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30 March 2004 | 16471 words
Warnings: Yes, warnings. Beware of Hades, god of the Underworld
Summary: Hades gives the guys an ultimatum when they end up in Limbo
Aragorn did not avoid the adoring eyes of his friends, but returned their loving gazes and smiled at each in turn. He loved them. He loved them all, but felt there was not enough of his heart to go around. He felt the need to spend time with each of them, but time was short. His desperation for sharing made him feel at a loss.
There were twelve souls there isolated together; Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Faramir, Legolas, Haldir, Rúmil, Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. Twelve, and all were afraid. Their silent fear echoed in their ambiguous enclosure, ringing until their ears hurt.
Their terrible ordeal had ended, they had won, even with the sacrifice of so many. The War of the Ring was over. But now they were somewhere else, somewhere foreign and new and different. Opening their eyes, they looked around them and found themselves in an entirely different realm. No longer in Middle Earth, but trapped in a time and place with members of their own dead now alive again and just as confused as they.
Boromir lived! The strong and proud Gondorian searched the small globe with wonder and aversion until he was embraced by Faramir, his brother, then by Merry and Pippin, who were also overjoyed to have him back. None asked questions for the moment, but anticipated an explanation of his living presence in their gathering.
Also, Haldir was now among them after having been killed in battle at Rohan. His brother Rúmil crushed him in an ardent hug, wiping tears of happiness from his pristine Elven face.
Aragorn joined in for hugs, first Boromir, then Haldir. Legolas followed suit, as did Gimli and Gandalf.
When everyone stood patiently waiting, Aragorn spoke to them as their king and their friend. “I do not know how this has happened, but I am filled with joy and love for you all. I see that we are alone here, we twelve. All of our Fellowship of the Ring is present as well as Faramir of Gondor and Haldir and Rúmil of Lórien. We have yet to know why we are here and to what end we will come, but whatever it be, we are here and must make the best of it. Does any man, elf, dwarf or hobbit have any words to say?”
None had. There was an audible start when a sudden flash appeared before them and a tall, handsome stranger stood among them with an odd little smirk on his face.
“Who are you?” Aragorn demanded.
The tall man introduced himself to the company. “I am Hades, Happenin’ god of the underworld, and you have been received in Limbo, where you will spend eternity. Eternity, as you probably know, is forever. Which means you may as well get used to it because there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“And why are we doomed here?” Aragorn asked. “On this…island.”
“Not doomed, moron king. Blessed! You don’t seem to understand the alternative. This is a blessing for you, but one that you will have to earn. King Aragorn, you are the only one of this number who has actually earned entry to dwell in this realm. The rest do not deserve this privilege for one miserable reason or another. They will have to pay for it by common service.”
“What?” Aragorn could not believe what he was hearing. “Each of these is brave and valiant and has made noble sacrifices for the whole of middle earth! How can you say any of them are not deserving?”
“I’m sorry, but they’ll have to serve you in order to stay here with you. And if you want to keep them here with you, you will have to comply with my rules.”
“What rules do you speak of?”
“To remain in Limbo -- and you’re right about it being an island -- each of these beings shall spend at least one night in each thirty in your bed giving you pleasure. With every coming together, your seed must be spent within the body of your bed-partner. There are eleven others, which will make it an uneven number, so if you want to give me one, I will take him and be along my way.”
Aragorn stared at him in shock. “Who are you to make such a game of our lives? What arrogance gives you the right to voice such ‘rules’ to us?”
“Well, I’m Hades, King of the Underworld,” Hades answered simply. “Arrogance notwithstanding, in case you haven’t heard about it, my kingdom is Hell. You know of it?”
Aragorn stood open-mouthed.
“I take that as a yes.” Hades said, then yawned.
Gandalf spoke up when no one else did. “Aragorn, he speaks the truth. This is the better of the two realms. I have seen the other, and it is no place for a kind soul.”
“And you wish me to give up one of my friends to this place?” Aragorn said, angrily.
“That’s your choice. You can keep them all as long as you abide by the rules.”
There was much glancing around of general discomfort as all considered the mortifying rule. Hades repeated it with clarity. “Each of these, hobbits, men, elves, dwarf and wizard, shall have a night with you -- at least one in every thirty. If this is not done, I will take them and you will be left here in Limbo alone.”
“Why is this the rule?” Aragorn asked.
“Because I said so,” the god answered patiently.
“But why do you want this from us?”
“Because it amuses me. I just love to watch gay boys in action! Now, if we’ve quite settled this matter, I will be on my way back to Hell for the moment. The twelve of you have this day to discuss this, then you will give me your answer. If you feel that this task is too great -- if the count be too many -- I can take some of them off your hands. But be assured that they will be getting the same treatment from one far less gentle than yourself where they will be going.”
Aragorn’s face darkened. “Get away from me, you devil!”
“Ta ta!” With a short laugh, Hades waved and vanished.
“Shall we take a vote and see what we all think of these rules?” Gimli asked in annoyance after a few hours of uneasy pondering.
“No,” Aragorn answered, unmoving from his seat. “No vote, Master Dwarf, this is my decision, and mine alone.”
“Oh, is it now?” Boromir piped up belligerently. “I thought this was our fates we were discussing, not yours, ‘King’ Aragorn!”
“Yes, your fates, but my decision.” Aragorn said with a long sigh. “And I say you will stay here with me, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that.”
“Then you’ll follow his ‘rules’,” Haldir said without bias.
“Yes, I will.”
“What if some of us will not agree? What if we refuse you?” Boromir proposed.
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. “You would rather spend eternity in Hell being raped by demons than take pleasures with me once a month? Am I so repulsive that you would choose a horrible fate over this one?”
Boromir faltered, as did the others. “Well, no, of course not.”
“Then it is settled. We will do as he asks for your safety here.”
The company fell into silence, gazing into the mid-distance. There were no words for this moment, none for the hour. They sat, and waited numbly to submit to their king.
Hades popped in for one minute to hear the good word and was delighted when he learned that his hostages had agreed to follow his rules. Clapping his hands, he left in a puff of smoke.
The settlement was made, and the company of Limbo’s inhabitants found that a humble home had appeared for them in the center of the island with enough room for them all. As they sat in the comfortable living room waiting for Aragorn to make his first choice, there was a tension in the air that was flavored with trepidation.
A long stretch of time passed before the king stood, went to the bedroom prepared for him, then returned to glance earnestly at each of his friends. Finally, when everyone had begun to ache from ill breathing, he reached out his hand and said, “Frodo, come with me.”
Sitting straight, the hobbit’s lovely face was held in a mixture of fear and intrigue. He felt Sam’s worried touch on his arm as he rose and hesitantly approached the waiting king. Taking the hand, he followed him, heart hammering. When he looked back at Sam, his enormous blue eyes were filled with tears.
Frodo studied his own hairy feet as the king’s blue-gray eyes appraised him serenely. He had no idea what to say, what to do, or how to conduct himself. His face burned, his heart felt that it would burst from its thrashing about in his small chest. He shuddered unwillingly and wished he could wake from this fearful nightmare.
Or was it a dream-come-true? Deep in his heart, a whisper reminded him that he had often entertained fantasies of Aragorn. He had gazed upon his lips and wondered about the taste of his kiss and the touch of his hand upon his flesh. It had all seemed sordid before, an unreachable daydream, and now that it was offered to him, he was afraid. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.
“Frodo,” The voice was soft. When the hobbit’s crystal blue eyes rose to meet the king’s, he was awed by the tenderness in them. “Are you afraid?”
It brought to mind their first meeting, when the fear was of a stranger in Bree. “Yes,” he answered truthfully.
The kind king stretched out a hand to push curls back from his cheek. “Come sit in my lap and let me hold you.”
Frodo moved slowly, encouraged by the man’s quiet offer of love. Lifted onto the solid lap and held gently, he felt caresses on his head, his shoulder and his back. “Will you do this with everyone?” he asked through tears.
Aragorn bent to kiss the tears away, then kissed the rosy lips. “I will.”
“For Sam, Merry and Pippin, too?”
“Of course. I love you all. I love each of them. Do you think I will give any of you to Hades for his own pleasure?”
Frodo’s arms lifted and hugged his neck. “I love you, Aragorn. I love you with all my heart.”
“And I love you, my sweet Frodo.” Aragorn kissed him again, one hand on the back of his head, the other on his ribs. “You are precious to me, my little one.”
“If you do as he asked, we hobbits may suffer greatly.”
“He did not make specifications as to the manner in which I am to spend my seed except that it be within your body.”
“My body has but one opening, and because I am much smaller than you, your entry into it would damage me.” Frodo said shakily. “I would rather be damaged than in Hell, so do what you must. I will still love you, no matter how badly I am injured.”
“Frodo, I will not injure you, my love. Listen to what I have to say.” Aragorn turned him so they were face-to-face and rubbed noses with him intimately. “My love for you forbids my entry into you in this way. Could not taking my seed into your body also be done with your mouth? Would you be willing to do this for me?”
Frodo’s look of revelation was mixed with relief. “Yes, I suppose it could, and yes, I would do this for you, my Lord Aragorn.”
Aragorn smiled at him and kissed him again. “Then let me begin with your permission, to remove your clothing.” His steady fingers began undoing ties and fasteners.
Frodo shivered with anticipation as the clothes were laid aside and he sat naked on the lap of King Aragorn. “I have never done this. Teach me what to do.”
“I will show you,” Aragorn said softly, and laid him back on the bed. And, with mastery like none Frodo had ever witnessed, the man descended on him and sucked the hobbit’s small member into his mouth.
Frodo cried out involuntarily, stuffing the heel of his hand into his mouth to quiet himself. If the others had heard, they would think he was being raped and feel pity for him, when in fact, he was being indulged with more than he ever expected! He could not believe that Aragorn’s sweet mouth was actually tightly around his erect member giving him such incredible pleasure! Frodo nearly swooned from the intensity as the man’s hot mouth licked and sucked him to an explosive completion. He covered his own face with a pillow to muffle his screams as he came hard.
