Title: Melting Ice (1/1)
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com)
Summary: Boromir has had enough of feeling 
inferior and makes his mind up to 
put Legolas beneath him for a change. In anyway 
possible. (Follow-on to Tricks of the Light)
Rating: R
Pairing: Legolas / Boromir.
AN: Part book-verse, part movie-verse, as it 
fits. Set just after the trip 
over Caradhras. 


"MELTING ICE"

"I wonder where they are tonight?" Elladan mused as he 
skewered a piece of rabbit and placed it in the fire. "They must 
have got to the mountains by now. I wonder how their spirits 
are." 

Elrohir was perched on a log to his side, staring distantly into the 
flickering flames, spinning an arrow between his fingers. 

"Estel will take good care of them," Elladan shrugged. "He will 
keep them safe." He glanced at his brother and realised not a 
word had been heard. "Elrohir?" 

Elrohir continued to stare into the fire, a concerned frown 
creasing his brow and turning his mouth. "We all saw inside 
Boromir's heart," he whispered. "He is so easily led, easily 
seduced, easily confused." His grey eyes grew dark with some 
emotion even Elladan could not read. "So easily led..."

"I imagine Legolas will have jolly good fun with him!" He pulled a 
piece of lembas from his pack, breaking it and passing a piece to 
Elrohir. "I think he has rather more than a fleeting fancy for that 
man."

Elrohir nodded slowly, taking a bite from the bread without 
moving his eyes from the fire. "He does."

"It is good that he has found someone after so long." Elladan 
crossed to sit beside him. "What is the matter, Elrohir?" He slid 
his arm around his twin's shoulders, feeling his worry in his own 
heart. "You have been staring into that fire for ages, and you have 
not heard a word I have said. What troubles you? Tell me."

"Sometimes I think I can see things," Elrohir whispered. "Not like 
Grandmother, or even like Father, but sometimes I can feel things 
about people when I look in their eyes. Men especially."

"You speak of our Gondorian friend?" Elladan's face adopted 
Elrohir's frown. He had known of instances where Elrohir had 
foreseen things that had come true. "This is about Legolas, isn't it 
Elrohir?" He shook his twin by the shoulder. "Elrohir, what is it?" 
He grew concerned by his brother's unusually grim mood.

"Legolas," he whispered, closing his eyes like something had just 
surged painfully through him. The lembas and the arrow fell into 
his lap. "Oh Elladan!" he clutched his brother's hand, turning his 
head to look at him. "He will hurt him, Elladan. I cannot tell how, 
but I know it! Legolas is going to get so hurt."

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

Images of burnished gold glowed in the darkest parts of his mind. 
Fantasies of power dangerously courting his fears and doubts. 
Promises of vengeance flirting in his conscience.

He shivered under his covers, burying his hands deep within his 
pockets to try to banish the gnawing cold from his fingers. His 
jaw was clenched so tightly in a vain attempt to stop his teeth 
chattering that it ached. His lips were chapped raw from the wind 
and the snow and his face burned in its wake. He didn't 
remember a time when he'd felt more wretched. 

And still the wind howled, and ate its way through blankets and 
cloak and fur to his skin and he found no rest. Drawing his knees 
up against his chest, Boromir huddled further into his cocoon. A 
movement near him caused him to open his eyes. A footstep at 
his side. Not Aragorn. Not Gimli, he was sleeping nearby. 
Gandalf too had succumbed to slumber. The step was so light it 
could have only been a Halfling. 

Or an Elf.

The latter he decided, with something like a scowl. Ever since he 
had first laid eyes on him, he had found the creature infuriating. 
Playing cruel games with him with those damnable twins, playing 
games with him one on one, luring him into flirtatious banter then 
laughing at him. Creeping around Elrond like the Elf Lord was a 
God, maligning him at the Council, looking at the Dwarf with 
nothing short of disgust, hardly speaking to anyone but Aragorn. 
Prancing around rocks and snow at every given oppurtunity while 
others toiled, like he always had to remind them all of his beauty 
and grace. A beauty and grace that never seemed to fade, in rain, 
or snow, or darkness. A *natural* beauty and grace that he 
didn't even seem to consciously concentrate on. A beauty and 
grace that made everyone else - well, Boromir at least - feel 
shabby and clumsy. Who did he think he was?! 

