Warrior Elf Series (COMPLETED)

Part 1 - Lust and Desire

Pairing: Legolas/Boromir
Beta-Reader: The Slayer and Cuthalion
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An overwhelming feeling of sorrow engulfed the company. Nine there were when they first left Rivendell but was now reduced to eight – Gandalf they lost in the Mines. The road to Mount Doom had been perilous and meandering, riddled with many battles and many foul beasts. But it was a road that proved necessary to take for the One Ring had been deemed, by the Council, to be the bane of all that lived in Middle Earth and it was with brave hearts that the Nine volunteered to partake the task.

Yet, all heads were now bowed with sadness and fatigue. Even Legolas, who was usually light of heart, seemed to be greatly burdened, his eyes lowered and brows furrowed with thought. “Alas the day,” he sighed, “that we must lose so great a leader in the cursed darkness of Moria. I fear that my heart had been true all along. It was a path we should never have taken.”

Such uncharacteristic despair was there in Legolas’ voice and the anguish that was reflected on his fair elvish face that the pain of losing their most dear friend seemed too terrible to bear.

Aragorn’s eyes studied Legolas, watching the clear display of emotions on this otherwise serene face and his heart contracted with pity. He laid a consoling hand on the elf’s shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his fingers. Their eyes met, blue against gray and the pain that radiated from the elf’s eyes threatened to unman him. Yet Aragorn said, “Be stout of heart, dear Legolas, for we must now make haste for the safety of the woods of Lothlorien. It will be as Gandalf desires were hell sll standing amongst us”

With a last backward glance at the death trap that was Moria, they fled into the wilderness.
*********

They kept up a grueling pace for three days and three nights and it was on that third night, reaching the edge of a forest that Aragorn decided that they must stop to get much needed rest. It was something that they could not do for a long period of time for they were always in danger of being spotted in the open fields.

The Hobbits lay gratefully down under a tree, making a bed of dead leaves and soft moss, falling asleep immediately, lulled by the sound of the trees rustling its leaves in the breeze. Gimli leaned against a trunk, hands folded on his chest and eyes closed in the quiet bliss. Only Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas remained awake, the Men too tense to sleep and the Elf, needing none at all. Legolas relieved himself of the burden of his weapons, carrying only his knife and wandered away from the company to savor the cool green feel of the forest especially after being in the dark, damp of Moria. Aragorn watched the Elf’s retreating back thoughtfully, smoking his pipe.

“An amazing creature, the Elf,” broke in a deep voice, laced with an expression that Aragorn could not identify. His eyes slid to Boromir, eyebrows drawn together, but he just blew out a cloud of smoke and said nothing.


“Beautiful beyond mortal belief, yet distant and cold as the morning dew that settles upon the tips of leaves. On their faces a ready smile upon their lips, yet they are as elusive as a dove that shies away from mortal touch. Can one ever fully understand them? Why, if he had not shown sorrow over Gandalf’s departure, I would not have thought that he could feel at all!” Boromir drawled, his eyes never taking off the spot where Legolas was last seen before the Elf had disappeared amongst the trees. Tension could be heard in Boromir’s voice, creeping around the edges of his seemingly nonchalant comment, and there was something else… The frown on Aragorn’s brows deepened as he watched the other man clenching and unclenching his fists.

“I do not understand the urgency behind your words, Boromir, son of Gondor, nor your curious description of our comrade,” Aragorn said in a measure tone, in his voice a subtle note of warning .Boromir turned to him and Aragorn coule a e a forced smile upon his face.

“Surely,” he began, his eyes burning with a fire that Aragorn had never seen before. “Surely, Aragorn, even you are not immune to the Elf’s beauty? I have seen the way you looked at him, your hungry eyes following his every move, your ears registering his every foot falls upon the ground. You desire him do you not?”

A dark flush crept up Aragorn’s neck and he opened his mouth to give a biting retort. But Boromir was not finished.

