Another’s Guilt

Another’s Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: The White Falls referred to in this and last chapter is totally fictitious (or non Tolkien); I created it as part of another fiction that I wrote for the *Mistletoe In May Fic Swap*. It is as yet unpublished, but will be made available in May; it is set in a similar world as this one (kind of an AU of this AU). Other than this, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thoughts and stressed words denoted **


Chapter Eight

“Truths Revealed”

As the Gondoran party approached the entrance to the glen leading to the White Falls, the guards halted the group at the mouth; eight dividing off to climb the sloping hill that led to the top overlooking the waterfall. When these were in positioned, one gave a shrill whistle alerting the others; eight more soon entered to scout out the area surrounding the pool for Orc, trespassers or dangerous animals.

After a time, the all-clear was signaled and Aragorn, with Legolas sitting before him, was allowed inside and their protectors returned to the mouth of the glen to stand guard while the other rangers and Rohirrim guards remained in their positions atop the rock face just above the horizontal crevice where the water emerged; it shot out so forcefully that its jets appeared white as cow’s milk—thereby giving it its name.

When Legolas first caught sight of the waterfall, he exclaimed in wonder at the beauty of it.

“Hast thou ever seen such a thing more beautiful, Aragorn?” Legolas glanced back at the Gondoran Prince with a look of such pure delight, that Aragorn forgot how to breathe for a moment. Then he answered the blond’s question, never once looking at the waterfall, “Nay, Legolas—I have never before seen anything as beautiful as the vision before me.”

The Greenwood Prince had turned back to gaze upon the White Falls, so he did not see that Aragorn was looking lovingly at him; so entranced was he that he squirmed in the saddle, eager to dismount so that he could be closer to it. Aragorn chuckled and urged Brego closer to their goal.

He quickly dismounted and had barely enough time to get out of the way before Legolas nearly jumped over his shoulders and ran to the edge of the blue pool. When the dúnadan had secured his horse where the animal could graze on the sweet grass, he walked over to stand by the thrilled elf.

“Ai, Ernilen—what a truly beautiful place! I have seen waterfalls before, but none such as this one. How is it possible that the water springs from the very rock itself?”

Aragorn smiled, thrilled to see Legolas so happy and relaxed in his presence. It had been days since they’d become friendlier, but Aragorn still found it amazing that they were no longer at odds; though he knew that Legolas was still wary of him. “No one is quite sure; as far as any have been able to figure, it may be an offshoot of Entwash or the River Anduin itself, managing to work its way under ground and exit as you see here. Such splendor is rare and must be protected and preserved for it is truly a gift of the Valar.”

Aragorn was speaking not only of the waterfall, but of his companion as well. He had been confused as to his motives for taking Legolas with him to Gondor, knowing that he wanted to keep the Prince close, but not comprehending why. But now, he understood that he was in love with the beautiful Elda and had been for some while; which had been at odds with his belief that Legolas had intentionally injured Faramir and that all elves were arrogant and cared nothing for those who were not Firstborn. Though he still had hard feelings for his mother, no longer did he believe that all elves were the same—just as not all Men were the same.

“Yes—truly a gift of the Valar; Ulmo himself must have carved the rock, allowing the water to flow through.” His shinning blue eyes continued to stare until he felt leather brushing against his hand; looking down, he saw that Aragorn had brought their packs and he took his own, retrieving the soap and soft cloths from inside. “Hannon le.”

The Gondoran watched in fascination as Legolas stripped off his clothing without the least bit of shame. He only paused briefly when he noted the look of admiration from his Half-Elven companion. He knew that he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help being flattered and pleased at the look upon Aragorn’s handsome face.

“Forgive me for gaping at you thusly, but I have never seen one as lovely as you—you are perfect,” Aragorn said in all honesty.

“It is only that you have never seen another of my kind before; I am nothing special among my people.” Legolas truly believed what he was saying.

“I find that hard to believe. Though it is true that I have not seen many, I have seen elves before when I was a young boy. It was a year before my...My father’s wife told me of my heritage. I thought then that no fairer beings ever existed and they were; but none were as beautiful as the elf standing before me now. You are most special, Legolas—let no one tell you differently.” Aragorn smiled at the delighted, if embarrassed look Legolas wore.

“Now, go on and enjoy the falls! I have kept you from your bath long enough.”

“Will you join me?” Legolas inquired.