/'He does not talk a lot to those he doesn't know well,'/ Aragorn 
had said. /'Get to know him and he can be a lot of fun when duty 
does not hold his attention.'/

/'He likes to concentrate on listening and watching more than 
talking,'/ Gandalf had said. /'Be thankful that we have him as our 
eyes and our ears.'/

/'He thinks we are beneath him,'/ Gimli had said. /'Only Gandalf 
and Aragorn are worthy of his conversation.'/  And Boromir was 
inclined to agree with him.

Aragorn ... Oh, how that man sickened him. How could he have 
such an ability to form such strong bonds with all the party when 
he had spent nearly his entire life as a loner in the Wild? How 
could he have the ability to command that much power and 
respect  - even with the Wizard - when he denied that he desired 
his rightful position as King of Men? How did he have the ability 
to make even Boromir start to love and respect him as though he 
had known him all his life? It was clear he had been raised by 
Elves.

"What do you turn your nose up at?"

Boromir came back to his surroundings with a start, glancing up 
at the shadowy form of Legolas crouching on his toes beside him, 
watching him with a smile on his lips. "The weather," he said. 

"I cannot say it bothers me much," Legolas shrugged, laying his 
own light blanket over the Man.

He was too uncomfortable to be proud and huddled gratefully 
into the added warmth. "Not even snow blizzards?" he snorted. 
"Though I suppose you spent too much time prancing over the 
top of it to be bothered by it," he could not help adding, curling 
his lip at the memory of the Elf's playful jests at a time while they 
all could have died. 

/'Farewell! I go to find the sun!'/ 

"I do not apologise for it. Gandalf asked for it, I only asked a 
simple question and he snapped at me," Legolas said flatly, 
though Boromir was rather certain a note of bitter humour carried 
through in his voice. "And you especially asked for it."

"And just how did I ask for it?" he enquired with forced courtesy.

"Showing off."

He had been showing off, he thought with a blush. He shouldn't 
feel like he had to prove himself to the Elf. Yet he did. "And what 
would you have done? Skipped over the snow with a Hobbit 
under each arm?" 

He was answered with tense silence and allowed himself a smile. 
He could imagine, almost feel, Legolas suddenly becoming stiff-
backed, like a proud cat, pursing his lips and tossing his golden 
hair indignantly back from his face. He heard him take a breath 
through his teeth. 

"I would have, had I not thought you and Aragorn were capable 
of carrying them while I scouted ahead," he finally replied, with 
some amount of prickliness evident in his gentle voice. 

Boromir smiled into his sleeve. Legolas was easier to provoke 
than he thought he'd be. He ducked his head as the Elf stood 
sharply and stepped over him. He waited for the sound of 
footsteps walking away but instead found his blankets yanked 
roughly from his side.

"Pull your covers back," Legolas ordered.

"Not a chance!" Boromir said stubbornly, clutching them back to 
his body, envisaging some challenge being raised. "It is freezing."

"Pull your covers back," Legolas repeated, tugging on the edge of 
the blankets. "I am going to join you in there and help you keep 
warm."

Boromir stared incredulously at him. From starchy bickering, to 
such a friendly offer in a second? "You are going to what?" He 
was by no means going to get pulled into another one of 
Legolas's games. He had been fooled once; he would not be 
fooled a second time. Goodness knows what that Elf might start 
doing if he allowed him to be trapped beneath his blankets with 
him. He could almost imagine it: Legolas sliding his slender frame 
into the blankets, and around his body, pressing the heat of 
himself close, until Boromir grew helpless and gave into his 
desires, standing about as much chance as a mouse in Mordor. 
No way.

"I do not smell, I am not poisonous, you will be quite safe." 
Legolas arched an eyebrow. "Unless you wish to stay cold?" 

"No, I do not," Boromir gave in with a sigh, though he thought 
with ironic humour that the word 'safe' was rather inappropriate 
to use when referring to bedding down with Legolas. "I was even 
considering moving closer to the Dwarf to get some extra heat." 
He pulled the edge of his covers back just far enough for Legolas 
to slip quickly inside them. If the Elf so much as touched him, he'd 
stab him, he decided then. If he behaved himself, then all was 
well, and maybe he could say he wasn't as bad as he first thought. 
But he wasn't going to say that yet.  

