Dangerously Besotted

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A self-satisfied grin curled its way over the lips of Boromir, Steward of Gondor, as he stood before the prone, unconscious form of the elf at his feet. A deep swelling of pride grew within in his chest and an excited flutter whirled in his gut as he took a moment to catch his breath after the long chase, and bask in the glory of his victory.

The elf below him was motionless, his limbs strewn across the ground where they had fallen when he passed out. A small bruise was flowering on his temple, and there were several places where his clothes had been torn, revealing some of the pale skin beneath.

What little guilt Boromir may have felt quickly diminished when he bent down to take a closer inspection of the fallen creature. The elf’s beauty was arresting and from that point on, he could focus on nothing else.

Awed, he reached out to sweep his fingers gently across the satin- soft contours of Legolas’ face; also noting with perverse satisfaction that this elf was unbelievably arousing in his weakened state. Perhaps it was his proclivity towards vulnerable, submissive partners that made the elf paint such a tempting picture.

A thrill of anticipation shot up Boromir’s spine. His fingers ghosted downward, mapping flesh, his touch becoming possessive as he settled a hand upon the elf’s pale, curved neck.

A brief flicker of worry crossed his features, as he felt the curiously slow pulse there. Until, turning the elf over slightly, he caught a glimpse of the arrow embedded in Legolas’ thigh, realizing that it was only a result of the tranquilizer that was used to overtake him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the man immediately made haste of removing the offending shaft, wriggling it free with the utmost care. The arrow did not need to go in very far in order for the poison to take effect. He was pleased to see there was very little blood.

“There.” He hummed softly, brushing his knuckles tenderly across the smooth flesh of jaw and cheek. His causal exploration of Legolas’ body continued, as he idly twirled a silky, golden tress between his fingers and marveled at its baby-fine softness.

A part of him remained in disbelief that this elf, this perfect, gorgeous elf, now belonged to him. That finely sculpted, angelic face … his. Those deliciously pointed ears, which begged to be nibbled on …also his. A graceful, white neck…his to nuzzle, his to lick, and bite, and mark. And that body, oh gods…how many times had he fantasized about having that lithe, archer’s body at his command?

So many things he wanted to do to this achingly beautiful creature; thinking about it made him burn. All the fantasies he had accumulated these past few weeks- and there were many- amassed at once, flashing before his eyes like slideshow of his deepest, darkest perversions.

Visions of smooth, elven thighs spread wide…a flat, heaving stomach, glistening with sweat…wild, golden hair, fanned out upon the ground…eyelashes fluttering closed and a sweet moan emitting from pink, delectable lips…copious amounts of seed leaking from the elf’s swollen and well-used hole.

Oh…already he could feel the all too familiar flush of arousal race through him. His cock swelled within seconds, adding pressure to his tightening breeches. It was amazing how just the thought of the ethereal being stirred his mortal blood like nothing else.

And now, with the object of his desires lying so helplessly before him, flushed with exertion, mouth open and lips parted so deliciously, once again, he found he could barely restrain himself from ripping off the elf’s clothes and rutting into his body like an animal in heat.

… But then, what was stopping him from doing just that? Perhaps in the past that would have been inappropriate…but the elf was his now, to dth ath as he wished. He had taken the ring from Frodo, like Saruman asked. Sent a dispatch of Orcs to deliver it to Isengard, like Saruman asked. And now, all there was left to do was claim the rewards promised to him: the elf. Oh, and not to mention his own kingdom to reign.

Boromir inwardly laughed; his ardor for the elf was so strong he nearly forgot about that part of the deal. Right now the only thing concerning him was this lovely being here in front of him. A towering castle…. his very own court… merely a comfortable and lavish atmosphere to properly fuck his elf, really.

Boromir couldn’t help but muse, with a wicked grin, at what was to come. What would the elf’s reaction be when he came out of his drugged state? Priceless, no doubt. It would be interesting to see the elf so uncharacteristically panicked and afraid for once. For in a few hours, when he awoke, Legolas would find that he was no longer the beloved, prominent Prince of Mirkwood, but Boromir’s dutiful, though no less beloved, new consort. His resistance and refusal to accept his fate would be expected, of course. But Boromir was a patient enough man. In time, Legolas would come to accept his place.

And that wasn’t to say that the process of breaking the elf wouldn’t be a pleasurable one.
No, indeed…Boromir could already imagine the look of indignity and humiliation on the elf’s beautiful face if he were trapped in such a compromising position, anger and fear warring across his fine features.

