Deeper Waters

________________
DEEPER WATERS
________________


Chapter 5

“The stars are bright, and the air is sweet, my friend. What say you we lie beneath the trees tonight?”

Legolas turned at the top of the path and glanced at Imrahil as he spoke. Even in the near-dark, the gleam in the elf’s eyes was evident.

The man stepped up to his lover’s side as he replied. “I say it is a fine idea, providing that you promise to keep me warm while I sleep. The air may be sweet, but it carries a perilous chill to my mortal bones.”

The words had hardly left his mouth when Legolas slid smoothly into his arms, managing somehow to bring most of their bodies into contact in one sleek movement. The effect was immediate, and still startling, even after eight days of each others’ company. Imrahil’s heart seemed to double its rate, with the sole purpose of pumping hot blood to his groin.

“I do not think you need to worry about keeping warm,” the elf whispered, so close that his breath caressed the man’s cheek. “Sleep, on the other hand, may be something of a problem.”

Imrahil found himself clutching at Legolas like a man weak with fever as his lover’s tongue bega exp explore the curves of his ear. At the same time both elven hands dropped down his back to circle firmly, possessively, on his buttocks. Any attempt he might have made to regain some self control was instantly undermined as the elf started to move in his arms, rubbing against his erection with just enough force to be unbearably arousing.

“Legolas . . . ai, would you have me lose myself right here?” he groaned, as the insistent tongue began a slow and torturous journey down his neck, and the pressure of the strong thigh against his cock increased fractionally.

The elf raised his head and looked him in the eye, one hand leaving the man’s rear and sliding down between them. Imrahil forgot to breathe for a moment when his lover stroked him, hard, through the fabric of his breeches.

“Yes, I would watch you lose yourself,” the low murmur was rich with humour. “I find the prospect most alluring.”

With that, Legolas shifted his position slightly to the side, to give his hand better access. The other arm held firm across Imrahil’s back, supporting him as he gasped and staggered a little under the intensity of aching pleasure induced by the elf’s firm touch.

Imrahil turned his head to look at Legolas, dark-eyed and smiling in the gloom. The smile widened and drew closer, and then the elf was kissing him, taking his mouth – there could be no other phrase for it – with absolute, irresistible authority. Imrahil could put up no struggle; his hands still grasped the other’s shoulders uselessly, and his legs felt as if the bones had turned to water. Part of him objected to giving up so soon, when all the night lay ahead, yet the tension was building to such a peak, it could not be long.

His protest was feeble, moaned into his lover’s mouth as it was, but it did not go unnoticed. Legolas pulled his head back, although his hand continued its steady, deliberate movements.

“Why fight it, my beautiful prince?” said the elf, his voice like warm treacle. “I wager I will have you hard again within the hour, and then you shall have me, in any and every way you desire.”

This was too much for Imrahil. His body, which had been seething with lust since the elf’s first teasing contact under the table at dinner some two hours before, could no longer obey his will. Abandoning all pretence, he flung his head back, and leaned sideways into Legolas.

“Valar, I am coming!”

“Yes, now!” Legolas released the pressure of his hand at the crucial moment, leaving Imrahil suspended for an instant in painful anticipation. Then the spasms began, and the elf cupped him firmly once again, holding on until the last tremor had died down and only the warm stickiness in his clothes, and the humming of spent pleasure all through his body, remained.

“I would be a fool to take on such a wager,” Imrahil managed to say at last. “Yet perhaps I should, for I would be the winner, either way.”

“There are no losers here.” Legolas still held Imrahil firmly to him with one arm, but the other hand now moved up the man’s body to brush across his chest.

“You may not feel that way by the time I have finished with you tonight.”

“Do you intend to use me roughly, then?” the elf enquired, locating a nipple through the cloth and pinching it none too gently.

“And thoroughly, and deeply, and more than once . . . Gods, Legolas, not again, not yet! Give me a chance - to change out of these breeches, at least.”

