Fic name: Under the Stars
Chapter name: 2. A Change of Heart
Author: Shir'ann (Mearaigh@yahoo.com)
Pairing(s): Legolas/Aragorn,
Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir/Aragorn, Elrond/Glorfindel,
Elladan/Elrohir so far, possibly more to come
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Eventual Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir/Aragorn
foursome, and other pairings. PWP
Disclaimer: None of the characters are owned by me.
*Sob*. They belong to a wonderful man named Tolkien,
who is very nearly god.
Warning: Incest inside!
Authors Note: Plot? What plot? There's no plot.
Really. Only smut. And lemon. But no plot!

********************************************

2. A Change of Heart

“What about us?”

Aragorn’s head whipped up in surprise. Elrohir stood
close behind Legolas, regarding the Elf curiously
while his brother leaned sideways against the wall,
also watching the blonde Elf. Legolas looked startled,
and having spun round to face them, now stood staring
at them, open-mouthed.

The Ranger noticed with relief that the raven-haired
Elves had donned their leggings, and promptly flushed
an embarrassed red as the thought led him back to the
painfully obvious bulge hidden in his own. He could
only hope they would not notice it in the dark.
A few moments passed as Legolas swallowed, trying to
formulate a reply, Elrohir regarding him with a raised
eyebrow. Aragorn willed his breathing to slow, finally
managing a facade of calmness as Legolas found his
voice.

“Elladan – Elrohir. I . . . I did not expect to find
you here.”

Elladan laughed. “That much is obvious, friend. But we
could say the same of you.”

“I was merely accompanying Estel on a stroll.”
Elrohir’s eyes travelled up and down the man, gauging
the untidy state of his tunic and hair. Aragorn lifted
his gaze to the heaven, looking everywhere but at his
Elven brother, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I see.” Elrohir’s voice was almost neutral, only the
barest hint of amusement betraying him. “A stroll.
That sounds nice.”

“Indeed, brother,” Elladan chimed in. He turned to
Legolas. “Mind if we join you?”

Aragorn’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Was it his
imagination, or had he heard a suggestion of more in
the Elf’s voice than his words relayed? He stared
openly at Elladan, searching the tall Elf’s face for
any hint to confirm his suspicions, but his brother
only turned slightly to smile at him.
The Ranger’s head whipped back to Legolas. The blonde
archer was staring at Elrohir. It almost seemed to
Aragorn, in the long silence that followed, that they
were speaking to each other, though not a word passed
either mouth.

His desire dampened somewhat, the Ranger was able to
think more clearly. He let his eyes drop to the
ground, clearing his head further, and realized that
this was his chance to run, to escape, to get away
from this madness that played with his thoughts and
desires.

He prepared his body to run, flexing muscles for a
sudden brake, but his attention then was caught once
more by a sudden movement in front of him; his head
whipped up unconsciously as Legolas stepped forward
into Elrohir’s waiting arms.

There they paused, sharing a tight embrace.

Again, Aragorn found himself rooted to the ground,
unable to look away as the blonde Elf’s hands slid
down from Elrohir’s back to cup the twin mounds that
rose beneath his lower back. At the same time one of
Elrohir’s arms twisted around the archer, the other
coming up to tangle in Legolas’ long, blonde hair.

Their heads drew back, and again they stared into each
other’s eyes, seeming to continue the same wordless
conversation from before. And then they leaned forward
in unison, eyes closed, to share a kiss filled with
such passion and hunger that it left even Aragorn
breathless.

He stared at them unabashed, chin almost hitting his
chest, before turning to look at Elladan. The other
Elf merely watched the scene with a slight smile
turning up the corners of his mouth. It seemed it did
not bother him overmuch that the blonde prince was
having at it with his brother . . . or lover . . . or
whatever he was.

Then it was as if Aragorn’s body was released suddenly
from the spell. He broke into action, faster even than
he knew he could move, and turned on his heel to
sprint away into the forest, away from the nightmare
he had been dragged into.

He almost made it to the tree-line before strong arms
wrapped around him from behind, bearing him to the
ground painfully under the full weight of his captor,
landing squarely on the Man’s back. A loud grunt
escaped the Ranger as, for the second time that night,
his breath was knocked from him.

He turned his head weakly to look behind him, only to
find Elladan straddling his back, grinning like he had
won a prize. Muffled footsteps sounded as the other
two Elves ran up to the grounded pair. Aragorn frowned
as Legolas, leading Elrohir by the hand, came around
to stare down disapprovingly at the Ranger. The Man’s
gaze was drawn back to the Elf sitting across his back
as Elladan raised a hand in greeting, laughing merrily
at the expression on the Ranger’s face.

“Estel!” Legolas’ voice scolded from somewhere above
him. He watched Elladan’s gaze draw upward to regard
the blonde Elf as he continued. “I thought you had
learned your lesson.”
 
Aragorn turned his glare upon the archer as Elladan
swung one leg off the Ranger’s back and slowly came
erect, reaching a hand down to aid the Man to his
feet.

“Then you are a worse teacher than you’d think,
Legolas,” Aragorn snarled. He angrily grasped
Elladan’s proffered hand, almost pulling the Elf to
the ground with the force of his rise. Elladan lunged
forward; the Ranger’s first instinct was to rush
forward to catch him lest he fell – years of
brotherhood had woven too close a friendship between
the three for trust to be totally discarded at the
mere wave of a hand – or sight of brothers kissing.
The Ranger winced as Elladan landed squarely in his
arms, crushing his already-tender chest to him
instinctively. It was only after a few moments had
passed and Elrohir started shaking with
barely-suppressed mirth that Aragorn realised Elladan
had not left his embrace, and was instead holding him
tightly in his arms. Chagrined, the Ranger tried to
wriggle free of the Elf’s grasp, only to find
Elladan’s arms tightening around him, rendering him
incapable of escape.

