Between Friends

A/N - Thank you so much for your reviews! I really do appreciate it and I'm glad you are enjoying the story!

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“To be always with a woman and not to make love to her is more difficult than to raise the dead” – St. Bernard
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They sat quietly by the fire warming them selves and letting their wet tunics dry in the safety of the cave.

Despite the cold air, Annowe felt warm both inside and out. The wrestling match had succeeded where her words had not – easing the tension between them and drawing them back into the comfortable place of their friendship.

She smiled across the fire at Legolas, his elegant features lit by the warm glow. He grinned back at her.

“Do you want me to take the first watch?” She asked, clutching her cloak tightly to her.

“I doubt if it will be necessary to keep watch throughout the night. We are quite isolated here,” Legolas reasoned. “If you are tired, then sleep. I can sleep later if I need to.”

Annowe nodded then yawned, more tired than she had realized. She would be glad to return to Rivendell where she could enjoy some food other than lembas and have some clean clothes.

Slowly she got to her feet and removed her tunic from where it had been drying near the fire. It was slightly damp but still warm as she moved farther into the darkness of the cave to slip it over her head.

Once she had replaced her clothing, she spread her blanket by the fire then lay down covering herself with her cloak. She did not immediately fall asleep but watched Legolas through the dancing flames. Neither of them spoke but it was not a tense silence between them, rather it was the silence of friends who are completely comfortable in each other’s presence.

Legolas stole glances at her as she grew increasingly drowsy. Her eyes gradually closed as her features relaxed into sleep. He realized that she had not brushed his hair this evening and was rather disappointed, although he would gladly trade the hair brushing ritual for more of the wrestling matches.

At the thought of their “fight” he grinned broadly. It had been quite enjoyable rolling around in the snow with her even if she HAD managed to fill his tunic with snow. He smiled as he remembered the feel of her hand against his chest. He wondered if she had touched Haldir in the same way and frowned, trying to push the thought out of his mind.

But the thought would not abate and he found himself imagining her small hands running over Haldir’s bare muscular chest as the March Warden purred in satisfaction, knowing that he could enjoy her sensual touch and sexual favors whenever he desired. Did she enjoy running her hands over Haldir and sharing his bed? Most likely, he realized sadly.

Why? He wondered again. What did she see in that arrogant, self-centered elf? The March Warden had to be a selfish lover if his outward demeanor was any indication. Certainly she deserved better than that. Deserved a lover who would pleasure her.

He could give her supreme pleasure – much more than Haldir. He was neither selfish nor self centered and could make her body weak with ecstasy. And she would be glad. Yes! Glad that he had shown her how pleasurable lying with an elf could truly be. Glad and grateful that he had finally shown her what she was missing and she would do anything to repay him.

Yes, anything, he thought as he stood up. He was growing hard again thinking of how grateful she would be and watching her sleeping by the fire. She was so close. He could have reached out and touched her but yet she was so completely removed from him.

How he yearned to bridge that chasm - to reach out and touch her as a lover would. Slowly, he walked into the darkness of the cave, his heart pounding in his chest and his trousers growing tight with lust.

They had been so close today. Would she have been able to tell if his touch had turned from friendship to desire? He closed his eyes and remembered their wrestling match. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to touch her “accidentally” – to touch her breasts, her thighs, between her thighs. He groaned quietly and squeezed the bulge in his trousers.

Why had he not touched her in lust? She had kissed him and he wanted to kiss her and touch her. Certainly she had shown herself willing to cross that bridge between friends and lovers. Why had he not taken advantage of the situation during their wrestling match?

He sighed deeply with regret. He had feared her reaction. Feared that perhaps she had changed her mind in the night about him. What he should have done was kissed her. When he had her pinned down in the snow, he should have just kissed her, hungrily, with wild abandon and dared her to protest.

