Untitled

Title: _________
Pairing: Ara/leg
Fandom: Lotr
Warnings: male love/ sex
Disclaimer: I dont own any of the characters in this story.
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I am starting to believe something wrong with me. Maybe its that I’ve seen more death in those past months than I had ever seen in my whole elven life. Maybe it’s the fact that I have not bathed or been groomed in perhaps two weeks. Maybe it’s the fact that my lover is currently kissing another man.
Aragorn son of Arathorn ,my secret lover, for over 20 years, was swapping spit with that arrow riddled piece of shit right before my face. Using his bedroom voice to whisper words to that thing. Filthy humans.
I called his name, to get his attention.
His face, oh Elbereth how I love him, was twisted with surprise and below the grime, muck and blood I could see the even spread of a blush crawling along his high cheekbones.
He holds my gaze for a short while, until that annoying creature splutters up more blood and utters a few words that I refuse to use my keen hearing to listen to.
I stamp my foot, and stalk past a confused and emotional Gimli, that runty bitch had better not murmur my name, for I fear I shall have no control over my knives.


Somehow, considering my blindingly childish anger and petty jealousy, I make my way back to the shore to our boats.
Sitting where I sat last night on my watch, which happened to be the place that Aragorn and I made love, while the others were asleep. I didn’t think the halflings really needed to see their fearless leader, on his knees, pale, hairy ass in the air begging silently for me to ream him.
I shake my head to rid my mind of those lurid images, fearing that I get aroused, experience taught me that fighting for your life is damn near impossible when you have an erection the size of the orthanc .
I stood, and paced.

I felt strong arms embracing me, and I was embarrassed and ashamed that I didn’t feel him coming. Some elven warrior I am.
The ranger nuzzled my neck, and I struggled slightly. Pleading with him to let me go.
Naturally he refused, he began to drag me up a small grassy incline, into the open plane.
I felt the anger radiating from him. And I begun to fear. Aragorn knew I didn’t appreciate rough sex, but he had hurt me before, taking me until I bled.
He knelt before me kissing me harshly, bruising my lips and violating my mouth with his tongue ,the same that had brought me such pleasure before. He trailed towards my throat, and I hoped that he would be gentle enough.
Although it was futile, he was stronger than me, I pleaded.
“Aragorn … stop it” I managed, thinking is hard when he nibbles on my throat like that.
“Why should I?” he breathes against me
“I cant be angry with you if you do that” I murmur,
He doesn’t reply, but continue his trek upwards, to that spot behind my ears.
“Ooh” I moan. Starting to roll my hips against his erection.
“You like that don’t you my little green leaf“…Aragorn husks, hot breath blowing the tiny silky silver hairs at my nape.
“Umm …yeah..” I mutter ,while Aragorn shifts behind me.
“ uhn.. stop.” I plead, realizing that the foreplay was coming to an end, he was getting less and less gentle.
“No” he replies, the stubbornness that makes him Aragorn showing.
“Bastard” … I start to fight out of his embrace.
We struggle for a bit longer and before I know it ,I am on my stomach with this hulking mass of man atop me.
The weight is intoxicating, and he is heading directly for my ears. My pleasure spot, I can orgasm endlessly by that alone being stroked and played with properly, and my lover has had 20 years practice.
He starts by licking the outer ring, nipping at the pointy tip, I shudder an moan as the cool air passes over my wet ear in a caress. He plays me like a lute and I can do naught but listen to his song.
His tongue is replaced with his mouth, and I feel my body being manhandled as he yanks down my leggings.
I barely have time to steel myself before I feel the cool wetness of his saliva and nimble yet rough fingers preparing me.
I feel the digits stretch me and I ready myself for the onslaught , and Aragorn disappoints me not. Thrusting completely to the hilt inside me. I gasp at the sudden fullness. He starts pounding me, deep, quick, bone trembling thrusts that leave me weak and shivering.
I try to raise to my hands and knees but my clothes cause me to stumble and shift on the slippery soft grass.
The ranger probably realized my plight for he arranges my lithe body, and pounds deeper. The loud grunting and groaning with every plunge and withdrawal.
The coupling was wild and I had a feeling it was more to sate Aragorn’ s pleasures than to disconcert my insecurities.
Depression and anger starting creeping over me, and was about to complain when Aragorn reached his gloved hand into my tunic to play with my nipples.
“Oooh Aragorn” I moaned, like a wanton slut. Being taken on my hands and knees in an open field where anyone could pass on horseback and join the fun. Me the son of THRANDUIL, prince of mirkwood .
I wanted to fight him off for treating me this way, but his mouth returned on my ear.
Between the seemingly relentless pounding in and out of my rear orifice,the twisting pain at my nipples and the hot, wet mouth at my ear ,I was cumming before I realized or had time to alert Aragorn. I spilt my seed on the grass, and felt myself go weak. Aragorn still moved behind me pistoning in and out of my pliant body even as my mind objected to the torture it was being put under as Aragorn released his anger and stress, frustration and disappointment in me, I could feel the mud honey sliding down my legs as he delved deeper and deeper into my weakening body.
My resolve crumbled and I begun sobbing. Pitiful, pathetic gushes of tears and blustering. Somewhere between my crying and Aragorn rutting, there was a revolting squelch followed by a wet pop, as Aragorn came inside of my body, then withdrawing roughly and slumping onto the grass behind me, somewhere.

I shuddered, curling up into a ball, knowing that I wouldn’t have the strength to pull up my leggings.
I heard a satisfied male sigh , and my head swiveled to see Aragorn, still fully clothed, except for untying his breeches, his large wet penis slapped slickly against his thigh. He groaned again and stood up, and walked away. With out a glance in my direction.
That callousness wrenched a sob from me, I buried my face in the grass and cried quietly.
Oh boromir I envy you, the orcs were so much kinder to you in the end.

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Please review, I know that there are run on sentences but I dont know how to move around them.