"I am warmer than the Dwarf," Legolas told him as he settled 
beside him. "And I do not snore." He winced as a raucous snort 
emitted from Gimli's direction.

"Yes, I pity the poor soul who ends up with him as a bed 
partner!" Chuckling, Boromir curled himself against the Elf's 
back, sighing contentedly at the warmth. "Thank you." He tensed 
himself, waiting for Legolas to press back against his body but the 
Elf lay still. So far, so good. And it was nice to have a warm 
body lying along his on such a bitter night. 
 
"Slip your hands inside my tunic if they are cold," Legolas said. "I 
do not mind." Without waiting for an answer, he unclasped his 
belt, grasped Boromir's hands, pulled his gloves off and slid them 
under the bottom of his tunic, flinching only slightly as the icy 
fingers came into contact with his body. "Your hands are frozen!" 
he said with some concern, rubbing Boromir's fingers. 

As grateful as he was, Boromir was certain there was a hidden 
agenda to this very sudden display of kindness. He told himself to 
be watchful. Legolas was subtle with his seduction, and he could 
be lured in before he even noticed. He had been once already. If 
the joke was going to be on anyone this time, it was not going to 
be on him.

"I am sorry if I offended you," Legolas said softly after they had 
been lying in silence for several minutes.

Boromir frowned. An apology?! "When?" Legolas had offended 
him so many times, he could not think of any one time the Elf 
could be referring to.

"At any time," he replied. "I don't mean to be aloof. I know I can 
be sometimes. I'm just..." he took a breath and paused as if he 
had to plan his words. "I'm just wary of people. Sometimes, I feel 
the need to prove myself. I..."

Boromir raised himself on his elbow to try to look at the Elf's face 
but it was turned away from him. "Go on," he probed.

"No, it doesn't matter," Legolas shook his head sharply. "Forget I 
said it."

Boromir lay back again with a sigh. For the love of Gondor, this 
Elf was an enigma. Just as he was thinking that Legolas was cold 
and haughty, the Elf chose to decide to show him this soft side of 
himself. Not just soft, somehow sad. Maybe even lonely. He was 
loath to feel sorry for him, but he could not help it. Other than the 
twins, the only person Boromir had ever seen Legolas look 
relaxed with was Aragorn. And now he had come to him, in the 
middle of the night, and lain beside him. Strange.

"You are not so bad, I suppose," he admitted. "You just seem to 
have the ability to rub me up the wrong way." He felt Legolas 
shake with laughter. "What? What is so funny?"

"I have always found that saying amusing," Legolas chuckled. "I 
have a dirty mind." He turned Boromir's hands over to warm the 
backs. "You are not so bad yourself, Boromir."

"For a Man, you mean?" he spoke the un-ended sentence.

"No." Legolas squeezed his hands. "I have known few Men, I 
only really have Aragorn to compare you to."

"He's a lot to live up to," he said a little more bitterly than he 
intended to. "I mean, he's a lot to compare with," he retracted. "I 
mean – " He didn't know what he meant.

"Aragorn is more Elf than Man at heart," Legolas said. "So, no, 
there is not a lot to compare." He shrugged. "Anyway, I think it is 
better to judge people by who they are, rather than by their race."

"What about Gimli?" he asked. "You do not like him, for no other 
reason than because he is a Dwarf."

He was answered with another shrug. "He does not like me, for 
no other reason than because I am an Elf." 

"I suppose that is fair enough," he agreed. "Perhaps you ... erm..." 
he tried to think of a different way of wording it.

"Rub him up the wrong way?" Legolas sniggered. "Valar forbid!" 

Boromir chuckled at the picture he imagined to be unsettling the 
Elf's mind. "Some people find hairy folk attractive," he teased, 
growing more good-natured in the Elf's company, despite himself. 

Legolas laughed out loud. "Can you see me with him?!" 

Boromir found the almost-childish giggle infectious and soon 
found himself relaxing in his own laughter. "I don't think so, no," 
he said. "Maybe him and Gandalf?"

"Ai! Just do not even suggest it!" Legolas shuddered, digging his 
elbow into Boromir's ribs. "I fear that is an image that will haunt 
my dreams for quite some time."

Gimli suddenly stirred to the left of them with a grumble and they 
both lay tensely waiting for him to wake. He opened one eye and 
stared at them before he lay back with another snore.

