speaking of which, at this moment, I believe your friends are browsing around my shoppe.”
                  “They’re probably also wondering where I am.” said Duncan, rising to his feet. Gregory stood as well, and came around from behind his desk to walk the Highlander out. Reaching the door, Duncan hesitated.
                  “Gregory – I didn’t mean to poke around, but I did.” He confessed.
“I see; did you find anything worth your effort?” Gregory inquired. The Highlander couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused.
“That . . . globe in there. . .”
                  “Yes – what about it?”
                  “What is it?” Duncan asked
                  “Why, its my crystal ball, Duncan.” Gregory said with a smile. The Highlander nodded uncertainly. His host was certainly in a strange mood.
                  “Right.” The Clansman replied, humoring him. A knock on the door drew their attention. After a second, Methos poked his head in.
“Is this a private meeting?”
“Not anymore.” Duncan muttered under his breath. He smiled when Methos shot him a snide look.
“Come in, come in” Gregory invited, waving the Immortal inside. Methos entered, followed closely by Joe.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, MacLeod.” The Ancient one said pleasantly as he passed by.
“Nice digs, Gregory.” Joe commented as he walked in; immediately, his gaze was drawn to the partition, for its vibrant hues were the only splash of color in the otherwise austere room. The rich and variegated embroidery was unlike anything he’d ever seen; it also looked very expensive. He did a double take.
“Hey, is that really -- ”
“Gold thread? Yes. Nice, isn’t it? I can see you’re a very observant man of discriminating taste.” Gregory replied with a smile.
“It’s part of my job.” The Watcher said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Joe glanced around the large room. Scattered everywhere were weapons of war; the many pieces of ancient armor gave the impression of a medieval armory, rather than an antique dealer’s private office. Prominently displayed were several shields mounted on the wall. Two were round; of the two, one was simple, dark and foreboding; its weathered surface was blackened as though it had been scorched by a terrible fire or smelted by some diabolical force. The deep scars only served to enhance its savage and menacing quality. It sported no decorative embellishments or any aesthetically pleasing design. If the shield alone was caused one to shudder with dread, Joe was in no hurry to see who it wielded it.
The other shield, in comparison, was its exact opposite -- two different sides of the same coin. Round in shape is where the resemblance ended, it’s surface reinforced with decorative plates of metal overlaying the rich, mahogany hued wood. It too, was battered and weathered as well. Though extraordinarily well preserved, and restored to near-mint condition, the Watcher surmised the shield’s current condition was but a shadow of its former glory.
Joe could tell it was not a reproduction, for the nicks and dents marring its surface proved its quality. Bearing such battle scars, it had undoubtedly protected its bearer, and seen him thru many conflicts. Upon closer inspection, around the boss of the noble shield, the Watcher could discern seven embossed stars. Both circular shields were noteworthy and deserved a moment of pause, however, the shield that caught the Watcher’s attention was of such extraordinary craftsmanship and design, that Joe seriously doubted it had ever seen war. He studied the beautiful details, wondering if it’s unusual design was functional as well as ornamental. Surely something of such elegance and refined beauty couldn’t be anything but a showpiece -- something to discuss and admire over after dinner drinks.
Where the first two shields were round, and meant to be worn on the forearm, providing coverage for the upper body, the third was full length – a body shield – and vastly different. Its regal shape kite-like, vaguely resembling a diamond with notched sides. Its upper half had a pointed tip and sides that gently flared out, then rounded back in. The graceful edgings were likened to that of a dove spreading its wings in flight, its lower half an elongated, inverted triangle that tapered to a sharp end, much like an arrowhead.
With that lethal end, Joe could very well imagine it being used in an attack as well as a defense, for the shield could spear a foe, or be driven into the ground to act as a buffer against arrows and spears. To look upon it, one would say the full length shield was fashioned from gold; however, the Watcher knew the precious metal to be too soft and unable to withstand the stress of battle, nor could it shelter its bearer from a viciously delivered blow. This was cunningly crafted and beautifully fashioned, wrought with organic swirls and vinery -- pleasing to the eye and functional – a work of art.
Joe was thankful he had not been born in the age of chivalry, for the 20th Century and all its modern conveniences suited him just fine. He explored the rest of the room, occasionally stopping at a display case here or by a curio stand there to study the contents. One display in particular caught his eye, its fascinating items left him wondering about the history behind the pieces: a rust encrusted lump likened to that of a…spent bullet? Odd. A horn of some sort cloven into two distinctive pieces. What was its purpose? Powder? No, it couldn’t have been, for guns were not available in that era. Water maybe? On closer inspection, he decided not, for both ends were open. One end would have to be sealed in order for it to even hold a sip of water. A hunting or battle horn? Perhaps.