His dark-haired brother’s hands then started moving
over his back, gently rubbing and stroking, slowly
caressing the tense muscles. As he had done since
Aragorn was a mere boy, the raven-haired Elf held his
young brother protectively, shielding him from his
fears. Always had Elladan been the one to take care of
him, to comfort him in the long, dark hours of the
night when worse things than dreams plagued the
Ranger’s mind. So did he hold the Man now, and it felt
to Aragorn that he could surrender to the familiar
embrace, that maybe all this, too, was merely a bad
dream that his brother had come to rid him of. He felt
safe, here in the Elf’s embrace. Unwittingly, the Man
felt himself relax in Elladan’s arms, unconsciously
leaning into the other’s embrace like a child to the
gentle caresses of its mother.

“Come, Aragorn.” Elladan’s voice was a soft whisper in
his ear, his lips brushing the sensitive lobe,
tickling it with the light breath. “Trust me as you
once did.”

The lips continued brushing his ear, causing shivers
to pass from it down his spine and through his entire
body, and Aragorn felt his will bend and finally
dissolve to comply with the black-haired Elf’s plea.
Trust me.

And Aragorn did, wholly and completely. It was not an
entirely unpleasant sensation.

A slight shock as the wetness of his brother’s tongue
grazed his neck – and then Aragorn found himself lost
in the sensations, more pleasure than he could ever
have imagined emanating from this single touch as
Elladan moved down from the ear, alternating kisses
and gentle licks in a wet trail to the front of the
Ranger’s neck. Aragorn’s eyes closed in pleasure, a
moan escaping his lips as he felt a great measure of
his previous desire return in the form of the hot,
hardening bulge in his leggings.

The soft rustling of moving cloth to his right caught
the Man’s attention, but before he could bring himself
to look, he suddenly felt a warm body press close to
his behind, arms encircling him and coming to rest on
Elladan’s. The Ranger opened his eyes and turned his
head slightly to the left in time to find a tumble of
blonde hair falling forward to cover his face. At the
same time, Elladan ceased his ministrations, causing
Aragorn to tremble slightly in disappointment. The
dark-haired Elf’s face lifted, meeting Legolas in a
hungry kiss just to the left of the Ranger’s face.
Aragorn became uncomfortably aware of twin erections
pressing against him from front and behind, and moaned
once more as Elladan moved slightly up and down,
rubbing their hardnesses together and causing
exquisite jolts of pleasure to travel up his spine,
shaking his entire body.

Then a loud splash caused all their heads to swivel to
the right of them where Elrohir now stood, waist-deep,
in the same pool the two brothers had occupied
earlier. It seemed Aragorn had come very close to it
before being brought down. The raven-haired Elf’s
leggings lay again with the rest of his clothes on the
river’s bank – explaining the soft rustling of cloth
the Ranger had heard earlier.

Elladan immediately pulled out of his embrace, leaving
the front of the Ranger shivering in the cold of the
pre-dawn air. The Man watched in amusement as his
Elven brother ran, stripping and somehow managing not
to fall as he went, to finally join Elrohir in the
cool water, laughing as his brother picked him up and
turned with him in an embrace. Aragorn laughed with
them, the simple joy evident on their faces making
them seem younger beyond their years.
He leaned back into Legolas’ arms as the Elf took hold
of him from behind, resting his chin on the Man’s
shoulder.

The Elf leaned his head forward slowly, caressing the
Man’s neck with his cheek. Then his lips gently
brushed the sensitive skin, still tingling from
Elladan’s attention. Aragorn shivered uncontrollably,
and moaned as Legolas’ hands started roaming over his
chest, gently rubbing and caressing the smooth planes
of muscle hidden still under the dark cloth of the
Man’s tunic.

The Elf’s deft fingers came to rest on the ties of the
tunic, and moving his head to the other side of the
Ranger’s neck, started to slowly undo them.
Aragorn pulled away in shock, turning to face the Elf.
Legolas looked at him, surprise written across his
features.

“Aragorn?”

No. The Man shook his head mutely, unable to form the
words, and slowly backed away from the Elf. He should
not have let it get this far. No.

Legolas approached him slowly, a hand extended towards
him in a gesture of peace.

“No!” Aragorn’s shout resounded through the clearing.
The blonde archer stopped dead in his tracks, staring
at Aragorn. Slowly, the slender Elven hand dropped to
his side. The Ranger looked into the Elf’s deep blue
eyes. What he saw there surprised him – shock, and
anger; sorrow beyond anything the Ranger had ever
known . . . and something else Aragorn could not
place, a fleeting glimpse of emotion usually hidden so
well beneath the shrouded veil covering his eyes.

“Aragorn . . .” The Man could barely hear the Elf’s
whispered plea above the gentle rippling of water
flowing into the pool over a small waterfall.
Aragorn shook his head wildly, his heart in turmoil as
his desire warred with his conscience. Legolas seemed
so delicate in the moonlight, ethereal, and powerful
at the same time. And incredibly desirable . . .
No!  “It’s not right!” The Ranger’s voice was harsh,
more angry than he intended.

The Elf dropped his head to stare at the ground and
sighed, and for the first time in that sigh, Aragorn
could almost see the true depth of Legolas’ age. The
Elf sounded old.