Legolas laughed, and kissed him gently before releasing him. “Well, then, you can wash in my cabin; I can find something for you to wear – not that you will need your clothes for long. Or we could go back down to the baths if you prefer.”

“I do not think that would be advisable. We would be bound to meet others there, and in all honesty, I could not promise to keep my hands to myself to spare their blushes, or yours.”

“My father always taught me that humans have no self control, and now I see he was right.” The elf twisted neatly out of Imrahil’s range as the man growled playfully.

“You . . .”

Like two overgrown children they ran across the clearing and up the steps to the wooden door. There, Legolas allowed himself to be caught, and submitted willingly to Imrahil’s heated kiss. The demanding, forceful warrior who had brought the man to ruin moments before was nowhere to be seen.

“Just to wash and change,” said the elf, as Imrahil stepped inside. “It will be sweeter still to make love under the stars.”

Imrahil looked him up and down, slowly; imagined the long lean body spread naked across the great bed, the golden hair tangled, the fair face contorted with passion; and licked his lips.

“Just to wash and change,” he repeated, and grinned.

Imrahil intended to comply with Legolas's request and do nothing more in the cabin than wash and don clean clothes. But in spite of his resolve he lingered in the tiny bathroom, enjoying the feel of cool water and sweet soap on his skin. He was quite unsurprised to find himself aroused once more; his body's capabilities might be unusual amongst men, but it seemed they reflected his elven heritage, and allowed him at least a chance of keeping up with his irresistible lover. In the presence of the delectable elf, he had begun to wonder if he could ever be completely satisfied.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped back into the main chamber at last. All thoughts of dressing and going out into the forest fled his mind immediately, as he looked at the figure before him. Legolas stood at the foot of the bed folding a large blanket, clad only in his leggings and with his back to Imrahil. The man watched the muscles play below the elf’s gleaming skin for a moment, before making up his mind. In three strides he stood behind his lover.

"Put that down, and bend over," he said, his mouth close to a pointed ear. One of Imrahil's hands in the middle of Legolas's back urged him down until his outstretched arms were firmly braced against the bed, while the other reached to tug at his lover's leggings. "You are an exceptionally wicked elf, and I am about to give you the fucking you deserve."

Legolas complained and struggled a little, enough to play the game; but the fact that he would acquiesce was never in doubt. And as Imrahil entered him without preamble, gasping at the barely lubricated contact, the elf's cries took on a different quality altogether. By the end of it, neither was capable of intelligible speech, although there was noise aplenty.

In the middle of the night, despite their earlier exertions, Legolas indeed achieved his desire and made love to Imrahil under the stars. It was a long, slow coupling, none the less intense for that, and as the man spilled inside his lover once more, he stared down into the unfocussed blue eyes and felt the tears start in his own. The heights of physical pleasure they reached together were unprecedented, but the fact that afterwards he could lie with this magical being in his arms, and openly declare his emotions, was even more astonishing. From time to time the enormity of his feelings for the elf still overwhelmed him.

********************

A tree root digging into his hip woke Imrahil, as he rolled on his side. It could not be much later than dawn; the birds were singing but the light filtering through his still-closed lids was weak. His body felt stiff and sore - hardly surprising, all things considered. He shifted to a more comfortable position and took a moment to recall events of the previous night.

Seconds later, his mind full of hazy thoughts of love, Imrahil turned over once more and opened his eyes, only to find that he lay alone under the blankets. He did not have to look far to locate Legolas, however; the elf sat with his back against a tree a few feet away, utterly naked, and absorbed in something Imrahil could not quite see.

Loathe to disturb Legolas, yet intrigued to know what held his attention, Imrahil stealthily pushed himself up to a sitting position. The elf did not turn his head, but the hint of a smile quirked on his lips, and an eyebrow raised to let the man know that he had been noticed. Imrahil craned his neck to see what was happening on the far side of his lover’s legs, and had to bite his tongue to refrain from comment.

