Sing Me Good-bye

i know, i know, it's been FOREVER since i've updated or written anything and i apologize. thank you for not ranting at me about it. it takes me a while to work on these stories when i have other responsibilities and even longer to get back into the story once i am drawn away from it for a time. thank you for your patience and i hope y'all will continue to be patient when me as i try to get back into the swing of things.
love,
Ivory Wolf

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You hate snow. You freakin’ hate the damn stuff. Oh sure, it used to be an exciting event when you were younger, but now you’ve had enough of the stuff! You guess anyone would be tired of it if they had been trudging through waist-high snow for a good portion of the day. What’s worse is y’all are going uphill!

“Where’s a damn escalator when you need one,” you mumble. You slip for the trillionth time today, catching yourself before you fall.

“All right back there?” Aragorn calls.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” you retort. Your sarcasm earns a raised eyebrow from Boromir.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” he teases from behind. You have a feeling he chose walking in the back so he could stare at your ass while you trudge up the mountain. Whatever floats his boat.

“A ray of sunshine and smiles,” you say in a false cheerful voice.

“Frodo!” Sam screams. You watch as Frodo slides past you. He manages to stop only a few feet from Boromir.

You notice it before anyone else does.

The ring lies between Boromir and Frodo.

Boromir stares at it. You can almost hear what it whispers in his ear. The promise of power, glory, and. . . love?

You shake your head. That can’t be right. Why would he need a ring to find love?

The riddle leaves your mind when Boromir steps towards the ring. You feel someone’s gaze and turn to meet Gandalf’s eyes.

‘Any means possible.’

You look at the snow and do the first thing that comes to mind. You ball up the snow, take aim, and throw like it’s your only chance.

THUMP! The snow bursts to pieces as it hits Boromir’s shoulder.

Frodo takes advantage of the welcomed distraction and snatches the ring before racing to his hobbit friends.

Boromir’s stunned face is priceless. You can’t help but laugh. He looks at you, the darkness in his eyes gone. “Did you just throw snow at me?” he asks.

You shake your head and point to Aragorn. Boromir snarls. “This means war!” He balls up a snowball and throws it at the ranger.

Like in slow motion, the snowball flees from Boromir’s hand and heads for Aragorn. Everyone watches in fascination as it hits his chest. The ranger is shocked.

You bite your lip as you try to curve your laughing because you know if you don’t stop now, you won’t for quite some time.

Aragorn gathers his wits and makes a face. “I didn’t throw the damned snowball at you,” he points at you, “she did.”

Eek! Boromir’s eyes narrow as he scopes up a handful of snow.

You squeal and hide behind the hobbits. “I suppose it’s too late to ask for mercy,” you call over their shoulders.

“By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for it,” he purrs.

You shiver. God, this man is made to seduce. Even his threat on revenge gets your lower regions going.

Before he can make good on his threat, Aragorn hits him with a snowball. “That’s for getting me,” he says.

“Snowball fight,” Pippin cries as he throws snowballs at everyone in his range.

Laughter reigns through the air along with the snowballs as the war begins. Even Legolas has joined in when he nailed Aragorn on the back.

Gandalf find a comfortable rock to sit on as he enjoys watching the rest of you playfully fight.

You are hiding behind a large bank, snowballs lined up neatly at your side as you attack any in your firing range. You squeal when you feel snow slip down your shirt.

Boromir’s laughter rings in your ears as you try to get the snow out. You turn to find him looking at you with a cheeky grin.

You pounce. You knock him to the ground and stuff snow down the front of his shirt.

“Mercy,” he cries. You watch him brush as much as he can off, realizing you’re straddling him. Luckily for you, he hasn’t noticed you currently sitting situation yet. “I’m going to be cold for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, zey poor bebe,” you mock. You lean down and brush your lips against his. “I could take care of that, if you wish.”

He goes very still. His hot breath fans across your lips, close enough to kiss, yet far enough away that their not touching. His eyes widen and he seems unsure of what to do next.

You close the distance and kiss his soft, warm lips. Your eyes flutter shut when he slowly kisses back. His hand travels up your body and caresses your cheek. His tongue shyly brushes against you lips.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you murmur between kisses. “You won’t scare me off, you should know that after this morning.”