When it was over, the hobbit lay weak and shaking for a few minutes.
Aragorn removed the pillow from his face and hovered above him, calmly stroking his cheeks and whispering, “You are most precious to me, Frodo, my love, my sweet, sweet Frodo.”
Frodo felt tears on his face again and thought the king probably considered him a sniveling sap, but he didn’t care. The emotions were too raw, too open. His untrained heart was too affected by a love he had not expected. “I love you so much, Aragorn! Thank you for being kind to this worthless hobbit.”
“Frodo, you are not worthless, my love. You are beautiful and wonderful. You are a treasure! You mean everything to me!”
Frodo hugged him passionately and cried against his neck.
“And I am not the only one who feels this way, my love. You know that Sam loves you unconditionally and that he would die for you. When I am with the others, I hope you and Sam will share your love much this way.”
“I know Sam loves me, and I love him. He holds my heart in his hands, but he has never claimed it.”
“Then claim his. He will be overjoyed.”
Frodo smiled and kissed him, tasting his own seed. It was a new sensation and made him smile. “It is my turn, is it not? Will you allow me now to disrobe you and to give you pleasure?”
Aragorn sat up and held out his arms invitingly.
Frodo rose to his knees before him and began to unbutton his tunic, feeling more confident with each new peek of skin. As the stomach came into view, he bent to kiss it, then tugged open the breeches and slid his small hand inside to touch the large organ. It thrilled him to be this way with the king of Gondor. He felt the immensity of his emotions until his heart grew again to bursting.
Pulling away, he dragged in a hard breath and single-mindedly yanked at the folds of clothes until he had freed Aragorn’s straining erection. “Lie down,” he murmured. “Let me do this.”
Obediently, Aragorn laid back and watched the hobbit’s intent eyes on the object of his desire. Smiling, he cupped the dark curls in one hand and guided him to it, closing his eyes in utter ecstasy as the pink lips parted and took it into the moist depth.
Frodo could only take in about half the length, so Aragorn showed him how to take the other half in his two fists and work the entire shaft as he pumped his mouth up and down. The results were powerfully satisfying. It only took minutes until the king’s seed was surging forth into the hobbit’s willing mouth.
Mindful of his objective, Frodo swallowed convulsively, closing his eyes and savoring. He was safe, and he was blessed and profoundly marked by indelible love. His eyes that had long adored the king, now both adored and worshipped him.
After more kisses, they cuddled together and slept until the morning, dreaming sweet dreams.
Sam had been puzzled and a little resentful of Frodo’s peacefulness since he had come from Aragorn’s bedroom. The dreamy blue eyes that smiled at him with such contentment gave Sam slight unease, but he was pleased that Frodo leaned into his offered embrace as they sat on a couch along with Merry and Pippin. Sam pulled him close and whispered sweet comforts into his ear, reflecting his gentle smile when he turned towards him.
“It’s all right, Sam. You’ll see. We have nothing to worry about.” Frodo tried to reassure.
The dark god of the Underworld appeared in a flash of flames that caused them all to jump.
Aragorn, who was piling logs into the fireplace, frowned at him. “What do you want here, Hades? Your ‘rules’ are being followed. Leave us, now, and return to Hell!”
“In due time, my dear King. Just to let you know, I’ll be vacationing in the Bahamas this year, but I’ll still be keeping track of what happens here! Your Frodo is now safe for thirty days. That was an impressive sexual performance last night, your Highness. Color me entertained!” Rubbing his palms together impishly, he asked, “So, who will be next?”
Aragorn sneered at him. “Sam is next!” he answered curtly.
Sam started. “Me?” His lower lip trembled, but he did not quail. “Yes, I am next!” he said, standing up to the carnal god. “Now, go to Hell, or to the Bahamas, or wherever, and leave us alone!”
Aragorn smiled at the hobbit. “My stout-hearted Sam,” he said fondly. “Now, while the others are having breakfast, come with me. Let us make you safe.”
Sam nodded uncertainly, but stood took hold of his hand. He glanced back defiantly at Hades, but when his eyes met Frodo’s they went warm. He touched his fingertips to his lips and cast the kiss towards his beloved master. With conviction, he said, “Lead on, Lord Aragorn.”
Aragorn knelt on the floor before the patient hobbit and said, “You have my honor and respect, Samwise Gamgee.” He kissed his hand.
Sam was surprised. “And you have mine, King Aragorn, and my undying devotion.”
Aragorn collected him into his arms and scattered light kisses on his face. “Frodo is essential to you, as you are to him, this I know, and this I will never hinder. You belong together. I will not come between you, but will perform this act only for your protection.” He kissed the full lips, then drew back to look into the trusting brown eyes. “I love you both. I love you all. Never doubt that I do, but I will not claim either of you as mine alone, for you belong to each other.”
“Who will you claim, then?” Sam asked.
“I can claim none because I have this duty to all.”
“Why can’t you have love that is yours alone?” Sam asked compassionately. “You should, even if you are beholden to us all in this treacherous game of Hades’, at least one of our numbers should be yours and no one else’s.”
“You are a caring hobbit, Sam, and one who is endowed with greater than his share of love, logic and understanding. Is it any wonder why Frodo loves you so?” Aragorn ran tender fingers along his jaw.
Impulsively, Sam hugged him. “And no wonder we all love you so, my lord. What do you have in store for Samwise today, dear Strider?” Reverting to his former name gave him more familiarity but less courage.
“I will do for you exactly as I did for Frodo,” Aragorn answered as he began to undress the hobbit. “Do not fear me. I will not harm you.”
Sam nodded, blushing as his clothes were removed. “Do to me as you wish, Strider. I will do your will.”
“My will is to keep you here with me, dear Sam.” When Aragorn lifted him and laid him on the bed, he immediately sucked him in and began to pleasure him as he had done for Frodo.
Wide-eyed, Sam drew in a ragged breath and quivered beneath him. No words were uttered until after his hot release had been ejected and Aragorn rose up from him. Then the hobbit, with a look of complete awe, whispered, “I cannot believe you have done this for me! Aragorn, you are magnificent!”
“I love you, Sam,” Aragorn said softly. He kissed his hand again, then his belly button. “You mean more to me than you will ever know.”
Sam sat up and kissed him passionately on the lips, then busied his hands taking off Aragorn’s clothes. “Is this what you wish from me, also? To do for you what you have done for me?”
“Yes, if you can,” Aragorn answered, playing with his brown curls. “Can you do it?”
“I can, and I will.” Sam answered, kissing him again. When he reached the king’s organ, he deftly extracted it from the cloth and went down on it with voracity. It was obvious he was no stranger to the act, for he knew already how to perfectly perform. He sucked and stroked until the man was coming strongly, each drop devoured by the loving hobbit.
When it was done, Sam put his head on the king’s chest and rested a while, then got up and began putting on his clothes again. “I love you,” he murmured as he kissed him. “I know now why Frodo’s eyes soften every time they light upon you. I, too, am now forever your servant.”
“Just be my friend, Sam, and let me love you when the time comes.” Aragorn rose and kissed him once more. “We should go and join the others for breakfast, now to restore our strength.”
Sam graced him with a sweet smile as they finished dressing and opened the bedroom door.
Frodo’s smile gave him heart when Sam sat beside him again. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, very much.” Sam’s smile was nearly as dreamy as Frodo’s had been earlier.
“So, while he’s taking care of the others, do you think you and I could practice what he has taught me?” Frodo asked shyly.
“Do you mean it? You want this with me – your servant?”
“Yes, Sam, I do.” Frodo searched his face. “And you’re not my servant in this reality. You have always been my best friend, Sam, and I have always loved you more than anyone. Never consider me your ‘master’ again, please. Do you want me in this way?”
Sam hugged him. “Of course I want it with you, Mr. Frodo! You should know that by now! I have been madly in love with you for years!”
“I love you, too, Sam, and always will,” Frodo kissed his neck discreetly, but knew the others were watching them, especially Boromir, whose narrowed eyes seemed to disapprove. Nervously, he asked, “There are other bedrooms, are there not?”
“Yes, several, Frodo, but I am not the hobbit I once was. I need breakfast and time to replenish what Aragorn has taken from me.” He grinned happily. “But when my poor old body is able again, we will go and discuss this in detail. I belong to you, my sweet Frodo.”
“We belong to each other, Sam,” Frodo chuckled and kissed his lips, not caring what anyone thought.
Nighttime came again to the dismay of the remaining nine who waited to see who would be chosen next. They had taken the afternoon at the bathing pool so all were fresh and ready, but anticipation grew as they all waited while Aragorn sat sipping his tea. The tall clock in the living room gonged eleven times, and their apprehension made their spirits clench.
Sam and Frodo had already gone to bed. Merry and Pippin sat between Gandalf and Gimli on the couch, and Rúmil sat crunched between Haldir and Boromir on another.
Boromir sat grumbling at the passing of time and the lack of anything to occupy himself. In his restless irritation, he accidentally elbowed Rúmil in the ribs. He turned apologetically, but when he looked into the elf’s offended blue eyes, he sighed in annoyance and grumbled some more. Rúmil slid closer to Haldir and was embraced protectively. Haldir shot Boromir a glare of contempt but said nothing.
Faramir sat beside Legolas on a small settee, and it was the young, newly appointed steward of Gondor upon whom Aragorn’s eyes fell as he stood to ready himself for bed.
Faramir paled beneath his glance.
“Would you come with me, Faramir?” he invited, beckoning to him.
Faramir’s audible gulp resounded in the room. He rose and proceeded on wobbly legs to the bedroom with his king.
