Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Short and Sweet	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2996 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor any of Middle Earth or its characters. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This chapter was beta read by TAFKAB, with many thanks. She has a brilliant Legolas/Gimli story going on right now - go read it!

Chapter Four

They followed the source of the river as it wound its way from the north-west. They didn't speak, but Legolas kept touching that mark, and behind him Gimli kept noticing him doing it, making strange huffing noises. As they neared the boundary of the forest, Arod seemed to become reluctant, so they dismounted, took what they wanted from the saddlebag, and let him free to wander in the last of the open land. They would walk the rest of the way.

The edge of the wood was well-defined, so much so that it hardly seemed natural, but that is where the river came from, so after a brief mutual hesitation, they walked under the gloomy shade of the trees.

“What do you sense this time, Legolas?” Gimli asked after a few tense minutes, sounding slightly nervous, and Legolas looked around him slowly. Apart from the gentle bubbling of the river water, a creak or two of branches seemed to accompany his glance.

“We are watched, but the anger I felt before has lessened much,” he replied, feeling again the forest's great age. It made his words hushed and respectful. “Saruman is no more.”

Feeling much more assured, Legolas walked deeper into the wood, turning away from the path of the river, Gimli close behind him. As the sound of the water faded, it was indeed as if some great darkness had been lifted. What would the trees make of this? It must be over an age since lovers frequented the spaces beneath these ancient boughs – even elvish ones – and never had there been two like Gimli and himself.

Thinking that made him aware of why they were here, and he stopped in a grass-covered hollow between the massive tangle of tree roots and divested himself of his weapons, far away from view of anyone who might be peering into the wood from outside. At least some shards of sunlight managed to break through here, so it didn't seem as cool as the rest of the wood.

Without another word, Gimli walked past him and laid down his axe before settling on the forest floor with a jangle of armour, getting comfortable, legs stretched straight out in front. Then, he seemed to realise something was missing. He patted the ground next to him, and Legolas obliged silently, sitting cross-legged by the side of the dwarf, resting his chin on his hands, content to look for a moment.

Gimli shook his head and huffed. “Sit facing me, with your legs over there somewhere.” He waved a negligent hand behind him, and Legolas smirked, feeling like this was some kind of new and exciting game. He did as Gimli asked though, so they were sat close, looking at other, and then leaned back on his hands, looking into Gimli's eyes.

“Better?” he asked, and Gimli furrowed his brow. With a light laugh, Legolas shifted his body closer bit by bit, until their thighs were touching.

“Now, where was I?” Gimli deliberated, reaching out to lay a heavy hand on Legolas' right shoulder. “Kissing.” With one movement, Gimli applied pressure so that Legolas lost his equilibrium, almost falling over the dwarf's lap with a soft sound of surprise. He didn't go all the way down though. Gimli's other hand caught the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, holding all of his upper body weight so easily it was impossible not to marvel at his strength.

Alarmed at being off balance, Legolas felt his stomach and midriff muscles tense sharply to bring him back upright, but Gimli stopped him by moving the hand on his shoulder to his chest, pressing down while the hand behind his head held him up, keeping him steady. There was only one thing left Legolas could do to ease the sensation of helpless falling; he raised his arms and clung to Gimli's shoulders with his hands, as if for dear life.

All Gimli had to do was incline his head, and they would be there again, where they left off in the river. Legolas licked his lips in anticipation, expecting the overpowering kiss to begin again, but instead when Gimli lowered lips to his, he swept across Legolas' parted lips in a way that almost tickled. The beard and the moustache were unlikely partners to the warmth of his touch. Legolas sighed softly and closed his eyes.

Then it really did tickle when Gimli almost seemed to shake his head a little, as if finding a place to light upon. Legolas began to giggle, but the sound he made changed somehow to a muffled moan as the pressure suddenly increased. Still it was a chaste kiss, even when Gimli encouraged Legolas to open his mouth slightly.

It was like being savoured and teased all at the same time. Little by little the kiss deepened, while Legolas wrapped his arms around the dwarf's neck as if to plead for more. Open mouthed, their lips moved together and then there was the tongue, just teasing for now.

Legolas was so lost in what was happening he didn't realise the hand on his chest had sneaked under his tunic until he felt the warmth of Gimli's palm over his heart. The kiss deepened with his racing heartbeat, as if the dwarf had found some new seam of pleasure and was exploiting it.