“I will join you, Little Leaf.” He removed his clothing slowly as he watched Legolas submerge himself below the surface and emerge again.

When he was naked, he entered the water and did as his friend did and shook the water from his wavy locks. He had always heard that elves did everything gracefully—even the most mundane of tasks; being in Legolas’ presence these past days, he truly believed it. The elf was removing the tangled braids from just beside his pointed ears, his slender fingers combing through to remove the snarls.

He next swam back to the edge of the pond to get his soap and then began to wash his glorious white-gold mane. Even tangled and dirty, Aragorn thought that the elf’s hair was magnificent; but watching as it became clean and flowing, he knew it to be beyond magnificent—it was as glorious as Legolas himself.

The Peredhel began washing his own hair and then his body, noticing that he was quickly becoming aroused watching Legolas take sensual pleasure in soaping his shoulders and upper torso, totally oblivious of everything around him except the soap and water and the cloth in his pale hands. When the elf’s hands moved below the surface, the dúnadan’s eyes followed the movement, his mind supplying what the soapy water hid from his view.

Legolas’ eyes opened when he heard the strangled moan escape Aragorn and became concerned that the Half-Elf was ill. “Are you well, Aragorn?”

The man (for he had not yet made his choice) coughed to clear his throat before he could speak. “Aye, I am fine. I...I am...just...happy to be...clean again.” He fabricated.

“Is it not the most wonderful feeling?” Legolas splashed water on his face and shoulders, laughing like a thrilled elfling. Such gaiety temporarily pulled Aragorn from his erotic thoughts and he, too began splashing water on his face and shoulders; then he splashed water at Legolas which caused him to retaliate in kind.

The guards high above moved to the edge of the rock-face to peer in as they heard the shrieks coming from the glen; so did some of the rangers at the entrance. Once they saw that their charges were safe, they smiled fondly before returning to their watch—thrilled to see their Prince and the Greenwood Royal continuing to get along. They’d had an anxious moment or two on their journey here when Aragorn became overprotective of Legolas when the elf had tried to do his fair share in standing guard or aid doing chores; he had refused to allow him to stand watch, but relented on helping with the chores as Legolas showed his stubborn side by refusing to ride Brego with Aragorn.

Legolas surprised Aragorn by splashing two hands-full of water in his face, temporarily blinding him. When his sight had cleared, the elf was nowhere to be seen. As he looked about, towards the shore and then towards the falls, he was again surprised when the elf jumped on his back and pulled him under the water. He sputtered as water got in his mouth and he came up coughing, which made Legolas worry that he had hurt Aragorn.

“I am so sorry, Aragorn! Are you alright?” Legolas’ eyes were wide with contrition as he brushed hair away from the man’s face with one hand while patting him on the back.

Aragorn was fine after the first cough; it hadn’t totally been the Elven prince’s fault as Aragorn had been laughing when he went under. But he was enjoying having Legolas hands on him, he didn’t let on that he was indeed alright. He decided to keep sputtering and coughing for a while longer and Legolas didn’t catch on at first; but then he became suspicious as he caught sight of a smirk.

He decided to play along and asked again, “Please, Ernilen—are you alright? You poor, poor thing; let me help you.” Then he put his hand behind the other’s dark head and pushed him under again, laughing.

When Aragorn surfaced this time, he had a fierce look upon his face that made Legolas pause, thinking that he had angered the dúnadan. But he soon learned that that was not the case when Aragorn spoke.

“So cruel are you, Pen Velui (lovely one); you would drown me when I am suffering? You will pay but dearly for this!” And then he lunged at the Legolas, grabbing him around the waist, preventing the elf from swimming away.

“Pity, Hir-nin—I pray, have pity on this lost elf so far from home!” Legolas laughed as Aragorn turned him around to face him, their faces and chests nearly touching.

“I will consider this, but I demand restitution, Fair One,” The Gondoran said huskily, blue-green eyes staring deeply into cerulean ones.

Legolas shivered at the look and the tone, thrilled without understanding why. “What would you have me give in restitution?” His voice had also gone husky as those staring eyes smoldered before him.

“Just a simple thing.” He ran one of his hands up Legolas’ smooth side, over his chest to tip his chin up as he gazed at the Prince’s perfectly formed lips. “A kiss is all that I ask to make amends.”

