Honest Urges by Razzle
Summary: PWP, from a plot bunny by Crystár on Library. First of a series, but also complete on its own. In Rivendell, the Fellowship plays a game of truth or dare. Back at Boromir's quarters, Legolas isn't done playing.
Categories: FPS, FPS > Boromir/Legolas, FPS > Legolas/Boromir Characters: Boromir, Legolas
Type: None
Warning: None
Challenges: Legolas/Boromir challenge
Challenges: Legolas/Boromir challenge
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 4176 Read: 2501 Published: December 31, 2008 Updated: December 31, 2008
Story Notes:
Feedback: Is our friend.

1. Chapter 1 by Razzle

Chapter 1 by Razzle
Sam's elbows darted out to the side, and he swivelled at the waist in a mad jerky movement, his blubber rippling from side to side. Boromir had to turn away, not being possessing of the strongest of stomachs, and even Legolas offered a silent prayer that it would be over soon.

"And then to bed! And then to bed!!!"

The fellowship breathed a sigh of relief as Sam finished his dare, and stopped wobbling. Pippin convulsed in silent laughter, managing to give Sam a thumbs-up in approval, as the fat hobbit sat down, a cushion of alcohol ensuring he was not as embarrassed as he really should have been. Merry turned to Frodo.

"Great. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

He scratched his chin, and considered Frodo carefully.

"Did you enjoy the entertainment?"

Frodo scowled good-humouredly, before answering carefully. "I thought it was very," he swallowed, "brave of him. But I think once is probably enough. Especially after this much beer." Sam smiled sheepishly in reply to his apologetic grin, and Legolas rolled his eyes at Gandalf. The whole thing had been rather amusing, but nowhere near as personal as Aragorn had intended. When he had suggested the game, he had hoped it would get more vulgar as the wine flowed, but the questions had remained fairly chaste, and Legolas, damn him, wasn't drinking at all.

Aragorn, his inhibitions damaged slightly by the quart of mead he'd consumed in the last hour, let his eyes wander freely over the elf, who was reclining in Elrond's high chair, leaning on his hand with a look of mild amusement. He stared for a moment at the movement of his friend's leg, swinging silently back and forth over the arm of the chair. He envied Boromir and Gandalf, as from their angle they would certainly have an enviable view of the elf's crotch. Where was Boromir looking, anyway? With his legs stretched apart that way, the fabric of Legolas' leggings would be taut across his...

"Boromir!" Aragorn's strangled cry was as much a surprise to him as it was to everyone else in the circle, even Legolas raised an eyebrow, and he was practically unshakable. Aragorn coughed, and continued, "Truth or dare?"

Boromir stopped looking like a rabbit in a set of headlights, and even managed to smile. "Truth, I think."

Aragorn relaxed, too, and smiled somewhat smugly. "Ever kissed an elf?" Aragorn turned his unstable, drunken gaze to Legolas, attempting to look seductive. Unfortunately, everyone else turned to look too. Everyone but Boromir spared a short leer for the proud elf, who barely flinched, sitting tall and waiting patiently for his answer.

Boromir himself merely lifted a hand from his head, gesturing into the air, and answered lightly, "No."

Aragorn looked slightly irritated that his implication had gone entirely unnoticed, and the deliberately contrived look so entirely ignored.

"Legolas," Frodo offered, "still playing?"

"Yeeeees," he said apprehensively, a touch of concern in his voice, "but Aragorn knows me too well for truths, around those of whom I know so little," the hobbits brows knotted in strained comprehension, "but I cannot think of a dare any of you can contrive that I cannot achieve."

"Ho then," Gandalf interjected, with a clap of his hands and a smile around his smouldering pipe. "I feel sorry for Boromir. You can't come to Rivendell and fail to fumble with an elf."

Sam was of the firm opinion that this was perfectly possible, but no one noticed his mumbling, as other reactions were far more interesting. Legolas was merely staring at Aragorn, as frostily as possible, while Boromir was calmly claiming that Gandalf could not possibly be serious. Aragorn was attempting not to twitch, unable to look at the elf out of a slight sense of apprehension, but mostly amusement, as he knew Legolas would never concede.

The hobbits were laughing.