The archer’s voice was soft when he spoke. “Oh but it
is right, Aragorn.” He lifted his head to regard the
Man. “Don’t you see? It’s perfect.”

No. It wasn’t perfect. Aragorn stared into Legolas’
eyes, again shaking his head mutely. A heated rage
started to form in him, an anger that he had never
previously known. Who did Legolas think he was?
Aragorn’s vision clouded, blurring under the force of
his anger.

Just another arrogant Elf . . . just another Elf . . .
Legolas seemed to waver before him, the Elf’s sharp
lines fading in the red mist before the Man’s eyes. He
had had enough.

One word popped into his head, a single silent answer
to a prayer he had not known he uttered.
Punishment.

It seemed then to the Man that a demon possessed him,
moving his limbs rebelliously without thought or
reason. As if from a distance, the Ranger saw himself
move forward slowly, placing one foot carefully and
deliberately in front of the other. Some errant part
of his mind noticed that Elladan and Elrohir were
staring at them from their place in the water, most
like alerted by the Man’s shout that aught was amiss,
poised and ready as if expecting to act on trouble.
But all that really mattered to Aragorn was the blonde
Elf in front of him, and the seething rage inside that
reached its peak as the Man drew back his fist to
strike him.

Time slowed and stood still. Excruciatingly slowly, as
though he was moving through water or as if the air
had gained suddenly a water-like consistency, Aragorn
watched his hand plummet towards the delicate Elven
face.

Faster than lightning, Legolas’ hand snaked up to
catch Aragorn’s fist in his own. The sound as the two
connected painfully echoed a dull thud in the Ranger’s
ears. All other noised ceased but for his own heavy
breathing and the loud pounding of his heart as the
two stared at each other. Seconds passed, minutes that
turned into days, an eternity lost in the cool blue
depths of the Elf’s eyes. Whispers started from
somewhere around the Man. He tried to look for the
source, but found he could not turn his head nor look
away from captivating gaze. The whispers rose from all
around him, seeming at once to be everywhere and then
nowhere at all. Almost, the Ranger thought he could
discern words within the mixed jumble of hisses,
almost-coherencies that groped at his mind before
slipping away just as quickly.

Trust . . . Safe . . . Desire . . . Fear . . .

Forget.

Then Legolas moved. Imperceptibly at first, but
gaining speed as momentum brought the Elf’s face near
to his own. The warm heat of the archer’s breath fell
across his mouth as Legolas lingered there, lowering
Aragorn’s hand twined with his own, but making no
further move.

Aragorn’s mind slowed to a stop, his thoughts ending
with the final step that brought the Elf’s lips into
contact with his own, and it was as if his world
exploded, whirling into a black oblivion where nothing
existed but the gentle press of Legolas’ mouth against
his. The Man felt acceptance crashing through his
body, a cleansing torrent that washed the brunt of his
fears from him in a sweeping river, leaving him
feeling refreshed and new.

The Elf’s tongue snaked over his lips, begging
entrance Aragorn had no choice but to give as he
relented to the gentle exploring heat that was
Legolas.

Once more the Ranger’s desire neared its peak, the
hard erection between his thighs threatening to snap
the ties of his leggings as his hips thrust forward
uncontrollably, seeking release in the friction caused
as the coarse material rubbed provocatively against
the soft velvet of the Elf’s robes. His hands seemed
to take on a life of their own, roaming freely over
the smooth cloth before finally, inexorably slipping
underneath, lifting the robe to touch bare skin, and
coming to rest finally on the Elf’s slender hips.
Legolas shuddered within his embrace, never breaking
their kiss, and brought his own hands up to once more
loosen the ties of the Man’s tunic.
 
This time, Aragorn could not find it in himself to
protest, standing like a puppet as the slender fingers
found their way beneath the opened cloth to gently
trail over his chest; starting at the stomach and
moving slowly and enticingly up, up towards the
collarbone, from where they trailed gently over the
bottom of the Man’s throat and came to rest beneath
the start of the sleeve of the tunic, on his shoulder.
Aragorn tingled from head to toe, moaning into the
Elf’s mouth in the sheer ecstasy his touch brought to
the Ranger, and felt an almost painful throbbing in
his lower half, aching for attention in time with
every beat of his heart.

He felt the Change rise in him like a tide – starting
slow as a mere disturbance of his thoughts, building
and growing and rising until it blossomed suddenly and
violently in his mind, a powerful rush of energy that
swept all his previous emotions away, leaving merely
the seed of a bright new Man basking in its passing.
The last of his misgivings dissolved with a final
trail of faint doubt, vanishing at last like mist
before the sun as he pushed his tongue back into the
Elf’s mouth for a brief, sweet taste before pulling
back and out as the kiss broke for air.

Aragorn’s eyes opened slowly – his breathing fast as
his heart pounded with the elation of having come so
close to touching, nay, possessing the ethereal
divinity that was Legolas in his mortal’s grasp that
was so far from such perfection – in time to catch
cascades of gold-spun hair falling over his face as
the Elf raised up on his toes to place gentle lips on
his forehead. The Man inhaled deeply, he scent of
forests and warm sunlight upon the leaves filling his
lungs pleasantly. The Elf’s hands pushed back over his
shoulders, sending the dark linen tunic tumbling into
a heap on the ground as the Ranger dropped his hands
to his sides to ease its passage.

Legolas stepped back a pace and trailed his eyes over
Aragorn’s bared chest appreciatively, until the Man
shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny, a
flush settling like a glaze over his features. The
Elf’s eyes seemed to fill with emotion; desire and
lust – and once more something the Ranger could not
recognise – until they suddenly flickered just to the
left of the Man.