Legolas had been watching Aragorn’s mouth as well, finding the full, soft-looking lips fascinating as well as the dark beard that surrounded it. He idly wondered if it was as soft as Faramir’s or Lord Marach’s beards, theirs being the only ones belonging to men that he had ever touched in his remembrance. His ada had told him that he played with both Gandalf’s and Círdan’s when he was an infant, but that was so long ago and they weren’t men.

“I do not think that that would be appropriate, Sir, for I barely know you! What if you wish to take liberties?” His voice sounded as if he wanted the dúnadan to take liberties.

“I would give you fair warning so that you could escape my evil clutches, fair Legolas. Please grant me my kiss and I will leave you go.”

“Very well,” Legolas had never before kissed anyone other than his family and friends and never upon the lips in passion, but he found that he very much wanted to kiss Aragorn.

He leaned forwards, watching in fascination as the Prince’s lips moved to meet his. The kiss was tentative and undemanding at first; the two beings trying to get use to touching and exploring closed mouths. Then Aragorn ran his tongue along the soft Elven ones against his, inviting his counterpart to do the same. Shyly, he did so; meeting the experienced organ out in the open as they tasted and teased. Growling hungrily, the human male pushed impatiently, but gently into the elf’s mouth to savor more of him (causing each to near-swoon).

Legolas wrapped his arms around the neck of the half-elf kissing him with such passion; he threaded his hands through the dark unruly tresses, molding his palms to the skull underneath. He couldn’t get close enough it seemed and he found himself wrapping his slender legs around Aragorn, straddling his waist.

The Gondoran was thrilled as Legolas kissed him, feeling that he had everything he’d ever hoped for—the elf of his dreams in his arms, devouring him with abandon. But then the elf’s eyes flew open breathing hard and trembling; Legolas was mortified to realize that he was completely aroused, the evidence trapped intimately between them.

“Please, Ernilen—let me go! What you must think of me.” The elf struggled to be released and breathed easier as Aragorn loosened his grip, though he still held on to Legolas as if he was afraid he would flee.

“I think that you are wonderful—please do not doubt that,” The Gondoran said earnestly. “And...And I love you.” Aragorn said with feeling.

Legolas’ eyes flew upwards to meet the other’s, searching them for truth. “How can you say this, when you do not even know me?”

“Ah, but I do know you, Sweet Legolas; I know you quite well. I didn’t at first because I failed to look at you—into your eyes. I saw only what my distrust and pain from the past would allow me to see. But now, the veils are lifted and everything that you are is there in your eyes for all to see.” Aragorn cupped the lovely face before him, caressing the soft skin on the wood-elf’s face—his prominent cheekbones; his soft, shapely lips, his temples and earlobes.

In spite of himself and feeling a bit vain for asking, Legolas inquired, “What do you see?” He blushed.

“I see your beauty, your kindness and strength; I see honor and innocence, but wisdom as well; you are brave and fierce, but gentle and temperate. You are everything that is good and right in this world and I am pleased and honored to know you.” He finished, smiling kindly at the deep blushes on Legolas’ face.

“You see all this?” He asked incredulously, but thrilled nonetheless.

“I see one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“You are beautiful,” Aragorn stated.

“You’ve said that already,” The elf laughed.

“It bears repeating! You are beautiful and I love you, Sweet Legolas—with all my heart.” He was now quite serious. “I want to make love to you; will you let me?”

“Nay, I can not—you know this; I could get with child,” Legolas placed his hands on Aragorn’s muscled chest.

“I will not let that happen—please trust me. Let me love you.” At Legolas’ tentative nod, he loosened his grip, taking the elf’s slender hand as they swam towards the falls, diving beneath the turbulent water to emerge on the other side.

What Legolas saw awed him nearly as much as his first sight of the waterfall. Beyond the fall was a shallow grotto surrounded by lush green grass along with flowering vines that loved the shade, some blooming only in the dark. The air and ground felt damp, but not unpleasantly so; the sprays misting the two males as they stood facing each other.

Aragorn ran his sword-roughened hands gently up and down Legolas’ smooth arms, finally bringing the hands up to his lips where he began to kiss each and every digit one by one, paying special attention to the smallest ones. From there, he placed reverent kisses on each palm and then each pale wrist before working his way up the right arm to the neck and then the left one in turn. He then nuzzled the soft skin below and behind the elf’s ears and then he began kissing the soft shoulders, noting the toned muscles underneath the flawless skin.