"Fine,"

Once again, everyone looked at Legolas. He unwrapped his long limbs from the chair and strode across the circle. Boromir was so taken aback by the luminous figure bearing down upon him, he had no chance to react, until he found his face cupped gently by soft slender fingers, and a beautiful face brought suddenly close to his. A lilting voice whispered for his ears alone. "Sorry about this."

Legolas' kiss was not quite what he'd expected. Although he'd anticipated a cautious touch, he had been prepared for a more chaste affair. Whilst still far from playing tonsil hockey, the elf surprised him by opening his mouth, and when a tongue just darted momentarily past the very border of his lips, he quite forgot to breathe. Though he knew he should wish it over, something in him wouldn't let him break away, and it came as something of a disappointment when the elf moved back, parting their lips with a soft sound.

He opened his eyes, and, while shortly returning the friendly smile that the elf offered, became aware of his own hand where it hung in mid air. As he quickly dropped it to his side, he dimly remembered the texture of Legolas' hair around his fingers, but could no more recall lifting his hand to touch him than he could recall closing his eyes.

"Well, Aragorn," Legolas' melodic voice intoned, "what secrets are you prepared to share? Or do you have a mind to kiss a hobbit?"

The ranger's voice was even huskier than usual, an ominous kind of rumble usually reserved for murderous moods. "This game is boring, and I am tired." He kicked his chair back with a scrape akin to a wraith's scream, took his leave of the company with a curt bow, and stropped off. Legolas leaned back, with an air of unprecedented self- satisfaction, as the game continued unabated.




The group had whittled down as the free peoples had found their ways to bed, and Legolas had offered to walk Boromir back to his room. This was as much through desire to escape the hobbits, who were getting rather amorous in their inebriated state, as through tiredness.

They reached Boromir's room, and the moment came to part. An awkward moment of farewell stretched out as the strangers searched for suitable words of farewell.

Legolas bowed, and made to leave, but at the last moment he seemed to reconsider, and turned back towards the man.

"Boromir?"

"Yes, Prince Legolas?"

"Truth or dare?"

Boromir started, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected nature of the question. "Um, truth, I suppose?"

"Was that really the first time you kissed an elf?"

Boromir replied without embarrassment. "Yes. Why?"

"You do it rather well. And the way you touched me, which I will excuse as you were unaware, is something of an open invitation."

Boromir's eyes went wide. He stumbled with words of apology, genuinely unaware of the nature of his actions, which Legolas dismissed with a wave of his hand. "'Tis no matter, you were not to know."

Boromir relaxed slightly, enough to feel slightly irritated at the hint of condescension. "If the game is still ongoing, I have a truth for you too,"

Legolas raised an eyebrow, conceding with a slight nod. There was an unspecific noise, light footfalls perhaps, and Boromir looked anxiously down the hall, suspicious of elven ears. He jerked his head backwards, and an intrigued Legolas followed him through the door, which the steward's son closed behind him. Legolas stood with his arms crossed, patiently awaiting whatever question could require such privacy. Unable to meet his gaze, the man scuffed his boot on the carpet in a moment of childlike awkwardness that Legolas found unbearably endearing.

"Why did you kiss me properly?"

If Legolas was surprised, he didn't show it. "Well, if a thing's worth doing... If I'd pecked you on the cheek they'd have made me do it again. Why draw out the inevitable? Plus, it pissed Aragorn off most royally." Boromir snorted in laughter. Legolas' brow furrowed as he recalled the question.

"That wasn't a proper kiss."

"No?"

"Nowhere near."

"Oh." Boromir didn't seem unduly convinced. Legolas' hands dropped from his chest, and he approached the man a touch predatorily. He lifted his gaze, and drew Boromir's gaze irresistibly upwards to meet his own. His voice was hushed, and Boromir thought it extremely sexy.

"If I was to kiss you properly, you'd really know."

And Boromir believed him.

"Truth or dare?" he said, emboldened.

"Oh, I think dare."

"I dare you to show me what a proper kiss is like." Legolas didn't need to be told twice. He smiled, and raised a hand to Boromir's face.

At first, the kiss was little more than the original, the welcome warm pressure of soft lips over his, moving tenderly, but still almost timidly. He was helpless under the elf's touch, though, and it was up to Legolas to deepen the kiss at will. The blonde let his intention be known with a sweep of his tongue along the seam of the man's lips. Boromir let his mouth be gently eased open, and finally tasted the tongue that had previously eluded him. He matched Legolas' energy, every bold thrust the elf made into his mouth finding its equal from the man. This time when they parted they were both slightly breathless, especially Boromir, who felt as if he'd been winded. The elf didn't pull back far, letting his forehead rest against Boromir's.