Legolas’s hand lay on the ground, palm up, and sitting on it was a small red squirrel. The creature was busily engaged in eating some nut or seed, seemingly quite unworried by its unusual resting place. As Imrahil watched, entranced, Legolas slowly brought his hand up in front of him until the squirrel sat before his face. The food was now finished and the little animal was cleaning its face with deft movements of tiny paws. Legolas watched intently until this serious business was concluded, before murmuring quietly in a language Imrahil could not recognise, let alone understand. The squirrel sat up on its back legs, ears and nose twitching, as it gazed at the elf for several seconds. When Legolas raised his other hand and gently stroked the rich red fur of the creature’s back, it did not so much as flinch. Then the elf murmured again, and laughed as the squirrel leapt from his hand to his shoulder, and from there away up the tree.

Imrahil allowed himself to speak. “Do not tell me that you can talk to squirrels?”

“Not in the sense of a conversation, no. Their minds are not so organised. But there is a connection there, certainly.”

The man shook his head. “You will never cease to astonish me. What do you feel when you make this connection? What does a squirrel think of?”

“Oh, food, mostly, although even that is more of a sensation than a thought. It is hard to describe. Would you like to feel it for yourself?”

“Could I?”

“Not with the squirrel… she is too excitable. I think you would frighten her. But there are other spirits in the forest. Come.”

Legolas held an arm out to Imrahil, who would not have refused the gesture, whatever spiritual treat was promised at the end of it. He crawled out from under the blanket and across to his lover. Wincing slightly as his bare foot encountered a sharp twig, he crouched before Legolas, and leaned forward for a kiss.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered, suddenly acutely conscious of the proximity of their naked bodies.

The fair elf laughed as Imrahil bent to kiss his neck, and continued on down his chest. “I thought you wanted to know what it felt like.”

“I find I am rather more interested in this.” Imrahil shifted to his knees between the elf’s legs, and with an arm resting on each pale thigh, dipped his head lower still.

Legolas’s cock was delightfully warm and soft at first, and small enough for Imrahil to roll his tongue around the whole of it with relative ease. But not for long; it grew rapidly under his loving attention, and soon Legolas was moaning softly, burying his fingers in Imrahil’s hair, holding the man’s head in place as his hips began to push upwards.

Imrahil felt a rising sense of satisfaction as the elf grew increasingly excited, and before long he was urgently hard himself. Pausing for a moment to draw breath, he wondered at how enjoyable this act was for its own sake, not just for the marvellous effect it had on his lover. He could never have expected it, but he loved Legolas’s cock, the taste, the feel, the very knowledge of it in his mouth. Given the choice, he would start every day this way.

Sensing the elf’s approaching orgasm, he timed his efforts accordingly, and was rewarded by the most beautiful of sounds.

“Imrahil . . . ai, my prince! I am coming!”

The statement was hardly necessary; there could be no mistaking the loud cries of pleasure, nor the pulsing stream of warm liquid that suddenly filled his mouth.

He took his time swallowing the last drop, then somewhat awkwardly unfolded his body, raising his head to be level with the elf’s. Legolas, flushed and wide-eyed, smiled at him.

“You seem to be rather painfully stiff, my friend. Perhaps I could help to eradicate the problem?”

Imrahil snorted. “Are you offering me a massage?”

“I had thought to ease your more short term stiffness, first.”

“Gods! If you touch me now, you will finish me in seconds.”

“Then turn around and sit – here.”

So Imrahil sat, his back against his lover’s chest, his legs stretched out between Legolas’s raised kn He He closed his eyes as the elf leant forward and reached for him, and groaned at the first delicate touch of the warm hand on his flesh.

It took far more than a few seconds. Legolas knew his lover’s body too well, and was adept at prolonging the man’s pleasure to the limit of endurance. Imrahil tried to wait, to enjoy the wealth of sensation; but as usual he was soon crying out, begging the elf for some relief.

“Be patient, sweet prince.” The musical voice breathed into his ear. “Open your eyes.”