Needing to taste his beloved (for this is how he now saw Legolas), Aragorn began gently nipping and laving areas under his mouth, becoming pleased when the Prince leaned back his head to allow the Peredhel more access to his neck and shoulder and moaning as he did so. He was also thrilled to know that the Elven Prince was still aroused and that he wanted Aragorn’s attentions.

As Legolas’ legs started to buckle, the dúnadan caught him, and then lowered the elf to the grass before covering his body over the smaller form. Legolas froze when the Gondoran parted his thighs, positioning himself between them. “You must not enter me—you have promised!” Panic warred with his passion.

“Fear not, A’maelamin—I will not break faith with you. There are many ways for me to love you without entering you—with my shaft that is.” Legolas was not sure if he liked the wicked gleam that the other wore, but soon forgot when he felt Aragorn’s warm mouth latch on to one of his dusky rose nipples.

Legolas moaned in pleasure, his willowy, but strong fingers tore the poor grass from its home in the moist soil as Aragorn suckled him like a nursing infant at its mother’s breast. His body arched off the ground nearly dislodging his lover as the Gondoran migrated from one rosy peak to the other, his hands gently grazing over Legolas’ supple skin, leaving no permanent marks save on the nerve-endings below the surface as they sent tendrils of desire to the Prince’s extremities before settling into his groin pressed against the dúnadan’s firm chest. Feeling the hardness there, the Gondoran repeated his actions, adding more stimuli by suckling harder.

As the Prince reluctantly abandoned Legolas’ delicious nubs, his talented tongue moved down the elf’s toned, hairless chest, over the flat plane of his stomach and finally came to rest inside the blond’s tiny navel. The questing organ pushed doggedly into the tight aperture, demanding entrance as Legolas’ hands buried in Aragorn’s hair, pushing the wickedly thrilling tongue deeper. Legolas loved the sensual pleasure that he was experiencing and his slender flesh pressed against Aragorn’s bearded chin as the Peredhel continued to lave the inside of his navel.

He shivered as the Gondoran chuckled against his abdomen, “It would seem that your beautiful shaft is jealous of my attention towards your sweet belly; I must make amends to it.”

He gave one last swipe of his tongue to the drenched little orifice before moving down over the gentle swell of unblemished lower belly where his bearded chin encountered the elegant tumescence of the elf’s sex. He worshipped the organ first with his eyes and then with his face, running his cheeks and nose up and down the length before finally taking the head into his hot, moist mouth.

Aragorn’s first taste of Legolas was nearly his undoing and he felt that he could come undone just from this. He smelt and tasted honey and warm cream and his dream from weeks ago came flooding back to him, showing him that his soul had chosen the Elda before his head and heart knew. The realization overwhelmed him and he swallowed the lovely column of flesh until his nose buried itself in the blond curls nestled atop.

Aragorn was no innocent when it came to male on male love and he knew how to give pleasure as Legolas soon found out. “Ai, Aragorn—wha...what you...do to me!” The Sinda began thrusting his slender hips, pushing his arousal further inside his lover’s throat and Aragorn took it all.

The elf was not as large as some of the men, he’d been with, but the dúnadan loved the size, thinking that it perfectly fit his mouth. As he continued to suck, shaping his tongue flat against the vein running along the underside of Legolas’ shaft, he wondered how well they would fit together in other ways; namely his hardness inside of the elf’s body. He knew that he would have to wait to find this out—his promise to the Prince ever present in his mind.

Legolas gasped as his legs were pushed further aside and over the man’s shoulders, giving him better access and control over the elf’s body. Warm moisture escaping the suckling mouth dripped down, cooling as it made its way along the Elda’s perineum then over the furrowed entrance to his most secret place, to slide between the elegant mounds of the wood-elf’s shapely backside.

The dúnadan gloried in the sweet taste of Legolas’ skin as the blond’s passion mounted and he wanted more; so, he reluctantly released the sweet flesh to venture elsewhere and Aragorn unconsciously followed the path of his saliva. When his questing tongue grazed over the perineum that lay half between Legolas’ hairless sacs and the wrinkled aperture leading to Prince’s inner core, the blond was nearly overwhelmed by the pressure against the bundle of nerves located under that sensitive spot.

The tightly closed opening at first repelled the Gondoran, but his limber tongue was soon invited in when the guardian ring of muscle relaxed under the gentle, but determined prodding. Legolas was shocked, but the sensations he was experiencing were exhilarating; so he found himself pushing back against that invasion, feeling it was wrong, yet wanting more by trying to drive Aragorn deeper inside.