"Truth or dare?" Legolas asked using the same whisper with which he had apologised earlier.

"Dare seems to be working," Boromir practically panted, "rather well at the moment."

"Excellent. I dare you to touch me again, now that you know what it means."

He didn't draw back, but he did look up at the elf with an uncertain expression, which Legolas found near irresistible.

"Will you give in now, man?" he taunted, making up his mind for him.

He lifted a hand swiftly, burying it in Legolas' long hair, twisting the smooth strands between his fingers until he found what he was looking for. Legolas gasped, and clutched his shoulder as he ran his thumb from the tip of his ear and along the inside curve all the way down. He kept his eyes on the lovely elf the whole time, whose own eyes remained on him until he flicked his thumb over the tip of Legolas' ear, which forced his eyes shut with a moan and brought his mouth back down upon the man. Despite the head rush that accompanied the kiss, Boromir continued to move his fingers around the elf's ear, before tracing a path with his thumb down the side of his throat and finally to the pulse at the base of his neck, which, he realised with a swell to his ego, was racing.

Since his hands seemed in a sensible place for such an action, and his timidity in the presence of the blonde beauty apparently having melted, he went for the leather chords at the collar of his tunic. Legolas pulled away, and for a horrible moment he thought he'd gone too far, and perhaps Legolas had been playing after all. But the elf grabbed the hem of his own tunic and pulled it impatiently over his head. Boromir followed suit, in order to spend as little time as possible separated. He had a little trouble with his own shirt, as he'd neglected to undo the ties at the collar and cuffs before pulling it over his head. Legolas smiled in amusement, but the eventually shirtless Boromir had every intention of wiping the smile directly from that beautiful face.

He grabbed the elf by the back of his head, and drew him back into another bruising kiss, no mean feat as the elf was several inches taller than him. But what the man lacked in comparative height he made up for in sheer enthusiasm, and the force of his kiss caused Legolas to stumble, and land on the bed behind them. Boromir's weight on top of his light frame knocked the breath right out of him, and he lay there gasping for a moment. He looked rather abused, and the sight of the proud elf so undone brought Boromir to shameful hardness.

"Sorry," Boromir panted, and proceeded to back up his admission of remorse with the administration of gentle kisses along Legolas' collarbones, beautifully prominent on his slim chest. It felt like an honour to be allowed to taste him thus, and Boromir didn't feel like giving up the prize just yet. He ran a tongue down his smooth breastbone, his fingers tracing the edges of the ribs he could feel when the elf took a breath. He let his tongue dance over a nipple, and relished in the moan this provoked. Playful teeth replaced the tongue, and Legolas gasped.

"Boromir, that's..." Boromir reached a hand up to touch Legolas' lovely ear once more, which shut him up nicely, turning his protestation into another low groan. He soothed the minor pain with a kiss, and let his free hand drift lower, gauging Legolas' reaction. To his gratification, the elf was showing promise of being just as hard as he. He was faster, though. Legolas turned them over, holding Boromir's hands against the bed, above his head.

"Can't let you do all the work, now, can I?" although the elf made something of an exploration of the man's chest, it seemed his interest lay lower, and for a notoriously patient species he didn't seem especially eager to wait.

"You have very good muscles, you know. Elves don't bulk up, as a rule," he explained to the confused expression he received. He turned his attention to Boromir's abdomen, flicking the buttons that secured his trousers through their holes with a dexterous thumb, "all subtlety and no," the last button defeated, he regarded Boromir's erection hungrily, "meat."

The elf weighed next to nothing, but Boromir noticed when the pressure was removed from his legs. He looked down his body, leaning up on his elbows. Legolas had retreated to the floor, pulling Boromir's breeches with him, and was kneeling between his legs, with only one thing on his mind.

"Truth or dare, Boromir?"

The man smiled.

"I didn't realise we were still playing. Very well; dare."

"I dare you not to make a sound."

Shouldn't be too hard, he thought, even when the elf ran a lazy tongue over his head, and slowly down his length. As long as he concentrated, he shouldn't have a problem staying silent, Oh my God!