Along with the shattered horn was a coil of delicate, slender rope, and a beautifully cut crystal phial; the Watcher guessed at one point in time the phial may have contained a precious oil or perfume. Joe wondered why such ordinary items would be placed under protective glass and hidden away. What meaning did they hold for the Proprietor? Joe shrugged; a body was entitled to his eccentricities. Continuing his survey of the room, the Watcher’s gaze rested on the hanging tapestry.
“Is there a secret passage behind that curtain as well, Gregory?” Joe asked with a chuckle.
“Ask but the proper question, Mr. Dawson.” The Proprietor said as he paused for effect.
“Is it the Lady or the dragon behind the curtain?” Gregory said, smiling at the Watcher’s bemused expression.
“Actually, it’s a crystal ball. Would you like to see?” he continued. Joe glanced at Methos; the Old Man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Why not?” The Watcher asked. He was game.
First Hugh Fitzcairn, now Gregory; leave it to the Highlander to encounter and associate with quirky characters in his long life’s path. Beckoning the others to follow, Gregory made his way to the partition and drew it aside. Eager to take another look at the dark crystal ball, Duncan followed closely behind the Watcher; Methos hung back, lingering in the entryway. The Ancient One touched the glittering embroidery on the partition; his fingers absently tracing the gold threads as he observed the Highlander and his Watcher thru hooded lids.
Joe glanced around the room. From his vantage point, he could see the single shaft of light emanating from the ceiling as the sole source of illumination. It highlighted the pillar dominating the center of the room. Curiously, despite the room’s small size, the light did not reach the corners, which were hidden in shadow. Joe’s attention shifted back to his companions, wishing he hadn’t been the first to enter. There was precious little room left to stand comfortably.
Behind the Watcher, Duncan’s pulse quickened, for now that the Immortal Sorcerer’s knowledge had been harnessed, the Highlander could sense an aura radiating from the globe, a pulsating beat that reached out and ensnared, wrapping invisible tentacles of power around the Highlander.
“Mac.” Joe said under his breath.
Instead of having the desired effect, Duncan leaned forward, looking over the Watcher’s shoulder. Feeling claustrophobic in the dim, windowless room, Joe stepped forward. So did the Highlander. Leaning on his cane, the Watcher gave the Immortal a not so discrete nudge with his elbow, hoping Duncan would get the hint.
“Mac!” Joe whispered hoarsely.
“What?”
“You’re crowding me, damn it! Move back, would ya?”
“Sorry, Joe. I wanted to get a closer look.” Duncan said. The Watcher grumbled, then moved so the Highlander had a better view.
Gregory cleared his throat to disguise his amusement. Glancing at Methos, Gregory saw the Immortal’s face gave nothing away, his dark eyes inscrutable as he slouched against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Watching the Eldest’s eyes, Gregory slowly lifted the black cloth.
#
Leaving the balcony doors open, Jordan hesitantly led Legolas into the room. For a moment, she almost lost her resolve, but she brushed aside her fears and turned to face the Elf.   Elf and Immortal stood before one other, their gaze intent, the silence between them broken occasionally by the fire crackling in the hearth. Jordan stared up at the Elf, not knowing what to say, not wanting to ruin the moment. His eyes held her spellbound, mesmerizing her, pinning her where she stood.
Now I know what they mean by ‘like a deer caught in the headlights’ she thought to herself.
Jordan was caught between her conflicting emotions. The Immortal was afraid to say or do anything, fearing, the spell would be broken, the moment ruined. All that she knew was that she wanted him -- needed him. No more words, she decided. Tonight would be the night. Yet her fear of rejection, humiliation…
What was I thinking?! Jordan asked herself.
She’d never seduced anyone before – at least successfully, she amended. Jordan stifled the memory that threatened to undermine her courage. A thousand thoughts raced thru her mind, yet one loomed above all others. She wanted Legolas. Of that she was certain. Legolas stood before her, patiently waiting and just a touch wary. The woman before him had changed her mind once too many a time for him tonight, thoroughly confusing and frustrating him, straining the superlative control Legolas – and Elfkind for that matter – possessed.
Elves, unlike Men, do not easily lose control of their emotions or actions. However, Legolas knew this woman could very well make him come close to it; she drove him to distraction. One moment, Jordan mirrored his feelings and desires, her eyes reflecting what he wanted to see in them -- in the next heartbeat, her eyes would cloud over, closing her thoughts and heart to him. It would be simpler, if not saner, for Legolas to allow Jordan to make the first move -- rather than risk misinterpreting matters yet again. Studying her face, he watched the indecision, confusion, doubt and hope flit across her face before she finally reached a decision. A ghost of a smile touched his lips when he once again saw desire reflected in her eyes. Determined not to do or say anything to would make her shy away, Legolas kept his hands to his sides, forcing her to take the initiative.
The Immortal licked her lips nervously, undecided how to interpret the fact Legolas kept his hands at his sides. Timidly, she reached up with both hands and lightly rested them on the Elf’s broad shoulders. He felt so solid . . . so real. And he remained so still. Standing on her tiptoes, Jordan couldn’t quite reach him, for he kept his golden head front and center. It appeared he wasn’t going to help her, either.
