The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Belo uum – don’t move
Cuaren – my archer
Ito nin – tell me
Chen – you
Maba nin – take me
Malion uum – I don’t care
Mani anira – what do you want
Manke anira tyaaven? – where do you want my touch?
Mano – who
Quelidra – nice
Ae syntrea chen – please

Chapter 52


I waited, more or less patiently, for him to make up his mind. His eyes settled finally on the rug in front of the fireplace. He took my hand and led me closer to the soothing warmth of the fire. “Sit,” he instructed as he moved around the room.

I did as he asked, curious to see what he would devise, now that he had the opportunity to script our lovemaking. He gathered the pillows from his bed and arranged them around me on the floor, building a comfortable nest where we could recline. The servants had left a tray of fruit and some wine on the table beside Aragorn’s bed. He retrieved the tray as well, setting it within easy reach. Finally, he dug in the drawer of his dresser, eventually locating a bottle of oil. It joined the tray on the floor. When everything was arranged to his satisfaction, he joined me amid the pile of pillows. “You are overdressed,” he observed casually.

“Do something about it,” I challenged. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“So that is the way you want this to be? So be it.” He reached for my robes, drawing them off slowly, leaving me clad only in a thin undertunic and my leggings. Just as slowly, he divested me of the rest of my garments, taking care not to touch my bare skin as he did so. The torture had apparently already begun. In a matter of minutes, I lay naked before him, fully aroused just from the thought of what was to come. He sat back on his heels, still fully clothed, and regarded me carefully. He had stared at me before, but never with the intensity of that night. His gaze was as potent as a touch on my skin.

“Belo uum,” he told me softly before trailing gentle fingers across my cheek to my ear. I relaxed into the caress, willing to do as he asked. I forced myself not to tilt my head toward his seeking finger as it teased around the tip of my ear. Aragorn knew how sensitive my ears were. He was obviously going to take me at my word when I told him I wanted him to draw out our lovemaking. I had offered, though, to let him take charge of our interactions, and I refused to go back on that, so I prepared myself to endure whatever delicious torments he invented.

Torment me he did. His fingers brushed, ever so lightly, over the tip of my ear. Back and forth. Pausing, teasing, until I gave in and leaned into the caress. Immediately, his fingers pulled back. “Belo uum,” he repeated. When I stopped moving, his fingers returned to my ear again, with a firmer touch this time, driving me wild, as he knew it would. I did not turn my head this time, not wanting him to stop, but it was difficult. I needed his touch like I needed my next breath.

His fingers trailed down the curve of my neck, lingering for a moment just behind my ear, at the spot that was so sensitive on his own body. I enjoyed his touch, wherever and whenever, butt spt spot did not have the effect on me that it did on him, so he moved on, down my neck, over my collarbone, teasing across my chest. I had told him to take his time, to reduce me to begging, but I had not expected to arrive at that stage so soon.

“Ae syntrea chen,” I whispered, wanting his fingers on my nipples.

“Already?” he replied with a taunting smile. “I thought E wer were renowned for their self-control.” Elves might have been, but they had never been subjected to this kind of temptation. I squirmed a little, trying to better position myself, to catch his caress where I wanted it, but his hands immediately lifted away.

“You are cruel,” I told him.

“You deserve it,” he replied. I stilled my movements yet again, waiting impatiently for his hands to return to my body. I was obviously not going to be able to speed up this process, despite my best efforts. He was taking my words about revenge to heart.

Still avoiding my nipples, Aragorn ran his hands across my sto. “. “Quelidra,” he commented as he explored the muscles there, one finger dipping in my navel and out, mimicking the motion our bodies would soon be engaged in. I hoped.

His hands moved over my hips, lingering on the sensitive skin where my thigh met my torso, inching close to my aching arousal, but never quite touching. Then they moved on, down my legs, still kneading and probing, still stoking my desire.

I had never thought that the backs of my knees could be erogenous zones, not until he put his teasing hands there, and tantalized me. I would have sworn it was impossible for me to grow more aroused, but I did. With every brush of his wicked fingers. I had managed to still the sounds of my pleasure as I had my movements, but soon, he was wringing moans from me with just his touch on my knees, my calves, my feet. When he lifted one of my feet to his mouth, sucking on a toe, I thought I would lose control.

“Ae syntrea chen,” I said again, well aware that he had reduced me to begging.

He released my foot and leaned over me. “Mani anira?” he asked me, his lips almost brushing my ear as he spoke.

“Chen,” I whispered, voice hoarse with passion.

“Ito nin,” he taunted, his breath hot against my ear. “Manke anira tyaaven?”

I do not know if he really expected me to forte ate an answer, to pick a place for him to touch, but I was beyond such considerations. “Malion uum,” I criedis mis mouth took mine, then, in a soul-searing kiss, hotter than the fire that burned in the grate behind us. I could not help myself; my arms came around him, pulling him close against me. He tolerated the embrace for the length of the kiss. Then, he caught my hands in his and pinned my wrists above my head.

“Belo uum,” he repeated again, his lips against my ear, teasing me mercilessly. His request was growing quickly impossible. I could withstand many things, but his teeth and tongue on the tip of my ear was one thing I could not withstand. I squirmed amid the pillows, desperate for his touch. Any touch. Even the brush of his robes against my skin.