He bit his lip as the elf swallowed his entire length, almost drawing blood as he strained against the compulsion to cry out. The tight heat of Legolas' exquisite mouth was more than enough to make him moan, but he was determined not to lose this competition, even if it killed him. It was touch and go for a minute, as he swallowed the moans that rose in his throat, his Adams apple rising and falling almost in synchrony with the elf's, as he let Boromir's flesh slide almost entirely out of his mouth, ran his tongue around the end, and took him all the way back in. He did this again and again, maddeningly slowly, and Boromir placed his hands on the back of his head, trying to drive him faster, his fingers buried in depths of soft hair.

Legolas broke away, and Boromir screwed his face up against the urge to whine in disappointment. The elf took in his strained expression, and took pity on the poor forlorn creature.

"Boromir, my friend," he said, with a sinful smile, "you may moan at will." When Legolas returned to his ministrations, Boromir threw his head back and set free the moan that he had been holding back.

"Valar!" he breathed, and shuddered with pleasure as Legolas laughed around his aching flesh. "Truth," Boromir managed to say, "or dare?" The elf brought his mouth to the very end of his cock, so when he said, "Truth," his breath continued to tease the man.

"Are you going to do that all night?"

Legolas gave him a farewell lick, then backed off and rocked back on his haunches, swinging himself up to stand. He placed a strong hand firmly on Boromir's chest as he sat up, pushing the man backwards onto the bed, and leant forwards to kiss him again. He tasted different this time, sweat and a little semen giving his lips a saltier hint, and Boromir was surprised how much he wasn't disturbed by tasting himself. Actually, he found it really rather arousing, affirmation that this was more than idle fantasy. He spread his fingers and ran rough hands over the elf's perfectly smooth back. To his gratification, Legolas arched into his touch, with a moan of appreciation that was lost in the man's throat. He let his hands slide to the waistband of the elf's leggings, two fingers dipping below the waistband to brush the sensitive dent at the base of his spine, and the fever that this induced in the elf's tongue was thoroughly rewarding. Boromir hooked his thumbs over Legolas' waistband, and shoved the material down his thighs, mapping firm muscles with his palms as he went, and pausing momentarily to consider the power in those slender legs. His experience of elves was somewhat limited, but their strength was fabled, and he was proud to be experiencing this first hand. However, the tales he had heard of elves had not mentioned this -- there was something about the elf's slim frame that had perhaps suggested he would not have been unreasonably well endowed. As his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the elf's groin, he realised what a desperately incorrect assumption that had been.

"What?" Legolas asked, obviously oblivious to any particular excess on his part. Boromir shook his head as he realised he had been staring, and took advantage of the elf's amused state to get the upper hand.

Legolas could have stopped the man from turning them over if he'd wanted, but he decided to allow the man his moment of power. He did not intend to allow him to keep it. So he settled back onto the bed for a few minutes, and let Boromir return the favour, pleasuring him with remarkable skill for one without the years of skill the elf could boast. However, when Legolas felt the tentative exploration of a fingertip at the entrance to his body, he smiled mischievously. Little one, you presume too much, he thought, and consciously tightened to deny the man any kind of access.

"Boromir," he said, maintaining as level a tone as he could, "Truth or dare?" the man released his flesh.

"Legolas," he replied, attempting to sound forceful, "the game is over."

"There is no winner. The game is not over." The elf asserted, remaining impressively unresponsive to Boromir, who was letting his fingers drift up and down Legolas' erection, just delicately enough to be really annoying.

"Fine," the man said quietly, "Dare then."

"Thank you." Faster than Boromir could follow, Legolas had shifted out from under him, and pinned him to the bed. "I dare you," he pressed his own finger into Boromir's body, eliciting a satisfying gasp, "to take it like a man." Boromir groaned in realisation of his fate, and tried to consciously relax, and allow the beautiful elf the room he needed. Legolas' long hair tickled his back as he leaned down to plant kisses on the young man's weather beaten back, and sent another finger to join the first. He began to beckon inside the man, touching a place inside him in a way that forced him to close his eyes, his head suddenly feeling very light. He spread his fingers and rotated them; reveling in the various sounds he could make the man yield.

As an elf, Legolas was possessing of a great supply of patience, but the sight of his conquest so depraved and needy beneath him was swiftly undoing him. He moved his fingers from the heat and patted Boromir playfully on the behind.