Before Aragorn could turn to scrutinise the
distraction, he felt a warm body press behind him, a
pair of arms encircling his waist protectively before
a cascade of wet hair fell against his bare back. The
sudden cold made him gasp in shock, and he whirled
around within the arms – only to find a very naked and
impishly grinning Elladan before him.

Twin laughs sounded from behind as Legolas and Elrohir
shared their amusement at the Ranger’s obvious
discomfort. The Man’s blush deepened indefinitely, and
he glared at the brother pressing him tightly to, wet
hair sending droplets of ice to trail freezing down
the Man’s chest. It was not entirely unpleasant,
though, when combined with the close body-heat of his
brother – the two very opposite sensations causing the
Man to tremble slightly – and the Ranger felt his arms
encircling Elladan’s familiar form, hugging him
tightly to his bare chest.

Aragorn gave a long-suffering sigh, mock-frowning at
his brother. “Elladan!”

The Elf looked at him, eyes green as summer leaves
regarding him sweetly with a look of feigned innocence
decorating his face.

“What? We couldn’t let you two have all the fun.”

The Ranger was about to utter a fitting retort, when a
startled gasp from behind interrupted him. The Man
turned in his brother’s arms, feeling the raven-haired
Elf’s head come to rest on his shoulder as he did.

Legolas stood facing them a few paces back, clad only
in his leggings. The velvet brown robes of his royal
rank lay in a crumpled heap on the ground – the
handiwork of the dark-haired elder twin that now stood
behind him, his nakedness also very much in evidence.
Elrohir had one hand cupped around Legolas’ Elfhood,
outside the smooth fabric of his leggings – the cause
of the Elf’s clear blue eyes widened to their limit
and the small gasps escaping his lips.

Aragorn smiled at the Elf’s shocked expression, but
then too had to let escape a small gasp as Elladan
pressed into him from behind, tightening their embrace
and notifying the Ranger alarmingly of the Elf’s hard
arousal, pressing neatly into the crease between the
Man’s buttocks. Even through the thin layer of coarse
fabric of his leggings, Aragorn could feel the warm
moisture leaking enticingly from its tip soak through
to form a small, wet spot on his lower back, causing
the Ranger’s eyes to again fall shut, revelling in the
sensation – losing himself to the pleasure so caused.
The Man’s mind filled with errant thoughts as he stood
there, oblivious to the world and all but the Elf
behind him; random words and meanings flitting across
his mind, blazing across the peaceful dark of his
conscious. A twinge of guilt, followed swiftly by the
urge to stamp it out, to kill it and bear its corpse
to the world, to show them all his new-found calm, at
peace with himself and what was happening to him. His
brother – the Elf; the proud, elegant, perfect being
he had grown up with and admired since he was a child
– wanted him. Him. A human. A mortal.

Elladan . . . my brother. Desire . . . Lust . . .
Immortal, can one such as he love? . . . Want . . .
Need . . . Can one such as he really want me? Desire .
. .  It’s not right. He’s my brother. It’s not right .
. .

Oh, but it is right. Don’t’ you see? It’s perfect.
A warm mouth covered his own. Aragorn’s eyes flew open
only to find Legolas’ azure gaze boring into him,
spearing him fast and into immobility. Aragorn
blinked, for a slight moment frozen as new sensations
and thoughts assaulted him, before slowly returning
the kiss, his lips bruising against the other’s in a
hot urgency to be fulfilled, a need that had to be
sated.

A slight flickering of those blue eyes to the left
gave enough warning to the Man of the coming pleasure,
and found him prepared as Elladan’s tongue started to
continue its familiar path down his neck, starting
below the Man’s left ear to trail a searing blaze
across the nape beneath the hairline – lifting the
black strands gently to the side – and over to end
finally beneath the other ear, nipping at the bottom
of the lobe before continuing to lick and suck at
every fold and contour.

Aragorn moaned into the blonde archer’s mouth, a heavy
sound laden with the brunt of the Man’s desire and
aching need, and causing Legolas to thrust his hips
forward, painfully rubbing his arousal against the
Man’s. Briefly, from the corner of his eye, the Man
caught sight of Elrohir, engaged in much the same
activities as his twin brother, and surely the cause
of the equally languid moan escaping Legolas’ lips to
join his. Then the Ranger lost himself once more in
ecstasy at the two mouths taking from him their
pleasure.

Elladan, ceasing his ministrations, moved one of his
hands down from where it lay on the Man’s hip to
gently come to rest on Aragorn’s backside. The Man
smiled briefly against Legolas’ mouth, the sensation
sending shudders through his lower half, and pressed
back playfully, challenging it to further pleasure,
but not really expecting an answer. Then the hand
squeezed.

Aragorn jumped, startled, his eyes flying open, and
tried to pull away from the blonde Elf in shock, but
Legolas’ lips from front and the firm body of his
dark-haired brother behind held him captive, and so
unable to control the errant hand that squeezed and
caressed and rubbed, and finally turned its attention
to the other cheek. What started as pain and shock at
first slowly but surely turned into pleasure, every
gentle push and prod furthering his already-aroused
state and making the Ranger relax into Elladan’s
gently roaming palm.