After a few more delicious moments, that same hand moved from his heart to his leggings, unlacing them until he had Legolas' erection in his hand. Legolas moaned into the kiss at the feel of it. His fingers were shorter that Legolas' own, or any of his other lovers. But behind them was power, and he felt himself squeezed and coaxed so expertly that he writhed under that hand. Gimli's touch felt so good he was sure he would not last long like this.

At that, Gimli stopped and lowered Legolas' body down over his lap. The dwarf sighed, that same little growl as always, but now there was a note of appreciation in it.

“You stopped,” Legolas accused, still breathless, almost stunned. “Why did you stop?” He was draped over Gimli's knees on his back, his head tilted back onto the ground so that when he opened his eyes he only saw the blue sky, almost blotted out by the branches of the great trees. Legolas had the unnerving impression of being watched by them, as if they were curious students gathered around to watch some kind of demonstration.

Legolas used his hands to sweep the length of his hair back, so that it was not trapped beneath him, then lowered one hand to relieve his erection, only for Gimli to slap it away. Legolas demurred, whispering a few choice words in Sindarin that he was sure Gimli would not understand, but he did stop trying to touch himself, and just threw his arms up by his head in defeat.

“Legolas,” Gimli said eventually, once he had calmed a little. Both of his hands were resting heavily on Legolas' chest and stomach like restraints. “I have to tell you. I don't want you.”

Given that Legolas could feel the swell of Gimli's erection poking into the side of his waist, and remembering the intensity of the dwarf's kiss, he didn't think that comment was worth taking seriously at all. “Well, that's disappointing,” he said laconically, feeling just the hint of a smile around his lips.

“I mean, I do, but I want you, yourself,” Gimli said awkwardly, so that Legolas blinked and looked at him. “What's inside you. This, what you are on the outside.” He patted Legolas with his hands. “It's too perfect. Too pristine for me. It's very... flat. You're not very interesting, you know.”

At that, Legolas sat up, drawing his legs in, and he was insulted for all of a second before he saw the laughter in Gimli's eyes. “Well,” Legolas replied, “without being rude or anything, you always seem utterly filthy, even now when I know you're clean. And horrifically hairy.” He poked a finger at Gimli's chest armour. “And kind of lumpy.” He shook his head in mock regret. “You're not beautiful at all.”

“Go on,” Gimli said, his voice a low growl that did strange things to Legolas' insides.

“It's your turn,” Legolas pointed out helpfully.

“Oh!” And his eyes were twinkling. “Well, you are pale and smooth, like fine marble. I don't want to touch you, I want to hammer you until you make shapes that please me better.”

Legolas almost ruined the game with laughter when Gimli mentioned hammering, but he got himself under control. “You're always making these growling noises that are so barbaric,” he said loftily. “I don't want to touch you, either. I want to pet you like an animal.” With those words, he held Gimli's face in both his hands, and stroked downwards over his beard.

“I should decorate you,” Gimli said, as if deliberating, reaching out a hand to rub his callused thumb over where Legolas right nipple was under his tunic. “That might help some.”

Suddenly, Legolas remembered those little rings he'd seen that adorned Gimli's own nipples, and he gasped, wondering if it would hurt, or if it would feel good. His hands were resting on Gimli's chest armour, and he recalled those strange scars too. He was silent for a moment as they stared at each other, until he realised he was letting Gimli win this game too easily.

“I should tame you to my touch,” Legolas said then, refusing to be outdone, “until you come whenever I call.”

Gimli laughed slowly. “I've been wanting to make you come since you tried and failed to get off in front of me.”

“I've been wanting to see you hard again since I saw you the first time,” Legolas admitted.

“That's the if, when and why sorted out,” Gimli said, ever practical. “What about the how?”

“I think I, erm, need to be really relaxed,” Legolas said, draping himself elegantly over Gimli's thighs again like some kind of sacrifice.

“Not really the question I asked, but good to know nevertheless,” said Gimli in amusement. Legolas only laughed.

“Nice try,” he said, supremely confident. “But I want to go first.” He stretched out and gave a slight but deliberately sexual moan. “You aren't going to let me see and then make me wait for it. I'd just started to like you.”

Gimli said nothing. His body answered Legolas instead, still digging into him, and that was very satisfying.

“How old are you really?” Gimli asked then.

For a moment or two, Legolas gave that some thought. “Two-thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-nine.”

“Aye,” he said dryly, “almost exactly what I thought.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having had their little discussion, they didn't waste time as they undressed, though all the while Legolas felt the attention of Fangorn on them. Still, it wasn't threatening, just a little disconcerting. He thought if he told Gimli about it, the dwarf would refuse to carry on, so he said nothing.