"On your knees, Little One."

Boromir shot him a reproachful glare, but was far too deprived to disobey. Legolas hoped the remnants of Boromir's saliva would be enough lubrication, because he had very little idea of getting anything else now. He ran a soothing hand down his spine as he eased himself inside. Boromir was tight around him, and Legolas embraced the vice-like heat. Elven restraint was a blessing for them both, as Legolas forced himself to allow the man to get used to his size before pushing further.

Boromir breathed with difficulty, and he sucked his top lip as he tried to ignore the pain. He knew it would get better soon, and he focused on that thought as the elf violated his body.

Finally, he was fully inside the man.

When finally he could think clearly, Boromir allowed himself a moment of pride that he had been able to fit. Legolas smiled, and gratefully began to move. While Boromir steadied himself upon his hands, Legolas held his hips still against his ingress, and moved very slowly, establishing an unhurried pace, reluctant to risk hurt to him. Boromir, however, had other plans, now he was over the discomfort of his first inward drive, and held his breath, steeling himself, before shoving his hips back against the strong frame behind him. Legolas chuckled.

"Have it your way, son of Gondor."

It came as quite a relief to be able to take the man as he yearned to, and as he began to lose himself to the rhythm, he leaned forwards to lean his light body against the man. He increased the pace of his thrusts, cursing the spectacular tightness in his own tongue, and reveling in the rising moans he was drawing from the man with every inward drive. Eager to hear more, he reached around the man to grasp his cock, stroking him in time with the movement of his hips.

Boromir cried out particularly loudly as Legolas struck an exceptionally sensitive part of him, and Legolas relished in his abandon.

When Boromir's arms began to shake slightly, Legolas slowed, and allowed him to drop down, so he was leaning on his forearms. This left the elf some distance away once more, but with ever decreasing desire to prolong the moment, he increased his stroke, giving in to the pace his body had been aching for, and matching it with the fist he had made around his lover's cock.

Through his haze of pleasure, Boromir managed to form a sensible question. Turning sufficiently that he could meet Legolas' gaze, he requested breathlessly, "Truth or dare?"

Legolas smiled brokenly, too near completion for his usual calm, and requested a dare.

"Come inside me." Boromir's request, delivered with half-lidded eyes, was not one that Legolas was going to have trouble granting. He couldn't have stopped now if he tried. As he pounded into his willing consort, Boromir's moans became so low and frequent it was like a continuous growl of appreciation. Legolas himself gritted his teeth, and thrust furiously, until he fulfilled the man's request, and came deep inside him, calling out his name.

All the time he kept up a pace on Boromir's own erection, and the man followed a moment later, spurred on by the elf's urgency. When they were both entirely spent, the elf leaned forwards to rest against Boromir's shoulder. When he pulled himself out, Boromir felt far more empty than he knew he could, so when the elf collapsed onto the bed next to him, he turned and wrapped his arms around him.

"Maer menel, Boromir, that was amazing."

"Because of you, my lovely elf," the man said, brushing errant strands of hair from the fair face before him.

Legolas smiled coyly, clearly gratified. He looked up mischievously. "A captain is only as good as his vessel."

Boromir rolled his eyes in mock disgust. "You know," he said, after a moment, "if I'd known elves were this useful, I wouldn't have wasted so much time in Gondor." Legolas laughed. It was a sound that made Boromir feel warm.

"Perhaps you should have been a ranger!"

Boromir prickled. "Truth or dare?"

"It's not your turn."

"That last one did not count."

Legolas had to concede the point, and requested truth.

"Aragorn"

"That's neither."

"True. What is with you two?"

"Somedays Aragorn is gayer than others. He's always been the same. Many's the time he's had a skinful and started chasing me round the forest."

"Did he ever catch you?"

Legolas treated him to an elusive little grin. "You're only allowed one question."

Boromir gave up, and surrendered himself to the elf's embrace. Right now, in this place, it genuinely didn't matter who won.

On the balcony outside Boromir's room, a figure in possession of near elven stealth eased his own cock back into his breeches, and wiped his hand on the fabric. Next time, he thought as he slunk away, he was going to have to think of a game for more players.
End Notes:
Followed by Double or Nothing
This story archived at http://www.libraryofmoria.com/a/viewstory.php?sid=523