Title: Confession
Author: Medea (medea22@earthlink.net)
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: *NC-17*
Disclaimer: The characters and settings used in this story belong to J.R.R. 
Tolkien.
Summary: Aragorn finally admits his desire when confronted by a 
frustrated Legolas. 
Author's Note: comments welcome, but please be gentle – it’s my first 
time…

Setting: Set in the days after the fellowship had completed their quest, 
before Aragorn and Arwen were married.

King. They had crowned him King. How strange it was now, for Aragorn, 
son of Arathorn, as he gazed down from the ledge to look upon the realm 
of his people. Tonight, there had been a feast, a great celebration in honor 
of the Fellowship and the completion of their quest. It was a gathering the 
likes of which Middle Earth had never seen - men and elves, dwarves and 
hobbits, the men and women of Rohan and the noble Dunedain, Rangers of 
the North. And of course, the people of Gondor, who would look to 
Aragorn now and in the days ahead, the days following the darkness of 
Mordor. So many faces, mingled with the resonance of endless voices. 
And yet, Aragorn could focus on one, one only.


Hour upon hour, the evening lingered, and he could not take his eyes from 
the elf. Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, had woven Aragorn 
into his spell from the moment the Ranger first laid eyes upon him in 
Rivendell. There, at the Council of Elrond, Legolas had spoken against 
Boromir, revealing Aragorn’s heritage as the heir of Isildur. So quick was 
he to come to Aragorn’s defense, his outcry had sent a wild surge through 
Aragorn’s body. He had stared for just a moment into the elf’s dark, 
shocking eyes before asking Legolas to sit back down, but a moment was 
all it took to shake Aragorn to the core. Those eyes, at once sensuous and 
inviting, seemed to reach in and grasp Aragorn’s very soul. The elf’s skin, 
smooth and alabaster white against his fair, flowing hair. 


In the days that followed, Aragorn would catch his breath whenever he 
watched him move with the soft grace of his Elvin kin. He would imagine 
what it would be like to run his fingertips across those subtle, unrevealing 
lips, to feel the warmth of his body next to his. Long nights by the fire 
were spent in feverish longing, imagining what it would be like to let his 
tongue dance upon an earlobe, a supple cheekbone, only to dive into the 
warmth of his mouth. At times, though later he would tell himself it was 
only his desire seeking to deceive him, he swore his gaze was returned 
with one equally desirous and filled with yearning. But no – he had to let it 
go. Tonight, there had been a feast, but tomorrow – tomorrow, there 
would be a wedding. Aragorn, son of Arathorn and King of Gondor, would 
marry Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond of Rivendell. Hopeless now 
were the Ranger’s longings. The path of his future had been set, and there 
was no going back. In truth, he loved Arwen, and his heart grieved at its 
betrayal, but the past days and months with the Fellowship – with Legolas 
– had changed everything. The elf had awoken in him such feelings as he 
had never known, and his love for Legolas had surpassed the bonds of 
brotherhood and companionship. To look into the Elvin prince’s eyes was 
to look into the mirror of Aragorn’s own soul.


And so it was with these thoughts weighing heavily upon him that Aragorn 
now looked down from the ledge of his chamber. Unable to bear the 
evening’s revelry any longer, he had fled the great hall and with a few 
brief and hurried wishes of good night, he excused himself, saying only 
that he needed some much-desired rest. He had not said good night to 
Legolas, but leaving the hall, he caught a glimpse of him with one very 
inebriated Gimli, son of Gloin. They were recounting their journey through 
the Mines of Moria to a group of young and adoring fans.


As he left the room, however, Legolas instinctively looked up and caught 
his gaze for an instant. Aragorn could not bear the weight of his stare, and 
retreated to his chamber. That had been hours ago, and now he sat, 
watching the pale moon climb her way across the night sky, thinking how 
its beauty reminded him of Legolas’ milky white skin. He groaned, and 
there was a knock at the door. Wishing only to be alone, Aragorn growled 
at the thought of more visitors. He opened the door, but barely stifled a 
gasp at the sight of the elf. There he stood, looking radiant in his emerald 
green tunic, his hair glowing in the moon’s light. 


“You did not say good night – are you not well, my king?” The simple 
words cut like the blade of a sword through Aragorn’s heart. He felt his 
body shudder, knowing he had not the strength to hide his feelings any 
longer. Shame and anger welled up in him, and he growled at Legolas.


“I am tired, Legolas – and weary of celebrations.”


The words stung the elf, but he hid it well. 


“Forgive my intrusion then – I only wanted to be sure that you were not 
ill.” Legolas turned to leave. Aragorn’s body felt as though it were being 
torn in two. So desperately he wanted to reach out and touch the elf, bury 
his face in his golden hair and find solace there. But he let him go. The 
latch echoed like thunder as the door closed behind him, leaving Aragorn 
alone in the midst of his own battle. 