Hmmm. If that was the way he wanted it . . . Jordan thought to herself.
Jordan wished she kept her copy of the Kama Sutra; she had heard about the notorious love manual, yet never bothered to see for herself what the fuss what about; instead, the woman asked Collette if her friend had read it, which was a mistake -- or was it? A week later, the Immortal received the book as a gag gift from her blonde friend, which would not be so bad, had it not been hand delivered by the blind date that showed up unexpectedly on her doorstep. To make matters worse, he claimed Collette suggested he wear nothing but a red tie and a smile. Sometimes her friend was lacking in subtlety.
After the awkward introduction, Jordan and her blind date went out for drinks and appetizers, under the guise of getting to know each other better; she felt nothing for him, and was quite ready to end the evening. Excusing herself to use the restroom, Jordan quickly texted a coworker with explicit instructions. Returning to their table, Jordan and her date chatted easily but had very little in common. The Immortal knew her date -- bless his heart, was doing his best to impress her; fortified with two beers, he insisted they join the other couples slow dancing to the soulful jazz music. Pulling the reluctant woman out of her seat, he was about to fold her into his arms when Jordan’s mobile phone rang; Jordan spoke briefly and ended the call, informing her date the hospital was calling her in to work. At her doorstep, after an uncomfortable and hurried handshake goodnight, Jordan stepped inside and closed the door, glad to be home. In the privacy of her bedroom, the Immortal debated with herself at length before finally deciding to take a peek. After all, her mother and the matrons of her youth insisted that ‘nice girls’ – proper ladies -- learned all they needed to know in the marriage bed -- and not until then; yet curiosity had Jordan leafing thru the pages. One look at the colorful, glossy pages graphically depicting the various positions possible during sexual intercourse had Jordan blushing straight to her toes. The tome lay buried in her sock drawer for months until the Immortal gave it away as a bridal shower gift for a co-worker’s daughter. Perhaps she’d acted a bit too hastily. Tilting her head back to look at him, the Elf’s face was expressionless, but Jordan saw the unmistakable interest and amusement in his eyes, as well as the unspoken challenge.
Fine.   she thought.
Undeterred, the Immortal reached up and framed the Elf’s face with her hands, angling Legolas’ head down so he would look at her. He didn’t resist. Taking that as a good sign, Jordan took his hand and rubbed her cheek against his palm, savoring the warmth against her face. She glanced up at him; except for his blue eyes following her every move, the Elf could’ve been a statue. Maintaining eye contact, Jordan touched her lips to his wrist; she flicked it lightly with the tip of her tongue, and slowly drew it across Legolas’ wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse, noting the subtle flaring of his nostrils. She was getting somewhere.
Taking his hands in hers, Jordan placed her fingers over his, and brought them up to cup her face; for a brief moment, she closed her eyes, feeling slightly foolish. This was harder than she imagined; the Immortal thought about the romance novels she and Collette would giggle over during a quick break in a bookstore as they mall trolled.
Breasts. Aren’t males always fixated on breasts? Jordan kept her eyes on Legolas’ as she moved his hands slowly down her neck. . . to her shoulders . . . to her chest. Placing his hands on her breasts, Jordan felt a twinge of relief as his fingers – ever so lightly -- attempted to cup them. He was breathing just a little faster. Encouraged, the Immortal allowed his thumbs to brush over her nipples. Once . . . twice, before she grasped his wrists and moved his hands to her rib cage and down, following the curve of her waist.
The Elf didn’t release his hold. Gently but firmly, Jordan returned the Elf’s hands to his side. Legolas wasn’t the only one affected, for the Immortal’s breathing was starting to quicken as well. Releasing his wrists, Jordan twined a hand in his pale hair and gently pulled his head down. Framing his face with her other hand, Jordan whispered a kiss across his jaw, so light and fleeting that the Elf was uncertain if he had imagined it. With her fingers, Jordan touched his ear, lightly tracing its contours.
Legolas closed his eyes and swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain still and not tremble beneath her touch. Jordan saw that the Elf’s eyes were closed; the muscles in his jaw clenched. A slow grin spread across her face. She was starting to enjoy this. Slanting her head up, Jordan softly traced his lips with the tip of her tongue; the Immortal was rewarded when the Elf’s lips parted. Carefully, slowly, Jordan touched her lips to his. His response was immediate.
Hallelujah! she thought.
                   Crushing her to him, Legolas lips covered hers; his tongue stroked her lips before pushing past. Jordan willingly parted her lips, welcoming his relentless plundering of her mouth. The kiss continued -- long and drugging until the Immortal didn’t know which way was up or down; his mouth stripping away every defense Jordan possessed. With each velvety stroke of his tongue, one by one, he eliminated all her doubts. She tasted the hunger on his lips, yet he continued to hold back. What would it take for the Elf to lose control? Jordan wondered. She didn’t dwell on the thought long, instead preferring to lose herself in his kiss.