“I owe you my life,” Faramir began, but was quieted by a finger across his lips. Two sets of calm eyes gazed deeply as the older man ran skillful fingers through the hair of the younger.
“You owe me nothing but what you wish to give me,” Aragorn whispered as he nipped gently at his ear. “Do not be frightened, my dear Faramir. If you give me but one kiss, I will be in your debt.”
Faramir’s unflustered faith in him was daunted only by his racing heartbeat and dilated pupils. Hesitantly, he leaned into the king for a kiss, and received one that took his breath away. As he struggled to fill his lungs, his hands came up to take Aragorn’s head in his hands. “Never are you in my debt, my Lord, for I am yours to command.”
Aragorn kissed him again, himself blazoned in passion by his breathlessness. “Do you know that I love you, Faramir, and that I would move heaven and earth to be keep you with me?”
Faramir clasped him with all his strength. “My king, I love you, and would die for you this moment if it was your will.”
“It’s not, nor will it ever be. You must live, my love, and be safe.” Aragorn’s fingers untangled themselves from his hair and slipped down his narrow back, continued on down the center seam of his breeches. He felt a tremble and touched his lips again to the other man’s ear. “Is it fear that causes you to shake, or lust? How will you accept me?”
“I will accept you in any way you want,” Faramir answered. “What can I do for you?”
Aragorn kissed him again, then pushed him to arm’s length. “Take off your clothes, my love, as I undress before you. Lie on the bed and I will prepare you with oil.”
He did not know what to expect, so Faramir was tense. When both were lying naked on the bed, Aragorn began with tender kisses on his eyes, cheeks, lips and throat. The shoulders were attended next, then the chest. The king nibbled delicately at one nipple, then the other, which caused the young lord to arch into his touch. Aragorn’s hands were moving on to other regions, caressing the hips, thighs and downwards to the long, lean legs. Slipping beneath the knees, the touches tickled and tempted in the bends, which made the lovely young steward shiver with pleasure.
The lips moved to the stomach and kissed their way down towards the groin, finally skimming the impressive length as the fingers slid upward over the soft, firm sac. When the right hand gripped the base of his organ, the mouth took in the head, and Faramir gasped in disbelief.
He writhed on the bed as Aragorn’s tongue teased him, then stiffened as an oil-slicked finger slipped deep inside him. The rhythm of mouth, hand and finger was uneven enough to make him buck into the wetness, and a second finger was added to stretch him. Faramir whimpered and closed his hands on the king’s hair.
Aragorn continued what he was doing without worry of hair loss, and a third finger was entered into him, which forced his tight muscles to loosen. The oil gave him pliancy, and soon, he was ready. The king rose from his task, leaving him unsatisfied and needy. Settling himself between the steward’s widespread legs, he set his well-oiled organ against his entrance and thrust slowly into him.
Faramir’s mouth fell open in distress, but he clung to the king, his hands cupping his rear to pull him in deeper. “Do not take me gently,” he begged, “Fast and hard will be my undoing, my king.”
But Aragorn shook his head and paused above him for a lingering kiss. “I will not hurt you, Faramir. You will remember this without sorrow, without dread. I have love and reverence for you, and will give you this love as tenderly as I can.”
Faramir hugged him to hide the tears that sprang to his eyes. “I have never been so overcome by love as I am this moment,” he wept. “I am sorry, Lord Aragorn, for my weakness.”
“What weakness?” Aragorn asked, pushing up from him. “The tears? These are no weakness, but a strength, my love.” He kissed him and pushed into him carefully, watching his face. “You are strong and have much love in your heart, especially for one who has endured so much anger and wrath.”
Faramir caressed his face as the strokes began slowly, then when the king showed signs of his peak, he arched his hips to meet him. “Give me your seed, my Lord. Hasten your measures and let me have it, I beg of you.”
Aragorn gave several quick thrusts and spent his valuable seed inside him, which spread a delicious warm rush that caused Faramir’s to spill between their bellies.
They lay still for a while afterwards, kissing, embracing and conversing softly before Aragorn went for a wet cloth to wash them. Climbing back into bed beside him, the king closed his eyes for another night.
“Faramir, you have not stopped smiling since you came from his bed,” Boromir accused crossly. “Why do you smile, little brother?”
Faramir’s mirthful blue eyes rose to meet his brother’s, which were also blue but lacked mirth. “Because it was much more enjoyable than I expected. The king is very sweet and seductive in bed.”
“Is this supposed to reassure me?” Boromir asked gruffly. “Sharing him is not a simple thing. There are still eight who have not had him, yet. Eight, whose souls hang in the balance.”
“But you will have him, and you will see.” Faramir sighed deeply and went to the cooking stove to help with their mid-morning meal.
Boromir scowled and went outside to gather wood for the fire.
When the meal was done and all had eaten, Aragorn looked over the eight who remained. His eyes settled on Gimli, the dwarf. “Gimli, you shall be my next companion,” he said.
Gimli, who had just taken a sip of tea, sprayed it out ungracefully and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” Aragorn answered, and made his way toward the bedroom again. He did not look back to see if the dwarf followed. He knew he would.
“Aragorn, you must understand that dwarves are not built the same as men, and…” Gimli’s protests were silenced as the king hefted him gallantly onto the small chest at the foot of the bed.
“I will do nothing to harm you, my charming Gimli,” Aragorn promised as he began carefully removing the dwarf’s shirt. “I will show you, as I did the hobbits, that love can be done without intrusion.”
“Yes, Gimli, love. I would do this in no other name. For this morning, you are mine, and I will love you with all my heart.” Aragorn leaned to kiss his lips, smiling at the tickle of his thick red beard.
Gimli faltered at the kiss, but hugged him tightly. “Are you sure you do not utter these sweet words for the pity of an ugly dwarf? You know you mean everything to me, but I am not deluded, Aragorn. You are only with me because otherwise I would be damned to Hell. You, being the nobleman that you are, would never let that happen, no matter what degrading thing you had to do to stop it.”
Aragorn was troubled by his shame. “Gimli, I love you,” he said, gently running a hand down the long red braid on his back. “Please do not torment yourself, and do not torment me. We must do this, so be of good cheer and enjoy it. I will not lose you to that devil!”
Gimli backed away, wiping his eyes. “Very well,” he said, “Because you mean so much to me, Aragorn. I don’t have to tell you I love you. You know that I do.”
The king kissed him again, this time letting it last a little longer. “Your kiss is sweet. Let us get undressed and I will show you what I can do for you, my loving Gimli.”
The dwarf kissed him once more before letting him go. They took off their clothes and Aragorn led him to the bed for their mating. His hands caressed the solid, compact body that was covered with a fine dusting of red hair. He marveled at the defined muscles as his hand moved along the pectoral and abdominal regions. As he had done for Frodo and Sam, he went down on him and sucked his surprisingly large member until the stunned dwarf came violently in his mouth. Then, lying beside him, he touched him tenderly until Gimli was ready to return the token action.
The dwarf was not as practiced at the art as Sam had been, but he managed
well, and was soon drinking the man’s seed, which assured his
stay on the island. Afterwards, they wasted an hour lying still, reminiscing
about their long journey and battles together.
Peacefully, Aragorn played with the thick red hair as he gazed upon him. He was a favored king.
When Gimli emerged from the king’s bedroom, his smile, to Boromir’s chagrin, was as doting as Frodo’s, Sam’s and Faramir’s had been. He tried to ignore their pleased moods and went about, occupying his time being his grumpy self.
They cleaned their house that day, then went for a new bath at the pool. Since it was a warm day, they enjoyed their stay outside. When they returned to the house just before dark, Pippin asked candidly, “Who will be next, King Aragorn? Would you choose now and save us all from the agony of anticipation?”
Aragorn gave him a look of surprise. “Agony, Pippin? I did not mean to cause you agony, my little one.”
“But that’s what it is for all of us as we wait for your decision.” Pippin said. As Aragorn sat in the armchair, the hobbit climbed into his lap. “Will you choose me tonight, so my turn is taken?”
Aragorn laughed and nodded. “Yes, Pippin. This will be your night, and tomorrow morning will be Merry’s turn. How is that for afore notice?”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Pippin bowed to him. “I will be honored to spend the night with you!”
In no time at all, Aragorn had the hobbit stripped and lying on his back. Pippin giggled and worked at the man’s buttons, loosening his shirt, then his breeches. “Merry, Sam and I did this a lot together when we were younger. The only one who kept to himself and didn’t participate was Frodo. That’s why we worried about him so much. He was such a virgin!”
Aragorn laughed again, very amused. As his clothes fell away, he asked, “I can imagine the fun! The three of you?”
“Oh, yes, many times. We had our days and nights.”
“Then, do you think we should bring Merry in tonight so we can hurry things along?”
“That depends on your capacity, King Aragorn,” Pippin said brightly. “If you are man enough to take care of us both in one night, bring him in. I have no objections. In fact, I think it would be rather hot, we three together.”
“Yes, so it would.” Aragorn kissed his lips and thoughtfully played with his hair. “Yes, I think we should bring him in.”
Pippin’s eyes were fervent. “Yes! This is going to be a good night!” he said happily. He hugged and kissed Aragorn with enthusiasm.
Merry and Pippin
Aragorn went to the door and called for Merry, who came immediately. When he heard the plan, he was soon naked and lying anxiously on the bed beside Pippin.
Aragorn kissed Merry’s lips and ran semi-rough hands over his small body. “Each of you is special,” he murmured as he dipped to kiss Merry’s chest. He moved to Pippin’s chest and licked a tiny nipple. “I love you both, and will always cherish you.” Kissing their lips, one, then the others’, his eyes became somber and awed. “The two of you, like Sam and Frodo, belong to each other, and shall always love each other completely. You are beautiful, both of you! I see the love in your eyes when they meet, and it affects me deeply. Love never fails, my little ones. Love never fails.”
