Riding Lessons

Pairing: Legolas/Éomer
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Always welcome at c_rhodora@hotmail.com
Setting: Post-RotK, AU
Summary: Thranduil and his family have sailed West, leaving Legolas as the new King of Greenwood. Legolas decides that a horse trade with the King of Rohan is in order.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No infringement or offence is intended.
Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the excellent Waters of Cuivienen fest challenge. Many thanks and praises to my beta readers, Zasjah and Panthera. This is dedicated to Dodger for putting up with me.

Part VI. Interlude: In the Shadows of Meduseld

Legolas leaned back against the velvet armchair as Aduial took him in her mouth. He was aware of how skilled she was in this arena but as he closed his eyes, his mind conjured up another face that made the Elf smile. He imagined that it was not an Elven Princess who pleasured him, but a King of Men. He could almost feel the bristles of Éomer’s rough beard tickle his thighs and smell the heady mix of saddle soap and polished leather that seemed to follow the Man wherever he went. Even now the scent seemed to be lingering in the room, but Legolas attributed to that to his vivid imagination. And besides, the Elf reasoned, he had been in close proximity to the Horse Lord earlier that evening. No doubt the Man’s scent had rubbed off on him.

A soft sound from the door caught the Elf’s attention and he opened his eyes, automatically looking in the direction of the darkened corridor. With his senses now alert the smell of saddle soap and polished leather was stronger than ever, assuring the Elven King that it was not only his vivid imagination at work. Someone was there. Legolas stared intently at the heavy gauze curtains that covered the doorway. He could almost detect movement behind them but he was not certain. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of the shuffling of feet as irregular steps faded down the hallway. The Elf smiled again to himself, knowing that his ploy to leave the door ajar had been a success.

Satisfied, Legolas rested his head against the armchair once more, glancing down at the fiery head of hair that was nestled in between his legs and he let out a ragged breath. Aduial had not stopped her actions, completely oblivious to their secret guest. She was taking him deeper now and increasing her pace. Legolas knew that he would come soon and he shut his eyes again bringing forth that handsome face with the deep-set brown eyes and the tender smile. He pictured the sensuous mouth and remembered how it had tasted; imagining that it was the same mouth he spilled into now, and the Horse Lord’s name almost escaped his lips.

~*~*~*~

Éomer had seen enough. In fact, he had seen too much. Blood pounded in his temples and his body felt as though it were on fire. From somewhere deep inside him he knew that he wished to partake in their pleasure but it was not his place to do so. Therefore, he did not see the rapture on Legolas’ face as the Elf reached his climax, his mouth silently forming the Horse Lord’s name. Éomer was not present when Aduial looked up from her completed task and was instantly seized by the Elven King in a searing kiss. The Man could not have known that he was the driving force behind that passion.

The Horse Lord did not see Legolas lift the Elven Princess to her feet and then carry her into the bedchamber. He would have been grateful that he did not watch as Legolas laid his companion on the soft bed, nor how Aduial reached out invitingly and how Legolas accepted. Éomer could only guess how prepared Aduial was to receive Legolas, but he never would have imagined that the n Kin King had no desire to lay with the beautiful Elven maid. He would have been surprised to see Legolas lift Aduial’s velvet gown and caress her smooth legs before finally pleasuring her with his strong fingers. Afterwards, the Rohan King would have seen his counterpart tenderly bid the princess a good night and discreetly leave the room as Aduial’s eyes glazed over into Elven reverie.

Éomer could not possibly have known all that had transpired after his departure as he stumbled down the deserted hallway in his disoriented state. He wished to make his way back to his own rooms but could not remember the direction. Needing to stop for a moment to still his rapidly beating heart, the Man finally rested his head against the cool stone wall in a darkened part of the hallway, several few feet away from the nearest burning torch. His tunic had begun to feel warm and he haphazardly untied some of the top laces with his right hand. Once that was done, Éomer rested the same hand over his heart, as if by doing so he could remove the dull ache he felt inside. His heartbeat was returning to normal, and as it did so that hand moved further down his body, undoing the laces of his breeches and slipping inside almost of its own accord. It was madness to do this here where someone could stumble upon him. With his eyes shut the Horse Lord summoned the face of the golden being that haunted his thoughts, the blue eyes that pierced his very soul and the melodic voice that soothed him with its gentle tones. It said, “Why does the King of the Riddermark stand by himself in the shadows of a hallway in Meduseld?”

“I am lost,” Éomer answered truthfully.

“Shall I help you find your way?”

The Horse Lord laughed, an unmistakable sadness in the sound. “Will you help me find my way?” he repeated. “Or will you lead me further astray?”

“Is that what you think I am doing?”

Éomer did not reply but let out a low sigh, his eyes still closed. He knew that Legolas was standing behind him now even though he had not heard the Elf approach. The clean smell of fresh pine was near him, followed by the feeling of a warm body pressed against his own as the Elf embraced him and rested his chin on Éomer’s shoulder. They stayed that way for several moments in silence.

Finally Éomer asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Returning to my chambers,” Legolas answered. “You do realize that are are standing a few feet away from my door?”

Éomer glanced to his right where the torch burned by the frame of a wooden door. As a matter of fact, he had not realized that he had stopped beside the Elven King’s room and a wry smile crossed his face. “No,” he said quietly. “I was too preoccupied to notice.” But my subconscious appears to be doing most of my thinking tonight, was the thought that he did not voice.

“I see.”