The hand moved up, gliding briefly over the sensitive
skin of the bared lower back with light fingers that
trailed a path of fire in their wake, before sliding
under the coarse covering of the Man’s leggings. It
rested there for a second, fingers spread over the
milky flesh, the cold caused to it by the water and
cool night air slowly dissolving into the heat of the
Man’s body; and only when it had regained a
comfortable enough temperature for the Ranger to stand
did it start moving, again in the same massaging
motions as before. Aragorn wriggled back into the
roving fingers, seeking greater contact. Elladan
complied by pressing firmly down, shoving the Man
slightly forward and hard against Legolas’ arousal.
Both moaned, causing a laugh lighter than dew on the
morning flowers to decorate the air as Elladan shook
his head in amusement, sending droplets of water
flying from his hair to spatter all over Aragorn’s
back.

A hand snaked between the bodies of Man and Elf from
afore, coming to rest somehow in a space between their
legs that did for some reason not touch.

Legolas pulled away from their kiss. The Man opened
his eyes briefly from the loss of contact to see the
blonde Elf, head thrown back in ecstasy and panting
hard as Elrohir’s hand moved up and down at a fast
pace within the archer’s own leggings. Aragorn could
not help but stare as the blonde Elf’s entire body was
pulled back and forth, crashing hard against the Man’s
hips before pulling away again.

A feeling so unexpected and unwanted it surprised the
Man with its intensity filled him, bubbling suddenly
to the fore and blooming there like a flower in the
sun. Never in his lifetime had he thought to ever come
in such an uncouth situation, but come he was and did
not expect to be set free, now that he acknowledged
the final fate he was bound to here in the bright but
fading moonlight, of the nagging thought that tugged
at the very edges of his mind and distracted from the
pleasing attendance of his foster brother. He was
jealous.

*He* wanted to be the source of Legolas’ pleasure.
*He* wanted to be the cause of the gasps and moans
escaping the archer’s lips. *He* wanted to feel
Legolas close to him, know that the Elf wanted him,
needed him. . . belonged to him.

And now Elrohir had everything he did not. He glared
at his brother, foregoing another second the pleasure
of Elladan’s roaming hands as he saw the raven-haired
Elf bend his head forward to bite at the deathly pale
skin of Legolas’ neck. The archer groaned, the pace of
Elrohir’s hand increasing steadily in time with the
other Elf’s panting breaths.

The writhing ache in his mind seethed a burning brand
upon his consciousness. He turned his head away
angrily, refusing to watch the provoking scene a
second longer. He swivelled his gaze to the right,
frowning at the peaceful surface of the pool. Elladan
slowed his ministrations, hesitating slightly before
he ceased touching the man entirely, reaching out
instead to turn the Ranger around within his arms.
They stepped away slightly from the others, Aragorn’s
dark-haired brother staring at him inquisitively with
a worried frown creasing his brow.

“Aragorn – are you well?”

The Man looked at him for a long while, wincing every
now and again at the strangled gasps and moans
emitting from the pair behind them. Elladan narrowed
his eyes, glancing from Aragorn to the couple and
back. A look of understanding dawned in his face.

“Ah. . . now I see.”

A particularly loud moan coloured the air. “Elro –
ahh. . .”

Aragorn growled deep in his throat, shutting his eyes
tightly and balling his fists. A gentle hand came to
rest on his shoulder before he felt his brother press
tightly to him, wet hair falling against the Ranger’s
chest as he leaned forward to lay his head on
Aragorn’s shoulder, arms clasping around him in a
light embrace.

“Ai! Elrohir!”

The arms tightened around him. Elladan held him close,
watching, Aragorn presumed, Legolas and Elrohir over
the Ranger’s shoulder. The Man’s black-haired brother
lifted his head, brushing his lips against the shell
of the Ranger’s ear. “You do not wish to hear this, do
you, Aragorn?”

The whisper was no more than an exhalation of air, a
light breath that stirred the tiny hairs falling over
the exposed ear. Aragorn shook his head mutely, eyes
still shut, though his hearing was more than an ample
communicative for the now-steady groans that escaped
Legolas’ lips and wormed their way right into the
Man’s soul, writhing there like snakes. Elladan’s
mouth curved upwards against his ear, and again the
Elf’s gentle breaths tickled its way over the delicate
lobe. “Then you shall not.”

Aragorn pulled away from his brother, pushing the Elf
back slightly to look at him. Emerald eyes grinned at
him mischievously. The Ranger narrowed his eyes
suspiciously at the Elf, the silent question never
passing his lips but reaching the mind of his brother
nonetheless, causing the smile to evolve into a toothy
grin. The Elf stepped forward, reaching out a hand and
bringing it to rest on the Man’s well-muscled chest.
Elladan winked at him. “The moans of the other will
seem to dwindle in significance when overborne by your
own, will they not?” The hand slipped down and
underneath the Man’s leggings once more to seize hold
of Aragorn’s hard manhood aching beneath.
The Man gasped. Electricity shot from his pulsing
arousal to catch in his throat, constricting it in
pleasure to accumulate in a strangled jumble of sound
that was something like a curious mix between a gasp
and a moan.

Elladan moved his hand down, gently pulling and
teasing the Ranger’s shaft, his eyes never once
leaving Aragorn’s iron-blue orbs. The Man felt his
breath quicken, unwittingly starting to pant beneath
the power of his brother’s hand.

A loud shout echoed through the clearing as Legolas
reached his peak, but the sharply-hewn dagger that
twisted in the Ranger’s heart was dulled in great
measure as he felt his own climax approaching fast. He
threw his head back, hips unconsciously bucking and
thrusting forward into Elladan’s hand. He groaned,
sweat streaming across his temples and into his eyes.
And then all pleasure stopped, suddenly and
completely, leaving an evil black void of longing and
lust and desire in its place as Elladan removed his
hand from its comfortable place.