As he obeyed his lover’s command, moaning as the gentle fingers continued to caress his cock, Imrahil became aware of the strangest of feelings elsewhere in his body. A delicious tingling began in his spine and spread through his torso, down each of his limbs, causing his fingers to straighten and spread, his toes likewise, almost as if they were growing, lengthening. The colours of the forest around him seemed to be suffused with a green glow, and its sounds had blended into a heavy murmur. The myriad scents of the wood, on the other hand, were suddenly quite distinct from each other, each one causing a sharp yet pleasurable prickling as he drew breath.

Imrahil sat still and speechless, as the slow, powerful life-pulse moved through his veins, awakening every particle of his flesh to the knowledge of its own existence. Although it was like nothing he had experienced before, he knew without doubt that what he felt was the essence of the great tree at Legolas’s back, flowing through him like rich sap, even as the elf’s skilful hand drew him over the edge and caused his own fluid to spill to the forest floor.

“Did you feel it?” The wowerewere barely more than a whisper.

“You know I did.”

“And was it good?”

“Astonishing. Legolas . . .”

“Yes, my prince?”

“I love you so much.”

As he felt the soft lips press to his shoulder in mute response, Imrahil’s valiant heart finally failed him, and he suffered a pang of anguish at the knowledge that the elf would never be able to match his declaration. For nearly a year he had tried to persuade himself that it mattered not, that what they had was enough; but in that moment, with the link between their spirits still lingering, he saw the reality too clearly, and tears filled his eyes.

“Imrahil?”

“Yes, my love.” He could not keep the emotion from his voice. Not that he should need to try; no doubt the elf could feel his grief, whether he said the words aloud or kept them to himself.

“I am sorry. I would spare you this hurt.”

“Yet you cannot.”

“What can I do?”

“Come with me to Emyn Arnen.” Imrahil spoke without forethought.

There was a pause, but then the elf’s mouth touched his shoulder again, and for an instant the man thought he heard a faint sigh.

“If it will make you happy, I shall.”

“But not to Minas Tirith?” Knowing what the reply would be, perhaps he was punishing himself for his own foolishness by asking the question. By the time this thought came to him, it was of course too late.

The shift in Legolas’s posture, a stiffening, a drawing back, was barely perceptible. It was enough to make Imrahil sit forward and then scramble around to face his lover. Legolas stared at him, apparently unwilling to respond.

“You will not,” said the man, “Of course.”

“Why would I choose to cause unnecessary pain?” The elf’s voice was low, but steady.

“Cause it to whom?” Once again the words spilled out, and before he closed his mouth, Imrahil realised the devastating truth of the answer.

“It is him you are protecting, not yourself, or me.” Imrahil spoke slowly as the full situation unfolded itself before him. “He loves you still – in spite of . . . of course . . . how could he not do so?”

Legolas reached out a hand towards his arm, his eyes full of concern. “Imrahil -”

“No, please do not say it. I have no wish to hear more. I have been a fool; the fault is mine.” He stood and scanned the clearing for his clothes.

“Please, let us talk.” Legolas was on his feet, but did not approach Imrahil as the man struggled into his leggings and shirt.

“What is there to say? I have allowed myself to believe in a fantasy of my own making, and now I must open my eyes. I would prefer to be alone.”

Even as he uttered the words he knew that part of him was begging the elf to ignore them, to rush to his side, to hold him in his arms and offer reassurance. But Legolas, respectful as ever, simply watched him as he picked up his tunic and turned downhill. The sight of him standing there, his face a mask of helpless sorrow, was almost more than Imrahil could bear.

It was desperately difficult to walk away, with the dull pain tearing through him and his eyes blurred and sore. Once his feet found the path, he simply kept going, concentrating on suppressing the urge to turn back, or to wait for the light footsteps that would surely come running after him if he stopped. It must have been the soldier in him that urged him on, even as the man was wondering what would become of him now, and how he could possibly face the bleak and endless days ahead.

To be continued…