Title: Firelight and Shadow 4/5  
Author: Kate  
Email: katewebber_@hotmail.com  
Pairing: A/L  
Rating: NC17  
Archive: Why not, just let me now where  
Warnings: none  
Spoilers: none  
Summary: Sitting around the fire, Aragorn can't help 
thinking  
Author’s notes: This is my very first LotR fic and my very 
first NC17 scene - yay me!  
This takes place post FotR - but outside the book and 
movieverse - after an unnamed battle, most likely Helms 
Deep  
Completely unbeted but I did spell-check :)  any mistakes 
are 100% mine unlike the characters in this story  
Disclaimer: see above, I own nothing here.  
 
 
Pt4  
 
When Legolas opened his eyes again he found that the world 
had indeed slipped from beneath his feet.  He was lying on 
the cool earth with Aragorn peering down at him anxiously.  
He felt a gentle hand stroke his neck and he blinked 
languidly at the man above him.  

“There you are I was starting to get concerned.”  Legolas 
felt a blush heat his cheeks, never in his life had he so 
lost himself in pleasure.  

“I apologise, it…has been some time since I was last with 
another.”  

The Man gave him a small smile and Legolas swiftly realized 
that he had left him in a rather uncomfortable state.  “But 
as I am recovered now…” 

He reached out and drew Aragorn down for a kiss.  Aragorn 
shifted above him, stretching his body out along Legolas’ 
own and the Elf could once again feel the swell of his 
arousal.  The man hesitated; Legolas could feel it in the 
strong muscles beneath his hands, the slight tremor in the 
hands that stroked his body.  Pulling away from the Man’s 
mouth Legolas regarded him curiously.  “Aragorn?  What is 
wrong?”  

“I am sorry Legolas, I cannot.  You are innocent and I…now 
is not the time.”  Legolas held the Man firmly when he 
tried to pull away, kissing him softly, chastely.”  

“There may never be another time Aragorn, we do not know 
what tomorrow will bring.  Is it not a crime to waste these 
few moments we do have together?”  

“I would not cause you pain Legolas.”  The Man’s voice sank 
to a rough whisper his eyes caressed the fine lines of 
Legolas’ face, as though for the last time.  

“You will not hurt me.”  He pressed his lips to Aragorn’s 
slowly drawing the Man into the kiss his hand stroked the 
rough stubble of his cheek and the almost delicate skin of 
his throat.  “You will not hurt me.”  Legolas kissed away 
the words that Aragorn tried to voice, words that his body 
clearly did not believe, and his hand found its way through 
the layers of leather and wool the Man wore to the hot skin 
beneath.  The touch of Legolas’ hand seemed to make 
Aragorn’s decisions for him and Legolas watched, slightly 
bemused, as he wrestled out of as much clothing as he 
dared.  And then Aragorn’s warm body was on him again, 
Legolas' own cloak lay under his back and Aragorn pulled 
his over the both of them.  Legolas deepened the kiss, the 
taste of his own seed on the Man’s tongue, the scent of 
Aragorn – leather and pipe-weed and arousal filled his 
senses and he felt his body stir once more in 
anticipation.  His hands found their way under Aragorn’s 
now loose tunic, pulling the man closer mapping the planes 
of muscle with his palms.  
 
Aragorn felt Legolas’ arousal swell once more against his 
hip.  
The recuperative powers of the Elves he thought 
distractedly as he struggled to remove Legolas’ leggings 
without breaking the kiss.  He stopped the Elf when he 
moved to turn onto his stomach.  

“No Legolas, please I want to see you.”  Oh surely that 
ragged need-filled voice could not be his.  When Legolas 
nodded his agreement Aragorn settled his body between 
Legolas’ leanly muscled thighs, drawing those long legs up 
around his own.  Reaching for the pocket of his discarded 
breeches Aragorn found the small vial of healing oil he 
carried.  Slicking his fingers he found Legolas’ entrance 
and eased one digit into the tight flesh, watching his face 
for any sign of discomfort, taking infinite care with his 
preparations even though his own aching flesh screamed for 
completion.  

“Aragorn please…”  A whisper breathed into his mouth as 
Legolas pulled him down for a drowning kiss.  “Please.”  
And Aragorn was powerless to resist he quickly slicked his 
shaft with his still wet palm and positioned himself 
against Legolas’ entrance.  Moving as carefully as he could 
Aragorn breached Legolas’ body, the velvet heat was more 
than he had ever imagined, he tried to linger to give the 
Elf time to adjust to the intrusion but Legolas himself 
would not allow it.  

“Please Legolas, my love we must go slowly.”  

“There is slow and then there is torture.”  Legolas gasped 
out as he drew Aragorn more fully into his waiting body.  
 
Legolas felt as if he had been waiting an age for this, the 
agonising care Aragorn had shown warmed his heart but it 
was not his heart that ached for the sensation of Aragorn 
moving within his flesh.  He cried out involuntarily as the 
Man stroked over the hidden spot deep inside.  Legolas 
closed his eyes, unable to stop the cries of pleasure that 
escaped his lips and then Aragorn’s mouth covered his 
again, the Man swallowing his moans.  The heat of his body 
was incredible, somewhere in the back of his mind Legolas 
marvelled at how this Man could produce so much heat and 
not catch fire.  After the cool embraces of his own kind 
this scorching passion left him breathless.  His flesh 
burned at every point of contact until a thousand flames 
danced over his body.  

He welcomed the flames, wanted to burn, to let Aragorn’s 
fire consume him.  He felt his climax build, opening his 
eyes he locked eyes with Aragorn, it the Man wished to see 
him then Legolas would show him everything.  Aragorn’s grey 
eyes had darkened like a stormy sky; Legolas arched his 
back drawing the man deeper within his body.  
 
Aragorn growled in response angling his thrusts to slide 
over the hidden source of Legolas’ greatest pleasure.  He 
never wanted this to end he would quite happily spend all 
of eternity locked in this ancient dance, his body joined 
with Legolas, his soul pinned like a butterfly to a board 
by the intensity in Legolas’ eyes.  Aragorn felt his orgasm 
build, every fibre of his body screamed for release, his 
hand moved between their bodies wrapping around Legolas' 
hardened shaft.  The Elf cried out at this added 
stimulation and sank his teeth into Aragorn's shoulder to 
muffle the sound.  Aragorn dropped his face to Legolas' 
neck the scent of warm elvish wool and Legolas' own unique 
scent of meadow grass and sunlight filled him with a 
strange peace.  Time seemed to slow and Aragorn could feel 
each sweet tremor that moved Legolas’ body, every quiver of 
muscle that drove them both closer to the edge.  The heat 
of Legolas’ glorious body, and the sharp counterpoint of 
the bite to his shoulder sent a jolt straight to Aragorn’s 
groin.  His body tensed and he was falling, flying, his 
body breaking into a million pieces scattered to the 
winds.  He tightened his fist around Legolas, dragging him 
over the edge once more, dimly aware of the hot fluid that 
spilled over his hand.  Aragorn collapsed sated, exhausted 
and feeling more alive than he could ever remember, he 
wiped his hand on the grass near his head as he withdrew 
from his lovers body.  Dropping his head to Legolas’ chest 
he had to wait until he had mastered the act of drawing 
breath into his lungs once more before he could speak.  

“We should not linger here,”  was his reluctant whisper.  
“We may be missed.”  He felt Legolas’ long fingers comb 
through his hair, a simple gesture that filled his heart 
with a long missed contentment.  

“Rest a while, we have time.”  Legolas murmured in return.  
And Aragorn slept.