A high-pitched whimper escaped the Man’s lips as his
head fell forward sharply to look disapprovingly at
his brother. Elladan laughed at the look of
indignation on the Ranger’s face. “Patience, brother.”
A mocking scold decorated his voice. “All good things
come to those who wait.”

The Raven-haired Elf dropped to his knees before the
Man. Aragorn frowned at him, confused, consternation
setting on his brows like a plague.

Elladan only smiled up at him briefly, winked, then
bent to his task. Leaning forward slowly, he reached
out his head and gently took the ties of Aragorn’s
leggings between his teeth. The Elf's hands came up to
rest on the backs of the Man's thighs, moving softly
up and down in soothing motions, as if to calm the
wild beating of the Ranger's heart. The close
proximity and his brother’s warm breath upon his
arousal felt even through the thick, dark cloth that
covered it caused yet another thrill of pleasure to
course through him, making him shudder and let out a
long moan.

Slowly, as if afraid to snap the delicate leather
bindings, Elladan pulled back his head, his eyes
remaining fixed on his brother’s very obvious arousal.
Aragorn’s body quivered as the carefully-tied bindings
snapped loose, the frontal flaps of his leggings
dropping open to hang down loosely to the sides, and
the waist of the dark material sagging a bit lower as
the pressure holding it tightly in place above his
hips was released.

Elladan’s face gave light to a feral grin as his green
eyes flickered up briefly to connect a lightning shock
with the Man’s before rising up slowly on his knees.
Stretching up, the dark-haired Elf leaned forward to
place a reverent kiss just above the small indent that
resided in the middle of the Ranger's stomach.
Aragorn’s head fell back in pleasure as the mouth
continued down alternating wet kisses with gentle
licks and nips around the tiny hollow, the Elf’s hands
coming up to hook his thumbs in the waistband of the
Man’s leggings.

Down he moved, sucking at the soft skin of the belly,
licking a trail that followed the thin line of fine
dark hair that stretched from the Ranger’s stomach to
disappear finally beneath the dark fabric of his
leggings; and as the Elf’s head moved down so did his
hands, pulling down on the leggings to bare the tanned
skin inch by agonising inch, kissing and nipping
gently at the flesh as it showed.

Aragorn’s breathing quickened in anticipation as he
realised where the path of his brother’s tongue was
leading. His heart flailed wildly within the confines
of the Man’s chest, drowning out all other sound, and
the Ranger wondered that Elladan could not hear it –
for the Elf showed no sign of aught to break his
attention, nor did the mad drumbeat wake Rivendell and
all the guards come rushing down to seize them.
The stars stared back at Aragorn, frowning down coldly
from their haven of darkness – pinpoints of light that
faded slowly with the coming dawn. Hundreds upon
millions of constellations, the very symbols of
eternity that paid no heed to the comings and goings
of mere mortal men but bothered themselves instead
with welcoming a gentle haven to the retreating souls
of this world that sought aught else place to rest
their weary minds. The stars – beloved of the Elves
and the Man who was raised among them; the icy peace
of night that the Eldar race sought solace in, always.
Was it wrong, then, to so defile their purity this
night? In so seeking the comfort of his closest kin's
arms - right underneath their benevolent stare and
bared for all the heavens to see?

The sharp bite of cold night air suddenly stopped all
thought short, freezing the Ranger in time and space
and suspending him in a blissful state devoid of
everything but the coolness of the pre-dawn as his
erection was freed finally from its confines, relief
and discomfort warring within him as cold air fought
greedily with hot desire.

His leggings tumbled the rest of the way to the
ground, pooling around his ankles in a dark grey heap
of rejection, discarded from further thought as he
stepped out of them, pulling off his soft leather
boots with his feet in the process. The puddle of
clothing lay in an odd pile slightly to the left of
the two, and were given no further attention but for a
contemptuous kick from the Ranger to move them farther
out of the way.

He looked down at his brother, finally. Elladan sat
back on his knees, staring intently at the throbbing
length of the Ranger’s shaft in shock, or wonderment,
or perhaps both, his mouth sagging open slightly and
his eyebrows raised. Aragorn blushed under the
scrutiny, still unused to baring himself thusly to
another male – and especially to his brother, who had
only ever seen him so in youth when communal baths
between the three of them had not been rarely
occasioned – and unsure of his feelings as an enticing
mix of rapture, desire and lust suddenly filled the
Elf’s face. Never in youth had Aragorn seen such
feelings so plainly written across Elladan's features.

The same emotions filled the Man, to an intensity he
could not have expected, but also with an urgency he
could not deny. Moisture streamed freely down the
sides of his face and clung wet strands of dark hair
thickly to his forehead and the back of his neck.
Then Elladan moved. The Man watched in fascination as
one of the Elf’s hands rose slowly, almost as if in a
dream, and hovered just before the aching length
between the Man’s thighs, shaking slightly – as if
afraid to touch it, but warring strongly with the
desire to. A look of almost reverence entered the
Elf’s face as he stared, eyes still fixed on the
object of his attention; hand stretched but not
touching . . . never touching. Moments passed that
seemed as minutes in the night's cold arms, but no
further move was made.

Suddenly, a warm form pressed into the Man’s back, a
pair of arms encircling him from behind and pulling
him tightly backwards as his other brother placed his
chin on the Man’s shoulder.

As if the arrival of his twin spurred the Elf into
action, Elladan dropped his hand quickly to land on
his thigh with a dull thud, and rose up again on his
knees to take Aragorn’s entire length into his mouth.