Pippin turned to kiss Merry, and the two of them reached to bring Aragorn into a locked embrace for a few minutes. Pippin kissed him, then Merry. “I love you, Strider,” Pippin said lowly. “I always will. You don’t seem to know beautiful YOU are – inside and out!”
The king kissed them both again, then slid his generous lips purposefully down Pippin’s small body and engulfed him. He ignored the outcry and took in his length, lifting his eyes to see that Merry was kissing him again as he tweaked his nipples.
The young hobbit came with a shout that was smothered by Merry’s kisses. The small body shuddered beneath them, and when his time was over, Pippin sat up on his elbows and looked with amazement at the king.
“That was the most incredible outcome I have ever had!” he professed. “Promise me we can do this again some time.”
Merry laughed and kissed him, then both kissed Aragorn again, who said nothing, but proceeded to push Merry onto his back and begin with him. Taking him in, he let his chin whiskers brush the second hobbit’s tight sac. Merry jerked involuntarily and giggled. “That tickles!” he cried, so Aragorn did it again.
Pippin beamed at them and bent to kiss Merry’s lips as his fingers traced circles on his chest and stomach. Two sets of fingers strayed to the king’s dark hair and combed through it, enjoying the texture.
Merry came unexpectedly when his eyes met Aragorn’s blue-gray gaze and studied the sweet lips wrapped around him. The sight was precious! His cry was not muffled, and they knew that everyone heard, but the trio no longer cared.
When Merry had recovered himself, he and Pippin worked together to lay the tired king on his back and begin their service to him. Pippin’s mouth and Merry’s hands pumped him until he erupted, giving Pippin his protection from Hell. Then, after a short rest, the two hobbits began to massage the man’s shoulders, arms, chest and stomach. When they reached the point of their greatest interest, they had already succeeded in making him hard again. Merry contented himself with his objective and learned that the virile king was amazing in more ways than just his kindness and patience. His seed overflowed the hobbit’s mouth and graced him with several swallows of his prized seed.
“You should do this with everyone until you have given them all security,” Pippin voiced when the three of them lay cuddled together. “It will go much faster if you take us two at a time!”
Aragorn laughed again. “You amuse me so, Pippin!” He kissed the top of his curly head, and turned to kiss Merry’s. “You are both so dear to me.”
Merry looked into his weary eyes and smiled at him. “We do love you so, Aragorn,” he said softly, his small hand smoothing the wrinkles that had formed around the king’s eyes. “Go to sleep and rest well. It is our turn to protect you.”
With deep contentment, Aragorn closed his eyes and slept until morning’s light.
Merry and Pippin were still sleeping when Aragorn slipped from their midst. In the kitchen, finally alone to entertain his own thoughts, he found the teapot and filled it with water, then made a fire to boil it.
He realized that he was very much enjoying his time with each of his companions, and for reasons he could not label, it troubled him. He remembered Sam’s advice, that he should have a mate of his own, one for him alone. He wished it could be so, one with whom he could have intimate conversations without holding back, to whom he could show his uncertainties. He missed Arwen, his beautiful Elven wife. His own existence here in Limbo was still a mystery to him. Was he dead to those in Middle Earth? Were they truly, as Hades had said, in Limbo for eternity?
Eternity. No human could completely grasp the concept of eternity. With a cup of freshly brewed tea, he sat in front of the fireplace and watched the blazes as he pondered. His hour there was peaceful and rewarding.
It was Boromir who ended his peace with his presence. Their eyes met and the son of Denethor yawned nonchalantly. He went to make tea of his own before padding in his stockings to Aragorn’s side to sit and stare into the fire.
With a raise of his eyebrows, Aragorn said quietly, “Good morning.”
Boromir yawned again, but was cordial. “Good morning to you, King Aragorn.”
They sat for a while before Boromir spoke with a tinge of criticism, “Why would you take them two at a time? It’s bad enough that this is the bargain, but you worsen it with unbecoming behavior!”
“If the King of the Underworld has powers to take one of you, I will do whatever it takes to keep you. Merry and Pippin are now safe.”
“Yes,” Boromir said through gritted teeth. “Safe! Saved by your ‘blessed seed’! You, Gondor’s KING, are making a whore of yourself and of us!”
“Boromir, the curse is upon us. There is nothing we can do but follow his orders or he will take you all to Hell where you will suffer greatly! Should I protest and risk losing my loved ones forever? You love Faramir, do you not? Would you have him serving some demon in Hell? Would you see him suffer? Would you see any of them suffer? If you care not for yourself, think of the others. Boromir, do you love no one?”
Boromir closed his eyes in despair. “I see this as unjust!” he answered.
“So do I, but what choice do we have? Just or not, we must carry on!”
“And how long will this go on?” Boromir asked.
Aragorn shrugged. “Until Hades grows weary of the game, I suppose.”
“What if the game never ends? What if we are caught up in it forever? What if we are forced to continue and continue and continue?” Each repetition was louder. “What if we can never be happy?”
“You always have the option to be happy, Boromir!” Aragorn put an arm around his shoulders and brought him into a half-embrace. “Happiness is of your own doing, and no one else can give it to you. You must content yourself and stop being miserable!”
“Misery is all I have left!” Boromir cried, pulling away from him. On his feet, head down, he plodded out the front door.
With a heavy sigh, Aragorn saw that it was raining and wondered if his unhappy friend could catch pneumonia in this reality.
When the others rose, Aragorn noticed with fascination that Legolas and Gimli had emerged from the same bedroom. He smiled to himself, glad that two of his best friends had found warmth together. Faramir and Rúmil came from another bedroom, then Haldir and Gandalf from yet another. Frodo and Sam came out last, still groggy with uncombed hair, which amused the benevolent king. They were exquisite, all of them.
Respects were paid amongst them and when all had their morning tea in hand, Aragorn bade them sit and talk. As they seated themselves, Merry and Pippin came to join them.
Boromir returned soaking wet. Without a word, he walked straight to the large washroom to dry himself. To Aragorn’s disappointment, when he came out wrapped in a blanket, he did not share in the conversation, but secluded himself in his small bedroom for the remainder of the day.
“I will take Legolas tonight,” the King said to them, his soft eyes on the beautiful elf. He was pleased that the Prince of Mirkwood bowed his blond head gracefully to him. Touching his forehead, then his lips, Aragorn’s eyes lingered on him for a moment.
Finally, the king turned to the others. “I wish to know your thoughts on this place and this ‘curse’ that Hades has bestowed upon us. Tell me, each of you, how you feel and whether you will endure this for all of eternity if we must.”
Merry put an arm around Pippin. “I am happy with the way things are. It’s not like the Shire, but at least I’ve got my Pippin and my other friends as well. And the scenery isn’t bad.”
“We seem to have plenty to eat and drink and all the comforts we need. Maybe it’s magic, maybe not, but the meals still taste as good as Shire food, the beds are soft, our shelter is sound,” Sam said. “And as he said, we have our friends. We can abide here. I would like to go home, but if that’s impossible, Frodo and I will be well here as long as we are together.”
“We can never leave,” Gandalf told them gravely. “This place is forever and ever.”
“Are WE forever and ever?” Gimli asked.
“Forever unchanged, without aging, without death, with no sense of mortality, we are here.”
“With the King of Hell as our master.” Gimli said with a sigh.
Legolas’ brilliant blue eyes were wide with deliberation. “Hades may some day grow tired of playing with us and let us live according to our own rules,” he said. “But in any case, he has done us no more horror than we bemoaned in Middle Earth. There, we were laden with countless sorrows, a constant bedlam for our lives. Here, we have all that we need and more, and we have each other. And to give us these easy comforts, Aragorn has only to bless each of us once a month.”
“You are right,” Haldir intoned. “This is a luxurious existence with little debt asked of us. I will never object to this destiny.”
“Nor will I,” Faramir said. “I will adhere to the rules as long as I am allowed.”
“As will we all, I hope,” Sam said. “What I have said to Aragorn is what I say to all of you now. Here, we will spend a very, very long time if we are to live here forever and ever, and living without love is undesirable for most. I have chosen Frodo as my mate, and Merry has his Pippin. Each of us should choose a mate since there is an even number of us. I have sympathy for you, my lord Aragorn, for feeling that you can have none. I hope you change your mind about this and take one for your own.”
“Yes,” Rúmil said, casting his eyes upon their appointed king. “I agree. You should choose one to keep for your own.”
Haldir nodded in agreement. “Sam is right. We should all have love here, and as long as I do not end up mated with our ill-tempered Boromir, I will be happy with any of you for an eternity. I would feel blessed.”
There was a general chuckle, even from Faramir, who spoke next. “As would I. This is a good family. Love is free.”
“Love is free,” Aragorn echoed. “And I love you all so much my heart aches. I am grateful for the opportunity to be with each of you. I only wish I could do more for you.”
“My Lord,” Merry said with intensity, “You do not know how utterly exceptional you are! You are precious to us and you have given us far more than any of us expected!”
To him, Aragorn repeated his salute, touching his brow and lips.
The bed had been left unmade, so Legolas busied himself straightening the linens. Aragorn watched him bent over the bed and smiled to himself at the elf’s lean form. “You’re most beautiful, Legolas,” he murmured, approaching him without touching him.
Legolas stood to face him. “As are you, Aragorn,” he replied. He smiled, and was even more strikingly beautiful than Aragorn ever remembered him.
The king laid a hand on his shoulder and took a step closer to touch noses with him. “Whether you knew it or not, you have always taken part in my daydreams, my lovely Legolas. I dreamed of loving you, even when it was otherwise unheard of. Your company gave me comfort, both real and imagined.”
Legolas cupped his cheek. “So I was not the only one who dreamed such dreams,” he said softly.