Legolas took a slow breath as if to force back more laughter and 
already Boromir found himself missing the sound. It was the first 
time he had heard Legolas laugh like that and the sound was 
lovely. He had heard elven laughter described like anything from 
silver bells to running water, but it was far more charming than 
that.

"Aragorn said you could be a lot of fun," he said quietly, as if his 
mouth was reluctant to speak the words. "I must apologise, I 
thought you were cold." He laid his head down on the pack that 
served as a pillow, as Legolas accepted his apology with a nod. 
The wind had died down a little, or had at least changed direction 
and he felt sleep start to tug at the corners of his mind. It did not 
take long for him to surrender to the heaviness in his eyelids, 
soothed by the warmth and the slow breathing of the Elf at the 
side of him.

"Do have a wife, Boromir?" Legolas asked quietly as he stroked 
his hands, tracing little cuts and grazes with his fingertips. "Or a 
lover?"

He opened his eyes, frowning a little at the personal nature of the 
question, wondering why Legolas should ask it. "I don't," he said. 
"Do you?"

Legolas shook his head. "I have not been with anyone for ... a 
while ... almost seventy years."

"Seventy years? That's nearly twice my lifetime!" He had put him 
down as some sort of bed-hopping libertine. "I could not go that 
long!" 

Boromir could feel him smile. "How long has it been since you lay 
with a woman?" he asked. 

Too long. Far too long. "Long enough to miss it," he answered, 
burrowing closer to the slim body and burying his wind-stung face 
into the length of silken hair. "I suppose you're the nearest thing 
I'm going to get around here." He bit his tongue and cursed 
inwardly. That should not have been uttered out loud.

Legolas rolled over to face him with a half-offended, half-amused 
expression on his face. "Are you calling me effeminate, Boromir? 
I am no delicate thing."

"That I know," Boromir said truthfully, wishing he had more 
control over his words. "You are not effeminate at all, but you are 
... well..." Dare he say it? He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of 
speaking his opinion aloud and digging himself in deeper, or 
Legolas getting offended by it. "You are pretty. Well, your face 
is. I don't know; that's probably not the right word." 

Legolas grinned at him. "It will suffice." He moved to rest his head 
against Boromir's shoulder. "You are rather handsome yourself."

Boromir felt his cheeks grow hot. "Hush, don't be daft," he 
muttered.

"Why? Am I embarrassing you?" Legolas raised himself and 
looked over Boromir's face with a grin. "I am! You are blushing!" 
he laughed. "What is wrong with me saying you are handsome? 
You are."

"I've just never had a man call me that before," he said, looking 
away from the beaming face above his, growing more 
uncomfortable by the second. Something made him think he was 
going to get pulled into that sweet elven trap a third time.

"Elladan and Elrohir thought you were very desirable," Legolas 
told him.

"Those names are not to come into conversation," he said sharply 
with a shudder. "I would like to forget about them." End of 
conversation. It was all going to end right now, before it even 
started. 
But the Elf made far too magnificent a source of heating to ask 
him to leave his bedroll. And it was nice to be on friendly terms 
with him. Legolas had done nothing to bother him this night; it 
was only his own dark thoughts and feelings that were troubling 
him. His own ... No, he dare not even think the word!

"You won't forget about them," Legolas said confidently. 
"Anyway, what is wrong with us liking you? You will find the 
twins and I are ... rather liberal." 

/ *Us* liking you. / Boromir felt panic rise from his belly and stick 
in his throat. He had never thought, during all the teasing and 
taunting, that the three had actually desired him. He had certainly 
not thought that Legolas did. 

/ Lust. / The word entered his head unbidden. 

"I thought it was all a game," he whispered, staring up at the sky. 
He thought it rather reflected his mood - stormy, clouded and 
muddled. 

"It was for them. Everything is a game for them." Legolas draped 
his leg across Boromir's. "I don't play such games."

"You played a good enough one the morning after." He tried to 
move from under the Elf's leg but he was heavier than he looked.

Legolas shook his head meekly at him. "I wasn't playing." He 
rose to lean over Boromir's face and whisper in his far ear. "You 
would not have been safe if I had rescued you from them." His 
breath was hot against his ear. "You would have been safer with 
them." He drew back to look Boromir in the eyes. "Why do you 
deny yourself? We both know I am the only person who can 
offer you what you want at the moment." 

