Underneath It All

Title: Underneath It All
Author: laeglass
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Aragorn/Legolas
Summary: The day after.
Feedback: Oh please.
Betaed by thedancingferret. Thank you! :)

Disclaimer: Everyone and everything you recognize belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am not him.

A/N: I’m totally humbled by the amazing feedback that I have received. What can I say except thank you to you all. :) (And please forgive the delay.)


Legolas woke up slowly, blinking his blue eyes, his consciousness returning little by little. He grimaced slightly at the faint dizzy feeling in his head, blaming it on the dwarven wine and made a decision not to ever drink it again. The Prince’s eyes widened as he realised that he wasn’t in his own bedchamber this morning and that he wasn’t alone in the bed. Everything that had happened the night before returned to him in a rush and he blushed in shame. Had he really let Aragorn take him not once but twice in a space of a few hours? Had he really lost all sense of propriety in favour of carnal pleasures? Legolas felt deeply ashamed as he thought about what his father would say if he knew; he would call his son wanton and humanlike.

What made Legolas even more embarrassed was the fact that he had found pleasure in Aragorn’s touch; he had enjoyed every caress bestowed upon him, revelled in every kiss that had landed on his lips and loved the feeling of Aragorn’s manhood inside his body. The King’s gentleness had astonished him the night before; he was so masculine and so manly that one would expect him to be rough and demanding in the bedchamber, but so far Legolas had only seen the tender side of him. The Elf rolled onto his left side and blanched a little as he felt a slight sting in his opening. As gentle as the man had been, he was still well-endowed and to a certain extent, the hurt couldn’t be helped.

Legolas felt his lips curl upward as he saw that Aragorn was still asleep, but his amusement turned to horror as he realised that the man’s eyes were closed. He had never seen anyone sleep with their eyes closed and his first thought was that somehow Aragorn had fallen ill during the night and was in need of a healer. Gently the Elf lowered his palm on the man’s forehead to check if he was fevered and frowned as he found the skin to be of normal temperature. He also noticed that his breathing was normal and, all in all, everything seemed to be all right. Legolas was so caught up in examining the human’s body that he didn’t notice when Aragorn opened his eyes and regarded him in amusement.

“Is something amiss, Legolas?” The King asked, his voice still rough and husky from sleep; he had been woken up by Legolas’ fussing. He couldn’t help the foolish smile that spread on his face at the sight of the Elf’s surprise.

“I did not notice that you were awake”, Legolas all but stuttered as he met the stormy grey eyes that regarded him with almost frightening intensity. “I was concerned; you had your eyes closed and I was worried that some sickness had befallen you.”

“Why would you think that?” Aragorn asked curiously, enjoying the sight of the sleep-mussed Prince; his usually perfectly combed hair was in wild disarray and his cheeks were still flushed from sleep. A sudden impulse hit him and he pulled Legolas close against his body, taking his lips in a gentle, undemanding kiss, but when he felt the Elf respond, he pressed the fair creature against the mattress and pinned him under his greater weight. A soft moan escaped Legolas’ lips before Aragorn’s tongue touched his and all rational thought escaped his mind. The rough stubble that covered the man’s cheeks scratched his smooth skin but Legolas didn’t mind; no, instead he relished the slight sting.

When they finally parted, Legolas was breathless and gazed up at his mate with bright eyes, his emotions plainly visible in the blue depths. Aragorn smiled at him and leaned in to kiss him again. Legolas spread his legs subconsciously to let the Man settle between them and gasped as Aragorn’s rigid manhood came into contact with his own. It surprised him that Aragorn was hard already; it seemed that it didn’t take much to rouse him. A sudden desire filled Legolas so intensely that he was momentarily robbed of breath.

“Inside”, he breathed into Aragorn’s ear as soon as he was capable of speech and closed his eyes as he felt the Man’s lips on his neck, sucking on his skin, marking him as Aragorn’s property. A mere few days ago the notion of him belonging to someone else would have been repulsive for him, but now it felt good; it felt like this was the way it should be. A part of him was aware of the fact that Aragorn simply wanted to sire a child to ensure the future of his kingdom, but another part insisted that it didn’t matter, not when Aragorn made him feel so good, so wanted.

