Title: Release

Author: Amy Mayr ([email protected])

Website: none

Rating: NC-17

Pairing / Main characters: Aragorn/Legolas

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: Aragorn is a stoic bastard, Legolas helps.

Disclaimer: They belong to Tolkien, who's probably spinning in his grave.

Archive/Distribution: Ask first, please.

Date: Jan 2002

Warning: Inability to deal with emotion, casual sex, unprotected sex, interspecies sex. In other words, nothing really. :)

Notes: Minette beta'ed this, she's a goddess.

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Release

By Amy Mayr

 

Legolas was worried about Aragorn. The man had been silent since the remaining fragment of the Fellowship had set out, seeking the Halflings taken by Saruman's Uruk-hai. The Elf knew Boromir's death had cut him deeply, but he had given no voice, to or sign of, his grief since his few tears as he turned from Boromir's body. And that was too small a showing, Legolas had known how Aragorn felt about Boromir, perhaps even before Aragorn did.

Legolas would never understand the shame men assigned to tears. There was weakness in denying emotion, not in facing it. Though the Aragorn's face was quiet, emotion rolled off him in waves Legolas could almost see; the snarl of rage, grief, sorrow, loss, determination, and helplessness made him uneasy. Even Gimli, whose people had no gift when dealing with emotion, kept casting wary looks at the leader of their small band. Aragorn didn't seem to notice, or, if he did, he paid it no heed.

When they stopped for the night, and made sparse camp, the Dwarf grunted that he would take first watch, and disappeared quickly into the forest around the camp. Legolas didn't blame him. Aragorn's silence was loud, and he did not make easy company at the moment.

Legolas crouched by their small fire, thinking. He had known Aragorn a long time, at least by the standards of men. There had been no grey in his beard and no lines on his face when Legolas had met him first in Rivendell, but he had never seen his friend like this, not even when Mithrandir fell with the Balrog; and Aragorn had known the wizard long before he met Legolas.

He did not know what to say, but he was moved to speak. It was unhealthy for grief to be let fester, and Legolas was not willing to sit by while Aragorn let it eat at his heart. The man was not as hard as he thought he should be. Emotion required release. Legolas turned from the fire, moving to where Aragorn sat leaning against a tree, staring at nothing.

"Aragorn." He spoke quietly, kneeling beside the Ranger and letting his fingers brush the man's arm above Boromir's bracer.

Aragorn's hand turned under his fingers, curling around Legolas's wrist, and he lifted his head, his blue eyes electric as they met the Elf's gaze. Legolas read the intent in Aragorn's eyes a split second before he moved and relaxed, letting Aragorn push him back. He caught himself as he fell back, hands braced behind him, legs out in front of him.

Aragorn was on his knees, straddling one of Legolas's thighs, hands racing up the Elf's chest. One hand went for the latch on Legolas's cloak while the other tangled in his blonde hair, gripping a handful, tilting his head back to offer easy access to the king kneeling above him.

Legolas allowed his head to fall back into Aragorn's grip, and his mouth opened, breath coming in short, soft pants. Aragorn paused, his gaze almost painful in its intensity, before he closed in on Legolas, taking his mouth fiercely. Legolas matched him, kissing back with bruising hunger. He understood this. Aragorn had always needed the physical to express deep emotion. He was a deadly fighter when he was angry, and an equally deadly lover when aroused.

This near-violent touch was not new to him, Aragorn had come to him like this before, and he himself had sought out the man when things were too heavy on his own heart. This was rawer, rough and more desperate, pulling the breath from his body. Legolas welcomed it. Let it burn away the pain of a companion's death, at least for a while, as it did the same for Aragorn, though his pain went deeper.

Aragorn's body was pressed against his, drawn tighter than a bowstring, and hot, even through their clothing. The hand not clenched in Legolas's hair flicked open the clasp on the Lorien cloak he wore and it fell from his shoulders. He made quick work of the latches on the Elf's tunic, and he slipped his hand inside, roaming Legolas's stomach and sides through the light fabric of his undershirt. The muscles beneath Aragorn's hand clenched and he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against Legolas's, both of them breathing hard.

The hand on Legolas's stomach slid down, palming the bulge of his erection through his breeches. The Elf gasped, his hips rolling up into Aragorn's hand. Like his kisses, Aragorn's touch was still familiar.

"I need this now. Please, Legolas." Aragorn's voice was rough, quiet, and very close to breaking.

Legolas knew what he needed. He leaned up, taking Aragorn's mouth with a gentle deliberateness, pressing Aragorn back until their positions were reversed; further back, until Aragorn was spread beneath him. He was neither rough nor quick as his hands moved over Aragorn's body, learning new scars, and finding the familiar places to make him moan and arch.

Legolas shivered, dropping his head to taste the skin in the dip of Aragorn's collarbone. He remembered this too well.

He indulged himself, licking the lines of Aragorn's neck, biting at his nipples, and mouthing the planes of his stomach as the Ranger twisted beneath him. Nimble fingers made quick work of Aragorn's clothing. The minute Legolas's fingers finished on the small buttons, Aragorn pulled him down. Legolas moaned at the scrape of stubble on his throat. He cried out when Aragorn's teeth closed on the delicate curve of his ear, bucking his body against the other man's.

Aragorn bit his lip hard to keep silent when Legolas slid into him, but the Elf made no such courtesy. Gimili was intelligent enough to stay away as low moans and fluid whispers in Elven tongue flowed through the small camp. Aragorn came hard, gripping at Legolas's shoulders. The smooth leather of Boromir's bracers bit into the Elf's skin.

Legolas shuddered, burying his face in Aragorn's black hair as he came. He nuzzled his face against Aragorn's, tasting salt when they kissed. But Aragorn's eyes were clearer, more honest. The pain was there, and would be for a while, but he no longer fought it. He'd had his release.

 

END