He moans at the thought. His tongue plunges into your mouth. He licks and strokes every part of your mouth, making you clutch his shirt tightly as you greedily kiss him back.

He rolls the two of you so he’s on top. His lips crush against yours as he kisses you like a starved man. One hand tangles in your hair while the other rubs the back of your thigh.

You whimper as you thrust against him. You want more, so much more. Nothing else matters. All you care about is Boromir, his lips, and his sinful hands.

He breaks the kiss. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he softly asks; “Is it all right if I kiss your neck?”

You nearly turn to mush from the cuteness of it all. You tilt his head so he’s looking in your eyes. “You don’t have to ask. Just do what feels right. I’ll tell you if I’m not comfortable with it,” you say.

“Promise?” he asks. “Because I don’t want you to-“

You silence him with a kiss. Honestly, and men say how women blabber all the time!

After nibbling on your lower lip, his kisses trail downward. You gasp when he finds a spot on your neck.

He immediately pulls back. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, alarmed.

You are panting and the man thinks he freakin’ hurt you or something. “Boromir, I swear to God, if you stop one more time I’m going to hurt you,” you growl.

His eyes widen before darken. It’s not the same darkness that invade his eyes when the ring talks to him. It’s the kind that tells a woman exactly what he wants to do to her. All of it promising pleasure.

“So, you like it when I do this?” His tongue snakes out and caresses the spot on your neck he was kissing but a moment ago.

“Uh-huh.” You pull his closer.

His hand dances up your shirt and skims under your bra, rubbing your nipple. “How about this?” he asks.

You moan and thrust into his hand.

He kisses your lips as his hand travels to the neglected breast. He teases and caresses it. His tongue enters your mouth and mimics all of the things he wants to do you to elsewhere.

Your hands claw through his shirt and touch and part of his bare back you can reach. You grip his shoulders when his rubs himself against you. His big hard self.

Holy shit!

You break the kiss and stare at him in awe. He immediately thinks he’s done something wrong. His hand jerks out from under your shirt and his lightly touches your face. “Are you okay? Did I go too far?” he asks.

“Of course everything is okay,” you snort. “It’s just. . .” You blush as you cough. “You’re so. . .” He cringes. “Big!”

He’s confused. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

Oh jeez, now you’re going to have to explain it! You feel your cheeks heat. “Your. . . you know. . .” His eyes still show his confusion. You sigh and grab his erection. “That.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he shutters against you. You can’t resist stroking it, the fabric of his pants causing delicious friction for him. “I don’t know how it’ll fit,” you say. Whether he heard or did not hear your words is beyond you. All you know is he seems to enjoy your hand very much.

He thrusts into your palm. He buries his face in your hair as he grunts.

It’s then that it dawns on you where you are at. You in Middle Earth, on a mountain with nine males, and you happen to me giving one of them a hand job while the others are snowball fighting.

. . . if they’re still snowball fighting.

You stop your ministrations. As so as you do, he growls; “Why did you stop?”

You shiver. His voice is raw and makes you want to strip right then and have your way with him.

But of course, the stupid reasonable part of you points out you don’t want to get caught snogging by the others.

“Because we can do this right now,” you say.

He jumps to his feet. “By Valor! I nearly- we nearly-“ He blushes furiously. He helps me up as he begins his apologies.

You put your finger to his lips. “Save it. I wanted it. I still want it. And I’m going to get it,” you state. “Just not with the others within screaming distance.”

He grins. “I’d like to hear you scream,” he says. He closes the space between you and kisses you again. This time he explores your mouth at a slow path. Your legs nearly turn to mush.

He breaks the kiss and gives you a smile that makes you feel purely feminine. “And I’ll fit. I’ll make sure of it.”

Arrogant seductive bastard. You almost wish he was shyer about the whole matter. Almost.

“Now, let’s join the others before they notice our absence.”

Before you can come up with a proper comment, he slaps your rump before jumping over the bank and rushing back into battle.

You grin. To hell with shy, you’d take the arrogance any day.

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