“Do not not yearn to press your lips against the delicate petals of his, to taste the honey of his tongue, to feel the strength of his body against yours? His blue eyes looking into your very soul even as you caress him, causing him to shatter in mindless ecstasy in your very arms? Tell me the truth Aragorn,” said Boromir, his voice trembling with the now identified emotion; passion and pure animal lust.

With a snarl, Aragorn grabbed the other man by the collarhis his tunic. “Take heed of whom you speak of!” he bit out, his eyes boring into Boromir’s. “Have you taken a leave of your senses? Legolas is our comrade, not an object of your fantasies or an item to feed your own perverse desires!”

But his own words fell flat even against his own ears, for he knew deep within his heart, that Boromir was right. Long had he watched the Elf, his heart singing whenever Legolas chanced to look his way, smiling that half smile of his. Boromir, seeing the conflict in Aragorn’s eyes, shrugged out of Aragorn’s grasp and smirked.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, his smile widening insultingly, “it is you who have taken leave of your senses if you think that you could live without sampling the treasures our beautiful friend have to offer.” Aragorn dropped his eyes in defeat, and was silent.
**********


The Elf stood on a rock, amidst the clearing, moonlight bathing his face. His very skin and hair seemed to glow with a soft light and an equally soft smile played lightly upon his lips. With his face turned towards the light of the moon, it was exactly how Boromir of Gondor found the fair Legolas, and heat rapidly surged through his very veins, warming his blood. He stepped forward from the shadows from whence he hid. The Elf turned, but was not startled by the intrusion.

“Does sleep elude you, friend Boromir?” he asked, his eyes a blinding shade of blue, seemed to look deep into the very core of the Man’s being. He could not bear to look for long into those eyes, so frank and trusting. Instead, he turned away and shrugged.

“I will find no rest here,” he murmured. There was a short silence and then Boromir felt the Elf approach him, first leaping lightly from his perch and slowly moving towards him. With every step, the Man’s chest tightened almost painfully and his breath quickened. The Elf seemed to hesitate before resting a cool hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“You feel grief for Mithrandir,id Lid Legolas quietly. “Perhaps I will leave you to your thoughts.” He began to walk away but Boromir grabbed the Elf’s arm, preventing his departure. Legolas started, his eyes flickered uncertainly to Boromir’s. Gently but firmly Boromir drew Legolas close to his body till their noses were merely inches away from one another. Silence again, as blue eyes peered into the stormy green.

“Perhaps,” Boromir said silkily, his blood rushing to his head at the heady combination of the light, masculine scent of Legolas as well as the brushthe the Elf’s tall, slender and strong body against his. His responding member throbbed with anticipation. “Perhaps,” he continued, “I might be in need of company tonight.” His eyes roamed hungrily over the exquisite features of Legolas and racked boldly over the contours of his body before resting over the spot where the Elf’s leggings seemed to stretch across his groin, giving a slight outline of the Elf’s masculinity. Legolas remained silent still, but his gaze was steady and watchful.

Trembling with a desire that he could not fathom, Boromir lifted his hand to stroke Legolas’ face. His fingers brush against the finely arched brows, then traced the outline of the soft but unsmiling lips. Meeting no resistance, he grew bolder in his pursuit and those same fingers continued its pleasurable exploration down the while column of neck before resting to feel the pulse at the base of the Elf’s throat. What he felt there filled him with a surge of anger – the pulse was completely calm as contrasted to Boromir’s own racing heart.

“I do not know what it is that you really want of me, Boromir,” the Elf said evenly, his eyes now cold. “But I do not wish to partake in this mindless game of yours.” With that, he walked away, leaving Boromir absolutely seething with rage and desire.