His own curiosity had to be indulged as well as that of the forest, and when they were undressed, the first thing Legolas did was study the scars on Gimli's chest. How did they make them so intricate?

“How did you do this?” Legolas asked, tracing them with his fingers, and Gimli told him that a great dwarven artist had drawn on him with a sharp knife, and peeled away little bits of skin. “Did it hurt?” he questioned, and Gimli shrugged, as if the question had little meaning.

“What about these?” Legolas asked then, prodding a finger at one of the little mithril rings. Gimli gasped. “Do they hurt?”

“Not exactly,” he said, and it took a moment for Legolas to realise what he meant. Once he did, he moved one of them deliberately over and over again, observing the look in the dwarf's eyes until Gimli grabbed hold of his wrist and growled at him to stop.

After that, he wasn't quite sure how he came to be laid face down over Gimli's lap, and he almost expected some kind of naughtiness in revenge for the teasing, but the dwarf mumbled something about “getting down to business” and came up with a bottle of oil.

“Wait!” Legolas turned slightly, and looked up at Gimli. “I want to know. What did you do back there?” He touched the mark again, and the dwarf shook his head.

“I'll tell you later. But it was my choice, and it probably doesn't mean much between us two, being what we are.” Legolas waited, but Gimli didn't say anything else, nor did he seem likely to. He flounced a little, turning back onto his front with a sigh. Well, that was mysterious!

Most of his upper body was resting on the grass, and Legolas plucked at it, dissatisfied with the answer still. Beneath the grass was earth, and beneath that, the woody roots of the trees, as large and complex as the branches above them. For a moment, Legolas could almost see them, huge and monstrous, and he and Gimli were resting in their embrace. He relaxed consciously, and it was good that he did, because Gimli began to touch him with clear intent, and he dropped his head down, wondering for a moment if there was any preparation that would be enough. Soon, he knew the answer to that.

Maybe he had been expecting the same kind of touches he'd been subject to with the rest of his lovers. And it was, at the beginning, almost identical. Except for Gimli's fingers. Just as when Gimli had been touching his erection, Legolas could feel his fingers weren't the same. They were thicker and shorter.

Still, he didn't really react when it was just the one of them, or even two. Every now and again the dwarf stopped to get more oil. Indeed, Gimli took such care to ensure his body was ready that it didn't hurt, and so it wasn't until he added a third that Legolas gasped and tensed. Gimli stopped.

“You were doing well, Legolas. Relax, now,” Gimli said, his voice low with lust, and Legolas drew in a deep breath, relaxing around Gimli's fingers obediently, unable to quite help himself imagining how wide three of Gimli's fingers actually were. For a while it went on, and then... oh, then, there was another.

“Don't!” Legolas gasped, because this one did hurt. “Please, don't!” He whimpered as Gimli soothed him with little hushes, and stroked the fingers of his other hand over Legolas' back.

“I know you can take this,” he said. “You have to. You know that.”

“I know,” Legolas responded, and he tried to let Gimli touch him, like that, but it was hard, and the pain of it remained all the while, even as his body felt full of Gimli's hand. It made him want to beg. Only, as it went on, Legolas wasn't sure what he would beg for.

When Gimli finally withdrew his touch, it was time. Legolas' body felt strangely empty, but there was a cure for that, wasn't there? Neither of them wanted to wait. They just agreed how it would best be done, and got on with it. Legolas didn't even give himself time to reconsider.

Legolas rested on his knees, and raised himself up so that Gimli could get into position behind him. When he was there, Legolas lowered himself carefully. He'd expected it to be difficult, but it was so hard that he felt tears spring into his eyes as he forced his body down.

Legolas could only manage a couple of inches or so before he had to raise his weight and press down again, going a little further. It took several up and down motions before he knew he was there, that Gimli was almost fully inside him, and he felt those tears spill from his eyes, cool on his cheeks.

It was a little painful, but more than that it was absolute. Gimli filled him so completely Legolas could barely breathe. He fell forward onto his hands instinctively to try and make more room, but it didn't make any noticeable difference, and besides, Gimli just pulled him back upright so that he cried out in shock at even that gentle movement.

“Ai, Valar...” Legolas trembled, his breath coming in short little pants, palms resting on his own thighs. There was nothing else in the sphere of his existence except for the way Gimli felt inside him, how Gimli owned him. Everything else faded away as he tried to get used to the sensation. Some time must have passed, because Gimli groaned against the back of his shoulder.