“Ah!” Aragorn cried out in surprise, a sensation like
nothing he had felt before sending thrills through his
entire body and making his knees buckle weakly.
Elrohir’s arms tightened reflexively around him,
lending support when the Man would have faltered.
Elladan pulled his head back slowly, dragging the very
edge of his teeth lightly over the firm ridges of the
Man’s arousal. Electricity sizzled through Aragorn's
stomach, eliciting more moans and ragged pants from
the Man. The Elf repeated this action, ending just
below the tip before pushing forward gently to start
over again. And again.

Aragorn thought he would die from the amount of
ecstasy his body had to tolerate. Sweat now clung
freely to his temples and streamed into his eyes,
making him blink rapidly to rid him of the burning
moisture.

Elrohir pulled one of his arms from around the Man,
bringing it behind the Ranger to lay a single, gentle
finger on Aragorn’s lower back. The finger began to
move, slowly and in gentle, revolving circles, down .
. . down. The elder twin’s head dropped to the
Ranger’s shoulder to suckle the skin there, still
tender and tingling at reception from the younger
brother’s touch, while Elladan’s tongue performed
miracles from under.

The Elf’s mouth encased Aragorn’s hard manhood once
again, sucking gently at the shaft and running his
tongue in maddening circles around the tip before
moving away and down to cup the sensitive twin globes
below with venerable lips. The Ranger’s body thrashed
under the powerful touches of his foster brothers,
unwittingly bucking and thrusting between them as
hands and mouths sent him to new levels of ecstasy.
A final traced circle reverberated up his spine, and
then gentle finger on his lower back moved into
dangerous regions, eliciting a strangled gasp from the
Man as it trailed down the folded crease between his
buttocks. A moment of shock was all the Ranger had
time to register as the finger paused for the barest
second above his tight opening before plunging in
suddenly to the knuckle.

Aragorn cried out in surprise, thrusting forward
harshly into Elladan’s mouth. The younger twin gagged,
his throat tightening sweetly over Aragorn’s hardened
flesh, and for a moment the Ranger thought he might
reach his climax right there and then. But then the
Elf pulled back, releasing the source of his
discomfort, to stare up disapprovingly at the Ranger.
Somehow, Aragorn managed to break through the haze of
his arousal long enough to mouthe a mumbled, “Sorry!"
at him, but immediately after had to swallow all
thoughts and words as another finger was inserted into
his opening, and then another, swirling  around
suggestively within the deep darkness hiding the Man’s
very centre of ecstasy.

Never before had the Ranger felt such an exquisite mix
of absolute pain and excruciating pleasure. The very
rippling, searing thickness of the fingers probing
where none had ventured to touch him before had him
panting in elation as, briefly – for the barest moment
that seemed to vanish quicker than a thought – they
brushed over a spot, deep inside of the Man, that sent
him suddenly to the very brink of pleasure.

Elladan’s mouth joined in the bid to bring the Ranger
over the edge, pushing his tongue gently into the slit
of Aragorn’s manhood to lick up the pearly moisture
that had formed there, before moving down once more to
enclose him completely, gently suckling and pulling.
A sudden feeling of emptiness suffused the Man when
Elrohir’s fingers, without warning, pulled out of
their comfortable place, leaving in their stead only
the cold night as a stoic company. A high-pitched
whimper of regret coloured the air from the Ranger’s
lips as, fearing to disturb the other Elf kneeling at
his feet, he merely turned his head to throw a
questioning glance at the elder twin over his
shoulder.

Elrohir smiled at him evilly, a gleam of mischief in
his hazel eyes as he placed both hands on the Man’s
shoulders. Briefly, a flash of gold in the moonlight
beyond the raven-haired Elf's head directed Aragorn’s
attention towards where Legolas was lying, on his
stomach with one hand cupping his chin on a large,
flat rock draped over the riverbed, watching the
goings-on with half-lidded eyes and a bemused
expression.

The archer smiled at him briefly, languidly waving a
hand at the Ranger’s turned head. He seemed
half-asleep, nearly unconscious as he lay there, but
Aragorn had no time to ponder on it as a light tweak
from Elladan’s teeth on the Ranger's firm shaft
brought his attention fast and sharply back to the
front and fore of him.

The Man sighed in pleasure, riding the large waves of
ecstasy within his mind with a skill he did not know
he possessed. One thought surfaced, as he drifted,
from out of the sea of madness that bore the Man on
its rough surface, making him pause to ponder on the
strange fleeting vision of gold and mixed black
intertwining in blissful peace: He wished to bestow
this same pleasure he now felt upon another, wished
the same painfully pleasurable torture inflicted on
pale skin and blonde hair; wished to hear the same
moans and grunts coming from that maddening, sensual
mouth; wished to know *he* was the cause.

All these thoughts crossed his mind in barely a
second.

Suddenly, Elrohir moved behind him, and something much
more pleasing than mere fingers entered him from
behind. Aragorn gasped, eyes open wide, as the elder
twin slowly and very deliberately pushed into him,
shoving his Elfhood inch by inch up the Man’s
tightness until he was sheathed to the hilt.

There the Elf paused, giving himself and the Ranger
time to adjust to the new feeling.

“Oooohhh. . .” Aragorn moaned, so unused to being
entered thusly, the pain nearly unbearable, but the
intense pleasure even more so. His entire body
shuddered uncontrollably,  shivering rapidly as if in
cold – though the Ranger was everything but.