With nary a warning, the Man launched himself at the Elf. Legolas turned quickly; ready to do battle but speed was no match for pure, brute strength. With a primitive growl, Boromir felled the slender Elf to the ground. The impact of Boromir’s weight was incredible and all the air in the Elf’s lungs escaped in a tremendous burst of air. While Legolas lay on the ground in a daze, Boromir quickly gathered Legolas’ arms, pinned it behind the Elf’s back and after removing the knife which Legolas wore at his hip, turned him over and straddled him. They then faced each other, the Elf beside himself with rag
“L
“Let me up!” he hissed with cold fury, repeatedly bucking beneath Boromir, a horse trying to unseat his rider, and at the same time trying but failing to free his arms. Boromir whispered sweet nothings into the Elf’s ear, stroking his long hair, like a groom trying to calm his frightened steed but Legolas put up a terrific fight, twice nearly succeeding in his deste ate attempt to escape. Finally, eyes narrowed, Boromir raised his great hand and smashed it across his captive’s face. This he did repeatedly, savagely, but not a sound, not even a whimper escaped from the lips of the Elf. Abruptly he stopped, breathing heavily and looked down at Legolas. The force of the blows left ugly, red marks on the otherwise fair and unblemished skin. A trail of blood trickled orom rom his nose and yet Legolas’ eyes registered no pain, just undisguiscorscorn and anger.

“So here lays the elf maiden,” he taunted silkily, once again putting his fingers to Legolas’ lips, softly stroking the bruised flesh. “Trapped underneath her captor.” And with that, he allowed himself to toss his head back and released a short bark of laughter. It proved to be his undoing for Legolas reared up suddenly, smashing his skull against the bridge of Boromir’s nose, causing the er Mer Man to loosen his hold of his victim. Desperately, Legolas’ hand strained towards his discarded weapon that lay a few precious inches away from whence he lay, but Bor rer recovered quickly and seeing the Elf’s intent, swore profusely under his breath. Green eyes blazing with the fires of lust and anger, he grabbed Legolas by the throat, cruelly choking him,

“You wish to kill me Legolas?” he hissed, and pressed harder into Legolas’ throat. The Elf gasped for want of air, eyes clenchhut hut and on his face, a grimace of pain. Eyes flashing Legolas returned the favor, his own hands curling around Boromir’s throat. But the Elf’s strength had beent fat fading due to Boromir’s previous treatment and gradually his hands slipped from Boromir’s neck and flew to the ones at his own, trying urgently to tear at the constriction to his air passage. Boromir was relentless however and squeezed tighter.

“You wish to kill me Legolas?” he repeated, his voice softened dangerously as his eyes observed almost dispassionately at the twitching figure beneath him. As the Elf’s eyes fluttered back into his head, his lips opened in a silent cry, Boromir leaned forward and press his lips against Legolas’ ear and whispered, “You cannot kill one that have never been truly alive! I am cursed, Legolas and you will free me from that curse!”

With an oath, he released Legolas, shifted down the length of the Elf’s trembling body and began tearing at buttons ogolagolas’ leggings. Ignoring Legolas’ shuddering gasps as the Elf drew invaluable air into his tortured lungs, Boromir reached into Legolas’ pants and drew out the long and elegant proof of the Elf’s masculinity. He eyed it appreciatively and promptly lapped at it. Legolas gave an involuntary cry of dismay. “Nay!” he choked out and attempted feebly to push Boromir away. “Nay, stop this madness! You cannot touch me thus!”

Boromir answered with a kiss, sealing his lips over the drugging softness of the Elf’s lips. Legolas opened his mouth to make his protests known but Boromir took the opportunity to slip in his tongue, tasting the honey in the Elf’s mouth. It was as sweet as he had imagined it to be, and he groaned in rapture, lips assaulting the Elf’s, taking him in every angle, tongue first tasting, then teasing and then claimed those lips for his very own.

He broke off the kiss and laid his forehead against Legolas’, his hands running up and down the Elf’s arms, trying to soothe his panic and prevent his renewed attempt at flight. The increasing dread was reflected clearly in Legolas’ blue eyes and Boromir looked down at him with something akin to pity, yet he would not let Legolas go. Wrapping his fingers around Legolas’ throat again, Boromir effectively quelled the Elf’s struggles.