A minute passed, and then another, until the king lost all sense of time. 
Aragorn’s heart was heavy indeed when he returned to his perch at the 
window ledge. There, by only the moonlight, he let his feelings overtake 
him. Drowning in his lustful thoughts, he imagined his fingers working 
slowly to unlace Legolas’ green tunic. He could almost feel the silken 
flesh beneath, rising to meet his touch as he teased a nipple here, 
caressed a shoulder blade there. And as his longing grew, he moved his 
hands lower to satisfy his own aching need, something he’d become all too 
accustomed to doing these days. 


It was then that Legolas returned, not with the subtle quiet steps of his 
kin, but with a fire raging in his eyes as he burst through the door of 
Aragorn’s chamber. 


“Will you marry her then?” he demanded.


“Legolas, wha-…” Aragorn stuttered, jumping down from the ledge and 
praying that Legolas had not witnessed his recent indiscretion. 


“Answer me!” the elf raged, and Aragorn, sensing that something was 
wrong, managed weakly, “Legolas, I have no choice – it is what my people 
want,” and slowly, after a long breath, “…and yours.”

 
”Will you be content, then? Is it your wish to spend your days and nights 
in the arms of one who knows nothing of the man you are??” 


Aragorn gasped, where was this coming from? “My prince,” he swallowed 
hard upon saying the words, desire still burning in his heart, “have I 
angered you?”


“Tell me that you love her.” Legolas spat the words like venom, and 
indeed they burned Aragorn.


“Wh- What?” Aragorn was quickly losing his composure.


“TELL ME that you love her.” Legolas said again, through gritted teeth.


“I – do love Arwen…”


At that, Legolas seemed to crumble. The raging fire left his eyes and only 
sadness filled its place. He turned to go once again, ashamed at his 
outburst, humiliated at having let his king see him so unguarded, so 
vulnerable. He was almost to the door.


“…but not as I love you.” There, Aragorn had said it. And it was as if the 
weight of the one ring itself had been lifted from his shoulders. He 
swallowed, breathing hard, and waited for the elf’s response.


Legolas turned slowly, forcing his gaze to meet that of Aragorn. When it 
did, he suddenly recognized that in those eyes, his desire was reflected. 

“Say it again,” whispered the elf, barely audible.


“I love you,” breathed Aragorn, “Oh Gods, and I need you.”


With that, the king rushed toward Legolas and with a single fluid 
movement pressed his body up against the closed door. Their eyes met, 
locked upon one another.  A moment passed, and nothing was said. Then, 
with the longing of countless days driving his passion, Aragorn’s mouth 
found the sweet flesh of the elf’s, and with his kiss he devoured him.


Legolas, realizing that months of seemingly hopeless yearning had not 
been in vain, grabbed Aragorn fiercely, returning the kiss with an eager 
tongue. He could barely stand. The world swirled around him, but he could 
feel nothing but the wet warmth of Aragorn’s consuming kiss. Suddenly, 
he was a King no longer, but the wild Ranger that Legolas had fallen in 
love with. Their tongues and their hands explored one another with 
maddening need. Legolas grasped Aragorn’s hair, pulling hard and eliciting 
a cry of pleasure mingled with pain. Desire was raging within Aragorn’s 
loins at this realization of his fantasies, and he deftly worked the laces of 
Legolas’ tunic, all but ripping the fabric from his body. Legolas too, had 
found Aragorn’s bare chest, though the Ranger had only been half aware 
of his clothing being torn away. His ecstasy escalated as Legolas broke 
free from Aragorn’s mouth and his tongue traveled deftly down the length 
of his neck and across his chest, closing in on his nipples, sucking, 
rubbing, until Aragorn groaned with unimaginable pleasure. He shuddered 
as the elf’s delicate hands found his cock, burning with need. With one last 
ounce of restraint, he stopped Legolas only long enough to lift him and 
carry him to the bed. There, he lay him down, reveling for a moment in 
the sheer beauty of his Elvin prince, watching his chest rise and fall, his 
breath coming in gasps.  


At last, Aragorn could wait no longer.  He made quick work of his own 
leggings, his cock growing huge as he watched Legolas writhe in 
anticipation below him, the elf’s tongue sliding over those lips that 
Aragorn had only tasted for the first time just moments ago, and now he 
wanted more.  His pulse was racing, but his limbs felt as if they moved in 
slow motion as he removed Legolas’ remaining clothing.  His fingers deftly 
went to work on the elf’s leggings, and with a few clever movements, he 
had freed the laces to reveal his lover’s throbbing cock – flushed, erect 
and pulsing against his ivory skin.  Wanting to devour all of him at once, it 
was all the Ranger could do not to take Legolas into his mouth right then, 
to run his tongue over the smooth flesh, take it fully into his mouth and 
consume him inch by inch until the elf screamed in pleasure as his seed 
exploded into his captor’s waiting swallow.  In an instant he had straddled 
Legolas, pinning his slender arms against the bed, his tongue diving once 
again into the elf’s mouth, their kiss deep and filled with aching need.  