“I'm going to need you to move, laddie,” he said deeply, and Legolas was quite certain he felt the vibration of Gimli's voice throughout his entire body.

“Gimli!” Legolas moaned, sounding broken, his thighs weak and unsteady as he held his weight. “I can't...” He wanted to tell, to describe it, to say something else, but all he managed again was: “I can't!”

“Well, let me put it this way: you're light enough,” Gimli rumbled, and Legolas became sure he was talking on purpose. “If you don't do it, I'll move you myself.”

“Gimli!” The effect of the dwarf's words made his body tighten slightly in lust, and Legolas concentrated on relaxing. “Please!”

“Mmm, you like that idea. Mebbe I will then.”

So saying, Gimli's hands curled around his hips and lifted him a little before pushing him back down onto that almost impossible girth. Legolas made a low sound of shock as he was handled, not roughly, but so easily.

Gimli did it again, and again, and Legolas was surprised to find his body could even adjust to this. Enough so that it was not just possible, but also pleasurable, yet the heavy feeling of fullness remained, and he heard himself giving voice to trembling cries interspersed with low guttural moans of something that was not quite protest.

“And to think, you talked of taming me,” Gimli said, teasing now. Legolas could not spare a breath or a thought to reply, only concentrate on allowing Gimli to slide in and out of his body. The dwarf laughed, that dirty laugh, and Legolas sighed helplessly.

“Please, Gimli,” he breathed.

“You're not so wild any more are you, wood elf?” So saying, he wrapped an arm around Legolas' waist to continue lifting and lowering him, while his other hand dropped to Legolas' erection.

“Let us see how long your cherished hardness lasts under my hand,” he said, and he only managed to withstand four or five of those expertly delivered pulls on his erection before he gave Gimli what he wanted with a wild cry that didn't sound like himself, his head thrown back. “So easy,” the dwarf said, chuckling, and Legolas felt he would faint.

When Gimli followed him into release, he raised one of his hands up by the side of him to rest on Gimli's shoulder, wrist facing outwards in surrender. Gimli grabbed it and kissed the palm of his hand.

“You've done well,” he whispered, and then urged Legolas down so that he could pull gently away. Even soft now, Legolas felt every inch leaving him, and he fell down onto the grass with a moan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, he was right,” Elrond noted, his voice low and intimate, his fingers absently twirling the stem of the empty cordial glass in front of him.

“About what?” Legolas asked dreamily. Something about his posture was different. He'd slid down a little in his chair, and he kept stretching his limbs out occasionally in a kind of relaxed pleasure.

“Taming you, taur-uin-cunneth.” Legolas looked his way then, and his eyes were dark and lazy. He sighed audibly, and Elrond was quite sure he had no idea how he looked. He looked like he was just waiting for someone, anyone, to enjoy him. So inviting. Elrond made a sound of appreciation and then got up to walk around to Legolas' side of the desk, leaning on it before him.

“We should continue this tomorrow,” Elrond said, reaching out to run a finger down the side of Legolas' face. The Prince rubbed his cheek against Elrond's finger, and then kissed it.

“Yes, tomorrow,” he agreed, and his voice was almost a purr.

“Come to bed, Legolas.” Elrond took one of Legolas' hands and pulled him up from the chair. All at once he found himself with his arms full of desperate, yearning sindar elf. Arms wound around his neck while that sinuous body rubbed against him, so full of lust, promising heat and pleasure that might be enough to make him forget his own longing, if only for one night.

“Very tame indeed,” Elrond remarked.

“Elrond...” Legolas moaned, almost in protest, though he didn't stop those sensual undulations. Elrond wondered if he was even aware of doing it.

“You're almost begging,” he said softly. “I'm going to take full advantage of you, Legolas. For hours, perhaps.” His words had the desired effect, in that Legolas almost swooned in his arms.

“Oh... Please,” Legolas said, and Elrond decided after all to just pick him up, else he'd be tempted to just have him over the desk right now.

“Do be sure to thank Gimli for me, won't you?” he said as he managed to get the door open and carried Legolas off towards his room and his bed. And perhaps it wasn't hours, but it was long enough for Legolas to beg, and it was enough to make Elrond forget to hear the call of the sea. It wasn't an advantage Elrond took, but a gift that Legolas gave to him. After everything, there was still love here.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Comments treasured and cherished!
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Short and Sweet