Aragorn felt himself grow impossibly harder at the breathy command; he couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as he wanted Legolas at that moment. The Elf’s naked body beneath his, trembling in helpless arousal; his silken thighs cradling him heightened his passion to an almost unbearable degree. “I can deny you nothing,” he murmured against the damp, sweet smelling neck and reached for the small vial of oil. He prepared Legolas’ opening with utmost care, mindful both of Legolas being relatively inexperienced, having lost his virginity only the previous night, and the entrance’s sensitivity after being taken twice in the space of a few hours.

“I am ready,” Legolas said a bit impatiently. His need for the Man was so great it burned but deep inside, he was glad that Aragorn ignored his own need, taking the time to prepare him. It was no small feat to take the King’s manhood inside when it was fully hard, and it was doubly as difficult for Legolas, who had only been taken twice before.

“I would have you from behind, were you willing,” Aragorn said roughly as he slicked his cock with the oil. The thought of taking Legolas again made him almost light-headed; the pleasure of bedding a virgin had indeed been well nigh overwhelming the night before, and the idea of taking the Elf now in a new position excited him even further. And, Aragorn reasoned, as long as his thoughts were ruled by lust, he didn’t have to think about why his heart seemed to skip a few beats every time he looked deeply into Legolas’ lovely blue eyes.

Legolas lowered his gaze coyly but then nodded. He knew that was the position in which animals mostly mated; he had seen stallions and mares couple in Mirkwood. Aragorn rose so that the Elf could turn around to lie on his stomach. Legolas shivered as his erect manhood came into contact with the smooth linen and ground his hips against the bed in slow, rolling thrusts.

Just as Aragorn was fitting the tip of his cock to the Elf’s entrance, there was a knock on the door. “Sire, forgive me, but the Steward Boromir requests an audience at once,” a man said from the other side of the door. “He said ‘tis an urgent matter.”

Aragorn cursed emphatically as he rolled off of Legolas and stood up from the bed. “And this cannot wait?” he asked loudly, already searching for his clothes with his eyes. He knew Boromir well enough to know that he wouldn’t call upon him on the morning after his wedding night were it not important and unavoidable, but the knowledge didn’t help his aching erection that yearned to be buried deep inside his Elven husband.

“I am sorry but no,” the servant said apologetically. Aragorn sighed and then spoke again.

“Give me a few moments to regain my decency. I will join the Steward in his study as soon as I am able.”

“Thank you, sire.”

The King turned to look at the Elf who had sat up on the bed and wrapped the bedcover around his slender frame. At that moment, Aragorn deeply regretted the fact that he’d have to leave his beautiful mate unsatisfied. “Forgive me,” the man said humbly. “I must tend to my duties elsewhere, it seems.”

Legolas nodded curtly but his eyes wouldn’t meet Aragorn’s. “Very well, the kingdom needs you more than I do,” he said lightly. “Could you please hand me my robe? I think I should like to break fast soon.”

“You do not need to leave, I can ask the servants to bring you breakfast up here,” the King was quick to say. “Please, take your time. Just because duty demands me elsewhere, it does not mean that you cannot enjoy a peaceful morning.”

Legolas nodded again and then his eyes skirted to regard the man’s erect manhood. “You are going to go and meet the Steward in that state?” he asked, smiling, and then blushed at the boldness of his question. Aragorn looked at him with a bemused expression as he laced his breeches and pulled on a tunic.

“My state is a source of amusement to you?” he asked archly and let his lips curl into a smile at the sight of Legolas’ dishevelled hair and kiss-swollen lips. “Legolas,” he said, more gently this time. “Believe me when I say that this interruption is as much an annoyance to me as it is to you. You must have noticed how your presence affects me, and I want you to know that were this not a matter of the state, I would not leave you thusly on our first morning as a wedded couple.”

“You need not explain, Aragorn,” the Elf said. “I am the son of a King and know that the King’s duty to his kingdom always comes first; it has to come first. I think that I would not think very highly of you were you to favour… mating over your Steward’s request,” he concluded, a slight blush staining his cheeks. “So go, and find out what it is that demands your immediate attention.”

Aragorn smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and went to stand in front of Legolas who had moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The Elf obediently lifted his chin and allowed his mouth to be taken in an unhurried, gentle kiss. When their eyes met again, Legolas’ expression was serious.

“I asked Tiríon to join me after breakfast. Is it fine with you if I meet with him here in our chambers?” Legolas asked softly, his eyes guarded and watchful.