Legolas’ tone was contemplative and the Man wondered what move the Elf would make next. As if in answer to his silent question, the Horse Lord could feel the Elf shift behind him, lifting one hand to brush Éomer’s long mane over the Man’s left shoulder. Then he bent down again and placed a tender kiss on the now exposed neck. Éomer let out another sigh. He could feel his heartbeat quickening. Unconsciously taking his lead from the Elf, he leaned further into Legolas’ embrace, placing his right hand against the wall to give him leverage. Legolas had wrapped one arm around his waist and Éomer covered it with his own, almost desperate to keep his companion in place.

Legolas could feel Éomer’s sudden urgency and he tried to placate him with soft kisses along his neck and the circular massaging motion of his other hand on the Man’s chest. Gradually he worked his way down until his hand slipped into the open breeches. Éomer sucked in his breath and released it through gritted teeth.

“Will you finish what you start?” he asked.

“I *always* finish what I start,” Legolas whispered in his ear, flicking out his tongue to lick the outer curve, making the Man shudder at the sensation.

Legolas allowed his fingers to tangle in the rough curls until he reached the base of the Man’s half-erect shaft. With a few smooth strokes he brought Éomer to full hardness and then he stopped. He relished the feel of the Man in his hand, taking his time to explore the breadth anngthngth of him. Éomer was well-endowed, the Elf thought with a small smile as he ran his thumb over the top length of the shaft, pausing to draw lazy circles the tip and then traveling along the backside, finally stopping to give the sacs a gentle squeeze.

“Legolas, please,” Éomer gasped. The Elf’s exploratory actions were maddening, sending him to the brink of release but never granting it.

“Patience,” Legolas said softly, firmly gripping the Man’s shaft as he did so. His other arm tightened around the Horse Lord’s waist, anticipating that Éomer would attempt to set his own pace by thrusting into his hand. Éomer groaned in frustration as Legolas stilled his actions, forcing him to abide by the Elf’s wishes. Legolas would not always be in control, the Man silently promised himself.

Legolas set an irregular pace, alternately squeezing and stroking the leaking shaft. He was still testing the boundaries of the Man’s resilience, wondering how much the Rohan King could take before he was reduced to begging. For his part, Éomer said nothing, resting his head against the Elf’s shoulder, eyes half-shut as he endured the Elf’s agonizing actions. Impressed by his partner’s fortitude, Legolas eventually steadied his rhythm, marking the Man’s ragged deep breathing and the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. He was applying long, smooth strokes now and Éomer turned his head to the right, burying it into the crook of the Elf’s neck and inhaling Legolas’ sweet scent.

“It is not enough,” Éomer heard himself whisper and then froze, not quite believing what he had just revealed.

Legolas broke off his actions, his lips curving into a slow smile. With a quick kiss on Éomer’s cheek, he slid down the Man’s body in one fluid motion until he was kneeling before him. Éomer looked down in anticipation, torn between the desire to feel the Elf take him in his mouth and the realization that things were progressing too quickly for his mind to comprehend the consequences. Legolas locked eyes with him briefly and desire trumped rational thought when the Elf dived down, all pretense of patience far from both their thoughts.

Éomer stifled a moan as Legolas took him deep, teeth gently scraping against his most sensitive parts. The Elf steadied him with one hand at the waist and another behind the Man’s right thigh. Éomer was thankful for the support, certain that he would have collapsed without it. Already he could feel his knees threatening to buckle from the sheer pleasure Legolas’ talented mouth was providing. The Elf studiously continued in his task, knowing that the Man was near his peak. In a matter of moments his mouth was flooded with a thick salty fluid that he swallowed without hesitation, ignoring the bitter taste that too often reminded him of the Edain’s mortality.

Once Éomer was spent, he felt his body relax, releasing the tension that had been with him since the Elf’s arrival earlier that afternoon. He slumped forward and found himself once again caught in the Elf’s embrace as Legolas rose to his feet after diligently tying the Horse Lord’s breeches. The Elf’s smile was tender as he gently kissed the Man’s brow and brushed the sweat stained hair away from his face. The fluttering kisses continued down the side of his face until their lips met and Éomer returned the kiss fervently. He could taste his own essence in the Elf’s mouth and he wondered how Legolas could stand the bitter aftertaste. He was certain that the Elf would not taste the same but doubted that he would ever have the courage to find out, and this realization filled him with an immense sadness that he channeled into their kiss.

The Elven King, mistaking his counterpart’s desperation as a sign of eagerness, broke off the kiss to pull away and look his partner squarely in the eye. He held Éomer’s hand in his own as he pulled the Man towards his lighted doorway.

“Shall we continue this inside?” he asked in a low seductive voice.

Éomer shook his head. “I cannot,” he whispered, his voice breaking over the last syllable.

Understanding dawned upon the Elf and he released the Man’s hand.

“Very well,” Legolas conceded. He looked at the floor briefly, hiding a sad smile from the Rohan King before speaking again. His tone changed as he said, “Tomorrow I shall begin the process of selecting horses as was stipulated in our trade agreement. Naturally, I shall stay until a suitable rider is found for Echuir,” he added, “and will also assist in their training.”

Then Legolas took another step towards the Man, cupping Éomer’s cheek with his left hand. Éomer unconsciously leaned into the touch.

“My door remains open to you, Éomer,” he offered. “When you are ready.”

With these words, the Elf kissed him chastely on the lips before turning around and disappearing into his room, leaving the King of Rohan to stand alone in thadowadows of the silent hallway.

tbc...