The dúnadan kept flicking, savoring the slick inner walls; but wanting to go deeper, he pushed a finger in along side his tongue, opening the fair being even more. Legolas stopped writhing when he felt the slightly painful addition of the man’s digit, but nearly screamed aloud when that finger brushed over the sweet spot that Aragorn’s tongue had brushed against on the outside.

He never knew that such pleasure could be experienced by two bodies even though his brothers had told otherwise. Legolas’ father, King Thranduil had never explained physical love to him, thinking that he was too young and that everyone saw Legolas as the elfling his ada did. But the young Prince’s brothers had seen the admiring glances from the other elves in Greenwood—some respectful, but others clearly lustful. So they took it upon themselves to educate their tôr dithen (younger brother) about the ways of the flesh and how to know the difference between friendly embraces and sexual ones; and also how to stay clear of males (and some females) who had less than honorable intentions.

He never understood why anyone would want to do the things his brothers told him about, but he clearly understood now, finding himself wishing that he was not capable of getting pregnant for he now felt that the other things his muindors spoke of would be most pleasurable indeed. A deep, almost painful moan escaped Legolas’ lovely mouth as his new lover pushed a second finger inside of him and he pushed against them, liking the fullness.

A new sensation flooded his senses as Aragorn engulfed his hairless globes resting defenselessly in the juncture of his hips, swirling them with his hot, rough tongue before releasing them to swallow his pale column again as his fingers kept pushing in and out of Legolas’ tight body.

Aragorn was suddenly very jealous of his digits, wanting to feel the searing heat of the Sinda’s tunnel enclosed around his aching arousal, but he was a patient soul and would someday claim Legolas as his own. His sweet Elven lover was moaning quite loudly as he alternated between pushing down on the dúnadan’s fingers and thrusting into his mouth and soon the elf cried out as his hot, sweet-tasting seed flooded Aragorn’s tongue, the Peredhel swallowing it all as his fingers were squeezed painfully tight by Legolas’ grasping nether portal.

When his tremors ceased, Legolas pulled Aragorn away from his now spent and sensitive organ and gathered the half-elf into his arms and kissed him deeply. As inexperienced as he was, he did know that Aragorn’s love-making had been one-sided and Legolas felt guilty about it. “You have given all to me and have taken none for yourself, Meleth.”

Aragorn looked lovingly into Legolas’ beautiful eyes, pleased that the elf had called him beloved. “I am fine—giving you pleasure has been mine.”

Legolas shook his head and gently pushed the Gondoran Prince to his back before straddling his muscular tanned thighs. The elf blushed as he stared at the large magnificent flesh lying against Aragorn’s flat hirsute abdomen. His hand shook nervously as he wrapped his slender fingers around the hard shaft. His nervousness soon gave way to fascination as he touched male flesh other than his own for the first time; noting the differences in size, length and shade. His thumb passed over the leaking head, smearing the fluids around. Aragorn groaned deep in his throat as he saw Legolas’ pink tongue flick against his bottom lip; and he nearly died when the beautiful Elda leaned down and took the large head between his lovely lips, head dropping back onto the grass-covered ground.

As the Prince’s inexperienced mouth moved down over his length, Aragorn fought his urge to thrust, fearing that he’d hurt Legolas. So he stilled his body letting the elf have his way with him. Legolas stopped descending when he nearly gagged on the hardness in mouth and tried to duplicate what was done to him and making up the difference with his smaller hands; moving them up and down the rigid column.

Aragorn had had vastly more talented lovers in his young life, but none aroused or pleased him more than Legolas and he came hard just from the sight of Elda trying to satisfy him. He pulled the elf away from his gushing organ (the Prince was struggling to drink his essence) and kissed him deeply, moaning at the erotic pleasure of tasting his fluids in Legolas’ mouth, mingling with the immortal’s own natural sweetness. When the need to breathe forced them apart, the Gondoran kissed every inch of Legolas’ face he could before enfolding him into his arms.

They smiled lovingly at each other before falling asleep wrapped tightly in the others embrace.

TBC

Please review

A/N: Not too bad of a cliffie, but I hope this didn’t disappoint. Next chapter will have Aragorn and Legolas at Meduseld and I foresee a more complete joining for them.