"And what do you know of what I want?" Boromir looked away 
from his eyes, thinking instantly that it was the wrong question to 
ask. Legolas knew very well what he wanted. He knew himself 
what he wanted but he was afraid of it. Legolas was not.  

"I know a great deal in fact." His hand toyed at Boromir's collar 
for a moment before sliding in a swift path down his chest.

Boromir tried to catch his hand before it reached past his belt and 
found something he did not want him to find. Lust. He lusted after 
the Elf. There, he had admitted it to himself. How could he deny it 
any longer while Legolas was draped all over him, and his heart 
was thundering and his cock was throbbing at the feeling? How 
could he deny it when the final restraint of his mind was just 
threads away from snapping?

"Too late, I have already felt it." Legolas pressed his knee 
between Boromir's legs. "I know you want me, why are you so 
shy?" 

"I am not shy," Boromir gulped as the Elf worked friction against 
his groin. "I am just ... I am not so ... liberal as you."

"Come Boromir, you are a warrior, do not try to claim you have 
not lain with men before – I don't think a male Elf would be that 
different." He moved to lie atop his body. "But if you truly desire 
for a woman, then, yes, I suppose I am the nearest thing you will 
get. I have no beard to graze you. There's really not *that* much 
difference, if you don't want there to be." Legolas gazed lustfully 
at him. "Come on," he whispered.

Boromir lay as still as death, hardly daring to breath. Legolas was 
heavier upon his chest than he had imagined him to be. True, he 
had imagined himself in this position with the Elf on more than one 
occasion. And now he was there, he felt like a piece of meat 
waiting to be devoured by a drooling predator. He had been so 
determined not to give in to his feelings, not to give in to Legolas, 
but now he knew Legolas *did* desire him, and it wasn't all just 
a big joke at his expense, things were very different. 

"Hands are hands, are they not?" Legolas whispered as he slowly 
unbuttoned Boromir's shirt collar. "My hands can still touch your 
flesh, perhaps they are not as soft as you would like but it's no 
matter." He unclasped the Man's tunic and slipped his hands 
inside, gently stroking his nipples.

/*Snap*/

Boromir gasped as the slender elven frame slid across his body 
like liquid silk. Too late. Too late to turn back now. He would 
indeed make a nice supper for this Elf and he didn't think there 
would be anything left to chew over for breakfast. 

"Does it matter whether these hands are the hands of man or a 
maid?" Legolas lifted his shirt and stroked across the ticklish part 
of his belly. "They can still pinch," his one hand worked back up 
to pinch Boromir's nipples. "They can still stroke," his free hand 
moved to run up the inside of Boromir's thigh. "They can still 
grasp..."

Boromir closed his eyes and held his breath in anticipation of the 
hot hand that came to rest over his manhood. "You filthy-
mouthed Elf," he whispered, looking down to where Legolas was 
now kneeling between his thighs.

The Elf smiled coyly at him. "And a mouth is still a mouth," he 
extended his tongue along his lips as they curved into a coy smile, 
"is it not?" 

Boromir gasped. "Legolas..." It took every bit of willpower he 
possessed not to groan out loud as Legolas unbuttoned his 
trousers. "Oh, Legolas, you make me feel such things... and I 
know not whether it is right or not, and I care not." A tongue 
lapped wetly at the head of his erection. 

"It's not a bad thing though, is it?" Legolas murmured, circling his 
tongue expertly. 

"No ... no, it is not." Boromir found it hard to believe that he had 
not had a lover in seventy years. Though perhaps it was not that 
long a time for Legolas. He wondered how old the Elf was? And 
why had he not had a lover in so long? He was beautiful – that 
was the word, not 'pretty' – he must have been desired by so 
many. And why now had he chosen him?

He sighed as Legolas took him into his mouth, easing the strain 
that had been building in him ever since he had met him. Who 
cared if it was right? Who cared if it was wrong? The world had 
turned mad of late, who cared if the Steward of Gondor's son 
spent the night in the arms of a male Elf? It certainly didn't feel 
wrong from where he was lying. He gave himself over to the 
pleasure the Elf was generating, letting it wash any thoughts of 
shame or apprehension from his mind. Why should he care? It felt 
good. 