“Yes, of course,” the King said and then kissed Legolas’ forehead again. “I am sorry but I really need to go now.”

Legolas watched his husband leave the room and then he lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. How could it be that he forgot all sense of propriety the moment Aragorn touched him; how Aragorn’s kisses ignited a fire in him that threatened to consume him whole? Legolas pressed his burning cheek to the cool pillow and took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in his lower belly. Having been aroused to an unbearable degree and then denied release, he found it very hard to relax. Eventually his arousal died down and Legolas sighed with relief; he hadn’t wanted to take himself into hand for it would have seemed so inappropriate after the tender encounter with Aragorn.

Someone knocked on the door and a voice announced that they were bringing breakfast for the Prince Consort at the King’s request. Legolas sighed and got up from the bed. His first day as the husband of the King of Gondor was about to begin.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Legolas was just finished eating the fresh baked rolls with honey when his father’s advisor arrived. The Prince smiled as he wiped the crumbs off of his lap and rose from his chair to receive Tiríon.

“Good morning, Prince,” the elder Elf said curiously, taking in Legolas´ radiant smile and easy composure. This was not how he had expected to find his young charge, given how nervous and agitated he had been the night before. “I take it that you slept well?”

Legolas blushed and lowered his gaze. “Aye, I did sleep very well,” he admitted quietly. “Ara- King Elessar was very… understanding and I found out that it was quite silly of me to be so afraid of him yesterday.”

The advisor sensed that some change had indeed occurred in Legolas, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “Tell me, Legolas; what are your feelings for your husband now that you have consummated your marriage?”

Legolas stiffened at the familiarity of the question. “I fail to see how that is any of your business,” he said rather coldly while trying to avoid Tiríon’s gaze. He was aware that the other Elf knew him well enough to know that something had indeed changed in how Legolas viewed his husband, but those feelings were too new and too close to his heart for him to want to share them with anyone. “The only thing you need to know is that the marriage has indeed been consummated and I fare well.”

Tiríon seemed unfazed by Legolas’ cold demeanour. He nodded towards the stuffed chairs in front of the fireplace and raised an eyebrow at the Prince. “Why do we not sit down and discuss a bit? I know you are rather unwilling to discuss such intimate matters, but I feel that I need to speak to you about things.”

“Very well,” the Prince conceded as he went to sit down on one of the chairs, folding his hands in his lap.

“I can see that the Man has been kind to you,” the advisor began when he too was properly seated, “and I am glad it is so. However I am alarmed by the fact that you now seem to be so taken with him.” Legolas eyed him warily and didn’t say anything. Tiríon sighed; the Prince had obviously decided to be stubborn. “Legolas, you must bear in mind that he wants an heir and in order to have a son, he must mate with you.”

“I am aware of that, thank you,” Legolas said. “What was it that you wanted to say to me?”

“Have you conceived?” Tiríon asked bluntly, trying to see if there were any visible signs of being with child. A pregnant Elf became even more radiant and had a soft glow to their skin that lasted throughout the pregnancy, and their personality tended to become even more gentle and nurturing. Legolas looked very much the same as the night before, except for the sparkle in his eyes. In Tiríon’s opinion, the young Prince always had a certain glow about him and his beauty was known throughout Middle-earth, so he couldn’t tell for sure if Legolas had fallen pregnant or not.

Legolas shook his head. “I am not sure,” he confessed, twisting his hands in his lap. “I do not know how it should feel like.” He looked at the advisor pleadingly. “I felt some fluttering in my stomach this morning, but I cannot feel it any longer.”

“A fluttering? Describe it to me,” Tiríon said interestedly and raised an eyebrow as the Prince blushed once again. “Legolas, this is not the time to be coy.”

“It was when my husband touched me,” Legolas explained. “I felt some tingling in my stomach at first, but then it… stopped. Other than that I do not feel any different.”

Tiríon frowned in disapproval as he thought that Legolas was jesting with him. “That is not a laughing matter, Prince,” he said sternly. “I am fully aware that you feel attracted to the King, and he may be prone to sampling your delights, but you must understand that the agreement between Elessar and your father will be fully valid only after you have conceived. You should encourage him to couple with you often, by all means, but do not get too carried away.”