“Gods, I wanted to tell you – I wanted so badly to take you,” Aragorn said 
between breaths, their bodies rocking against one another as they 
explored each other hungrily.  His tongue found the smooth skin beneath 
his lover’s chin, followed the delicate line of his neck and greedily bit at 
the elf’s ear.


“I… I didn’t know – why did you not tell me? Why?” panted the elf, his 
hands now locked behind Aragorn’s neck, his back arched and pulling the 
Ranger close to him.  With a grin he pinched Aragorn’s nipples hard and 
whispered in his ear, “So many nights did I long to make you scream my 
name in pleasure.  I would die inside, wanting nothing else but to feel you 
deep inside of me …” 


Aragorn groaned. Hearing his own desires echoed in the elf’s words, he 
could only moan softly, “I’m sorry… but I can only hope to make up for all 
those nights you spent in agony…”


Aragorn pushed deeper into the elf’s embrace, their tongues finding one 
another again.  For a moment, their cocks touched, sending a shock of 
electricity through their bodies that made Legolas arch his back, pushing 
his eager shaft against Aragorn’s huge erection.  It was almost too much 
for the Ranger, and he began to grind his body against the elf’s with 
furious speed, reeling in the sensation of Legolas panting beneath him, 
greedily kissing, biting and sucking every inch of flesh on the Ranger’s 
body.  They began to move in maddening rhythm, thrusting against one 
another as Aragorn’s hand reached down and grabbed the elf’s shaft, 
squeezing hard in one final motion that had Legolas screaming in his ear, 
“Oh, my king… oh gods, I have wanted you for so long!” Legolas reeled in 
the sensation of Aragorn sliding above him, his hand pumping the elf’s 
eager cock.  It was with an explosion of pleasure and sweetest pain that 
Legolas came, crying out in ecstasy as he spilled his cum into Aragorn’s 
waiting hand.  


Aragorn fell forward onto the elf, his face buried in the now damp hair that 
fell across his lover’s face.  Legolas was still breathing heavily when he 
turned once again to find the Ranger’s lips. Still reeling from his delicious 
release, he poured his every emotion into the kiss, finding once again the 
hot, wet embrace of Aragorn’s mouth. Tender at first, then with growing 
need, he slipped his tongue in and out, brushed against the rough stubble 
of Aragorn’s cheekbones, then playfully bit at his lips, his ears, and the 
irresistible curve of his jaw, all the while moaning with pleasure. Sensing 
his lover’s yet unfulfilled need, he slipped from beneath the king and 
straddled him in one swift movement. Now, with Aragorn below him, 
Legolas could greedily enjoy the sight of his new lover’s exposed form. 
Broad shoulders, deep chest and lean, muscled arms all heaved beneath 
him, revealing the fierce hunger that pulsed behind the Ranger’s eyes.  
Letting his gaze trail downward, Legolas discovered Aragorn’s massive 
erection.


“My king, it seems I have unleashed a monster.” Legolas teased, and 
Aragorn writhed with pleasure beneath him.


“Surely you can tame it, my prince.” Aragorn purred back, his arms 
reaching up and grabbing a ribbon of flaxen hair before pulling Legolas to 
him once again for deep, penetrating kiss.


Not to be distracted from the task at hand, Legolas freed his lips from 
Aragorn’s hungry embrace with a mischievous smirk before diving toward 
the Ranger’s still swollen member.  The archer gasped as his eyes took in 
the nearly overwhelming length of Aragorn’s large shaft, the tender head 
flushed red and glistening wet with pre-cum.  Wasting no time, Legolas 
took the throbbing erection into his mouth, eliciting a cry of pure pleasure 
from his lover. Flicking his tongue across the tip, Legolas began to slowly 
encircle the head, working his way down until Aragorn’s entire shaft was 
in his mouth.  Skilled in the art of pleasure, the elf knew instinctively how 
to find his lover’s weak points, his fingers teasing the soft fuzz of his 
lover’s balls as they swelled beneath his touch.  Grabbing Legolas roughly 
by the back of his head, Aragorn began to pump furiously against the elf, 
his hips rocking in fierce rhythm with the elf’s every movement.  Slipping 
his hands beneath the ranger and digging deeply into the flesh of 
Aragorn’s backside, Legolas pumped wildly, sucking harder and harder, 
taking his lover deeper and deeper into him as the Ranger fucked the elf’s 
mouth hard and fast with a desperate, aching need.  The sensation sent 
Legolas reeling.  With his long-desired lover thrusting beneath him, he 
sucked, licked, stroked and teased every inch of Aragorn’s hard shaft as 
against the rough wool cover of the bed, the elf’s own cock swelled once 
again to its enormously full length.