He raised himself on his elbows to watch Legolas at work. His 
eyes were closed, his hair falling around his face as he sucked 
slowly, stalling to lick or nibble here and there, his tongue 
escaping his mouth, pink and wet.  Boromir fell back with a 
groan. It was too much to watch. He felt Legolas give a quiet 
chuckle, the warm breath rushing over his hot wet flesh in 
shudders. 

"More?" Legolas asked, gazing up at him.

Boromir glanced down his body to meet the sparkling eyes. 
"More," he whispered. "Oh yes. More."

Perhaps Elves had different sort of throats to humans, he mused 
as Legolas swallowed him impossibly deeper. He clutched at the 
ground but only got a handful of ice. He felt tendrils of golden hair 
fall across his belly as Legolas shifted up onto his knees to pull his 
full length into his mouth. A skilled tongue taunted the sensitive 
underside of his shaft while pliant lips applied pressure. Legolas 
rose back up slowly, and the cold air rushed over his flesh once 
more before he was swallowed forcefully.

"Legolas, stop," he whispered, unable to keep himself in this 
steady torture for a second longer, lest it was over too soon. 

"Why?" Legolas rose back up his body, licking his lips. "Do you 
not like it?"

"Yes," Boromir gasped, following his tongue with a shameless 
stare. "But ... but I do not want to spend yet. Please."

"As you wish." Legolas lay atop him again, settling strategically 
between his legs. He smiled down at the Man as he shifted to rub 
himself against Boromir's groin. 

Boromir moaned as quietly as he could as he felt the Elf's hard 
hot desire against his own. The fact that he could arouse a 
creature of such beauty was enough, without any touch. He felt 
the ice melt in his hand and clutched for another piece, while 
flipping Legolas onto his back, reversing their positions. 

Legolas looked shocked for a second, but soon lay back tamely, 
gazing expectantly at Boromir.

Without a word or a request, Boromir pulled the Elf's tunic over 
his head and began to undo the fiddly clasps of the shirt beneath. 
After some amount of silent cursing, his chest was bared and 
Boromir sat back to admire him. His skin was as pale as snow 
and as hairless as a woman. Yet not like a woman, his chest was 
strongly muscled, his stomach as taut as a drum skin. Boromir 
had never imagined he could desire such a sight but he did. He 
watched as the pink nipples tightened against the cold and he felt 
the ice in his hand. 

Legolas's eyes grew wide and a naughty grin formed on his face 
as he realised the Man's intentions. "That's bad, Boromir," he 
whispered.

"Who said I was good?" Boromir countered, breathing unsteadily 
as he imagined how he could make Legolas squirm. 

He raised his hand to run the ice in a slippery path down the Elf's 
neck, his tongue following its path into the dip of an elegant 
collarbone, causing shivers to wrack the body sprawled beneath 
him. The ice was abandoned, melting into a cold stream down the 
strong chest as Boromir sucked a mark onto Legolas's neck, 
delighting in how it made him whimper.

"You want control over me?" the Elf whispered. "Do you think 
you have it?" He smiled slowly, the smile creasing the corners of 
deep blue eyes but not so much that it closed them. 

"Do you think I do?" Boromir whispered back, deciding to play 
along. He ran his hand over the Elf's chest to pinch his left nipple 
as his other hand reached for another piece of ice.

"Would you like it?" Legolas arched under his body, pressing his 
hardness against Boromir as an impassioned flush spread high 
over his cheekbones.

Boromir pressed down to meet his thrust. "Would you?" He 
would win this battle of words if it killed him. If his unspent desire 
didn't kill him first.

Legolas regarded him with half closed eyes and bow-shaped lips 
parted breathlessly as Boromir provoked him. "No," he finally 
gasped. 

He ran the ice across the Elf's lips, swallowing hard as he 
watched his tongue dart out to catch some of the frozen moisture. 
Then he stilled, eliciting a frustrated moan. "You are a tease, my 
lovely Elf." He moved the ice lower to skate across a nipple and 
it obediently hardened in response. Legolas gasped again, the 
breath leaving his lungs in a rush of steam. 

"How so?" Legolas tried to raise his hips to make contact with 
Boromir's body again but the Man's weight held him down. "Ai! 
You are the tease, not I! And I am not 'your lovely Elf'. I chose 
to lie with you but I do not want you to own me. I am no whore." 