“Boromir,” came the choked voice, its pleading tone was like a knife being pierced into Boromir’s heart. “Please. No. More.” Fingers trying once again to peel Boromir’s unrelenting fingers away from this neck. Only when the Elf threatened to lose consciousness once again did Boromir released him and returned his administrations to the Elf’s exposed member. Cupping its weight in this palms with something similar to reverence, he lavished it with his attention, first licking up and down the regal length of the Elf’s hardening Elfhood and then slipping it into his mouth, eyes closed in contentment. His tongeemeeemed to work his magic upon the Elf for once again his eyes rolled back into his head but it was not one of pain but response to the exquisite torture that Boromir put upon him.

Legolas trashed around in denial, trying to elude the sensations that Boromir evoked in him. “Boromir! Saes! No more!” he gritted out, the expression in his eyes alternating between anger and awakened passion. But Boromir was not satiated. The Elf’s member seem to disappear inte cae cavern of the Man’s mouth and Legolas bit back a moan that threatened to spill out from his lips.

“Never,” he thought determinedly, “I’ll never succumb to thismefumeful feeling.” But when Boromir’s teeth grazed lightly over the sensitive shaft, his hips started to thrust forward on its own accord. His control snapping, Legolas grabbed Boromir’s head and held it between his hands, controlling the movements. Delighted by the Elf’s response, Boromir looked up and saw the awakened storm in the eyes of Legolas, whose desire was so clearly seen in the expressive depths. Desire made the Elf’s eyes turn almost black and he panted with the strain of trying to control his raging passions. Boromir sucked at Legolas’ root relentlessly until the Elf responded with the feverish thrusts of his hips, his back arching in reluctant surrender. When a low growl emitted from the throat of Legolas, Boromir with his own manhood straining against his breeches, wed wed the now engorged shaft to slide out of his mouth.

Legolas gave a harsh sound of dismay at the loss of the wet warmth that encircled the source of his desire, but Boromir swallowed the Elf’s protests with a searing kiss and began to strip off his breeches. Legolas watched with wide eyes has Boromir’s member sprang free but did not protest when Boromir desperately disposed the Elf from the confines of his leggings. Pushing his willing captive onto his back, Boromir brought the Elf’s knees towards the Elf’s chest. Legolas waited with abated breath as Boromir held his eyes for a moment then bent forward to lap at the heavy sac that lay beneath the manly splendor of the Elf’s member.

Legolas gritted his teeth at the sensation and gave a lusty cry when Boromir found his opening and prodded at it with his tongue. The Man’s tongue slipped deeper and deeper into the sweet entry of Legolas’ body and Legolas writhed in ecstasy as Boromir worshipped him with his tongue.

“It will always be like this between us, if you allow it my fair Elf Prince. You do not know the power you have over me, your willing servant. I worship you!” Boromir said, his voice husky with passion. He reared up and positioned himself for penetration. Legolas’ eyes held Boromir’s – blue meeting green. Neither looked away and when Boromir slid in his weeping member into the Elf, Legolas’ hips bucked at the extent pleasure and he nearly cried out from the sweet pleasure of it. Together they rocked back and forth, muscles straining to seek fulfillment.

The cords at Boromir’s neck stood out and perspiration broke out as he strove to seek the summit of his pleasure. The Elf was tight and hot around his shaft, squeezing and massaging as it pressed in and out of Legolas’ body. And then it happened. With a harsh bark of completion Boromir found his release and collapsed onto the Elf’s quivering body.

It took a whieforefore it registered in Boromir’s befuddled brain that the Elf was still trembling beneath him. He raised himself up, supporting his ht oht on his arms and peered worriedly into the Elf’s face. To his surprise, he found that the stormy passion that he saw in the Elf’s eyes were not gone. Legolas’ hips continued to shift restlessly, striving to gain contact from Boromir’s groin in a desperate attempt to seek his own release.

Boromir’s mouth dropped open and he would have been a le ele embarrassed at the realization that he had reached his fulfillment but had selfishly left his lover unfulfilled. He had forgotten that Elves were lusty creatures by nature and only the ones with the most stamina would be able to keep up with an Elf whose passion is as roused as Legolas.