When Legolas did finally release her, they were both breathing hard, and Jordan felt unsteady on her feet. Just a little. Yet the Elf still kept his hands at his side, still in control. Legolas watched Jordan with an intensity so fierce, it would’ve terrified her, had her own need not made her oblivious to everything save this moment.   Dazed, the Immortal touched her fingers to her swollen lips; she looked up at the Elf, wide eyed. She wanted more. Unable to look away from him, the Immortal’s hands went to her robe; she began to open it when Legolas’ hands covered hers, stilling them.
Rooted in place by his blue eyes, the Elf slowly eased Jordan’s robe away from her shoulders until it fell to the ground in a silken whisper. Her shift followed soon after, leaving her bare and vulnerable to his mouth and hands; Legolas took her hand and drew her forward. Stepping out of her nightgown, Jordan blushed from head to toe, resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands. It was a night of many firsts for the Immortal. Head held high, she stood completely nude before the Elf, wondering what he was thinking, if he was pleased with her so far.
Legolas slowly walked around the Immortal, admiring her body, which was similar yet so unlike that of the Elven lovers he had taken. Where his lovers were tall, Jordan was petite; without her heeled boots, Jordan’s head barely reached his chin. The Elf’s taste in maidens usually ran towards those fair or fiery of hair, yet there was something alluring about this dark Daughter of Man, whose black hair shone in the firelight, contrasting with her pearly skin, so unlike the flawless porcelain of the Elves. Rosy brown buds tipped her high, full breasts, her nipples proudly erect, beckoning him to explore their delights; Jordan’s limbs were perfectly formed and shaped, her flesh toned but not muscled, attesting to her physical lifestyle; this maiden definitely did not spend her days employed in needlework, nor was she a Lady of idle leisure.   Legolas’ hands reached out to trace the slender dip of her waist, stroking the soft skin . . . following its curves down to her hips.
Jordan closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his lips as he placed soft kisses along her neck, alternately sucking and nipping her sensitized flesh. Bending his golden head, the Elf ran his hands lightly over her shoulders, down her arms, carefully avoiding her bandages . . . he encircled her wrists, felt her racing pulse point. Lacing his fingers with hers, Legolas studied them. Small hands that are equally capable of wielding a sword. And killing. Stepping back, he studied the exotic beauty of the woman before him, pleased with what he saw . . . what would soon be his.
The Immortal couldn’t help the fluttering of a thousand caged butterflies in her stomach when Legolas’ elegant fingers lightly brushed over the dark curls at the juncture of Jordan’s thighs. Grasping her hips, Legolas pulled her closer to him; the coolness of the night and the texture of his tunic against her bare skin arousing in its own way, even as the Elf’s erection pressed eagerly against her. Legolas tilted Jordan’s chin up before his lips claimed hers in a teasing kiss that hinted at the promise of the pleasure yet to come. The Immortal was on the verge of sensory overload. If their love play ended at that moment, Jordan wouldn’t mind. . . until she recovered and wanted more, that is. Pulling away from her, Legolas gave a soft chuckle when she made a small noise of protest.
“Patience, Melamin.” He murmured.
Taking her hands in his, Legolas raised them and slowly kissed one fingertip at a time, gently suckling the sensitive pads. Jordan caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her excitement mounting. Was it her imagination, or did his blue eyes shine brighter? Legolas placed her hands on the front of his tunic; the Immortal needed no further encouragement. In her eagerness, Jordan’s trembling fingers fumbled with the clasps of his tunic. She forced herself to slow down and not rip his tunic open. Legolas smiled and reached up to help her.
Gently swatting his hands away, Jordan finally succeeded in unlatching the clasps, and was rewarded with his skin beneath her fingertips. Not a strand of hair was on his chest. She liked that his body was clean and smooth, hard and soft; the perfect blending of opposites. Yin and yang. The Immortal was hardly able to believe she was touching him openly – and freely. Legolas’ velvety skin quivered beneath her fingertips. Shrugging out of his clothes, Jordan’s arms went around Legolas’ neck as he captured her mouth once more and gave her another mind numbing kiss. Trailing his fingers down her back, the Elf cupped her buttocks and lifted her; Jordan locked her legs around Legolas’ waist as they continued to kiss. The Immortal gave a small gasp of surprise when she felt the cool texture of the wall against her back. Gently sucking his bottom lip, she raised her head and gave him a sultry smile.
“Naughty Elf.” She whispered seductively into his ear before licking the pointed tip.
