He had never thought to enjoy
this, to enjoy licking away delicate droplets that were the
same shade as the moonlight, to savor the bitter, salt taste
clinging to his tongue. Warm fingers threading through his
hair encouraged him softly and he obeyed the gentle command,
lapping away yet another bead that clung tenuously to dark
hairs. He had never thought to enjoy resting on his knees.
Only once had he tasted the Elf like this, his flavor as
exotic as his speech, and even then Aragorn's hand had been
upon him, heavy and warm against the back of his neck as he
guided Boromir over unfamiliar flesh in the same manner he
did unknown territory.
Some time ago he might have hated himself for this, would
have hated Aragorn for teaching it to him, for forcing him
to become this with heated looks and firm touches that he
mindlessly obeyed. He would have kept their trysts in
shadows and been the happier to remain there.
If he had not been persuaded otherwise. Just this once, he
had said. If he had not seen Aragorn's face in the sunlight,
tightened in the sweet vulnerability of pleasure, the tip of
his tongue caught between his teeth. If he had not seen the
glisten of damp lips surrounding him, dark lashes fluttering
softly against pale cheeks before it became unbearable and
he was forced to close his eyes. If he had not been able to
look, for the first time, into tender warmth of blue eyes as
they watched him take his pleasure.
If he did not wish with all his being to see it again and at
one word from him, he thought he might kneel for this Man
without shame, with the eyes of all upon him, even the
undimming eyes of the Sun, so long as Aragorn's eyes would
join them.
-Finis-
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