Boromir lowered himself a little, circling his hips against the Elf's. 
"You are enough of a whore." He felt one hundred times stronger 
as Legolas whimpered helplessly and clutched at his shoulders 
with grappling hands. Never had he imagined to make the Elf this 
compliant.

"You only called Elrohir a harlot, I have bested him." Legolas 
panted with a grin. "Ai! Boromir! You will undo me in no amount 
of time!"

Boromir halted his movements and smirked triumphantly. "So it 
*was* Elrohir?" 

"It was whichever one you would have liked it to be, dear 
Boromir." Legolas slid his arms around his back and pulled him 
down to him. "But never mind them, you are with me tonight. You 
said you wished to forget about them, I would make you forget. 
As long as you wish me to."

Boromir had to hold himself back from gyrating against him. He 
would not be the helpless one this night. And how it aroused him 
to see Legolas captive in his pleasures, eyes darkened with 
desire, his pale skin damp and rosy. "You offered this to me, not 
me to you. Why should I turn it down?"

Legolas clutched his backside, forcing him to press between his 
legs. "Indeed why should I offer it?" he gasped, trying to re-
establish his wits. 

"That's the funny thing about this," Boromir ground down against 
him. "I was wondering the very same thing." He clenched his teeth 
as Legolas bucked forcefully beneath him. He could not groan 
out loud, as much as he wanted to. It would not be good for four 
Hobbits, a Wizard, a Dwarf and his future King to be awoken 
and find him in this position. 

With a barely-restrained whimper, Legolas fisted his hands in 
Boromir's cloak and threw his head back. The bared neck was 
too tempting by far to resist and Boromir lowered his head to 
nuzzle the side of it. He felt Legolas tremble beneath him as he 
swept his tongue across his pulse before attaching his teeth to 
make another mark.  His hand crept up to run through the golden 
hair, brushing lightly against the edge of a pointed ear. 

Legolas clutched him closer. "Whores don't allow being touched," 
he whispered, his lips forming a smile against Boromir's temple.

"Whores don't allow being kissed, either," Boromir said, moving 
his head to attend to the stimulated ear with his tongue. Before he 
could move far, Legolas had caught him by the hair and pulled 
him down to meet his mouth.  The kiss was hungry, violent and 
bruising. Tongues duelled from mouth to mouth as teeth pulled at 
lips. Boromir tasted blood though he was not sure if it was his 
own or the Elf's.

"I don't know why, but I almost imagined you to taste of honey," 
he said with a self-conscious laugh as they pulled apart for breath. 
"That's silly, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is silly," Legolas grinned at him. "Why would I taste of 
honey? I just taste of ... Of Elf, I suppose."

"You taste good whatever you taste of." Boromir invited his 
tongue into his mouth again. "What do I taste of?" he whispered. 
"Tell me what I tasted of as I was in your mouth, as you were 
pumping me into your throat." He felt himself grow harder at the 
memory of the feeling. "Tell me." He wanted to hear it. He 
wanted to know how it had felt for Legolas. He wanted his pretty 
mouth to talk dirty. 

"You," Legolas replied. "Just you." He brushed his mouth with his 
lips, whispering in his own tongue. "*Adan ... Gwaur ... ah 
alband*." 

Had he not been so addled he would have admitted there was an 
intonation of disdain in the words, but it didn't seem to matter 
then. Legolas slipped from his arms to slide down underneath his 
body and swallow him once more. He rested his weight on his 
elbows and knees as the Elf sucked hungrily at him, his hand 
reaching behind his testicles to fondle gently. He wished he was in 
the position to watch him, but he could imagine him; his agile 
tongue lapping back and forth over his weeping head, his lips 
growing moist...

He bit down on his fist as he felt his release approach and 
lowered his head to touch the cold ground. He was near, just one 
lick away, when Legolas let up and rose up to kiss him. Though 
close to screaming, Boromir took his tongue eagerly, tasting 
himself in his mouth. Running his hands back into his hair to finger 
his ears again he slid his knee between the Elf's legs and rubbed 
relentlessly until Legolas moaned loudly against his mouth.

"You make too much noise!" he whispered, looking anxiously 
around to make sure no one had woken.

"I cannot help it," Legolas gasped. "It's been too long." His eyes 
rolled back, tears wetting his cheeks. "Boromir ... oh please ... 
please… End this burning now! End it for both of us!"