In response, the Elf pinned her against the wall and claimed her mouth with another searing kiss, his body moving against hers in an erotic rhythm that sent a rush of heat to her core. Jordan’s head fell back against the wall, offering her neck to the Elf’s questing lips. Emboldened, the Immortal slowly relaxed and tightened her legs around the Mirkwood Prince, moving her hips against his, rubbing up and down against him in a slow grind . . . answering his body’s call, feeling the large, hard bulge of his elfhood thru his breeches . . . desperately wanting for him to remove the offending garment.
“Legolas. . .” Jordan breathed. The Immortal felt the wall fall away as he turned toward the bed.
“Melamin, I have plans for you.” Legolas whispered in her ear. She couldn’t wait.
                   Sitting on the bed with Jordan in his lap, Legolas kicked off his boots before standing effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Jordan ran her hands over his chest, back and arms, hungrily kissing whatever skin she could reach; gently unlocking her legs, Legolas slid her slowly down his front into a standing position – making sure she felt his arousal all the while. His breath caught in his chest as he gazed at her; Jordan’s eyes were dilated, the dark pupils almost eclipsing the green of her eyes, her lips swollen and reddened from his kisses.
This woman was the cause of many a restless night, the subject of erotic thoughts -- and blessed Valar, had him eager as if it were his first coupling, for in a sense it was – with a mortal. With over two millenia’s worth of experience to draw upon, the Elf fully intended to show Jordan what it was like to be loved by him. The Prince’s hands roamed over Jordan’s body, his hot mouth leisurely explored hers, probing and tasting her . . . Legolas’ caresses were sending her into a fevered frenzy. Every nerve ending in Jordan’s body felt alive, charged with electricity; watching her face, he gave Jordan’s hands free reign to roam freely over his chest and torso, letting her set the pace.
Legolas was beyond model perfect. Jordan ran her hands over his body, enjoying the feel of his soft skin, watching in fascination as his muscles glided beneath her hands; his smooth chest and wide shoulders were perfectly sculpted, tapering to a narrow waist and hips. Jordan raked her nails lightly over Legolas’ defined abdominal muscles. Resting her hands on the Elf’s hips, Jordan pressed a kiss to his chest. Looking up at the Elf, the Immortal flicked one nipple with her tongue, then the other, smiling when it stood at attention. Legolas’ head was tilted slightly back; eyes closed, his jaw clenched as he held himself still, trembling ever so slightly. With a wicked grin, Jordan stood on tiptoe and explored the strong column of the Elf’s neck, alternately biting and suckling the sensitive skin with moist, nibbling kisses before the Immortal moved across his chest.
The Elf fought back the urge to take Jordan then and there, restraining himself with much difficulty when her hand tentatively brushed over his swollen elfhood, his erection straining against its confines. Sensing she was ready to go further, Legolas lifted Jordan and placed her on the center of the bed, leaving a trail of fiery kisses before he stood. Looking down at the woman before him, he loosed the ties of his breeches, smiling when she kept her eyes averted, not quite meeting his eyes -- studiously avoiding open glances at his groin, yet furtively stealing glances, her cheeks flushing in response. It amused him. One minute she boldly explored his body, the next she was a shy maiden. Which was the real Jordan? The Elf wondered; it would be his distinct pleasure, and every intention to find out. Walking to the table, Legolas draped his leggings over a chair, and then banked the fire – it was not needed; he would keep her warm.
As he turned away, Jordan took the opportunity to scramble under the covers; her heart beating a wild staccato in her chest. She sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts; perhaps it was a trick of the light, or her imagination -- but the Elf really seemed to glow, illuminated somehow from within. Magic, she thought, watching wordlessly as he placed his clothes and her shift over the chair, then banked the fire. Her eyes fastened hungrily upon his person. Looking at him naked would have satisfied her . . . for a while; not an ounce of fat was on his lithe body, his buttocks tight and round, his thighs long and muscular. Legolas. Perfection personified—from the braids at his temples, to the shape of his feet, he was poetry in motion. Michelangelo’s David is a gross caricature in comparison to this magnificent Elven Adonis before her. In her line of work, the Immortal had seen all body types: young, old, fit, flabby and everything in between. This Elf, however, is the avatar -- the incarnation of strength, youth and beauty. Tonight he was hers, her angel of the night. Not knowing what she’d done to deserve a moment of his time, Jordan fervently thanked the powers that be. It was glaringly obvious that sightseeing was not all that would happen tonight, and Jordan shivered in anticipation.
Legolas silently made his way back to the bed; he waited, his blue eyes intense. The ample length of his elfhood jutted out, hard and proud. Wordlessly, Jordan reached for him, the bed sheet falling away from her breasts. Wanting to see all of her, the Wood Prince drew the sheets away, uncovering the Immortal. Stretching out beside the woman, the Elf nuzzled her neck, making her giggle breathlessly as he discovered she was slightly ticklish there; the leaf of Lórien lay in the hollow of her throat. Legolas paused, touching it gently with his fingers before he continued to kiss his way down her body, caressing . . . nibbling, carefully avoiding her injuries.
