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Title: Compulsion
Author: Alezzia
Pairing:Legolas/Aragorn
Rating: hmmm, I guess R-ish?
Author's Note This is for Minka. Be gentle
with me, I am new to writing. After checking out your page, I
thought a little kink and obsession were in order.
Compulsion
As Aragorn entered his city, his power and majesty were evident
to everyone. His humility in asking for the crown to be passed to
him through the Ringbearer and Gandalf was impressive. His
authority, once crowned, was undeniable. Yes this was an
impressive, dominate male of his race. Legolas chuckled to
himself .“If they only knew” he whispered inaudibly.
I would be a few months before Arwen arrived. Aragorn was much
involved in matters of state during this time and gave his duties the
full attention they deserved. Except...well, part of his
attention was always on something else. And of getting
through his responsibilities to get to that something else.
“Kneel, oh mighty king of men”
Legolas demanded. His knees quivering Aragorn complied. It was a
little chill in his chambers, and Legolas had made him strip naked
almost half of an hour before. “Now, what shall I do with
this speck of dust before me. Hmmm, have you seen to your duties this
day? Legolas questioned almost mockingly. “Yes” Aragorn answered
submissively. “And have you kept your attention and will focused
on your chores”? Legolas leered at his pet. “Well, not completely, the
thought of you is always shining your light in my thoughts” Aragorn
announced adoringly to the beautiful elven prince.
It was always the same. The fellowship had not seen it, nor had anyone
else who’s path they had crossed in their journey to this point, this
time. Aragorn found he simply could not help himself. He
was fairly certain that Haldir knew, just the way the Galadrim had
occasionally smirked at him led Aragorn to believe that the elf had
understood the man’s obsession all too well. If Gandalf sensed it, he
never gave an indication.
Never, to anyone else, had he humbled himself this way. Not to Elrond
or even Arwen. The glorious prince of Mirkwood had brought a
submissive and pliant seed , that Aragorn had not even known existed,
to bloom. And what had come forth had shocked Aragorn to his
core. He would throw himself at the feet of this lovely Elf, time
and again. He would humiliate himself in anyway that Legolas
directed. And the worst or best part (Aragorn had never decided
which) was that He loved it. In some ways he felt more complete
subjugated to Legolas’s will than he did as an equal to Arwen. He had
not yet considered what he would do should Arwen find out, nor what he
would do after the wedding. All he knew with any certainty is
that he needed this, and he needed Legolas.
“My light must be bright indeed”
taunted Legolas, “ for as cold as you are you still have heat enough”.
It was true and obvious that as Aragorn’s body shivered his member
stood erect, almost painfully so.
And so here they were, in the King’s private chamber coming upon the
midnight hours. Barely a flicker of fire and a few dim candles to
witness what would pass between Prince and King. Aragorn knelt in
front of the exquisite Prince, completely bare. Legolas wore a
silken night robe, with little care as to whether or nor it was
properly closed.
Legolas removed his robe with almost cruel grace and tantalizing delay.
He then turned his back to Aragorn and lay face down on the lounge very
near Aragorn, with his legs straddling the armless couch. This
gave Aragorn a perfect view of what he would never be allowed to fully
take. The smooth and statuesque lines of the elf’s body were all
too apparent from this vantage. The perfect curvature of
Legolas’s bare buttocks seemed to drawn Aragorn’s eye by design to that
flawless constriction of flesh. How Aragorn had dreamed of
infusing that gate with his own cock. But that was against the
rules. With Legolas bare form exposed so intimately,
Aragorn began to moan.
Legolas made him wait a few more minutes, ignoring the whispered plea
in every lamenting sound issued from the poised figure behind
him. “You may” was all Legolas said. In one great lunge
Aragorn was at him, tonguing, licking, sucking at his entrance. In
spite of himself Legolas’s body arched ever so slightly toward the
tongue that threatened to invade him. Such sensitive flesh ever
responds to an application as this, and Legolas soon relaxed into waves
of pleasure that seemed to emanate from between his buttocks to the
tips of his ears. He allowed the Great King of Men to lap at his
anus for a few more minutes, then announced “Stop”, very quietly.
Almost instantly Aragorn ceased his ministrations and forced his weight
away from Legolas and back to the floor. Legolas stretched and
very slowly turned onto his back, allowing his legs to dangle over the
edge of the lounge and his feet to plant firmly on the floor. His
hard phallus rested expectantly against his sculpted abdomen.
Legolas just lay there a small smile ghosted his lips.
For all of Aragorn’s apparent protests this is what Aragorn wanted as
well. Legolas understood the mortal king better than Aragorn
understood himself. The elven prince understood the pressures of
responsibility, and of the weight that came with it. Legolas also
understood what Aragorn could not yet fathom: Aragorn loved this
because, for once, he was NOT in control. Always others had
looked to Aragorn for leadership; rangers, the fellowship, even the
Gondorians accepted his authority quickly. For Aragorn, to be the
one being dictated to, was the release he craved. The utter
dependance on another, rather than being depended upon.
“You may” was again all that Legolas said. These simple words
galvanized Aragorn into action. Aragorn scuttled quickly across
the floor on hands and knees to retrieve the oil. Back at the
feet of Legolas, Aragorn shivered with anticipation, the oil clutched
desperately in his hand. He then waited. As soldiers awaiting the
command of their generals, as children await a parents permission, with
delicious submission he waited.
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