Aragorn kissed him. He had never tasted such sweet lips. The taste became obsessive, and obsession overwhelmed them both. For an indeterminate period of time, they stood there, lost in kisses and the feel of each other, and when awareness returned to them, they found themselves naked and locked together on the bed, Aragorn between Legolas’ uplifted legs. He oiled himself and gently prepared the willing elf, and when he entered, Legolas threw back his head in anguish and ecstasy.
Aragorn paused and held perfectly still. “I hurt you!” he said, fearing the worst.
“You did, but please do not stop. I want you more than I have ever felt want, need you more than water or the air that I breathe. Please, Aragorn, give me more!” Legolas lifted his lips to kiss him again and drew him in deeper, both hands gripping the man’s bottom.
Aragorn had never felt so out of control. His thrust into the hot depth provoked a violent gasp from the elf, but he could not feel repentant. Withdrawing, he tarried a few seconds on the verge, taking up very short strokes until Legolas cried out and gripped his rear again, digging in his fingernails and forcing him in deep.
“Do not tease me, Aragorn! Take me!”
Aragorn nodded and began a steady rhythm into him that soon had the blond sobbing his name with overpowering emotions churning his Elven spirit. When Aragorn emptied his prize into him, Legolas’ wail echoed through Limbo and he came between them.
Wearily, Aragorn rose to look down at his stomach at the glittering stickiness on his belly and grinned. “Elves never fail to amaze me,” he said, bending to kiss him again. “You are so passionate, so loving.”
“Then you must be an elf,” Legolas said with a chuckle. “Because no one is as passionate as you, my love.”
Foregoing the need to wash up, Aragorn collapsed into bed and took him into his arms. “Just let me hold you for a while. I need to hold you…”
Legolas held tightly to him, cherishing him, and for a night, Aragorn was his.
When they came from the bedroom the following day, they were well rested and hungry. “Is it still raining?” Legolas asked. “I would like to take a bath today.”
“And you cannot take a bath in the rain?” Gimli teased. “The purest form of water is that which falls from the heavens, my good elf.”
Legolas laughed and kissed the dwarf’s furry cheek, then his lips. “My sweet Gimli,” he murmured, and was drawn into an ardent hug. “How I love you.”
Gimli pulled him down for another kiss. “No more than I love you, my lovely elf,” he said in a gentler voice than anyone had ever heard from him.
Boromir scoffed from his seat before the fire. “Have you all gone mad?” he demanded. “The hobbits I can almost overlook because they ARE hobbits, but now the elves and dwarves, too? Next I will learn that my brother has been taken into this ridiculous travesty as well!”
Faramir’s calm eyes settled on his older brother. “Travesty, Boromir? You find love to be a mockery?” He went to kneel before him, demanding with his eyes. “Since when? I remember a time when you loved me!”
“I loved you, yes, and I still love you. But as a brother, not as a mate for eternity.”
“Which is why I have chosen another.” Faramir said.
Boromir’s gaze was stern. “Who has corrupted my brother?” he asked.
Faramir stood, looking down at the seated man. “My chosen has not corrupted me. He has given me comfort and love, and if that is wrong, then I will stand judged, not you.”
“Who?” Angrily, Boromir stood to face him. “Rúmil? I know you spent last night with him!”
Rúmil stepped forward to be charged, but Faramir held him back. “He is my chosen, dear brother, and if you cannot tolerate our decision, then you can go to Hell!” With that, he whirled away, took Rúmil in his embrace and kissed him.
Boromir reached to tear them apart, but Aragorn intercepted by grabbing the attacker by the arm. When he saw who had pulled him away, Boromir was livid. Abruptly, he swung and struck the king in the face, which rocked him backwards into the hearth. He waited pensively for retaliation, huffing angrily, but Aragorn remained at peace with sad eyes and crimson lips.
Tears in his eyes, Boromir made another hasty retreat out the door, leaving all staring after him.
Gandalf stepped forth to tend the king’s bleeding lips, and as he touched them, he said quietly, “I will be with you next, Aragorn, to help mend your broken heart. Let me calm your troubled spirit, my friend.”
Aragorn could do nothing but nod his assent.
They returned from the bathing pool at dusk, wondering where Boromir had gone. Worriedly, they watched for him, all breathing a sigh of relief when he finally arrived at midnight. He avoided them, pushing Faramir away when he reached out for him, and escaped into the tiny bedroom he had claimed for his own.
Gandalf, at last, stood and pulled Aragorn to his feet. “Come. Think not of him this night, but keep to the love that is in your heart and be with me.”
As the two of them closed the door behind them, Legolas and Gimli slipped silently off to bed together, as did Faramir and Rúmil and the hobbits. Haldir, who had spent the previous night in celibacy with Gandalf, stretched out on the couch and pulled a quilt over himself to sleep.
“Gandalf, I do not know what to do,” Aragorn despaired. “I do not want to lose him to Hades, but he continues to behave as if he would rather join him. What am I to do?”
“Talk to him and give him the choice,” the old wizard advised.
“Will he succumb to my love and let me save him?”
“He will or be damned to Hell. It’s that simple.” Gandalf sat beside him on the bed. “If all was perfect, we would be in Heaven, not Limbo. We must preside over these small matters and take each thing in turn. I strongly suspect that most of his problems are wrought from fear and envy rather than hate. Do not be hasty in your hopelessness. Give him time. After all, he has returned to us from a terrible death.”
“So has Haldir, and he is not angry and critical as Boromir is!”
“But they are very different. Haldir is more accepting and gentle. If you will recall, Boromir is the elder son of Denethor, who went mad and threw himself into fire! He has much to overcome, and much to recognize.”
“As do I.” Aragorn faced him with a humble face. “Thank you, dear Gandalf, for your counsel. I am in your debt, my dear friend.”
Gandalf tugged him close and kissed him lightly. “I know you, Aragorn, that you have been selfless and giving with each one as he comes to you. Let me comfort you, and I will show you true pleasure in a new way for the king.”
Aragorn opened his mouth to protest and was kissed into silence. In a daze, he realized that the old wizard had stripped him bare and that he was on his back on the bed. “What do you have in mind for me, Gandalf?” he asked in confusion.
“Trust me, Aragorn. I will not hurt you.” Gandalf reached for the oil.
The king’s blue gray eyes grew with anticipation as the wizard’s fingers slipped into his cleft. Lifting his legs, he allowed the intrusion into his body, whimpering with need as two fingers immediately found and tickled his internal gland. “Oh, Gandalf, you are going where no one has ever gone before,” he whispered.
“Then you do not know how enjoyable it can be!” Gandalf said with a smile.
“Oh, I have seen how Faramir and Legolas enjoyed it!” Aragorn lurched at his touch when he stroked the fingers out and in again. “Yes, and this is something I wish to know, also!”
“This is what I will give to you before I take your seed.” Gandalf said kindly. He bent to kiss him again and found the magnificent king to be the most receptive lover he had ever taken. He kissed him again and again.
Finally, pulling out his fingers, he oiled his long member and thrust deep into him, kissing him again to mute his cry. He knew the pain, but also knew the pleasure that would follow, and was patient. Very carefully, he drew back and slowly entered again, feeling the tightness begin to slacken. He moved slowly until the going was easier, then began to stroke in earnest until he had unloaded his wizardly fulfillment.
Moving quickly, he disengaged and slid down the man’s body to take his hard, aching organ into his mouth, and expertly caught and swallowed his seed as it surged from him.
This time, it was Aragorn whose shouts rang throughout the globe, and the kindly old wizard smiled lovingly upon him.
There were no words needed for the rest of the night, only closeness. Aragorn lay comforted in Gandalf’s arms, thankful for him.
Everyone had eaten when the king arose the following day. They offered him a plate, which he graciously accepted. He sat carefully, aware of soreness, but the reminder of the night with Gandalf left him smiling. As he ate, his lip hurt, which caused him to realize that healing was no quicker in Limbo than it had been in Middle Earth. His eyes strayed across the room to Boromir, who was sitting sullenly alone in the kitchen.
He did not want to deal with Boromir today. He looked at Haldir, whom he loved dearly. “Would you be my companion today, Haldir?” he asked.
Haldir smiled and bowed to him. “I would be your companion every day if you wished it,” he answered, moving to sit beside the king.
“Only my brother Rúmil and Boromir remain after me,” Haldir said, on his knees on the bed behind Aragorn. Both had undressed quickly and now, Aragorn sat serenely while Haldir combed his hair.
“My time today is with you, my amazing Haldir. Today, it is you whom I wish to consider.”
Haldir’s arms encircled him from behind, his blond head on his strong shoulder. “I am ready for whatever considerations you would give me, my lord,” he said into his ear. “I love you and will do anything to please you.”
Aragorn reached back to pull him around into a hug and kissed him. “Oh, Haldir, I love you so much!” Rolling with him, he kissed him again, sweeping back the long blond hair and rising above him to gaze upon him lovingly. “Are you ready for me?”
Haldir nodded a little uncertainly. “It has been long since this has happened for me,” he said. “The last was Glorfindel many years ago.”
“I will take care, my love,” Aragorn promised. He kissed him again and oiled his fingers. “My sweet Haldir, I would never hurt you, never in a million years.”
“Do you think we have that long?”
Aragorn shrugged and smiled. “I can only hope.”
“Will you love us all for a million years?”
“I will love you all for a million times a million years! My love will never end, for if it does, so shall my soul expire into utter nothingness.”
Haldir kissed him spontaneously. “You have the most powerful spirit that Middle Earth ever knew, my lord Aragorn,” he whispered. He hissed with need as fingers were pressed into him, jumped with delight when the king’s mouth closed around him. “Oh, my lord!”