“I have not gotten carried away,” Legolas insisted. “Besides, what does it matter that I am not yet pregnant? That was only our first night together and I am certain there will be many more.” He couldn’t help the little smile that came on his lips at the thought of spending more nights with Aragorn. Not only because his touch was so pleasant, but also because being in his arms and being held close to his heart made Legolas feel secure and wanted. The elder Elf noticed his dreamy expression and felt that it was his duty to set the Prince straight.

“Your feelings are wasted on a mortal, Legolas; Men do not feel as strongly nor as deeply as Elves do. They are incapable of such emotions,” Tiríon said, not completely unkindly. “I fear that Elessar will never be able to return your feelings as you perhaps wish; and that in turn makes me fear for you.”

Legolas was filled with a sudden rage that robbed him of words. And how would you know that? he wanted to ask. How are you supposed to know what another person is capable of? He was shocked to the core by the presumptuous nature in which Tiríon uttered the words. Legolas had always been aware of the fact that many of the Firstborn regarded Men as less worthy and below them, but to hear such condescending words coming from someone who he had always thought of as a friend was beyond hurtful.

“If he is so unworthy and incapable of feeling anything for me, how is it that I now find myself wedded to him?” he asked bitterly, getting up from the chair and looking down at the advisor. “Certainly my dear father would wish me better?”

“I meant no insult, Legolas,” Tiríon said, standing up as well. “Please try to understand. No matter what your feelings are for Elessar, in time he will grow old and pass the circles of this world. Your father would not have you go with him.”

Legolas felt his anger dissipate and his shoulders slumped in defeat. That was something he hadn’t given much thought. “Sweet Valar,” he said as he realised that what Tiríon said was true; one day Aragorn was going to die and leave him and their children behind. He couldn’t help the tears that started to fill his eyes at the thought of Aragorn’s death, and he had to turn his face away so as not to reveal his feelings. Tiríon saw his emotional turmoil, though, and his heart was not unmoved by the Prince’s anguish.

“Guard your heart, Prince,” Tiríon said quietly. “For you are loved by many, and would be missed by all should you ever succumb to heart-break.”

“Thank you,” Legolas whispered, blinking the tears back with determination, and impulsively hugged the elder Elf. “I cannot say how much your advice and encouragement means to me; I only wish that you did not have to leave so soon. I can hardly speak to any Humans here, as they are subjects to Aragorn and their loyalty is to him, not me.”

“Let us see what can be arranged. Do not lose heart, Prince. I can see that King Elessar cares for you a great deal, and I am certain that he will gladly help you and listen to your worries. I believe you are in good hands,” Tiríon said and patted Legolas’ back comfortingly. “All I am asking from you is to be on your guard. Be a faithful husband and attend to his needs, but do not fall in love; for nothing good can come out of it.”

Legolas nodded against the other Elf’s shoulder, but felt no need to tell him that his warnings came too late.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that day found the Prince visiting the gardens of the palace.

Legolas closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek against the trunk of the great tree. His mind kept replaying the discussion between Tiríon and himself, and he chastised himself for not thinking about Aragorn’s mortality. Of course the Man would leave him one day; and it wasn’t as if he was Legolas’ to begin with. The Prince hadn’t forgotten the kiss he had witnessed between Aragorn and Boromir a few days earlier, and he wasn’t oblivious to the looks the Steward sent their way when he thought they weren’t watching. To him it was clear that even if his husband found him desirable, said husband’s lover was not all that happy about his existence.

The Prince sighed as he listened to the tree and hummed a bit under his breath. Despite his inner turmoil, he felt slightly calmed down by his connection to nature that managed to soothe his anxious mind. Legolas opened his mind to the connection and felt how the tree’s energy nourished his spirit, and he raised his voice in a joyous song that told the tale of his youthful days in Mirkwood.

He never noticed that someone else had entered the garden after him and was listening to his lyrical voice with something akin to awe on his face. Finally the song ended, and Legolas smiled as he patted the solid trunk, and that was when the newcomer couldn’t hold his silence any longer.

“Forgive me if I intrude, but your song was beautiful,” a male voice said behind him.

Legolas whirled around, alarmed, but relaxed a little as he recognized the speaker. “Captain Faramir,” he acknowledged with a polite nod. “I was not aware of your presence.” He felt embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the Man’s arrival, and scolded himself for being so careless. What if it had been someone whose intents and purposes were unkind?