A consummate lover, Legolas used Jordan’s gasps and moans as his guide, nuzzling the valley between her breasts; his hands skillfully massaged the fleshy orbs as his tongue teased the sensitive tips, feeling like rough velvet on her breasts as he suckled and laved her nipples. And his hands . . . oh, his hands! Jordan buried her own hands in the pale, silken fall of his hair as he continued to make love to only her breasts. She couldn’t begin to imagine the feelings he’d ignite if the Elf applied his searing skills to the rest of her body. Jordan was aware of nothing save those magic hands, roaming freely along her body, his tongue and lips mercilessly exploring every inch of her flesh, his warm breath causing goose bumps to rise. As he went lower, Legolas felt her tense, her thighs held tightly together. Rising upon his elbow, Legolas kissed Jordan’s lips gently as he whispered against her mouth, “Trust me, Melamin.”
With his mouth he worshipped her face; his hand cupped and kneaded her breasts, trailing down to her side with just the right amount of pressure, slowly cajoling her body into relaxing under his touch.   The Elf’s hands lovingly caressed her hips, acquainting himself with every contour, every curve, before hovering over her dark curls. Jordan bit her lip then gasped when she felt his fingers delve into her, parting her secret folds. Finding the sensitive spot, Jordan whimpered softly as Legolas slowly rubbed and pressed, rocking his fingers oh so slowly, smiling as the Immortal’s back arched in response. The Elf’s mouth left her face to explore her body, staking his claim on every inch of her flesh as his fingers gently massaged her core. Legolas inserted a finger, then another, skillfully moving them in a torturously slow rhythm, increasing the pressure as Jordan moaned, her hands knotting in the sheets as her body was engulfed in pleasure.
Ohhh. My--! Jordan’s mind couldn’t string an intelligent thought together.
“Legolas…” she panted breathlessly. The Elf’s tongue dipped into her mouth once again, demanding . . . exploring . . . claiming.
“Melamin?” Jordan’s nails were digging into the Elf’s back; instead of discomfort, it only aroused him more.
“Please…” Jordan couldn’t take much more of this sweet torture.
“Please what?” He teased her mercilessly, continuing his attentive ministrations.
Words escaped her. Jordan gave up trying to speak; instead she rode wave after wave of sensation, going higher and higher, towards what she didn’t know, her body writhing beneath his masterful fingers.   She was aware of nothing, save his hands and mouth—tasting. . . touching. . . . teasing . . . squeezing.
“You will call out for me again ‘ere this night is over” he promised her.
. . yes, oh yes. . .! was all Jordan could think.
Kissing his way back up to her lips, Legolas knelt between her legs and ran his hands along her inner thighs; grasping behind her knees, he pulled her down in the bed. The Elf placed Jordan’s leg then the other around his waist, open her to receiving his engorged member eagerly straining towards her. Jordan didn’t need further encouragement; holding the Elf tight between her thighs, she closed her eyes, reveling in the strength of the Elf, as she gave herself over to the sensations he evoked from her. Long fingers that unerringly aimed a bow expertly found and caressed her sensitive spot, eliciting more throaty moans and sharp gasps of pleasure from the Immortal. Growing bolder, Jordan reached for him; he was so hard . . soft . . . hot . . . swollen . . . hers. Running her hands lightly over his member, Jordan gently squeezed the length of him, from base to tip, brushing away the clear, slightly sticky bead of moisture that appeared. Legolas held himself still, enjoying the sensation as the woman cupped his sac in one hand, feeling the velvety skin. Her fingertips lightly tracing the membrane in the center before gently cradling the weight of his family jewels in the palm of her hand, feeling the skin contract in response to the intimate stimuli. The woman smiled to herself when the Elf groaned and buried his face against her neck; Legolas’ breaths were just a little harsh, just a little faster. Lowering her legs to either side of him, the woman grasped her lover’s hips, nudging him forward to cup his tight buttocks; she traced her fingers up his back, feeling the sculpted muscles twitch in response. Leaning on his forearms, Legolas gradually shifted his weight onto her, allowing her to adjust to the feel and mass of his body. Kissing her eyelids, then her nose, he claimed her mouth in a possessive kiss, leaving her breathless.
“Open your eyes, Melamin.” he whispered; her eyes fluttered open. Panting, Jordan’s heart was racing.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, tenderly kissing her mouth.
His fingertips smoothed back the hair at her temples; his eyes, oh those blue, blue eyes . . . Jordan smiled up at him, her hands lightly touching his perfect features before gently tracing the sensitive tips of his ears, feeling him tremble in response. The Immortal considered his question. Did she trust Legolas –yes, she trusted him with her life, but can she trust the Elf with her heart?
Looking into her eyes, Legolas could have burst into song when he saw the answer in the green depths. Jordan kissed him softly, wrapping her legs around his hips in silent answer.
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She replied softly, a teasing smile on her lips.