“Forgive me, my Prince,” Boromir said, giving a wry chuckle, his hand finding Legolas’ erect member. An emotion flashed across Legolas’ eyes, something so fierce and terrible that Boromir nearly stepped back in fear. With a restrained snarl Legolas shoved Boromir forcefully, so much so that Boromir fell with a loud thud and light exploded behind his eyes. Dazed he opened his eyes to see that Legolas had stood up and loomed ominously over him, that fearsome expression still carved into his granite features. An odd calm settled over the Man as he closed his eyes and gave a fleeting thought that he would gladly die under the hand of one as splendid as Legolas Green leaf.

But death did not come. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he found Legolas forcefully removing the remaining clothes upon his back and when Legolas turned to Boromir naked as the day he was born, Boromir could not help but gaze in awe at such perfection. A fine sheen of perspiration covered the Elf’s magnificent body. Tall and strong as the trees in Mirkwood from whence he came from, Legolas was a sight to behold. Muscles ripples in his arms, chests and thighs with every movement and coupled with the Elf’s shaft, standing like a soldier upon the battle field, Boromir felt himself hardening at such wondrous and wild beauty.

With another growl, Legolas fell onto Boromir, lips locked onto the Man’s. This time he was the aggressor and the Prince would not be denied. Tongues meeting in a wild and heathen dance, Legolas tore at Boromir’s confinements until the man lay naked and trembling beneath the Elf Prince’s cool and calculating gaze. Legolas pressed Boromir determinedly into the grass, and Boromir hissed at the delicious contact of Legolas turgid nipples dragging against his heated flesh.

With great skill and speed, the Elf managed to awaken the desires of Boromir’s manhood, stroking and caressing life into the now hardening shaft. Boromir gasped and begged for release but Legolas was merciless. A small smile played across his lips but his eyes were hard and dangerous. Grabbing Boromir’s root hard, he leaned forward – his lips only just grazing the Man’s nipples and with a sharp nip at its point, Legolas looked straight into Boromir’s passion filled eyes. The Man looked back, helpless, and his hips moving in a desire to achieve release.

“You used force to make me succumb to you. And now I shall use force of my own to remind you that Legolas Green Leaf is not a toy you can play with and then discard when you tire of it. You will remember this night for a long, long time Son of Gondor.” Said Legolas in a quiet voice, yet the hint of power and the promise behind the words alone could have cause Boromir to spend himself had Legolas not grasped his shaft so tightly.

The next hour was torture. Legolas lingered over the Man, teasing him to the brink and then retreating, extending the torment. “Take me!” Boromir gritted out, his head trashing from side to side. “I cannot bear it!” But Legolas ignored him. He put his finger into his mouth, licked it with relish, never taking his eyes off Boromir’s who was shaking like a leaf blown in the wind. Legolas then slipped his finger into the entrance to Boromir’s body. Boromir nearly screamed in pleasure as the Elf proceeded to tease him in a most interesting fashion, finding the spot deep in his body that he had no knowledge of. Boromir nearly wept at the havoc that his passions was creating upon his senses.

“Legolas, I beg you. Please.” he said, not caring if there were tears in his voice. Legolas smiled, his beloved face both radiated power and compassion for the Man’s plight. And he gave in.

Sliding his shaft into Boromir, he worked his magic again. Now rolling his hips, now thrusting it so deep that Boromir felt that he and his Elf are one. With each thrust, Legolas stroked Boromir’s member in the same manner, timing each stroke perfectly so much so that with a cry of surrender, both Man and Elf sought their fulfillment together and lay on the ground, shuddering in each other’s embrace while Legolas’ name was played repeated upon the Man’s lips.

“Legolas. My Elf warrior. How I worship thee,” Boromir murmured and promptly fell asleep.

When he awoke several minutes later, he saw that the Elf was dressed and was sitting beside him, deep in thought, eyes fastened upon Boromir’s. Boromir looked back uncertainly, the memory of what transpired between them coming back to him. There was a short silence before Legolas reached out to stroke the frown away from the Man’s face, his expression unreadable.

“You do not know what you have done,” he said quietly and with that ominous decree, he stood up and walked away, leaving Boromir to his own confused thoughts.


To be continued in Hope and Anguish…