He would have to think of something extra special for Legolas once he awoke, something that would resonate and make it clear to him that he was powerless to do anything about it. Shackling the blond to a wall would be effective…or no, no…that wasn’t creative enough. Trussing him up naked, hand and foot to a bed, ah yes…that sounded considerably more appealing. In fact, anything involving Legolas naked sounded appealing.

Nevertheless, it would have to be memorable, for both him and his pretty new elven toy. Briefly he wondered; how would the proud prince of Mirkwood enjoy waking up with some sort of phallic-shaped implement wrenched up his pretty arse, fastened in place so it remained there as long as he wished? The image made Boromir groan involuntarily.

“So this is elf you wanted? Mmm…he is nice.”

The Steward’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. After all these thoughts of Legolas, all he wanted to do now was run away with his precious bounty to a safe, secluded place, and worship the tender princeling until the sun went down.

Unfortunately, there was still one small irritancy left to deal with. Or rather…several of them.

With a great deal of difficulty, Boromir managed to tear his attentions away from his elf and address the small pack of Uruk-hai that had been standing behind him for some time now.

The creatures were shifting around restlessly, weapons clutched firmly at their sides. r wor wolfish eyes, yellow and slanted, all turned to the man. The mortal felt his heart skip in fear, though he did not show it. Instead, he drew himself up formally.

“Indeed. You can understand why I’ve gone through suroubrouble to get him.”

“You mean the trouble we’ve gone through…” a hiss from the back of the group.

“Aye. That little bastard was fast.”

Boromir’s eyebrows furrowed. The rest seemed to respond in kind, grumbling to each other about what a long and difficult task it was tracking the elf down, all the while sending darting glances to Legolas as they talked. Some, like the Uruk-hai standing in front, whom Boromir assumed to be the leader, stared blatantly at the sleeping First Born. There was no denying the hunger and unchecked curiosity that dwelled within those sinister depths.

The rising tension and threat of disorder was making Boromir uneasy. Fearful for the safety of his elf, the man instinctively stepped a little closer to Legolas’ side, assuming a stance that was clearly protective to all who saw it.

“Indeed. I owe you all a debt of gratitude for assisting me. Rest assured, I will take note of it when I speak to your lord Saruman.” He answered in clipped tones, trying to keep the impatience and anger out of his voice. Why wouldn’t the slobbering degenerates just leave?

The Uruk-hai in front sneered mockingly, completely ignoring Boromir’s indignant huff when he stepped past him, and settled his gaze on Legolas.

“What attractive spoils…what say you share this luscious morsel with the ones who caught it for you?” The beast drawled, a nasty smile curling its way over his misshapen lips. His eyes shifted sideways to leer at the man expectantly.

Boromir visibly flinched.

“You can’t be suggesting…”

Another voice growled throatily. “I like that idea. He does have that nice, white flesh…I wonder what his skin tastes like...”

“I wonder what his arse tastes like!”

Boromir’s eyes went wide. His head shot up, looking for whomever it was that dared to say such a disgusting thing. Before he could find out, another crude comment was shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

“Oh, now I’m more interested in that pretty, pink mouth. I’ll bet it feels real good, all wrapped around your cock…”

“Enough!” Boromir’s heated voice broke through the raucous laughter. “You filthy beasts are not putting your repulsive tongues…or any body part for that matter…. anywhere near my elf! Do you hear me?!” He swiftly unsheathed his sword for emphasis, his chest heaving from unrepressed rage. To his annoyance, the creatures responded with mild disappointment, and not a trace of fear.

“Oh, that’s no fun. You’re no sport at all, human.”

“Yea, we weren’t going to hurt him or anythin’. Just play with him a bit.”

“Imagine the look on his face, wakin’ up with an Uruk-hai-tongue shoved up his hole!”

Boromir’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, while raucous laughter roared around him, fueling his contempt.

But at the same time, despite himself, his mind began to swim with images of Legolas actually being used by these foul things. And he could not deny that there was a certain dangerous thrill to it, as evidenced by his burgeoning arousal.

Perhaps it was not such a bad idea. He would be there, overseeing everything, so they would not be able to do anything without his permission. And he did want Legolas to be surprised with he awoke, didn’t he? What could be more startling than waking up naked, at that hands of a bunch of licentious Uruk-hai?

And so Boromir made his decision.


T.B.C…