“I did not want to interrupt you, your Highness; that would have been very impolite,” Faramir said. “Besides, I highly enjoyed listening to your voice. I did not understand the words, though; was it Elvish?”

“Sindarin,” Legolas confirmed. “’Tis my mother tongue, and rarely do people outside of my father’s realm understand our beautiful language, which is a shame.”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Captain felt familiar in a way, but he also couldn’t ask the question outright. Legolas blushed as he realised that the Man was looking at him with complicated expression on his handsome face; Faramir was enchanted by the Elf’s beauty, and at the same time he was curious about this fey creature, having never met an Elf before. It was strange for him to think that this slender boy, for that was how he looked, would live forever and yet never grow old. For all he knew, Legolas could have been several millennia old.

”Forgive me my staring,” the Captain finally said. “I have never before spoken to any of the Fair Folk, and I find myself strangely tongue-tied in your presence,” he admitted a little bashfully. “But how is it that the King has abandoned his newly-wed spouse on the day after the wedding? I think I should speak with Elessar about this,” he said and smiled to show that he meant no insult.

Legolas smiled a little, too. “I am afraid that the kingdom needed her King today, and that is why the royal Consort had to step aside. The Steward sent a word to King Elessar and I got the impression that it was something of importance,” he said. “Are you personal friends with the King?” he asked, his curiosity piqued by the manner the Captain spoke about Aragorn.

Faramir nodded. “Aye, I have known him ever since I was but a boy; but of course my brother is closer to him than I am. This may be too bold, but I would like to compliment my friend for choosing a lovely fiancé. We all were surprised to hear that Elessar was going to wed a male but now that I see you, your Highness, I can see that the choice was an excellent one.”

Legolas laughed in embarrassment and fought down a blush. “Then you could perhaps compliment my father, as well, for it was between them that this marriage was decided. But I thank you for your kind compliments anyway, Captain.”

Faramir gestured with his hand. “Would you like to walk with me a little, Highness? I would love to learn more of your folk, for I have seen only a little of Middle-Earth in my journeys. My brother used to tease me when I was little for I liked to read the old parchments and books in the great library; I was so interested in those tales about the great Elven warriors of old. I never thought I would actually meet an Elf, though,” the Captain admitted and was rewarded with a broad smile from Legolas.

“Then ask me anything you wish to know, and I will answer to my best ability,” the Prince said graciously. “Of course I am not older than seventy-five, but I have been well-schooled in the history of my people by my father’s advisors.”

“Seventy-five!” The Captain couldn’t help the words that escaped his lips. “Forgive me, Highness, but you certainly do not look any older than a boy of eighteen summers.”

“I can assure you that seventy-five years is very little in my folk’s reckoning,” Legolas said, amused. “In their eyes, I am an eighteen year-old boy. And please, Captain, surely there is no need to be this formal. You may call me by my given name; I am Legolas.”

“And I am Faramir,” the Captain said, pleased at Legolas’ no-nonsense manner. “I hope you do not mind but I do have many questions concerning the customs and manners of your people. Vast as the library is, I have found it lacking in some aspects and especially when it comes to the Firstborn.”

They had come to a bench beneath a great oak tree and Legolas sat down first, Faramir quickly following his example. The Elf turned his face toward the sun and hummed a little under his breath; an unknown melody to Faramir that nevertheless sounded lovely.

“We tend to keep to ourselves mostly,” Legolas finally admitted, “but I see no harm in answering your questions. Feel free to ask anything.”

The Captain then went to ask several questions, to which Legolas struggled to find sufficient answers, and after Faramir’s curiosity about Elven warfare had been appropriately satisfied, Legolas found himself answering several questions concerning his own family and childhood (”One of my greatest regrets is that I was never allowed to train with our archers”, Legolas admitted. ”My father was certain that I would injure myself and forbade it the second I told him of my wish.”). In turn, the Captain told Legolas of his own life and how he had come to be the Captain of Gondor (”My father had very little faith in me and, truth be told, my elder brother is much more able a soldier than myself. However, when my father died, my brother had to take up his position and he named me the Captain. He has never lacked in faith in me,” the Captain said, ”and I, in turn, do my best to never let him down.”)

By the time the dinner hour grew near, the Captain and the Prince had found out that they had several things in common; Legolas had discovered that Faramir was a very pleasant and kind man, and the foundation for a friendship had been formed.


TBC…