Finally, Aragorn could hold back no longer, and with one final thrust that 
sent his cock slamming against the back of his lover’s throat, the Ranger 
shot a stream of hot cum into Legolas’ eager mouth.  The archer took it all 
in, sucking and swallowing until Aragorn was finally spent, and could give 
no more. Legolas fell forward onto the Ranger, their bodies breathing 
heavily in unison.


“Legolas,” whispered Aragorn, his voice consumed with lust and the deep, 
fulfilling pleasure of release, “My Gods, I never allowed myself to hope, 
never dared to think that one so beautiful could love…” and with that, his 
voice trailed off.


“Love a king?” the elf inquired, “Love the man who has occupied my 
every waking thought since first I laid eyes upon him? Love the wild 
Ranger who ignites my very skin with uncontrollable lust? Believe it, my 
love, I have wanted this for so long.” 


But still Aragorn could not comprehend, could not believe that everything 
for which he had so long desired was here before him. Rolling over onto 
his side while Legolas lounged contentedly on his stomach, the Ranger let 
his fingers once more caress the milk-white skin, become tangled in the 
elf’s golden hair. Trailing downward, his touch traced the curve of each 
delicate shoulder, fondled the soft recess at the small of his back and 
traveled toward the curve of his lover’s soft buttocks. Circling each 
smooth mound with growing need, he ventured ever closer to the sweet 
crevasse between. 


Legolas groaned, his erection having grown full once again beneath his 
lover’s hungry touch. In response, Aragorn slid down to explore with his 
tongue where his fingers had left off. Leaving soft, wet kisses over every 
inch, he spread his lover open with his tongue and found his desire once 
again raging. Probing the flesh apart and revealing the sweet hole at the 
center, Aragorn plunged in deeper with his tongue, eliciting yet another 
moan of anticipation from the elf.


“Unhhhhh… oh, yes… oh Gods yes,” Legolas half-moaned, half-spoke the 
words. But it was all the Ranger needed to hear.


Aragorn licked one finger before gently plunging the tip into his lover’s 
waiting hole.  Slowly at first, he began to push as Legolas writhed beneath 
his touch, his body expanding to accommodate this new pleasure. Deeper 
and deeper Aragorn plunged, adding another finger, and then another, until 
the archer cried out with need.


“Ohhh… GODS! Oh yes, oh gods I want you inside of me! Take me, my 
king, make me yours… make me yours NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”


Aragorn’s rock-hard cock needed no further invitation. Its head already 
dripping wet with his growing desire, he pressed his erection against the 
elf’s tight hole, hesitating briefly before he plunged the tender head inside. 


“AAAHHHHHH… oh, YES! Unnhhhh… DEEPER!” Legolas cried out.


Aragorn worked his shaft slowly, wanting to savor every moment. 
Spreading Legolas open with every thrust, his rhythm became faster, his 
thrusts harder, until he was pumping furiously at the elf’s backside, his 
balls slapping against his lover with every maddening push. With one arm 
bracing him on the bed, he moved his other beneath Legolas’ stomach, 
searching for and finding the archer’s rigid cock. And as Aragorn fucked 
him from behind, he began to pump furiously at the elf’s erection, causing 
him to cry out in ecstasy at the double dose of pleasure.


“MY GODS… oh… YES… OH… GODS, HARDER, I’M 
COMMMINNNNNGGG.”


Pumping wildly in his double assault, Aragorn felt his own climax 
approaching as Legolas expanded to take in his full length, and soon the 
two men had created a savage rhythm that had them both bucking fiercely 
against one another.


“Ohhhhh…” groaned Aragorn, “Unnhhh… yes… oh… YES… oh, Legolas!”


“mmmmMMMMM… YES, TAKE ME ARAGORN! FILL MEEEEEE!!!!”


And with that, the two men came furiously, Aragorn pumping his seed into 
Legolas as the elf spilled his own into the Ranger’s waiting hand. 
Thrusting, rocking, and growling with the pleasure of release, each poured 
every last drop of cum from his cock before falling heavily atop the bed, 
panting and groaning in ecstasy.


Minutes later, watching his bare chest heave deeply up and down, Aragorn 
turned to Legolas and once again answered his lover’s question, only this 
time the response was quite different.


“No, Legolas. No, I will not marry Arwen.”


Returning his gaze, Legolas only smiled, drunk with happiness and 
fulfilled, finally, within his lover’s gaze.