He did not need telling twice and reached between their bodies to 
tug at the ties that held the Elf's leggings. He could feel the heat of 
him burning through the material as he scrabbled to free him. "If 
we were alone, I'd have it that the only noise you would be able 
to make is to scream," he told him.

Legolas whined with frustration as Boromir struggled. "You will 
never make me scream at this rate."

The laces came undone and pulled back with a snap under the 
strain of the Elf's desire, and Boromir gripped him firmly in his 
hand, feeling the trickle of his impending release slick his fingers. 
"One day I will really make you scream. That I promise you." 

He caught him by the shoulders to turn him onto his front. How 
he could imagine slipping inside his body, tighter and hotter than 
any woman could ever be. Stronger and more resilient than any 
woman could ever be. He could take him hard, he could take him 
rough, and he would. How he could imagine Legolas thrashing 
beneath him, begging him. Oh, yes, he would beg; Boromir would 
make him.  He pushed him roughly over onto his front and pulled 
his leggings down to his knees. He felt the Elf's muscles suddenly 
grow tense with resistance as he tried to move from beneath him. 
But he could not hold out a minute longer. "Legolas, do not do 
this to me please. Do not tease me again." He held him firmly by 
the shoulders. He was the stronger of them, heavier at least. 

The Elf struggled wildly beneath him, panic straining every muscle 
in his back and causing his breath to come in tight gasps. "Let me 
go!"

"Not a chance," Boromir held him firmly, spreading his legs with 
his knee. "I am not letting you go until I've had this. I've put up 
with quite enough of your playing with me, I think I deserve a little 
prize."

"No!" Legolas ground out through clenched teeth. "I will not let 
you!" He reached back and grasped Boromir's cock in his hand. 
"Let me go Boromir, or I shall wake them all and Aragorn would 
kill you!" He kept his distance from the Man's body as he milked 
him with his hand. 

Boromir growled with frustration as he split himself in the Elf's 
grip. Why? Why? Why? He fell back into the blankets, gasping, 
waiting for the world to stop spinning. 
 
"I think you are quite warm enough now." Legolas restored his 
clothing and stepped back from the blankets, staring down at the 
Man with sick disgust as he wiped his hand on the edge of his 
blanket.

Boromir stared back in disbelief at him. "What? Why? Legolas!" 
he panted. "I don't understand, I thought – "

"You thought wrong," Legolas spat, ice nearly dripping from his 
eyes. "I told you, I am not a whore."

Boromir felt tears of shame and hurt spring to his eyes. "What 
right do you think you have to treat me like this? I am not beneath 
you." No man had ever brought tears to his eyes in such a way.

"You never will be," Legolas swore in a whisper before stalking 
back to his bedroll.

Boromir pulled his covers around his body with a shiver. Why? 
Had he read something wrong? He was sure he hadn't. Perhaps 
Elves were not so quick with their coupling as Men were, though 
he found that hard to believe. Legolas had said he had not taken 
a lover in seventy years, perhaps he was just nervous after so 
long? Now he thought of it, he realised the Elf had panicked as 
soon as he had tried to take him. But why? He could not believe 
that Legolas would be afraid to be taken like that after so 
blatantly offering himself. 
And what reason would Aragorn have had to kill him if he had 
found them like that? Unless... Oh, in the name of the White Tree, 
no! Not Aragorn! Not with Legolas! That must be why! He 
would have known that Legolas had been taken by another! 
Seventy years indeed! Mind, Aragorn was old enough, if they 
had not seen each other and had not had the chance for some 
years. No, he didn't believe it had been that long. 
Or maybe Aragorn did not give Legolas as much as he wanted, 
bound to his love for Arwen, maybe he just had him for his own 
pleasures. Maybe that was why Legolas had come to him, to find 
some pleasure of his own. It made sense. He had just been using 
him, making him open his heart and his fears just for a cheap thrill. 

He should have gone with his first instinct; he should not have 
trusted Legolas. He should not have believed he was sweet and 
friendly and lonely. He should not have believed he could make 
him warm. In fact, he was surprised Legolas had not melted upon 
the ice when he had touched him with it. 

Whatever it was, he would not get away with this. Nobody 
would get away with treating him like this. He would not be used 
by another man's tart. He would make Legolas pay, in time.

[END]

~TO BE CONTINUED IN "SHADOWS AND THREATS"~