Running his hands across her shoulders and down her slender arms, Legolas lingered over the bandage on her upper arm, gently kissing the dressing as he interlaced their fingers. Raising her arms above Jordan’s head, with one hand, the Mirkwood Prince held both Jordan’s wrists firmly place. That simple movement caused the woman’s breasts to jut forward, leaving her ribcage exposed as well; feeling vulnerable, the Immortal attempted to free her hands, but stilled her efforts at the Golden Elf’s mock stern glance. Legolas lifted himself away, raising his body just above hers. Jordan frowned at the loss of contact; she rather enjoyed the feel of his skin, and the weight of his body on hers. Licking her lips, Jordan took a deep breath and attempted to relax, her body moving of its own volition as Legolas’ free hand continued downward, caressing her breasts; bending his fair head, alternately laving and sucking her nipples, the Elf filled his mouth with the soft flesh, gently biting and kissing her breasts. Legolas leisurely reached down, splaying his fingers across her flat belly, then, dipped down, separating her intimate folds; Legolas unerring found and massaged his lover’s swollen nub, varying the pressure and sensations he evoked -- allowing himself a satisfied smile as her body arched in response beneath him.   Jordan’s eyes fluttered closed and she bit her lower lip as another spasm of pleasure rendered her speechless. The Wood Elf dipped two fingers inside his lover . . . testing, pleased to find her so wet and ready for him. It was time.
Now, Melamin – you will be mine . . .
Legolas’ turgid member was poised at Jordan’s entrance; knowing his generous size would cause her pain, he slowly pushed the tip of his elfhood in; as he entered, her tight walls enveloped him in her hot, velvety warmth.
So wet . . . so ready . . . uhhhnnnn!
Legolas’ breath left his lungs with a hiss; the Elf closed his eyes, wanting to bury his member fully into her warm vise, but determined to prolong the experience. He slowly withdrew, and then just as slowly pushed just the tip of his Elfhood back in, smiling as Jordan arched her hips in an attempt to take in more of him.
Melamin . . .
Slowly, oh so slowly he rubbed against her pleasure nub as he inched in and out, sinking into her just a little more at a time before he withdrew, never ceasing the exquisite friction. The Mirkwood Prince continued the delicious torment, alternately teasing and pleasing both of them. Jordan’s moans and cries of pleasure were louder and more frequent, inflaming the Elf; her trembling legs gripped his hips harder, then woman locked her heels, attempting to pull him closer. Legolas felt his control slowly slip away. He was more than ready to sink his full length into her ready heat. Gritting his teeth, the cords of the Elf’s neck were visible as he resisted the overwhelming need to complete this act of love, determined to please her.
“Legolas..!” Jordan panted.
“Yes, Melamin?” he answered harshly; the strain of holding back for her sake was visible in the Elf’s face. Jordan didn’t want him to hold back anymore.
“I …need… you..” she whimpered, needing to have him – all of him within her; Jordan felt she would soon go mad, the pleasure was so extreme, it bordered on pain.
“You need me to what?” he whispered thickly before claiming her mouth in a kiss.
Wanting all of him, Jordan struggled half heartedly to free her hands from his grip, drawing a low chuckle from him. Legolas placed his free hand at the small of her back, lifting her hips.
“Legolas--!” Looking at the woman beneath him, the naked desire on her face spurred him on.
Delving deeper, he felt the tiny barrier that prevented him from fully sinking into her sweet warmth. His blue eyes burned brighter as he looked down at her. There was no turning back now. With a groan, Legolas pulled back then thrust fully into her, breaking thru the thin membrane; the sudden, sharp, intense pain stole Jordan’s breath away. He was so big, so thick. The Immortal felt she was being split in two, her body arched and twisted as she tried to get away from the Elf, certain she could not take all of him, but Legolas held her firmly in place, pressing her deeper into the feather mattress, impaling her as his strokes became longer and harder.
“Lle phu amin (you are mine), Jordan!” He ground out between thrusts.
The pain receded, only to be replaced with intensifying pleasure as his hands and body guided Jordan in the rhythm as old as time itself. Releasing her hands, he grasped her body, angling her just so, as she instinctively responded to the feelings his turgid member against her sensitive core evoked. Jordan breathlessly whispered encouragement in his ear, exciting the Elf to no end. Jordan clung to him, digging her nails into the muscles of his back, biting his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as she pulled his head down to hers. It was her turn to smile when she felt him tremble; hearing his sharp intake of breath as her tongue lightly traced the contours of his ear, she gently nipped the sensitive point as she breathed softly into his ear as the Elf continued to move above her.