His lips left my ear and followed the same path his fingers had taken earlier. Down my neck, over my collarbone, and across my chest, studiously avoiding my now aching nipples.

“Estel,” I pleaded, the name I knew best escaping my lips.

“Mano?” he asked.

I could not believe that he was still rational enough to care about what name I used, as long as it was one of his own, but I gave him what he wanted. “Aragorn.”

And he gave me what I wanted. Or at least, part of what I wanted. His lips latched on to one sensitive nipple, grazing it with his teeth, laving it with his tongue. I screamed my pleasure. I was beyond any thought of decorum or restraint. He was pushing me farther into ecstasy than I had ever gone without reaching a peak. When his lips left my nipple and moved lower, I relaxed, sure that he had tortured me enough and was finally going to give me surcease.

I was wrong. His lips bypassed my erection, though they lingered temptingly along the crease between hip and thigh, before moving to the tendon at the back of my knee.

“Aragorn,” I cried again, conscious of getting the name right the first time, “maba nin.”

“Soon, cuaren,” he replied.

Soon? He was enjoying himself far too much at my expense. I wegineginning to regret offering him such complete control, but I had given my word. I would just have to find a way to survive.
That began to seem more possible when his lips moved back up my thigh, inching closer to my shaft. Then, he bit down on the inside of my thigh. Hard. The cry I let loose could have been heard in Mirkwood. Why no one came to investigate, I have never known. Words tumbled out of my lips, begging, pleading for him to end my torment, to make love to me, to clai. I. I have no idea if they made any sense, but Aragorn seemed to understand. He reached for the oil, coating his fingers with the viscous fluid. My hands clenched into fists, twisting the pillows surrounding us as I struggled not to reach for him.

“Relax,” he murmured as his fingers explored, seeking the entrance to my body. I was long past the stage where I could react the way he wanted, but I spread my legs, encouraging his touch. One finger probed me gently, but firmly, demanding that I let him in. My mind was past the point of ordering my body, but my muscles knew that touch and relaxed, allowing him inside me. I groaned at the penetration, reveling in the feeling of him inside me after so long. I waited with bated breath for his finger to find the sensitive spot within me, but it did not, picking up a rhythm of thrust and withdraw without ever touching the bundle of nerves that would push me past pleasure and into release.

All thought of pride had long since been abandoned. I begged shamelessly. For another finger. For the touch that was missing. For him to come inside me. For release. He ignored all my pleas, keeping to his slow rhythm with that one finger.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he consented to insert a second finger, though he still avoided my pleasure point. A third finger joined the others, stretching me, preparing me for the rest of his plans. If I could have looked, I know my knuckles would have been white with the strain as he worked my sensitive passage.

I had reached such a heightened state of desire that every touch increased my passion, even that of the cloth against my back. That made the sudden withdrawal of Aragorn’s fingers even more painful. I cried out in protest as he pulled away.

“enceence,” he commanded as he rose. I was well beyond patience, almost sobbing in my need, as I watched him remove the formal robes he had worn to the feast. Underneath, he wore, as I had, a shirt and leggings. He took his time undoing the shirt, making the effort to loosen the laces all the way down the front, so that it hung open at his sides, rather than pulling it over his head as soon as he could. Though my body was still aching with unfulfilled desire, the momentary respite from his onslaught helped restore a measure of my control, and I was able to marvel that he still had the presence of mind to tease me with this slow undressing.

His leggings followed his shirt, until he finally stood naked before me.

“How much more can you take, cuaren?” he challenged.

“Not much,” I replied honestly. I felt ready to explode at the slightest touch. “Maba nin,” I asked again.

He knelt besid, th, then, reaching for my shoulder and rolling me onto my stomach. I let him arrange me as he pleased, still determined to leave the decisions in his hands. I heard the pop of the cork as he opened the vial of oil again, then felt a cool drizzle over my buttocks and in my crease. He rubbed it into my skin, caressing suggestively. Then, suddenly, his hand fisted in my hair, drawing my head back as he drove himself into me. I cried out at his sudden possession, but he was beyond hearing me. The teasing he had inflicted on me had finally pushed him beyond his own limits. I could do nothing but submit as he took me roughly, pounding his pent-up frustrations into my willing body. For even then, I was willing. If this was what it took to make things right between us, to exorcise the anger of the past months, I would do it gladly. As often as it took. His mouth landed on my shoulder, right where it met my neck, and he bit down, hard enough to break the skin. I cried out in ecstasy as the combined sensations overwhelmed me and I gave in to release. His own orgasm followed seconds later. He collapsed on top of me, his weight a heady reminder of all that had come before.

It took many long minutes before we could move, but Aragorn eventually rolled to my side. I lay where I was a few minutes longer, willing my heartbeat to return to normal.

“Legolas?” Aragorn prompted when I did not move.

“I am fine, melethron. I just have no strength left to move.”

Aragorn chuckled as he reached for a piece of the fruit on the tray. “Perhaps this will help,” he suggested, feeding me a slice of peach. I took it, licking the juice from his fingers, but it was a reflexive gesture, not one intended to arouse. After what we had just shared, it was all I could offer. I had a vague thought of moving to the bed, but we were comfortable there by the fire, and there we stayed. As sleep overtook us, a stray thought crossed my mind. Everything would be all right now.