Yes! That was it! He could see it now. They were wrestling again, each trying to gain the upper hand. He would pin her under him and press his body against hers, smashing her, controlling her. Her mouth would be open as she gasped for air and he would cover her parted lips with his as his eager tongue explored her mouth.

She would instantly relax under him, allowing her innate passion to rule her sensible mind and her tongue would meet his. She would squirm to free her hands and he would let her. Her small hands would tangle in his hair, squeeze his buttocks and slide around his back as they continued to kiss desperately. She would hold him tightly, clinging to him in passion as he continued to push himself against her.

He slid his hand into his trousers to adjust his aching erection. He imagined her firm thighs pressing against his as he slid himself down her body, positioning himself so that she could feel his need pressing against her abdomen. She would gasp with pleasure as she felt the desire between his legs. Perhaps her hand would reach for the bulge in his trousers. He moaned softly as he squeezed himself, wishing it were her hand upon his aching shaft.

“Stop it,” his mind demanded. “You don’t need to be doing this. Show some restraint!” But his body did not listen and he continued to grow harder as he thought of her.

She would squeeze him through the fabric of his trousers, her eyes wide and eager. “Legolas, I want you inside of me,” she would whisper urgently as she continued to massage his growing bulge. She would spread her legs so that he could push himself between her thighs, wanting – no, needing - to feel him there.

A low hiss of pleasure escaped his lips as his hand tightened around his aching rod. He squeezed himself and closed his eyes, a twinge of guilt quickly replaced with pleasure and carnal thoughts.

“No! You are an elf! This is beneath your nature!” The despairing voice cried out to him hopelessly. He moaned softly in response. He did not care and neither would she.

It would be her small hands fumbling in his trousers, needing to feel his engorged lust. She would gasp with delight when she felt how badly he wanted her, how completely he could fill her.

Desperately, she would pull at his clothes between searing kisses and breathless pleas, eager to have him inside of her. And he would free her from her clothing, admiring her womanly curves has his hands ran over her.

“Do not do this, Legolas!” The voice pleaded with him, lamenting his decent into the physical. “You are an elf! Control your body! Do not give in to its desires!”

He ignored the thought and continued to let the scene play out in his head as he pleasured himself, imagining that it was her hand upon his throbbing desire. Yes, it was her hand on his aching rod, stroking him, urging him to climax. Legolas closed his eyes and moaned softly as his hand moved in a quicker rhythm over himself.

When she finally removed his clothing she would be overwhelmed by his physical beauty and she would touch, kiss and lick him everywhere. Everywhere! Yes! Her soft hands would gently explore his aching flesh while her tongue flicked over his abdomen, moving lower on his quivering body while she sighed with delight at his physical being.

He would gasp in supreme pleasure as her mouth closed on his throbbing shaft. Legolas let out a small whine as he imagined the feeling of her warm mouth sucking his aching rod, her tongue flicking around the rim as her hands continued to stroke and squeeze him.

His higher nature gave one last strangled cry of denial, begging him to cease his self-pleasure, reminding him that he was beyond the physical realm but Legolas was too far gone to care. Desire raced through his veins as he gave himself over to it completely.

Her arms would wrap around his hips and she would take him completely into her mouth, sucking and licking as he writhed in ecstasy. She would not let him go. No! She would suck him until he spilled his hot liquid into her, needing to taste him.

Legolas panted shallowly as he rapidly stroked himself, needing to feel the flood of release. He wanted her. He needed her. And he would take her. Take her! His breath came in rapid gasps as his shaft contracted in his hand and he shuddered with release.

He ground his teeth as his knees shook with the force of his orgasm and all he could think of was Annowe as his body was wracked with pleasure.

Weakly, he leaned against the wall as he cleaned himself with shaking hands. How would he ever make it through the next week? Would he have to pleasure himself every single night while she lay there peacefully oblivious to his desire? No, he determined. He would claim her. It was time. She had made her own desire clear and now it was time for him to take her.

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