The elf’s breathing was labored for the next few minutes, and Aragorn rose from him and pushed into him before the exercise was complete. Haldir grunted in pain, but the entry had been careful. He felt the slow, smooth slide deep into him, and let out a long breath to allow his tight muscles to relax. Moments later, he was panting with need again. “I do not remember the act ever feeling quite so wonderful before!” he said. “Aragorn, you are outstanding!”
Aragorn kissed him and murmured into his pointed ear, “And so are you, my sweet Haldir!” With those words, he blessed the elf with his seed, which caused Haldir to come strongly.
After many more kisses and cleaning up, they rose from the bed and dressed, but stood at the door sharing several last kisses before rejoining the others again.
“I do not wish to part from you,” Haldir said, touching his cheek as they tarried. “I love you, Aragorn.”
“I love you, too, Haldir.” Aragorn took the hand and kissed the palm, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “I look forward to having you again, my love. My heart burns for you, just as it always did.”
Haldir’s eyes were moist. They shared a last kiss before they went out the door.
Night fell again on Limbo Island. Supper and chores were done.
“So,” Boromir said, collapsing onto the couch beside Faramir. “It comes down to the last of us. Tell us, Aragorn, in your infinite wisdom, who will you choose to be next?”
Aragorn’s eyes were too weary for scorn. “Rúmil is next,” he answered quietly. “And you, my dear Boromir, I save for last.”
Boromir looked away in contempt, so, to avoid further trouble, Aragorn stood, took Rúmil by the hand and fled to the bedroom.
The elf shivered when faced by Aragorn alone, but the gentle king’s assurance augmented his faith. “There’s no need to be afraid. I will not harm you.”
The elf smiled shyly at him. “I did not know you as well as the others because I was not as important as them you befriended in Lórien, but I know that you are a brave and noble man, and I respect you for your deeds. I have seen the way my brother Haldir looks on you. He is in love with you. He would give anything to belong to you alone.”
Aragorn sat down on the bed. “Haldir is precious to me, but precious are you all! I will speak with him on this matter once I have completed my duty for these thirty days. I am not certain that I am to be allowed a love that is mine own here.”
Rúmil nodded, felt sorrow for him, stood a few seconds longer until the king took his hand and guided him to sit on the bed beside him. “You are lovely,” The man murmured to him, touching his face. “And so is Faramir. I am happy that you two have found love together.”
“He is extraordinary,” Rúmil said. “If existence in this realm truly is to last forever, I wish to belong to him here.”
“Has he made love to you?”
“No, he did not want me to be sore when I came to you. He is thoughtful.”
“Yes, very,” Aragorn was impressed with the young steward’s consideration. He smiled. “He has done other things for you, though?”
“Yes, other things,” Rúmil looked down, his cheeks tinged. “As I have for him.”
Aragorn caught his face and kissed him gently. “You’re very cute when you blush,” he teased. “As a matter of fact, my dear Rúmil, you are cute even when you do not blush!”
Rúmil grinned at him. “I am cute?”
“I thought I was a proud and remarkable warrior.”
“Yes, that, too.” Aragorn kissed him again. “Tell me, my love, have you ever been entered by a man?”
“None that I consented to,” Rúmil answered vaguely. His eyes met the king’s and he saw a slight frown. “I will consent to Faramir, and I will consent to you! Do not worry! I will be yours until you wish me to leave.”
Aragorn hugged him. “Good,” he said. “I would never let my Rúmil perish! You are very special.”
Rúmil’s arms tightened around him. “You make me feel very special indeed, and for this, I am grateful. I truly love you, Aragorn.”
“And I love you, Rúmil, truly, and never think that I did not notice you in Lórien. You were important to me, too, and always will be.”
“You paid attention to every word I spoke,” Rúmil remembered. “I had such a childish crush on you for years, but could not let it show.”
“I knew,” Aragorn chuckled, and kissed him again. “You could not have known that I felt the same for you.”
Rúmil drew back suddenly. “You felt the same for me, but did not tell me?”
“I could not. I was betrothed, and I also loved your brother, and Legolas.”
Rúmil giggled. “You were immoral, King Elessar.”
“Guilty as charged, but until we came here to this place, it was all in my heart, none of my lusts acted upon. Now, because of this curse, we are given free will to commit acts that were previously assumed to be vile and abominable, and very sweet.” He smiled and kissed Rúmil again.
Rúmil laughed out loud. “I do love you, Aragorn, and I am willing to be a bit vile if it pleases you.”
“Making you safe here will please me. I am happy that you love Faramir. He needs you.”
“As I need him,” Rúmil said. “We have similar backgrounds.”
“I have sensed that you are both survivors of cruelty,” Aragorn pushed back his blond hair, which had fallen into his face. “I bid you to take counsel with me or Gandalf whenever you have need to talk about it.”
Rúmil nodded politely. “I will do this with you, if you will also take counsel with Faramir.”
“Of course,” Aragorn touched his face. “Either separately or together, whichever you prefer. You both have the same demons. They merely have different faces.”
“I appreciate your good judgment, my dear king.”
“I know you were molested, but by whom I do not know. You may keep this your secret or tell me, whichever you prefer. I hope you will not allow this face to cloud your love with Faramir.”
“Never,” Rúmil promised. “I will never allow anything in my past to wound my love with him.”
“Good.” After a moment of thought, Aragorn said, “I want you now, but I will not take you the way I took Faramir.” He slowly undressed the self-conscious elf and himself and positioned them on the bed so that they were head-to-foot. Then, taking Rúmil into his mouth, he showed him how to do the same for him, and together, they sucked each other to a shuddering completion. When they lay quietly afterwards, Rúmil’s smile was peaceable. “You are truly a king in every sense of the word, Aragorn. I am honored to be with you this way, and am thankful to you for your seed.”
Aragorn sat up, took him into his arms and held him for an hour.
Boromir’s apprehension was visible when Aragorn sat down to their next breakfast. Standing before the fireplace, the elder son of Denethor rearranged the pokers for the fifth time in so many minutes. He jumped violently at the sudden appearance of Hades, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders and laughed with glee.
“It is the fate of this one to belong to me!” Hades claimed jovially. “Admit it, Aragorn! You do not care for him as you do the others! You wish me to take him and be done with him here. His insolence has earned him a spot in my service!”
Boromir jerked away from him, sneering. “I thought you were going to be away!” he accused. “Leave us alone and let us be!”
“You have caused considerable discord here in Limbo, Boromir,” Hades said. “There is one man who could have saved you and you popped him in the mouth! Do you think he would care enough for you now to waste his precious seed in your body?”
The man of Gondor looked away with a grimace. “I care not what he does with his seed! He is not beholden to me!”
On his feet, Aragorn moved to confront Boromir. “You will care when you are in Hell and bent in the service of himself!” he said angrily. “I will not tell you lies, Boromir, I am angry with you, but I will not damn you if I can help it. I will not take you by force although at first, that was the only way I perceived to take you!” He pressed a hand on the other man’s shoulder and gazed deeply into his eyes, “But if you will go willingly with me, I will try to ease your troubled spirit and give to you what you need to keep you here with us.”
Boromir staggered beneath the weight of the hand. “You still offer this to me after all I have said and done?”
“I offer it freely, Boromir. Come with me and let me give you sanctuary.”
Hades laughed gaily. “Aragorn, you are much too kind! This man has done nothing but cause you trouble since your arrival in Limbo, and you offer him love? I have wrongly placed you in Limbo. Your love and devotion to your companions has merited you a high place above in the Divine.”
Boromir turned to glare at the god. “You intend to take him from us now, when they depend upon him so dearly?”
“I will leave it up to him,” Hades answered. “I will also leave you in his tender care until he tells me to take you. Your fate is in his hands.”
The dark god stepped close to him, taking him closer to the fire and laying a hot, heavy hand on the side of his head, which made him cringe. “Just to let you know, let me tell you a little bit about Hell, and you can take it from there. In Hell, you will service my partisans –there are many of them - most of them insatiable, craving kinky, brutal sex. That means you’ll be tortured, disciplined, maimed, and mutilated to suit their particular kinks…actually, every horrible thing you have ever heard of in sexual torture will happen to you there, and it will keep on happening for eternity. And you will feel it, every nanosecond of it, and you will lose your mind. Unfortunately, losing your mind will not give you peace. It will continue forever, and you will suffer forever. So, how do you feel about that, Boromir?”
Boromir trembled. “Aragorn, can you ever forgive me?” he begged pitifully.
Aragorn heard a general sigh of relief from the others in the room and felt his own heart lighten with hope. He took Boromir by the hand and led him to the bedroom.
When they had gone from the room, the evil god grinned wickedly at those who remained. “So, how does everybody like it so far here on Limbo Island?” he asked.
They shrank back from him, but Gandalf spoke defiantly. “We have begun to enjoy our stay here, most of us. Tell us your plans for the future for us, if indeed we have a future.”
“Like I said, Wiz, you’re here for Eternity, so your future is firmly fixed,” Hades answered, his wrist limber as he laid his palm on his own cheek. He chewed thoughtfully on his little fingernail. “The deal is good as long as your king chooses to live here among you and keep to his part of the bargain, okay? Everything’s cool.”
Frowns of wonder made him laugh. “You folks are so much fun! I’m so happy I finally landed some Middle Earthers in Limbo! You don’t know how much I’m enjoying all the entertainment!”
“So happy we can amuse you,” Gandalf said quietly.
“Good! Now, you hot old wizard, grab you an elf and go get you some! Life is supposed to be fun! God, I hate prudence! Just let loose and get it on!”
Gandalf looked around his company with a long sigh and met Haldir’s shimmering blue eyes. Stretching out a hand, he invited softly, “Haldir?”
Haldir went to him without pause and was enveloped in a shielding embrace.
“Wonderful! Don’t think you’ll have it easy with the old guy, Haldir! I hope you’ve heard the one that goes ‘just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean there’s not fire in the furnace!’ He’s a hot one! I think you’re going to be very happy!” With a maniacal laugh, Hades waved at them and disappeared.