Then Elrohir started to move. He pulled back slightly,
again agonisingly slowly, so that the steady friction
caused the Elf to moan. Then he thrust forward quickly
and harshly, slamming into the Ranger from behind.
The very tip of Elrohir’s Elfhood brushed over the
same spot that brought Aragorn to the edge and almost
over. The Man screamed in pleasure as again and again
his foster brother thrust into him, the sharp, rapid
movements each sending them both a bit further to
their limit; the Elf’s hands holding him firmly by the
hips.

Elladan was not put off, and accepted Aragorn’s
Manhood greedily each time it was thrust forward into
his mouth along with the Man’s body, sucking and
nipping and kissing there until Aragorn could hold
back no longer.

Something inside him exploded, sending a universe of
ecstasy spiralling up from his lower belly to course
through his entire body, releasing scream after scream
from the Man’s mouth as his brothers’ names filled his
mind, a blood red haze of pleasure that was so pure it
burned his mind and soul.

An eruption of the entirety of that pleasure, flowing
down to accumulate in his shaft, released with a flood
of relief into the warm, accepting chasm of Elladan’s
mouth.

A few more thrusts speared into him from behind,
lifting his feet slightly off the ground, before
finally, with a loud moan that was something like a
mix of Aragorn’s and Elladan’s names, Elrohir released
the warm flood of his ecstasy into Aragorn’s opening.
A series of violent tremors shook the Elf’s body as,
finally, his climax came to an end, and Aragorn could
feel the same shivering start to control his own body
as the dizzying flow of pleasure that shook the Man’s
body to its core ebbed, receding finally before a
powerful wave of exhaustion and leaving the Ranger’s
knees weak and buckling beneath his weight.
Elrohir, pulling out of the Man slowly behind, laced
his arms around Aragorn’s waist, hugging him from
behind while supporting him as well. His twin, raising
up on his knees to take hold of Elrohir’s arms to
lever himself into a standing position, stepped
forward and closed the distance to embrace the Man
from the front; sharing the last remnants of salty
liquid on his lips with the Ranger in a passionate
kiss.

Their tongues met and battled for dominance as Man and
Elf came together for the last time in a flurry of
passion, lingering long at each other’s lips before
parting finally to draw breath.

A dark fall of hair swept past the Ranger’s head from
behind; Elrohir, leaning forward to claim the mouth of
the Elf before him to take from his younger brother
the same, sweet essence of their sibling’s ecstasy.
Aragorn was content to merely stand back and be
crushed between the two brothers, and laid his head
back on Elladan’s shoulder as their kiss deepened,
pleasurable moans escaping from deep within the twins’
throats as, once again, passion erupted through them.
The Man felt then, as the nearness of his brothers
wedged him tightly between them, that the firmness of
Elladan’s still-unsatisfied erection pressed balefully
into his thigh. A strange understanding of the need
and desperation with which the Elf kissed his twin
dawned on the Ranger, making him feel somewhat that he
intruded now upon their pleasure, merely an extra body
that was in the way of their lovemaking.

He squirmed down and out from between his brothers to
give them better access at each other. The sudden cold
of the dawn-air made the Man gasp and shiver as he was
released from the communal heat of the twins, and made
his way over to where the blonde archer still surveyed
the scene with a slight smile, brilliant blue eyes
glinting in the fading light of the stars.

Legolas was still lying on the broad rock that covered
the one side of the river, but had now turned over on
his back and regarded the twins upside down as his
head hung backwards over the craggy outcropping, hands
folded neatly on his chest.

Aragorn plopped to the ground below him, leaning his
back against the harsh grey surface of the rock, pure
exhaustion taking hold of him to close his eyes
half-mast tiredly as he watched Elladan and Elrohir in
the cool light of dawn.

The twins were now lowered into a jumble of limbs on
the ground, tangled indefinitely into each other as
they kissed, hands roaming anywhere and everywhere and
the first faint light of the sun glinting on their
bodies, making them seem ethereal as the ancient gods
– two stars descended to earth with midnight in their
hair and the moon in their voices.

A sudden voice from above startled him out of his
reverie.

“So, Estel – I trust you found your brothers and I
adequate enough tutors to your liking?”
Legolas. Aragorn tilted his head back to look up at
the Elf, yawning slightly before replying. “Aye – so I
did, Legolas,” He laughed slightly. “’Twas indeed a
welcome lesson.”

The Elf’s face was unreadable. He merely stared
straight ahead at the enticing, albeit wrong-side-up
sight of Elladan and Elrohir, engaged in seemingly
very passionate activities.

Aragorn lowered his head to stare blankly before him,
the sight of his brothers lost in the tired tumult of
thought that clamoured his mind. A quiet half-sleep
descended unto him, a flood of exhausted peace that
consumed him suddenly and mercilessly. Eyes
half-closed, he pondered tiredly the gentle silence of
the gardens in Rivendell; that eternal peace that was
lifted now only by the soft moans and exclamations of
his brothers. He sighed happily, wondering if the Elf
above so too experienced the calm of his home.

“Legolas?”

There was no answer. The Man leaned his head back to
frown up at the silence, thinking perhaps the Elf had
surrendered to the plaguing exhaustion that rested on
them both – and found only a cold absence of the
golden tresses that had previously lightly brushed the
top his head. No archer was there to decorate the flat
of the admittedly dull rock.

Puzzled, Aragorn dropped his head to look around the
clearing, wishing to find some trace perhaps of the
Elf’s whereabouts.

Instead, he found only a sudden flash of dark from
amongst the trees.

His mouth dropped open in a silent gasp of horror as
the enormity and terror of the vision crashed down
upon him. Only one person had the power now to instil
such a fear, greater than even the heavens themselves,
in the Man.

“Elrond!”



To Be Continued . . .

************************************************