Freedom. The incredible sense of liberation. Unthinking . . . only feeling. They continued to move in time together; their tempo increased . . . skin gliding smoothly against skin as they soared towards fulfillment. Even if she tried, Jordan couldn’t describe the feelings she was experiencing. She would gladly fight a thousand Orcs for a night with him. Nothing else mattered except this moment with Legolas, her body attuned with and responding to his.   Legolas’ thrusts became more forceful as he buried his turgid member deeper within her warm, velvety vise. Intimate muscled squeezed and released his elfhood in time with his movements, causing him to groan against her as he angled her lower body again to vary her pleasure.
Jordan would’ve died of embarrassment if she could see how wantonly she writhed beneath him, encouraging the Elf, calling out his name repeatedly and begging him for sweet release. Legolas was taking her to heights she hadn’t dared possible, reserved only in print.   So caught up in each other and the sensations engulfing them, the new lovers did not notice the Lórien leaf begin to glimmer between them, the intensity increasing with their spiraling passion; mirroring their release, it exploded as well, bathing them in it’s soft radiance.
From far away, Jordan heard Legolas call out her name as they climaxed together, their bodies wracked with violent shudders as his essence spilled deep within her. Holding her close, hearts beating wildly, they lay together in the throes of spent passion, their bodies still joined. It was several long moments before Legolas returned to the present. For a blissful moment, he was walking amongst the stars, blinded by their brilliance, attuned to their song as he found release. Lifting away from Jordan to allow her to breathe better, Legolas stopped when the Immortal’s arms tightened, holding him in place. He raised his golden head, his hair falling around his face, touching Jordan’s cheek with its softness. He stroked the sweat-dampened hair at her temples as her fingers traced his perfect features, marveling at the moment they just shared. Languidly running her hands through his soft hair, she whispered,
“Was this real? Or was it a dream?” In answer, he kissed her deeply, branding her again as his as he moved within her, wringing another gasp of pleasure from her lips. Only after the feeling subsided was Jordan able to speak.
“You’ve made your point, Legolas.” Jordan whispered, trying to unsuccessfully stifle a very satisfied yawn. She felt deliciously tired.
The Immortal was having a difficult time staying awake; it had been quite a day for her. Not only had Jordan dealt more death in one day than she had since becoming Immortal, she had also taken her first lover. Legolas kissed her eyelids closed.
“Sleep now, Melamin.” he murmured. Although he could have easily made love to her all night, Legolas knew Jordan wasn’t up to it – at least not yet. With a sigh, he began to pull out of her warmth, but stopped as Jordan held him fast.
“No -- Don’t go . . . not yet.” she sleepily protested.
“Amin naa lle nai(I am yours to command), Melamin.”
Gladly he obliged. Holding her close, Legolas rolled her over on top of him, his hands stroking her soft skin, grinning as goose bumps formed. Jordan’s dark hair spilt across his body like strands of silken nightshade, the contrast against his pale skin was stark. Looking down, he saw the stained sheets. Kissing the top of her head, Legolas held her close in a fierce embrace. His heart was full. She had chosen him to be her first, and he was honored.
“Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin (I shall treasure your gift in my heart)” he swore, stroking her back lightly.
Jordan snuggled closer, burrowing her face against his chest, listening to the comforting, steady beat of his heart. Legolas was filled with a sense of peace he had never known before; looking down at the woman, he smiled contentedly as she sighed in her sleep.
                  “Quel kaima (sleep well).” he whispered into her ear, chuckling softly at her delicate snore.
Settling against the pillows, the Wood Elf cradled Jordan tenderly. Legolas could tell by her deep, even breathing, that Jordan was fast asleep; taking the utmost care, he rolled her onto her back, where she would be more comfortable. Lifting her limp hand to his lips, he placed a kiss on her palm. Studying the features that haunted his thoughts since he first laid on her, the Elf’s bright gaze was drawn to the bandage on Jordan’s shoulder.   Their vigorous actions and the sweat of their bodies during lovemaking caused it to come undone. After a quick glance at Jordan’s peaceful face, Legolas reached out and gently pushed aside the bandage in order to better view her injury. His blue eyes widened in wonder.
“Unless my eyes are cheated by a spell, there is no wound…” he whispered to himself. It was completely healed. In fact, it was gone! He touched it lightly to be certain.
His gaze strayed to the bandage on her upper arm. It had slipped to her elbow, revealing unmarred flesh as well. There was no trace of injury his keen eyes could see.
“How is this possible, Melamin?” the Elf asked the slumbering woman, troubled.
Legolas firmly tamped down the uneasy feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Jordan answered with a soft sigh before she turned onto her side. Questions clamored for answers, yet Legolas forced them from his mind, determined to hold to this moment, but his unease grew stronger.
Legolas kissed Jordan’s shoulder before he quietly slid out of her bed and drew the bed sheet over her.   Fastening the ties on his breeches, the Elf thoughtfully studied the sleeping Immortal as he adjusted the clasps on his tunic. Noiselessly crossing the room, Legolas lingered in the balcony doorway and gave Jordan one last, contemplative look before he turned and disappeared into the night.
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Only One	By : HollyHobbit13 Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Only One