It was an utterly perfect day. The early summer sun rested
heavy in a sky of the clearest blue, dotted here and there with the fluffiest
and most unthreatening of white clouds. It was early enough in the day that
one could still feel the refreshing coolness of morning, but the dew had burned
away, and the night flowers had closed their eyes for the day.
In a charming and secluded wooded area in Rivendell, Legolas and Aragorn
lay silently under a tree. There was, in truth, very little to say at this
point. Legolas himself had realized yesterday that the timing was nearly right,
and had determined to take advantage of a few free hours. But to his surprise,
Aragorn had approached him this morning, echoing the very ideas that ran
through Legolas's own head. The man had shown an unaccustomed enthusiasm,
and his eyes had shone with a delight that was almost Elvish. Legolas could
only smile, and agree.
And so he lay at his ease under the tree, gazing up at the patterns made
by fresh green leaves against blue sky, while his fingers played idly over
tender flesh. Aragorn was very obviously impatient, but Legolas wanted to
draw this out, knowing full well that soon, all too soon, it would be over.
Finally he could stand it no longer, and he turned his head, brushing his
cheek along the velvety softness. Breathing in deeply, he relished that scent
that was like no other, letting his lips explore the delicate curves. Oh,
it had been far too long since he had had this pleasure.
Slowly, still trying to make the moment last, he parted his lips. With the
lightest application of teeth, he was rewarded with a drop or two of golden
fluid, his tongue quivering at the tangy-sweet taste. He explored with his
tongue the sweetness of firm, ripe flesh. Opening his mouth, he took in what
he could, and suddenly he was lost.
Anticipation gave way to the utter joy of the experience, and there was
no holding back. His mind reeled as lips, tongue, teeth, all worked together
in harmony. He was vaguely aware of the animal noises he was making, noises
echoed by his companion, but he was too overwhelmed to care. He was like a
mad thing, sucking greedily, biting hungrily, alive only to this moment and
nothing else.
Then, suddenly, it was finished. Legolas closed his eyes and let his head
fall back onto the ground, letting his overwrought senses calm. When he opened
his eyes he once again saw overhead the leaves and sunlit sky. The branches
waved slightly, as if the tree laughed tolerantly at the soft, sated sighs
that rose from the elf and man beneath its boughs. Legolas laughed as well,
drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. He was indeed a mess. A sticky
wetness covered his fingers, his lips, had trickled down his chin, and even
into his hair. Ah well, no matter. Easy enough to wash up in the creek, and
clear away all traces of his indulgence. He sighed once more, and this time
his sigh was tinged with regret. It was over.
"More?" asked Aragorn, his voice slightly thick.
"More?" Legolas said, raising an eyebrow. "You men certainly are…rapacious."
Aragorn shrugged, and reached into the small bag beside him. "Keep to your
Elvish discipline if you like. I am having another."
Legolas held his hand up before his face, inspecting the small red pit,
all that was left of the first ripe peach of the season. He chuckled and
tossed it away, saying, "Very well, give me another one."
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