Title:  Trio for Flute
Author:  Brigantine
E-mail:  gidgetpup@netzero.com
Rating:  R
Pairing:  Aragorn/Boromir/Legolas
Summary:  Shortly after Pelennor the guys settle in at Minas Tirith. 
A rare afternoon of rest turns a bit loopy.  Sort of sequel to Hunting
with Fire.

Feedback:  Oo, please!
Disclaimer:  Alas, characters not of my own making.  Just having a bit
of fun with the boys.
A/N:  Inspired by a favorite picture at Theband Band.  Submitted for
Library of Moria's Threesomes Challenge, 'cause the Bunny said I ought
to, and made Cute Eyes at me.  Took second place after "You Get Us
Out," by Dinen Glamor, which is jolly, 'cause I voted for that one
too.

#########

"I hate you both at this moment, you know that," Boromir informed
Legolas and Aragorn with easy matter-of-factness.

A quiet afternoon of lazing in the uncrowned king's bedchamber had
degenerated into a thoroughly lopsided wrestling match, and now
Boromir lay stretched out between his friends on the carpet before the
fireplace, his shoulders pressed up against the slender, but
remarkably strong prince of Mirkwood.  Whether this meant that Boromir
had lost or won the match was perhaps a matter of perspective.

Legolas bent gracefully over him to kiss him upside down on the nose. 
"Of course you do.  Now hold still."

Aragorn grinned up from tugging Boromir's trousers down around his
ankles.  "But I love it when he wriggles."

"Hate you," Boromir laughed.  "One good arm.  I have one good arm
against the two of you.  Not even Hobbits play this crooked!"

Beaming unrepentantly, Aragorn tossed the plundered trousers over his
shoulder toward the general vicinity of his rumpled bed.

"You know this is getting a bit familiar," Boromir observed, idly
hooking his left big toe into a loose fold of Aragorn's shirt.

"Really?  How's that?"  Aragorn ran appreciative hands along Boromir's
long thighs, curled his fingers under the soft backs of his knees.

"You, me, an elf, and that look in your eye."

Legolas nuzzled the top of Boromir's head.  "One day I must thank
Haldir for helping teach you to like Elves."

Aragorn lifted Boromir's legs up and back toward Legolas, who
obligingly reached over Boromir to hook his slender hands under
Boromir's knees, careful not to bend him in any way disagreeable.  He
was, after all, not as flexible as an elf.

"Oof," said Boromir.

"Now then," growled Aragorn, and grey eyes gleaming, he dove
purposefully for Boromir's naked lap.

"Ioreth," Boromir gasped, "has started wondering why these bandages
must be changed so frequently.  I can see it--mm--in her face.  One of
these days--oh--she's going to ask me straight out--mmmph, oh my (deep
breath)--and I don't know what the devil--ahh, gods, Aragorn, that's
evil--(pant)-- what the devil I'm supposed to tell her--guhh-- Where
did you learn--ohhh--whatever it is you just did with your tongue?"

"Haldir," Legolas guessed, as Aragorn was quite busy doing again that
evil thing he had just done with his tongue.

Boromir arched upward and his sword hand took the Elf's slim wrist in
a crushing grip.  His face had flushed handsomely, and little pearls
of sweat beaded his forehead.

Aragorn's hands blindly traced the taught lines of Boromir's narrow
hips, feathered knowingly over a particularly sensitive spot.  
"Oooo..." groaned the steward.

Legolas bent forward and licked the salt from his friend's brow, felt
the familiar heat of his skin, kissed his eyelids, kissed his flushed
cheeks, hummed contentedly to himself.

"I don't--ga-ahh--know what you're--ummm--smirking about--nnnk--Elf,"
Boromir scowled ineffectually, trying to catch his breath. 
"You're--oh-oh gods!--nnnext!--arrrrrrrghhhhh…"

The king chuckled and licked his lips as his steward's eyes rolled
back in his head, and he sagged into Legolas's embrace.

"Feeling better now?" the prince inquired amiably, loosening his grip
on Boromir's knees.  "You've been so tense lately."

Gulping for air like a landed trout, Boromir opened one eye to glare
affectionately up at him.  "Sneaky Elf."

"Filthy Man," Legolas smiled softly, and Aragorn kissed Boromir at the
side of his warm throat, just there where his thumping pulse had
nearly stopped forever, that one day by the Anduin. 

The king sat back on his bare heels, cracked his knuckles and leered
meaningfully at the elf.  "Now.  Who did we say is next?"

"Boromir was delirious," Legolas asserted lightly, gently but quickly
beginning to untangle himself from his position at the steward's
shoulders.

Boromir swiftly reached back with his good arm and took hold of a
fistful of Legolas's tunic, trapping the elf in the same unbreakable
grip with which he held his blade in battle.  He grinned up at
Aragorn.  "I seem to be already in the neighborhood, now don't I?"

"Need an extra hand with the preliminaries?"

"Mighty kind of you."

Legolas's eyebrows flickered.  "Oh dear..."

--end--