“Do you think they’re getting along in there?” Sam asked pensively.
All ten were sitting around the living room, waiting for signs to give them a hint as to Boromir’s fate. The room was not sound proof, but normal speech could not be heard outside the closed door. They waited, listening, but even the elves were unable to hear the two men in the sanctifying bedroom.
His arm around Haldir, Gandalf said finally, “We should go about our own business for now, and let Aragorn work his talents on our highly strung companion. Our good king has the power of love on his side. Have faith that he will overcome.”
Their agreement did not make them any less curious, but they dispersed in pairs, each to their own distraction.
Boromir could not look at the king as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Hades is right. I do not deserve your kindness, Aragorn,” he mumbled. “My manners have been dreadful.”
Aragorn looked at him with longing. “Boromir,” he whispered, stooping before him to touch his face. “Please, tell me what is in your heart.”
“Why do you offer me your love?” Boromir asked without meeting his gaze.
The king coaxed his face up and forced eye contact. “My Boromir,” he whispered as he leaned closer as if to kiss him, but stopped short. “Ask me instead why the wind blows or why life was given to us in the first place! Ask me why we have eyes to see and ears to hear, ask any of these questions and I will tell you that I do not know. I love you, and that is all. I love you, Boromir, and I do not know why. Nor do I question why. I accept it and I offer it to you. Will you have me now? Will you love me in return or am I alone in this?”
Boromir’s fingers rose and clumsily skimmed his companion’s lower lip. Seeing the healing cut there, he groaned with regret. “I am sorry for the blow, Aragorn. I will never raise a hand to you again. Please forgive me.”
“All is forgiven.” Aragorn took the fingers and kissed them gently.
The Gondorian’s tortured look was unreprieved. He began to speak slowly as Aragorn moved to sit beside him on the bed. “When we were in Lothlórien and met the Lady Galadriel, she saw my attraction to you and thought it a natural thing. She spoke of my feelings at length and encouraged me to ‘open my heart’ to you, but she could not ease my conscience.”
Aragorn considered his words a moment and asked, “Why do you think it is not a natural thing?”
“Because mating is to be done between men and women, between male and female of any race or species! That is written! That is law!”
“In what kingdom, Boromir? In whose law books?”
Boromir was frustrated. “My father beat that law into my head before I became a man! He did not let me grow up lusting after unnatural flesh!”
“But all flesh is natural, is it not? I will say nothing to criticize the way your father taught you, but I will ask you to question it now and think for yourself. I will ask you to think deeply on it because it affects your heart and your soul.
“The hobbits and elves, as you have noted, have no inhibitions about mating with their own gender or other species. Legolas and Gimli are the most unlikely pair here in Limbo, but there have been even more unusual couples in the history of Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lórien. Most of the elves are free spirits who think that the male/female bonding is chiefly for the purpose of procreation.”
“And is that what you think, too?”
Aragorn nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“But you married Arwen, and you loved her, did you not?”
”Yes, I did, and I love her still, but my time with her is done. I am dead to her. You and I are together forever. I loved you even before Lothlórien, and when you died, I thought you, too, were lost to me! Now that I have you back, I will not lose you again!”
“You loved me? When did you first feel this love for me?” Boromir asked with interest.
“The first time?” Aragorn’s eyes clouded in recollection. “Was the day when we sat down to rest and you were teaching Merry and Pippin swordsmanship. They dropped their swords and attacked you playfully and when you hugged them both and laughed with joy, I felt an overwhelming closeness to you!”
“Yet you had your hand on the hilt of your sword on the snowy mountain when I picked up the ring,” Boromir remembered bitterly.
“My heart would have grieved had you tried to take it then, but I knew you would not.”
“Frodo learned to fear me,” Boromir said.
“He loved you, too, and still does. Boromir, even now, there is hope!”
“You echo Lady Galadriel’s words.”
“They are true. Tell me what holds you back.”
“That I hurt so many so deeply. That I cannot ever recompense to them, or to you, or to myself!”
“Shame and regret overwhelm your heart, my friend. Let it go.”
“How can I?” Boromir’s eyes were brimming. “How can I forget?”
Aragorn touched a tear as it escaped. “Tell me of Denethor and his treatment of you. I know that Faramir has terrible emotional scars, as do you. Tell me what he did to you.”
Boromir paused to wipe his eyes roughly. “He loved me, and he was a noble man.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that before, but tell me now what happened to cause you such sorrow. Tell me what he did.”
“We were together as children, and we loved each other as brothers should. He amused me one day at supper, so I kissed him, and was chastised severely for my actions. As you know, in Gondor, it is the custom of our people to kiss friends on the forehead as a farewell or greetings, and that is what I was told. My fault was in kissing his lips. After that, I often kissed his cheek or brow in secret, but never touched my lips to another’s lips, male or female. Faramir did not live with the bitterness that I did although he suffered even more discipline than I. It seemed our father despised him.”
“I know, and he knew. But try and understand that he was mad, not in his right mind. You and Faramir suffer yet because he hurt you needlessly.”
Boromir sobbed. “Neither have I been in my right mind! I have felt their aversion to me, all of them who wait by the fire. I fear their scorn.”
“No one will scorn you if you will give them a chance to love you.” Aragorn threaded gentle fingers through his hair. “And give me a chance to love you, too. May I kiss you, now?”
The sigh was unwilling. “If you must,” Boromir raised his face to him, pleading with his eyes.
Aragorn’s annoyance was swept away by the helplessness he saw there. Cupping the back of the other man’s head, he kissed him suddenly and found that breathing was a struggle, as if they had been immersed in water. He backed away for three seconds to drag in a long, difficult breath of air, saw Boromir’s overpowering need, and plunged back into the kiss.
Boromir’s arms closed around him with force, and his lips parted, invited him to deepen the kiss. There they lingered until the air supply ran out again.
Upon parting, their eyes met and Aragorn’s amazement was marked. “My Boromir, for a reluctant partaker who has spent very little time kissing, you are a master. I cannot wait to see what else you can do!”
Boromir smiled at him, and Aragorn thought no one had ever been more beautiful. “I suppose it’s a gift.”
“You, my love, are a gift,” Aragorn said. “I grieved tremendously when you died in my arms. Having you back and in my arms again is the most precious gift I could ask for.”
“You have us all,” Boromir said, “And they all love you. You’re their king, my king, and we are all your adoring subjects.”
“Subjects? No, you are not my subjects, but my family that I love and cherish. I love you desperately and need to hear from your sweet lips that you are not lost to us.”
Boromir’s eyes swam with emotion as he crushed him to his chest and kissed him again. “I hope never to be lost to you, Aragorn,” Tangling his fingers in the other man’s shoulder-length hair, he buried his face against his neck and kissed him there. “Please forgive me.”
Aragorn sighed in relief and desire. “All is forgiven, Boromir.”
Dozens of kisses initiated their lovemaking, which began quite savagely when Aragorn threw off his clothes and began to tear at Boromir’s. To save his buttons, Boromir removed his hands and disrobed himself quickly, standing naked and vulnerable before him.
Aragorn went to his knees and took Boromir into his mouth, engulfing him all at once, which caused him to nearly buckle with stimulation. He looked down and met the blue gray eyes as they rose to view him while he was sucking and pumping him with masterful dedication, and tears streamed down both their cheeks.
“Oh, Aragorn, why did I doubt?” Boromir murmured, but his despair did not save him from the most incredible orgasm he had ever enjoyed. He rocked with the strength of it, steadied himself on Aragorn’s shoulders to keep from falling. When the kneeling man stood, Boromir stumbled backwards and was caught by strong arms that embraced him lovingly as they spun him and laid him gently on the bed.
Aragorn’s fingers dipped into the oil and carefully pressed against that spot Boromir had so fearfully guarded all his life. When the first finger entered, he said nervously, “I was so afraid of this, afraid it would hurt. I was afraid to let you close enough to touch me in this way because of what my father taught me about such things. I know it was stupid, but it is difficult to overcome years of training.”
“Yes, I know.” Aragorn slipped a second finger into him and carefully began to stretch him. “Just feel the pleasure, Boromir. Do not think about your father and his teachings. Let yourself go, my love.”
Boromir nodded and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable as he was, but the fingers inside him found the right spot and he nearly sat up in surprise. “Aragorn, what did you touch?” he asked with rounded eyes.
Feigning ignorance, the king smiled. “I touched something? Did you like it?”
Boromir blushed deeply. “It was…rather pleasing,” he answered grudgingly.
“Would you like me to do it again?”
“If it’s always pleasant, do it again.” Boromir lifted his bottom from the bed and met his hand this time, his eyes rolling as it happened again. “Yes! That’s very nice.”
“Are you ready for me now?” Aragorn removed his fingers and covered him, setting himself against Boromir’s opening. He felt the other man stiffen and bent down to kiss him several times. “Relax, my love. Let me in.”
Boromir winced and gripped his shoulders as he was breeched. “Stop, at least for a moment,” he begged.
Aragorn was dead still for a few minutes, using the time to explore his mouth with his tongue. The kisses were erotic and soon had Boromir raising his hips to take him in deep. A long, smooth slide into him and Aragorn had once again created friction against Boromir’s newfound gland. Both men were inflamed beyond anything they had ever known in passion. At Boromir’s urging, Aragorn began to move faster and harder, and soon emptied his necessary seed into Boromir’s convulsing insides. The splash against his prostate provoked a series of seismic groans and he shot his own burning seed all over their chests.
When they had recovered from their powerful bout of sex, they went to wash the mess from their bodies, put on their underpants and returned to the bed. Emotional and physical stress had exhausted them. Covering themselves for warmth, they went to sleep in each other’s arms.
His ear pressed against the door, Pippin whispered, “I don’t hear a sound!”
Merry listened, too, and shook his head ruefully. Legolas, above him, shrugged in frustration.
“What are you doing?” Gandalf reprimanded when he discovered the group at the door. He waved them towards the living room where they could talk without being overheard.
When they were all seated glumly before the fire, Sam made the explanation. “It’s been over eight hours since they went in there, and not a sound have we heard. We’re afraid they’ve killed each other! Not a sound, Gandalf!”
“Can’t we just knock on the door and ask if they’re all right?” Frodo asked.
Gimli nodded emphatically. “What would it hurt for us to interrupt them? They’ve had plenty of time to themselves!”
Gandalf sighed at them. “I suppose you’re right. They have taken a very long time. Very well. Go ahead.”
Hades chose that moment to pop in, laughing. “You guys crack me up!” he said. “So worried about your king! You’re all so sweet and thoughtful! And nosy! You want to know if they actually got it on, don’t you, you nosy bastards! That’s one thing I love so much about you folks!” He let loose another laugh. “Well, go on. Knock on the door and let them know you’re ‘concerned’.”
The company hurried to the bedroom door and hesitated a moment, each looking to another to knock. Finally, Gimli rapped impatiently on the wood and called, “Aragorn, we need to see you!”
There was a brief wait before the door opened a bit and Aragorn’s sleepy face appeared in the crack. “Yes, Gimli? What is it?” Seeing them all there, he frowned in confusion. “What is wrong?”
“We were worried.” Pippin answered. “Are you all right? No one’s heard a peep from you since more than eight hours ago!”
Aragorn covered his mouth as he yawned. “We’re fine. We’ve been sleeping.”
“Good,” Gimli said happily. “Then we can leave you to your rest and go back to what we were doing.”
Frodo, surprisingly, was the one who stepped into Aragorn’s privacy and looked towards the bed. “Is Boromir well, too?” he asked.
Boromir sat up in bed and waved at them as, with a sigh, Aragorn let the door swing wide. “I’m fine. I’m flattered that you care, especially you, Frodo.”
“Of course I care!” Frodo said, hurrying to the bed to pounce on the man of Gondor. He hugged him jubilantly. “Are you safe now, Boromir? Did Aragorn give you what you needed?”
Very touched, Boromir hugged the gentle hobbit and kissed his dark hair. “Yes, I am safe. And I am sorry for the way I have treated you, all of you. I am sorry and I promise that I will be much pleasanter from now on. Please forgive me.”
Frodo kissed his cheek. “Already forgiven!” he cried.
Hades wiped a tear mockingly. “Oh, you guys!” he said. “You’re such saps! This is going to be one fun-filled eternity!”
“You!” Aragorn pointed to him, and the god pointed to himself, his attention captured. “I want to ask you a question!”
“Then ask, dear king! The worst I can say is ‘no’.”
“I ask if I am allowed love here, true love.”
“You have love. Each of these individuals would love you forever if chosen to be your eternal love. You may choose one, or keep them all! You may have them all forever. Why are you asking me this? You can do whatever you want as long as you keep to the deal. Once a month with each one – easy rent, wouldn’t you say? If you want one of them for your own, just take him.”
Aragorn bowed to him. “Thank you,” he said. “I will.”
“You wanta share this choice with us, King?” Hades said.
“Not with you, Hades, not until I have discussed it with them.”
“Well, damn! You sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings!” Hades snapped his fingers in disappointment. “I suppose you want to be left alone for this touchy-feely bullshit!”
“Yes, please,” Aragorn answered amiably.
Rolling his eyes, Hades disappeared.
“Come in, all of you,” Aragorn invited. “Sit down. Forgive our state of undress. I would like to talk with you, all of you, and hear your feelings on this thing.”
They entered the room and all sat on the bed, the hobbits climbing onto it to join Frodo in Boromir’s lap. Happily, he hugged each of them. Soon, unable to keep his distance, Legolas crawled up for a hug, too and was followed by Faramir, who kissed his brother on the lips. After backing up for a surprised glance at him, Boromir laughed affectionately and kissed him back.
Aragorn smiled at them, happy to see the love his family displayed.
Haldir brought them back to order. “Aragorn, tell us who you have chosen.”
Their king laid a hand on Haldir’s shoulder and said softly, “I need you to know that I love you all and will always love you. You are the lights in my darkness, my warmth where there is cold. You are my life, and I would lose none of you! I am delighted to see that you have taken lovers, Gimli and Legolas, Faramir and Rúmil, Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pippin, and now, Gandalf and Haldir. May your love last for all eternity.” He bowed to them and honored them with his signature touching of the forehead and lips.
“You still have not chosen,” Haldir said.
“Tell me, Haldir,” Aragorn said, “how do you feel about Gandalf?”
“I love him.” Haldir answered simply. “I love him very much, and will be happy with him forever with your permission.”
“You have it, although you do not need it. You have the freedom to do as you like, my beautiful Haldir.” Aragorn bent to kiss him on the brow. “Gandalf is marvelous. You are very fortunate, and so is he.” He took a step to take Gandalf’s head in his hands and kissed him on the lips. The wizard hugged him, returned his kiss and winked at him as he patted his cheek.
“Are you choosing Boromir?” Frodo asked keenly.
Boromir’s eyes widened as he glimpsed at the hobbit then up at Aragorn for his response. There was a long moment in which the two men’s eyes held fast before Boromir finally asked, “Well, are you choosing Boromir?”
Aragorn smiled at him. “If he will have me,” he answered meekly.
Boromir arose from his spot in the bed, scattering hobbits this way and that, and threw his arms joyfully around the king. “If I will have you?” he demanded. “Do you want me or not, Aragorn?”
Confronted, Aragorn nodded pensively. “I want you, Boromir,” he answered, “But it’s your choice, not mine.”
Boromir kissed him, then threw back his head and laughed loudly. “How did you come to be our king when you’re so daft?” he asked as he tenderly kissed him again. “If it’s MY choice, Aragorn, then you will belong to me forever and ever.” After two more sweet kisses and a tender nose rub, he whispered, “And ever.”
They received a round of applause from the sentimental onlookers. Boromir smiled at them, but immediately shooed from the room and closed the door closed behind them. When they were alone again, Aragorn waited with anticipation to see what the son of Denethor had in store for him now that he had claimed him.
Boromir knelt to strip off Aragorn’s underpants, and dropped his own as he led the king back to bed. “I have never wanted anyone so much!” he said softly. “No one has ever looked so desirable just standing there looking at me! How can you be so beautiful, Aragorn? How have you made me fall so deeply in love with you?”
“I would ask you the same question,” Aragorn answered, caressing his cheek. “I love you, Boromir, more than anything.”
Boromir sat up and rolled on top of him to kiss him passionately. “We need to talk,” he whispered in his ear. “There are many things that need to be said before I go further.”
“Then say what you will,” Lovingly, Aragorn touched his face. “As long as it is not that you do not love me.”
“I do! I love you and always will. That is not what we need to talk about. I wish to explain to you that I have been with no other but you. My father lived without love after the death of my mother, never took another lover. He denied himself all contact with human flesh, and expected the same of me. To please him, I complied. I felt love was forbidden to me.”
“You could have…”
“Yes, I could have done much behind his back, but I did not want to. My passions laid elsewhere, with my warrior training.”
“But Faramir has been molested by someone in his past. Do you know who?”
“I have suspicions. There were teachers who were so inclined. If I had known when it happened, the man would have lost his offending member to my sword for his misdeed! But Faramir never told me. He knew I would kill the man, so he would not betray his transgression.”
Aragorn nodded, understanding. “I hope he will talk with us about it later, along with Rúmil, who suffered the same misdeed.”
“I figured that was why they bonded so quickly.” Boromir said. He rose to his hands and knees and reached for the oil. “Has this ever been done to you?” he asked, sliding oily fingers between Aragorn’s legs.
“Once,” Aragorn drew in a shaky breath and wrapped his legs around him. “By Gandalf a few nights ago.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes, I did,” Aragorn grunted in pleasure as Boromir’s fingers slid into him.
“Do you wish this with me?”
“Very much!” Aragorn answered, taking the oil and reaching to smooth it on Boromir’s aroused organ. “It would make me very happy to have you in this way, my love.”
Encouraged, Boromir bent to kiss him while his fingers slid in and out of him. His lips began to glide downwards over his short beard to his throat, which he kissed hard, leaving his claiming mark, then to his breast. He sucked the brown nipple into his mouth, first fiercely, then softly. Moving to the other nipple, he bit it gently until the man beneath him moaned with need. Taking out his fingers, he slowly entered him, drawing back to watch his face for signs of pain. He saw the initial grimace and waited cautiously, but Aragorn whimpered his need for him.
Boromir was not swift to thrust. Pulling out, he gripped his legs, lifted them over his shoulders and leaned to kiss his inner thighs, first one, and the other. He left another love mark on the right one, and sucked his lover’s manhood deep into his mouth. He returned his fingers into him for a few more minutes before sliding back into place and entering him again.
“Boromir!” Aragorn cried out, pulling him in deeper.
Boromir looked into his face and the love and passion he saw there was devastating. Tears filled his eyes as he gazed on the man he loved with all his heart, and he quickened his strokes, holding Aragorn’s legs tightly as he came deep inside him.
“Oh, Boromir!” Aragorn shouted as his seed blasted forth and sprayed them.
Boromir collapsed on top of him, releasing his legs, which fell to the bed. Sated and happy, they cuddled like that, unbothered by the mess or the listening ears at the door. After whispering their words of love, they fell silent, at peace together.
In his own realm, Hades was very happy with the close-circuit film box scene he had just enjoyed. “Oh, well, I can’t get ‘em all!” he said. “That’s okay. I can still watch hot gay boys in action for eternity! God, I love this stuff!”
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